University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

—A HALL IN THE COUNTRY PALACE OF THE KING OF FEZ.
Enter MULÉY and the KING.
MULÉY,
aside.
Since all aid is unavailing,
From the lines the king doth draw
Round Fernando: the detailing
Of his sufferings may:—the law
Of true friendships is unfailing.
[Aloud.]
If, my lord, I thee have served,
On land or sea, in any way,—
If my heart hath never swerved
From the allegiance it should pay,
If a boon I have deserved,
Be it thy attention.

KING.
Say.

MULÉY.
Don Fernando.....

KING.
Say no more.

MULÉY.
Wilt thou not hear me then, before
You thus refuse me?

KING.
No, that word
Offends too much.

MULÉY.
And why, my lord?—

KING.
Because, now every chance is o'er
Of doing what thou wouldst require,
If 'tis for him that thou shouldst ask.

MULÉY.
My lord, and dost thou not desire
To know how I discharge the task
Thyself hath given?

KING.
Well, speak; mine ire
Shall ne'er be seen in pity's mask.

MULÉY.
Fernando, whose unhappy fate
Survives his glory, once so great,
Still lives, but in such abject thrall,
That him the wondering world doth call
A miracle of adverse fate,
Feeling the wrath—a better word
Perhaps would be the boundless power—
Of thy imperial crown, my lord,
And victim of his pride—this hour
Doth feel a misery so abhorred,
That he in such a place doth lie
So lonely and so vile, that I
Will not offend your ears to name;
And there, infirm, and poor, and lame,
He asketh alms from passers by;
For as your orders were that he
Should sleep but in a dungeon's murk,
And on your steeds attendant be,
And in the prison quarters work;
And none should give him food, we see
Him so reduced from what he has been,
His pallid cheek so worn and wan;
His tottering limbs, that make him lean
Upon a staff; all changed or gone
His princely air, his royal mien;
Passing the chilly night away
In stony cells, as he begun,
Still firm in his resolve. When play,
At length, the pure beams of the sun,
Who is the father of the day,
His fellow-slaves (how grieved thereat!)
Upon a miserable mat,
Lifting him, place him, worn and weak,
Upon (since I the name must speak)
A dung-heap! for neglect begat
A state so loathsome, none will let
Him near their homes; and so he lies,
A sight no eye can e'er forget.
Shuddering, the gazer from him flies,
Nor feels compassion, nor regret.
Nor word nor aid to him doth send;
One servant, and one faithful friend,
A cavalier, alone remain
To solace him amid his pain,
And both divide, as they attend,
With him their scant supply of food,
Too small for one, to do one good,
For scarcely have the lips possess'd
The morsel, but it seeks the breast,
The mouth not tasting as it should;
And even your people punish these,
Because, by pity moved, they wait
To give their master some slight ease,
To them, no punishment so great,
As that your servants, should they please,
May rudely tear them each from each:
While one doth leave him, to beseech
Some food, the other doth remain
To give him solace in his pain
By kindly act, or soothing speech:
Conclude a suffering so severe,
And draw the Prince, so please your Grace,
From his sad state and dungeon drear,
Let horror move you in the place
Of pity's pang, or sorrow's tear.

KING.
'Tis well, Muléy.

Enter PHENIX.
PHENIX.
My lord, if ever
I have, by dutiful endeavour,
Deserved in aught to gain from thee
A boon, I come, your Majesty,
This day to ask of you a favour.

KING.
What could I then deny to thee?

PHENIX.
The Prince Fernando......

KING.
Oh! 'tis well,—
Of this, no further speak to me!

PHENIX.
No human tongue has power to tell
The horror of his state. From thee
It was my only wish to pray......

