University of Virginia Library

THIRD ACT

FIRST SCENE.

Palace in Xeres. Roderigo and Opas.
Roderigo.
Impossible! she could not thus resign
Me, for a miscreant of Barbary,
A mere adventurer; but that citron face
Shall bleach and shrivel the whole winter long,
There on yon cork-tree by the sallyport.
She shall return.

Opas.
To fondness and to faith?
Dost thou retain them, if she could return?

Roderigo.
Retain them? she has forfeited by this
All right to fondness, all to royalty.

Opas.
Consider and speak calmly: she deserves
Some pity, some reproof.

Roderigo.
To speak then calmly,
Since thine eyes open and can see her guilt . .
Infamous and atrocious! let her go . .
Chains . .

Opas.
What! in Muza's camp?

Roderigo.
My scorn supreme!

Opas.
Say pity.

Roderigo.
Ay, ay, pity: that suits best.
I loved her, but had loved her; three whole years
Of pleasure, and of varied pleasure too,
Had worn the soft impression half away.
What I once felt, I would recall; the faint
Responsive voice grew fainter each reply:
Imagination sank amid the scenes
It labour'd to create: the vivid joy
Of fleeting youth I follow'd and possest.
'Tis the first moment of the tenderest hour,
'Tis the first mien on entering new delights,
We give our peace, our power, our souls, for these.

Opas.
Thou hast; and what remains?

Roderigo.
Roderigo: one
Whom hatred can not reach nor love cast down.

Opas.
Nor gratitude nor pity nor remorse
Call back, nor vows nor earth nor heaven controul.
But art thou free and happy? art thou safe?
By shrewd contempt the humblest may chastise
Whom scarlet and its ermine can not scare,
And the sword skulks for eveywhere in vain.
Thee the poor victim of thy outrages,
Woman, with all her weakness, may despise.

Roderigo.
But first let quiet age have intervened.

Opas.
Ne'er will the peace or apathy of age
Be thine, or twilight steal upon thy day.
The violent choose, but cannot change, their end;
Violence, by man or nature, must be theirs;
Thine it must be; and who to pity thee?

Roderigo.
Behold my solace! none. I want no pity.

Opas.
Proclaim we those the happiest of mankind
Who never knew a want? O what a curse
To thee this utter ignorance of thine!
Julian, whom all the good commiserate,
Sees thee below him far in happiness.
A state indeed of no quick restlessness,
No glancing agitation, one vast swell
Of melancholy, deep, impassable,
Interminable, where his spirit alone
Broods and o'ershadows all, bears him from earth,
And purifies his chasten'd soul for heaven.
Both heaven and earth shall from thy grasp recede.
Whether on death or life thou arguest,
Untutor'd savage or corrupted heathen
Avows no sentiment so vile as thine.

Roderigo.
Nor feels?

Opas.
O human nature! I have heard
The secrets of the soul, and pitied thee.
Bad and accursed things have men confess'd
Before me, but have left them unarrayed,
Naked, and shivering with deformity.
The troubled dreams and deafening gush of youth
Fling o'er the fancy, struggling to be free,
Discordant and impracticable things:
If the good shudder at their past escapes,
Shall not the wicked shudder at their crimes?
They shall: and I denounce upon thy head
God's vengeance: thou shalt rule this land no more.

Roderigo.
What! my own kindred leave me and renounce me!

Opas.
Kindred? and is there any in our world
So near us as those sources of all joy,
Those on whose bosom every gale of life
Blows softly, who reflect our images
In loveliness through sorrows and through age,
And bear them onward far beyond the grave?

Roderigo.
Methinks, most reverend Opas, not inapt
Are these fair views; arise they from Seville?

Opas.
He who can scoff at them, may scoff at me.
Such are we, that the Giver of all Good
Shall, in the heart he purifies, possess
The latest love; the earliest, no, not there!
I've known the firm and faithful: even from them
Life's eddying spring shed the first bloom on earth.
I pity them, but ask their pity too:
I love the happiness of men, and praise
And sanctify the blessings I renounce.

Roderigo.
Yet would thy baleful influence undermine
The heaven-appointed throne.

Opas.
The throne of guilt
Obdurate, without plea, without remorse.

Roderigo.
What power hast thou? perhaps thou soon wilt want
A place of refuge.

Opas.
Rather say, perhaps
My place of refuge will receive me soon.
Could I extend it even to thy crimes,
It should be open; but the wrath of heaven
Turns them against thee and subverts thy sway:
It leaves thee not, what wickedness and woe
Oft in their drear communion taste together,
Hope and repentance.

