University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

—A Room in the Palace.
Abd.
A victory, a glorious victory.
We've shown them, Zamor, we are brave as ever;
We've scatter'd these prond Spaniards like the dust.
When great Abdallah calls and Zamor leads,
Our foes are pow'rless as the bleating lambs.
I've seen the poplar strive against the whirlwind,
I've seen the wretch defy the bolts of thunder,
I've seen the waves roll on the frowning cliff
In all their majesty, I've seen those waves
Beat idly 'gainst that cliff and spent retire.
So I have seen these haughty infidels
Approach my walls, and plume themselves on conquest;
But when we rose in arms, have seen them fly
With all the hurry of the broken waves.

Zamor.
Yes, 'twas a noble victory, my Lord;
Saw'st thou not, how I led my Mussulmen
Into the thickest danger? mark'd thou not,
How my broad banner wav'd amid the fight?
Oh 'twas a glorious sight! to see our troops
Sabre in hand march on to blood and conquest,
To see them dash at once among the foe:
They stood not for the archers, but forthwith
Attack'd them sword in hand; then wild dismay
Pervaded all their legions, o'er the hills
They scatter'd in disorder, we pursued
And gave them to the sabre's edge. These christians
Then felt the sharpness of the Moorish steel.

Abd.
I saw, along the side of yonder hill,
How fierce the battle rag'd; I mark'd the sabres
Gleam, like the vivid lightning; I could hear
The shout of victory, the yell of conquest,
The dying groan, the feeble cry for quarter,
Mingle alternate with the clashing steel;
I thought I saw, amid that fiercest conflict,
Almanzor's lion-crest; say, was he there?

Zamor.
Yes, first and foremost in the ranks of battle
Almanzor stood undaunted 'gainst the foe;
I saw him cleave the crest of many a knight
And send full many a warrior to the grave.
Along that mountain side he drove his foes
In a full tide of conquest, there he fought,
Pursued his enemy and cheer'd his soldiers;
“To victory, to victory,” he cried,
And wav'd his glittering sword; onward he rush'd,
Nor stopp'd, till every christian dog was conquer'd.

Abd.
Oh nobly done! Almanzor then is brave
And worthy of the monarchs of Granada;
Long will he shine, the glory of his nation
And pride of all his friends: where is Almanzor?
Would I could press the hero to my heart.

Zamor.
My Lord, the hottest fight was round that hill,
Just at the opening of a narrow vale;
The Spaniards, as they fled, there made a stand,
And strove their nation's honour to redeem:
This was a bloody conflict, helms were cleft
By the bright sabre and the Spanish halbard;
Full many a breast receiv'd the deathly blow,
Full many a turban roll'd amid the dust;
The stream that rush'd along was red with gore,
The blood in rivulets stream'd adown the vale;
Nothing was seen but wounds and gore and slaughter;
Nothing was heard but shouts and dying groans.
Ev'n in the moment big with future fate,
While victory was dubious, with our sabres
I and Almanzor charg'd their firmest phalanx.
Such prodigies of valour I ne'er witness'd;
The Spaniards fought with all the desperation
Of those, who struggle in the arms of death;
The Moors contended in the hope of victory:
Just at the moment, when the falling foe,
Torn from his last resort, had giv'n away,
Some ruffian coward aim'd a secret blow
And clove Almanzor's crest; I saw the blood
Stream down his noble countenance, I mark'd
The latest word he utter'd, it was “victory.”
He died—

Abd.
Almanzor dead! oh gracious heav'n!
Have mercy on my bleeding, broken heart.
Almanzor, oh my son! my only son!
My only child! on whom I built my hopes,
On whom I hop'd to rest my weary limbs,
And prop my falling age, gone, gone forever!
Oh shall I never see that eye of fire
Beam with such strong expression? shall I never
Listen enamour'd to the eloquence,
The burning eloquence of dauntless courage?
Ah thou art dead, and I am here forsaken,
A poor, unfriended parent, robb'd of all
My dearest treasures, wife and son and daughter,
All buried in a dark untimely grave.

Zamor.
My Lord, the coward, who could, dare that blow,
Was curs'd Alonzo's brother; but the wretch
Paid well for his temerity; this sabre
Pierc'd that vile Spaniard's black, infernal heart.

Abd.
Alonzo's brother! Oh this is too much!
What! curst Alonzo ruin dear Alzira,
And now Almanzor slaughter'd by his brother?
I'll be reveng'd! by heav'n I'll be reveng'd!
Zamor, quick to his dungeon, seize the wretch.
And send his spirit to the shades of hell.

Zamor.
My Lord, tis done this moment as you bid.
[Aside.
Done! yes, I'll do it with the greatest pleasure.

[Exit.
Abd.
Now I am quite forsaken, oh this hand
Destroy'd my lovely daughter, and Almanzor—
My heart! my heart! oh Mahomet, heal its wounds,
And quench the fire that rages in my bosom.