KING.
Oh! Phenix, cease, be silent, stay,
Who is it that Fernando then
Thus makes an outcast among men?
Thus slowly killeth day by day?
If he, for being madly brave,
And obstinate in a wild resolve,
Thus pines away, a lonely slave,
And sees the tardy days revolve—
'Twas he himself the sentence gave,
Not I who doomed him to this woe;
Is it not in his power to go
From out this misery and live?
A word can do it. Let him give
Up Ceuta to my hands, and so
Thus end those rigours and those pains.

Enter SELIM.
SELIM.
My lord, before the palace doors,
Crave audience, two ambassadors,
One from Morocco's neighbouring plains,
And one from Alphonso—he who reigns
O'er Portugal.

PHENIX,
aside.
Still greater pains!
Doubtless he comes to lead the way
To Tarudante.

MULÉY,
aside.
Heavens! from me
Now hope withdraws its cheering ray;
By friendship and by jealousy,
I have lost all things in one day!

Enter ALPHONSO and TARUDANTE from opposite sides.
TARUDANTE.
Most illustrious King of Fez......

ALPHONSO.
King of Fez so proud and mighty......

TARUDANTE.
May thy glory......

ALPHONSO.
Thy existence......

TARUDANTE.
Never die......

ALPHONSO.
Be ever gloriant......

TARUDANTE,
to PHENIX.
And thou, this sun's serene Aurora......

ALPHONSO.
Thou its setting's hopeful Orient......

TARUDANTE.
Spite of years, may you continue......

ALPHONSO.
Spite of time, may you be reigning......

TARUDANTE.
To be gladdened......

ALPHONSO.
To be honoured......

TARUDANTE.
Tasting pleasures......

ALPHONSO.
Laurels gaining......

TARUDANTE.
Great enjoyments......

ALPHONSO.
Mighty triumphs......

TARUDANTE.
Little evil......

ALPHONSO.
Good unsparing......

TARUDANTE.
While I speak, say, Christian, why
Thus to speak, art though so daring?

ALPHONSO.
Because whenever I am by,
I speak first, my wish declaring.

TARUDANTE.
To me, as of the Moorish nation,
The foremost place is surely own;
When kindred races meet, to strangers
A preference should ne'er be shown.

ALPHONSO.
In lands where courtesy is shown,
Quite a different rule prevaileth;
In every clime, in every zone,
A guest the foremost place receiveth.

TARUDANTE.
However strong may be this reason,
By it I am not overthrown;
Since as a guest I have come hither,
The foremost place is mine alone.

KING.
Enough of this—let both of ye
With equal favour here be seated;
The Portuguese speak first, for he
Should, from his different faith, be treated
With greater honour.

TARUDANTE,
aside.
I am wroth.

ALPHONSO.
Brief will be my simple story:—
Don Alphonso, Portugal's
Famous King, whose deathless glory
Will be told with tongues of bronze,
Spite of death's annihilation,
And of envy: unto thee
Greeting sends and salutation,
And doth ask you, since it seemeth
Don Fernando seeks not freedom,
Since the life that he redeemeth
Should the city of Ceuta cost;
That the fullest value of it
Should be rated at a price
More than avarice could covet
Or the most liberal despise:
Gold and silver he doth proffer
More than two such cities' worth,
For his ransom: and this offer
He doth make in friendly guise,
Which if you refuse, with bolder
Front he'll come to set him free;
For upon the smooth, white shoulder
Yonder of the labouring sea,
Towns arise amid the water
Of a thousand war-ships built,
And he swears with fire and slaughter
Him to free, and thee subdue—
Leaving all these bright plains covered
O'er with crimson blood, so that
What the rising sun discovered
Green-hued emeralds dewy wet,
He will leave behind him lying
Rubies red when he doth set.

TARUDANTE.
Though, as an ambassador,
Mine should not be the replying,
Still in what concerns my King,
Christian, I will dare to venture,
For this insult is to him:
And my lord here will not censure
That his son at such a time
Could not patiently forget him:
So, on his part, you can say
To your King Alphonso, let him
Hither come, but in a space
Shorter than from night till morn,
He will see his veins' warm purple
Soon these verdant hills adorn;
So that even the heavens will think
They must have forgot to form
Any flower except the pink.