Roderigo.
But it leaves me arms,
Vigour of soul and body, and a race
Subject by law and dutiful by choice,
Whose hand is never to be holden fast
Within the closing cleft of gnarled creeds;
No easy prey for these vile mitred Moors.
I, who received thy homage, may retort
Thy threats, vain prelate, and abase thy pride.

Opas.
Low must be those whom mortal can sink lower,
Nor high are they whom human power may raise.

Roderigo.
Judge now: for hear the signal.

Opas.
And derides
Thy buoyant heart the dubious gulphs of war?
Trumpets may sound, and not to victory.

Roderigo.
The traitor and his daughter feel my power.

Opas.
Just God! avert it!

Roderigo.
Seize this rebel priest.
I will alone subdue my enemies.

[Goes out.

SECOND SCENE.

Ramiro and Osma enter from opposite sides.
Ramiro.
Where is the king? his car is at the gate,
His ministers attend him, but his foes
Are yet more prompt, nor will await delay.

Osma.
Nor need they, for he meets them as I speak.

Ramiro.
With all his forces? or our cause is lost.
Julian and Sisabert surround the walls.

Osma.
Surround, sayst thou? enter they not the gates?

Ramiro.
Perhaps ere now they enter.

Osma.
Sisabert
Brings him our prisoner.

Ramiro.
They are friends! they held
A parley; and the soldiers, when they saw
Count Julian, lower'd their arms and hail'd him king.

Osma.
How? and he leads them in the name of king?

Ramiro.
He leads them; but amid that acclamation
He turn'd away his head, and call'd for vengeance.

Osma.
In Sisabert, and in the cavalry
He led, were all our hopes.

Opas.
Woe, woe is theirs
Who have no other.

Osma.
What are thine? obey
The just commands of our offended king:
Conduct him to the tower . . off . . instantly.
[Guard hesitates: Opas goes.
Ramiro, let us haste to reinforce . .

Ramiro.
Hark! is the king defeated? hark!

Osma.
I hear
Such acclamation as from victory
Arises not, but rather from revolt,
Reiterated, interrupted, lost.
Favour like this his genius will retrieve
By time or promises or chastisement,
Whiche'er he choose; the speediest is the best.
His danger and his glory let us share;
'Tis ours to serve him.

Ramiro.
While he rules 'tis ours.
What chariot-wheels are thundering o'er the bridge?

Osma.
Roderigo's; I well know them.

Ramiro.
Now, the burst
Of acclamation! now! again, again.

Osma.
I know the voices; they are for Roderigo.

Ramiro.
Stay, I entreat thee. One hath now prevail'd.
So far is certain.

Osma.
Ay, the right prevails.

Ramiro.
Transient and vain their joyance who rejoice
Precipitately and intemperately,
And bitter thoughts grow up where'er it fell.

Osma.
Nor vain and transient theirs who idly float
Down popularity's unfertile stream,
And fancy all their own that rises round.

Ramiro.
If thou yet lovest, as I know thou dost,
Thy king . .

Osma.
I love him; for he owes me much,
Brave soul! and can not, though he would, repay.
Service and faith, pure faith and service hard,
Throughout his reign, if these things be desert,
These have I borne toward him, and still bear.

Ramiro.
Come, from thy solitary eyrie come,
And share the prey, so plenteous and profuse,
Which a less valorous brood will else consume.
Much fruit is shaken down in civil storms:
And shall not orderly and loyal hands
Gather it up? (Loud Shouts.)
Again! and yet refuse?
How different are those citizens without
From thee! from thy serenity! thy arch,
Thy firmament, of intrepidity!
For their new lord, whom they have never served,
Afraid were they to shout, and only struck
The pavement with their ferrels and their feet:
Now they are certain of the great event
Voices and hands they raise, and all contend
Who shall be bravest in applauding most.
Knowest thou these?

Osma.
Their voices I know well . .
And can they shout for him they would have slain?
A prince untried they welcome; soon their doubts
Are blown afar.

Ramiro.
Yes, brighter scenes arise.
The disunited he alone unites,
The weak with hope he strengthens, and the strong
With justice.

Osma.
Wait: praise him when time hath given
A soundness and consistency to praise:
He shares it amply who bestows it right.

Ramiro.
Doubtest thou?

Osma.
Be it so: let us away;
New courtiers come.

Ramiro.
And why not join the new?
Let us attend him and congratulate;
Come on; they enter.

Osma.
This is now my post
No longer: I could face them in the field,
I can not here.

Ramiro.
To-morrow all may change;
Be comforted.

Osma.
I want nor change nor comfort.

Ramiro.
The prisoner's voice!

Osma.
The metropolitan's?
Triumph he may . . not over me forgiven.
This way, and thro' the chapel: none are there.

