University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

SCENE I.

An Apartment in the Albaysin Palace.
Muley Hassan and Zelima.
ZELIMA.
Look up, my father; thus thy hoary head
Low in the dust!

MULEY HASSAN.
My dear, my duteous daughter!
I strive to thank the prophet thou art left me,
But cannot waken grateful thoughts within
My frozen bosom, too severely chasten'd.
My gentle child, can I no longer love thee?

[Weeps.
ZELIMA.
Weep, weep, my father, give thy sorrow vent;
Despair not wholly lords it o'er the heart
That can dissolve in tears.

MULEY HASSAN.
Hah! saidst thou so?
Then wherefore see I not thy female softness
Melting in floods of woe?

ZELIMA.
The time may come
That I shall weep.—We both have lost Almanzor:
Pride and support of both!—What else of ill
May heap the measure of my grief so high,
Methinks despair can be but this—regards
None other.—It is mine—mine only.

MULEY HASSAN.
Thy tones of anguish thrill my soul.—My child,
For thy poor broken-hearted father's sake,
Speak yet some word of comfort and of hope.

ZELIMA.
He swore the brother of his Zelima
Was sacred to his sword! the oath still hung
On his perfidious lip.—Alas! my father,
That the dear hand which rescued Zelima,
Should pierce her bosom thus!

MULEY HASSAN.
Degenerate maid!
Thy murder'd brother welters in his blood,
And thou canst name in terms that breathe not hate
The foe who slew him!

ZELIMA.
Not in a moment can we learn to hate
One we have loved so well. Is it not hard
To call him false whom I had thought so true?
For thanks and blessings now to utter curses?
But I will bear myself as bitterest hate,
And dire revenge should prompt, nor ever see
The false, the cruel, perjured Spaniard more.

Enter Omar.
OMAR.
Good king! my princess! I am charged with tidings
May soothe a father's grief.

MULEY HASSAN.
Is't death thou bring'st?

OMAR.
A boon more precious, Muley Hassan,—vengeance!
Gonzalvo's taken.

MULEY HASSAN.
Dost thou mock my sorrow?

OMAR.
My words are true. Unarm'd the Spaniard roam'd,
As one distraught, around the palace walls:
His wild disorder'd mien awaked suspicion,
Hemm'd in by numbers, madly he exclaims,
“Moors, dare ye meet Gonzalvo?” they shrink back
In blank amazement; when, indignant, one
Cries, “Countrymen! What!—shall a swordless arm
“Ward off a thousand sabres?” Struck with shame,
They close around and seize him. King Abdoulah
Commands his blood be shed at the obsequies
Of slain Almanzor.

ZELIMA.
Let me rather die
Than witness the too savage rites of vengeance!
Revenge may soothe the angry spirit's pain,
Not heal the broken heart.

MULEY HASSAN.
My life's last comfort!
Oh! I shall lose thee too! (To her women).

Support her—soothe her.
[Zelima retires among her women in great disorder.
Am I a Moor? and is not vengeance dear?
How lost am I!—Alas! alas! my son,
'Twere sweeter far to sheathe the dagger here,
And lay me down by thee, than shed the blood
Of him who saved thy sister. At my feet
When he lies lifeless, will thy lips, my son,
Or smile, or breathe? or shall I aught regain
Of all I lose in thee?—No—I shall look,
As now, on all around, a hideous blank,
And wish alike for death!

OMAR.
The mournful train,
With solemn symphonies, draws near the palace.
Abdoulah wisely urges all despatch,
For that an aged follower of Gonzalvo
Unheeded 'scaped, and may alarm the Spaniards.

MULEY HASSAN.
I come—thy arm.—Oh! give me courage, Allah!