ALPHONSO.
If thou wert my equal, Moor,
This dispute were swiftly settled,
And the victory would lie
'Twixt two young men, manly-mettled.
Tell your King, that he come hither,
If renowned he wish to be,
Mine will not delay, believe me.

TARUDANTE.
You almost said that thou wert he,
And if so, I, Tarudante,
Stand prepared to answer thee.

ALPHONSO.
In the field I will await thee.

TARUDANTE.
There, as thou wilt quickly find,
I shall not too long delay thee!
I am lightning!

ALPHONSO.
I the wind!

TARUDANTE.
I am fury!

ALPHONSO.
I am death!

TARUDANTE.
Do you not tremble but to hear me?

ALPHONSO.
Do you not die, but to come near me?

KING.
My lords, will both your Highnesses—
Now that your wrath has torn asunder
The dark disguise of curtained shade,
Which hid each royal planet under—
Will you remember, 'neath this sky,
No battle-field can be selected
Without my leave: which I deny;
That time be mine, for my projected
Service......

ALPHONSO.
I do not receive
Or hospitality or favour
From one who so has made me grieve;
I seek Fernando, the endeavour
To behold him is the cause
Why, disguised thus, I have ventured
Driven by duty here to Fez,
And before your court I entered
I was told that you did spend
At this pleasure-house a season,
And I hither came to end
My faint hope, or with more reason
To await a certain pain;
Be it known, my lord, I only
For your answer here remain.

KING.
And that answer, King Alphonso,
Shall be very brief and plain;
If you do not give me Ceuta,
Him, for this, thou shalt not bear.

ALPHONSO.
Since for him I have come hither,
And without him go, prepare
For the war I now declare;
And [To Tarudante]
ambassador, whoe'er
Thou may'st be, amid the fray
We shall soon see one another;
Tremble Africa to-day.

Exit.
TARUDANTE.
Since I cannot have the joy,
Beauteous Phenix, of thy seeing
Me as thy attendant slave,
Let me taste the bliss of being
At thy feet; thy hand present
To him, who his soul doth give thee.

PHENIX.
Let your Highness not augment,
Mighty lord, the suit and honour
You have shown me, which I prize,
Knowing what to me is owing.

MULÉY,
aside.
What does he expect, whose eyes
See this sight and yet surviveth?

KING.
Since your Highness thus in Fez
Unexpectedly arriveth,
You will pardon us the way
We receive you.

TARUDANTE.
Pressing duty
Will not let me here delay
Longer than a passing moment;
And supposing that I came
As ambassador, with powers
My betrothed wife to claim—
You your full consent had given:
Not being so, yet still for this,
May I hope I shall not forfeit
That quick certainty of bliss?

KING.
In everything, my lord, you conquer,
And so, to set that doubt at rest,
And that all needful preparation
For such a war be made, 'tis best
Your mind be altogether freed from
Cares like these; and so return,
That you may be here the sooner
Joined with me the foe to spurn,
Should they dare to try the passage,—
These threatened hosts of Portugal.

TARUDANTE.
That is but of small importance;
As I came here so I shall
Quick return, conducting with me
Such a host of armed men,
That these desert plains shall look like
Crowded murmuring cities then;
Soon shall I be here, thy soldier.

KING.
Then with speed let all things be
Ordered for the journey. Phenix,
It is right to Fez with me
Thou shouldst come, to glad that city.
Muléy!

MULÉY.
My gracious lord!

KING.
Prepare
A chosen escort from the army,
As unto thy special care
Phenix I intrust, till safely
Thou dost leave her with her spouse.

Exit.
MULÉY,
aside.
This new ill was all I wanted,
Since stern fate no more allows
My poor succour to Fernando,
Let despair entwine his brows,
Now this glimmering hope hath vanished.

Exeunt.