[Goes out.

THIRD SCENE.

Opas and Sisabert.
Opas.
The royal threat still sounds along these halls:
Hardly his foot hath past them, and he flees
From his own treachery; all his pride, his hopes,
Are scatter'd at a breath; even courage fails
Now falsehood sinks from under him. Behold,
Again art thou where reign'd thy ancestors;
Behold the chapel of thy earliest prayers,
Where I, whose chains are sunder'd at thy sight
Ere they could close around these aged limbs,
Received and blest thee, when thy mother's arm
Was doubtful if it loost thee! with delight
Have I observed the promises we made
Deeply impressed and manfully perform'd.
Now, to thyself beneficent, O prince,
Never henceforth renew those weak complaints
Against Covilla's vows and Julian's faith,
His honour broken, and her heart estranged.
O, if thou holdest peace or glory dear,
Away with jealousy; brave Sisabert,
Smite from thy bosom, smite that scorpion down:
It swells and hardens amid mildew'd hopes,
O'erspreads and blackens whate'er most delights,
And renders us, haters of loveliness,
The lowest of the fiends; ambition led
The higher on, furious to dispossess,
From admiration sprung and frenzied love.
This disengenuous soul-debasing passion,
Rising from abject and most sordid fear,
Consumes the vitals, pines, and never dies.
For Julian's truth have I not pledged my own?
Have I not sworn Covilla weds no other?

Sisabert.
Her persecutor have not I chastised?
Have not I fought for Julian, won the town,
And liberated thee?

Opas.
But left for him
The dangers of pursuit, of ambuscade,
Of absence from thy high and splendid name.

Sisabert.
Do probity and truth want such supports?

Opas.
Gryphens and eagles, ivory and gold,
Can add no clearness to the lamp above,
But many look for them in palaces
Who have them not, and want them not, at home.
Virtue and valour and experience
Are never trusted by themselves alone
Further than infancy and idiocy:
The men around him, not the man himself,
Are lookt at, and by these is he preferr'd.
'Tis the green mantle of the warrener
And his loud whistle that alone attract
The lofty gazes of the noble herd:
And thus, without thy countenance and help
Feeble and faint is yet our confidence,
Brief perhaps our success.

Sisabert.
Should I resign
To Abdalazis her I once adored?
He truly, he must wed a Spanish queen!
He rule in Spain! ah! whom could any land
Obey so gladly as the meek, the humble,
The friend of all who have no friend beside,
Covilla! could he choose or could he find
Another who might so confirm his power?
And now indeed from long domestic wars
Who else survives of all our ancient house?

Opas.
But Egilona.

Sisabert.
Vainly she upbraids
Roderigo.

Opas.
She divorces him, abjures,
And carries vengeance to that hideous highth
Which piety and chastity would shrink
To look from, on the world or on themselves.

Sisabert.
She may forgive him yet.

Opas.
Ah, Sisabert!
Wretched are those a woman has forgiven:
With her forgiveness ne'er hath love return'd.
Ye know not till too late the filmy tie
That holds heaven's precious boon eternally
To such as fondly cherish her; once go
Driven by mad passion, strike but at her peace,
And, though she step aside from broad reproach,
Yet every softer virtue dies away.
Beaming with virtue inaccessible
Stood Egilona; for her lord she lived,
And for the heavens that raised her sphere so high:
All thoughts were on her, all, beside her own.
Negligent as the blossoms of the field,
Array'd in candour and simplicity,
Before her path she heard the streams of joy
Murmur her name in all their cadences,
Saw them in every scene, in light, in shade,
Reflect her image, but acknowledged them
Hers most complete when flowing from her most.
All things in want of her, herself of none,
Pomp and dominion lay beneath her feet
Unfelt and unregarded. Now behold
The earthly passions war against the heavenly!
Pride against love, ambition and revenge
Against devotion and compliancy:
Her glorious beams adversity hath blunted;
And coming nearer to our quiet view,
The original clay of coarse mortality
Hardens and flaws around her.

Sisabert.
Every germ
Of virtue perishes when love recedes
From those hot shifting sands, the female heart.

Opas.
His was the fault; be his the punishment.
'Tis not their own crimes only, men commit,
They harrow them into another's breast,
And they shall reap the bitter growth with pain.

