University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

Dungeon.
Alonzo,
Solus.
My dungeon still is dark, the beams of hope
Cannot illume its dreary, gloomy vaults;
My soul still lingers for its darling home,
Still lingers for my parent, and my friends.
The son of great Alphonso, now a wretched
And solitary captive, in a dungeon
Wall'd round with stone and void of every comfort;
No ray of light is seen, but that which glimmers
Through yonder narrow grate, no sound is heard,
But when the bat flits by on filmy wings,
Or in the tow'r the bird of night complains.
All, all is dark and dismal, all is still,
This dreary dungeon seems the pris'ner's grave,
The gloomy charnel-house of living death.
But solitude and darkness, though they freeze
My very soul, are not my direst evils;
'Tis anxious expectation of the future.
Oft have I sat at midnight, when the stars
Just show'd their twinkling forms between my grates,
And shook at every breeze that whistled by.
Methought I heard the dying pris'ners groan
Sound in the blast; I trembled and I fear'd,
Some sabred Moor was coming to dispatch me.
Then I would hear a feeble, hollow sound,
Amid the distant vaults: methought I heard
The tread of midnight murderers; then despair
Rush'd o'er my feelings and I felt like death:
Again the owl, moaning at darkest midnight,
Would strike my ear and seem the shriek of terror;
I listen'd, and the sound was still repeated;
I started from my cold and wretched bed
And hasted to my grate; the full orb'd moon,
Then riding in her zenith, silver'd o'er
The distant walls, and from the lofty towers
Spread shadows wide and vast; the night was still,
A beauteous radiance shone on yonder mountain,
And play'd upon the distant waving trees,
The lonely owl at times was heard to wail,
The chilling breezes whistled round the walls
And cool'd the fever of my burning temples.
This is my greatest pleasure, thus to brood
On my misfortunes; even my soul is us'd
So much to misery, it has smooth'd its terrors
And soften'd down the iron of its brow:
Still I am not so harden'd to despair,
That I am happy in this wretched dungeon;
Yes, I am miserable, but for one hope,
The hope of freedom, by the aid of Zamor:
This keeps my courage up from sinking wholly
In dark despair; before he came and bless'd
My ears with that dear sound, “I am thy friend,”
I almost lost each hope of liberty,
I wish'd for death and yet I fear'd to die,
I fear'd to think upon my dissolution,
And look into the darkness of the grave.
Had I no hope, I should indeed be wretched;
Had I no friend, this world would be a desert;
Had not this Zamor, with a voice of mercy,
Sooth'd my poor broken heart, I now had been
Sunk in complete despair; but while he lives
And speaks the same kind words to poor Alonzo,
I still shall hope, whatever may betide me.
[Enter Zamor.
Zamor, hast thou come here again to sooth me
And cheer my wounded heart?

Zamor.
Yes, dear Alonzo,
Again I come to feed thy soul with hope.
Still hope, Alonzo; thou may'st yet be free!
Before the sun has set behind those hills,
Thou may'st have liberty, my dear Alonzo.

Alonzo.
What say'st thou, Zamor? shall I yet be free,
And that before the shades of evening close?
Or dost thou tantalize me with vain hopes?

Zamor.
Alonzo, I can never be so cruel,
As thus to raise the pris'ner's expectations
By promises and hopes as vain as wind;
Believe me, when I tell thee, that ere night
Has clos'd around thy head, thou may'st be free.

Alonzo.
Zamor, can I believe thee? Oh, this hour
Of joy supreme! O, fortunate Alonzo!
Oh, bless'd above all bless'd! this day be free?
It thrills the very life-strings of my bosom!

Zamor.
Alonzo, greater happiness awaits thee,
Lovely Alzira comes this day to see thee,
Before thou leav'st thy prison, to console thee,
And speak more heavenly music to thy ear,
Than Zamor can.—

Alonzo.
But Zamor, do not leave me,
Stay, and partake with me my exultation,
Stay, and enjoy with me this hour of triumph!

Zamor.
Alonzo, duty calls, I must obey,
Else I would stay and keep thee company
Year after year; still hold thy courage up,
Let not despondency depress thy soul,
But still remember, ere the sun has set,
Alonzo shall be free.—

Alonzo.
My faithful Zamor,
I cannot speak the ardour of my feelings,
I cannot speak the strength of my affection
For one so good, so merciful as thou.
[Zamor exit.
This is an hour of triumph, this an hour
Of highest exultation! soon, my friends,
Shall I embrace you, soon my native hills
Shall meet my longing eye, and down the vale,
Where oft I spent the hours in boyish sports,
I soon shall see the rivulet descend;
Then cease my murmurs, cease from all my grief,
And let this day be given to exultation.