University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

—A Room in the Palace.
Abdallah,
Solus.
Once more the Spaniard and his mountaineers
Pour o'er the northern hills to assault Granada;
Though conquer'd, still they never will submit,
Firm as the rocks in which they hide themselves,
They never are subdued unless by death.
I've seen them flying from the Moorish squadrons
In wild dismay, I've seen them seek their mountains,
And pathless deserts, and have thought them conquer'd;
But not a month had pass'd, before a band
Of these marauders, from their serpent dens,
Had rous'd my hosts to arms; I never fear them,
One firm attack will scatter all their courage
And send them trooping to their caves again.
But I have lost the jewel of my army,
Him, whom the Spaniards fear, at whose approach
Their courage withers and their spirits fail them;
'Tis Zamor—yes, in an unlucky hour,
By passion driven, I dar'd disgrace my hero;
Yes, dar'd, for I was risking all my empire
On such a deed, for Zamor is the rock
On which Abdallah and his fortunes rest;
Strike but that prop away, my power and glory
Are gone; come then, and try to sooth his feelings,
Restore him to his honours, and beside
Heap others on him; then with noble Zamor
To guide my armies in the fields of glory,
I'll brave the haughtiest power that rules on earth.
[Enter Slave.
Have you bid Zamor come before me, ha!

Slave.
Yes, mightiest King! and soon, he bade me tell thee,
He would approach thy presence.

Abd.
Then retire.
[Slave exit.
Now I'm myself again. Abdallah now
Need never fear the Spaniard, for that arm,
Which guides the battle, still is link'd with mine.
[Zamor enters.
Zamor, canst thou forgive an injury?

Zamor.
Yes, noble Lord! forgive with all my soul.
Canst thou believe, that such a thing as vengeance
Can ever find a seat within my breast?
This bosom, made for fortitude and honor,
E'er harbor such a monster? No! Abdallah,
He is mistaken who can e'er believe it.
No! no! Abdallah, to forget is pleasant
And sweeter to forgive; I'll never stoop
So low as vengeance, murderers and assassins,
Who lurk in night and darkness to destroy,
May think of vengeance, Zamor never will.

Abd.
These noble sentiments become thee well,
Become the conqueror and dread of armies,
Him, whom the brutal robber of Algiers,
Startles to see, at whom the Spaniard trembles.
Zamor! I've call'd thee to restore thy honors
And crown thy head with glory; I'll forget
The unhappy hour, when I could dare disgrace thee,
If thou wilt but forgive.

Zamor.
Yes, I forgive
A thousand times, I always have forgiv'n thee,
I knew if thou hadst only known the truth,
Thou never would'st have thought of such a thing,
And therefore I forgive thee.

Abd.
Yes, tis true,
I did the deed from ignorance alone.
Thou well rememberest that luckless day,
When Hadi's corps retir'd before Alphonso?
That cause of grief to every Mussulman,
'Twas rumour'd round, was all contriv'd by thee;
Passion then got the better of my reason,
And in my rage I drove thee from thy station
And broke thy sword. Thou well remember'st this?

Zamor.
Yes, noble Lord! [aside]
and I will ne'er forget it.

Abd.
I never, Zamor, would have mov'd a hand
To hurt a hair of thine, had I but known,
That guilty Hadi's cowardice was all
The cause of that misfortune, but this sabre
Has cropt the honours of that dastard wretch.
But, Zamor, in this hour when danger calls,
Wilt thou receive thy former honours, fresh,
And deck'd with others? wilt thou lead my hosts
To drive the Spaniards to their hills again?

Zamor.
Yes, noble Lord, I'll show these infidels,
That Zamor's arms is still as strong as ever,
That it can sweep thy enemies, Abdallah!
As the breeze sweeps the down along the fields.

Abd.
My duty calls me, and I must retire;
But, faithful Zamor, take my lion standard
Crown'd with the crescent of the blessed Mahomet,
And with it lead my troops to victory;
Spread slaughter and dismay among the Spaniards,
And make these christian wretches learn to start
And tremble at the names of great Abdallah
And mighty Zamor; but before I leave thee,
I ask again, canst thou forget thy injury?

Zamor.
Yes, noble Lord! forgive, forget, forever.
[Abdallah exit.]
Forgive! forget! no, Zamor never can;
Eternal hatred burns within this bosom,
Eternal hatred to the proud Abdallah,
Which ne'er can be appeas'd but by his blood.
I'd see destruction level this proud city,
I'd see the flames roll o'er this lofty palace,
And myself struggling beneath the ruins,
Ere I'd forgive; no! death, despair and fury
Have fix'd their seats within this tortur'd breast:
I'm bent on slaughter—yes, I'll be reveng'd;
My glittering dagger thirsts so strong for blood,
It burns my thigh; I long to plunge its blade,
Ev'n to the hilt, in proud Abdallah's bosom,
In fair Alzira's lovely breast of snow,
And in the quivering heart of curst Alonzo.
They talk of hell—their hell is nought to me;
If there is such a thing as hell, tis here;
I ne'er can feel worse torture than these passions,
That boil within my breast: come then, ye fiends,
And drive your willing victim on to vengeance.