Sisabert.
Yes, blooming royalty will first attract
These creatures of the desert. Now I breathe
More freely. She is theirs if I pursue
The fugitive again. He well deserves
The death he flies from. Stay! Don Julian twice
Call'd him aloud, and he, methinks, replied.
Could not I have remain'd a moment more
And seen the end? although with hurried voice
He bade me intercept the scattered foes,
And hold the city barr'd to their return.
May Egilona be another's wife
Whether he die or live! but oh! Covilla!
She never can be mine! yet she may be
Still happy . . no, Covilla, no . . not happy,
But more deserving happiness without it.
Mine never! nor another's. 'Tis enough.
The tears I shed no rival can deride;
In the fond intercourse a name once cherisht
Will never be defended by faint smiles,
Nor given up with vows of alter'd love.
And is the passion of my soul at last
Reduced to this? is this my happiness?
This my sole comfort? this the close of all
Those promises, those tears, those last adieus,
And those long vigils for the morrow's dawn?

Opas.
Arouse thee! be thyself. O Sisabert,
Awake to glory from these feverish dreams:
The enemy is in our land; two enemies;
We must quell both: shame on us if we fail.

Sisabert.
Incredible! a nation be subdued
Peopled as ours.

Opas.
Corruption may subvert
What force could never.

Sisabert.
Traitors may.

Opas.
Alas!
If traitors can, the basis is but frail.
I mean such traitors as the vacant world
Echoes most stunningly: not fur-robed knaves
Whose whispers raise the dreaming bloodhound's ear
Against benighted famisht wanderers,
While with remorseless guilt they undermine
Palace and shed, their very father's house.
O blind! their own, their children's heritage,
To leave more ample space for fearful wealth.
Plunder in some most harmless guise they swathe,
Call it some very meek and hallow'd name,
Some known and borne by their good forefathers,
And own and vaunt it thus redeem'd from sin.
These are the plagues heaven sends o'er every land
Before it sink . . the portents of the street,
Not of the air . . lest nations should complain
Of distance or of dimness in the signs,
Flaring from far to Wisdom's eye alone:
These are the last: these, when the sun rides high
In the forenoon of doomsday, revelling,
Make men abhor the earth, arraign the skies.
Ye who behold them spoil field after field,
Despising them in individual strength,
Not with one torrent sweeping them away
Into the ocean of eternity,
Arise! despatch! no renovating gale,
No second spring awaits you: up, begone,
If you have force and courage even for flight.
The blast of dissolution is behind.

Sisabert.
How terrible! how true! what voice like thine
Can rouse and warn the nation! If she rise,
Say, whither go, where stop we?

Opas.
God will guide.
Let us pursue the oppressor to destruction;
The rest is heaven's: must we move no step
Because we can not see the boundaries
Of our long way, and every stone between?

Sisabert.
Is not thy vengeance for the late affront,
For threats and outrage and imprisonment?

Opas.
For outrage, yes; imprisonment and threats
I pardon him, and whatsoever ill
He could do me.

Sisabert.
To hold Covilla from me!
To urge her into vows against her faith,
Against her beauty, youth, and inclination,
Without her mother's blessing, nay, without
Her father's knowledge and authority,
So that she never will behold me more,
Flying afar for refuge and for help
Where never friend but God will comfort her!

Opas.
These and more barbarous deeds were perpetrated.

Sisabert.
Yet her proud father deign'd not to inform
Me, whom he loved and taught, in peace and war,
Me, whom he called his son before I hoped
To merit it by marriage or by arms.
He offer'd no excuse, no plea; exprest
No sorrow; but with firm unfaltering voice
Commanded me . . I trembled as he spoke . .
To follow where he led, redress his wrongs,
And vindicate the honour of his child.
He call'd on God, the witness of his cause,
On Spain the partner of his victories;
And yet amid these animating words
Roll'd the huge tear down his unvisor'd face;
A general swell of indignation rose
Thro' the long line, sobs burst from every breast,
Hardly one voice succeeded; you might hear
The impatient hoof strike the soft sandy plain.
But when the gates flew open, and the king
In his high car came forth triumphantly,
Then was Count Julian's stature more elate;
Tremendous was the smile that smote the eyes
Of all he past. ‘Fathers, and sons, and brothers,’
He cried, ‘I fight your battles, follow me!
Soldiers we know no danger but disgrace!’
‘Father, and general, and king,’ they shout,
And would proclaim him: back he cast his face,
Pallid with grief, and one loud groan burst forth;
It kindled vengeance thro' the Asturian ranks,
And they soon scatter'd, as the blasts of heaven
Scatter the leaves and dust, the astonisht foe.

Opas.
And doubtest thou his truth?

Sisabert.
I love . . and doubt . .
Fight . . and believe: Roderigo spoke untruths;
In him I place no trust; but Julian holds
Truths in reserve: how should I quite confide!

Opas.
By sorrows thou beholdest him opprest;
Doubt the more prosperous. March, Sisabert,
Once more against his enemy and ours:
Much hath been done, but much there yet remains.