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

The Court of the Palace.
The funeral procession of Almanzor. Gonzalvo chained and guarded: the executioner by his side.
CHORUS OF MOORS.
For the warrior young and brave,
Doom'd untimely to the grave,
Pour on the passing gale the voice of woe;
And mark, as deep and sad the numbers flow
Successive from the heart;—the hollow groan
Falls on the ear!—It is a father's moan!
And now the silver tone
Of female tenderness dissolves the soul:
A sister's inbred love disdains control,
Mourning the friend, the brother, and the chief,
With wild impassion'd grief.
The airs that erst with gratulation rung,
Now on dank pinions hung,
Bear heavily the plaint a nation breathes,
That sorrowing wreathes
Funereal garlands for her hero slain,
Slain in his country's cause, on yon ensanguined plain!

CHORUS OF YOUTHS.
We who on his steps attending,
Learnt from him the soldier's part,
Valour, fortitude unbending,
For our sacred home contending!
Can we tear him from our heart?
No, by our leader's bier, our arms laid low,
Wait we, in mute despair, the now victorious foe.

[Laying down their arms by the bier.
CHORUS OF MAIDENS.
Opening radiant with the morning
Beam'd the smile we strove to share;
For that smile all others scorning:
Now for whom her charms adorning
Would the Moorish maid be fair?
Our chaplets, faded, on his bier we throw,
Our braided tresses tear, and join a sister's woe!

[Placing their garlands on the bier.
CHORUS OF MOORS.
Wake a more impetuous lay!
Keener pangs our bosoms sway,
By patriot rage, and frenzied anguish tost!
Yet—yet—all is not lost!
Revenge! Revenge, is ours! Her bitter smile
Our sorrow shall beguile!
Revenge shall yet a thrilling joy impart,
Dear to the Moorish heart!
While cold Despair shall guide her frantic hand
Deep in the murd'rer's breast to plunge the ruthless brand!

YOUTHS AND MAIDENS.
Breathe again funereal strains,
Give to dust the loved remains;
While from seats of glory bending
Angels hymn the soul ascending;
While a grateful nation's sighs
Waft the hero to the skies,
And its tears embalm his name,
Thus by a people's love consign'd to deathless fame.

MULEY HASSAN.
Prepare thee, youth, to die. Spite of this tear,
Revenge anon will brace my unstrung nerves
To taste the joys she gives.

GONZALVO.
Oh, Muley Hassan!
Thy gentle tongue erewhile bade me aspire
To call thee father! erring vengeance now
Prompts that same tongue to speak the doom of death
On one who has not injured thee.

MULEY HASSAN.
Ha! Spaniard,
Thou hast not injured me?—Look there! Look there!

[Pointing to the bier.
GONZALVO.
I do beseech thee, ere I bow my head,
And court the blow that rids me of this life,
Allow me but once more to see thy daughter:
Oh! see me kneel for this, and weep before thee!

MULEY HASSAN
(aside).
And must I pity him?—At distance yonder,
Behold the wreck of all that was so joyous!
So beautiful!—A little month ago
(So tender was her nurture) had she died,
She never had known sorrow.
(To the attendants).
Lead her on.
Speak, prince, we may not long delay.

[Zelima totters forward supported, and on seeing Gonzalvo, hides her face in her father's bosom.
GONZALVO.
Nay, turn
And look on me!—It is for thee I die,
And innocent of all offence to thee.

ZELIMA.
Perfidious Spaniard! false as thou art cruel!
[To Muley Hassan.
(No, I will not disgrace thee, my dear father,
By any show of pity, though it kill me).
[To Gonzalvo.
Didst thou not swear to me in yonder grove
My brother's life was sacred to thy sword?
And swiftly as thy fleetest steed could bear thee,
Didst rush on him and deal the deadly blow?

GONZALVO.
No, it was I who saved yon corse from insult.

ZELIMA.
Is it thus thou givest me my rescued brother?
Is this thy pledge of faith?

GONZALVO.
I slew him not:—
I go to death, my faith to thee unbroken.
Say, thou believest—Oh! my Zelima,
Say, too, thou pitiest me.

ZELIMA
(giving way to tenderness).
Nay, canst thou wish
Such twofold torture to poor Zelima,
As but to think thy hand is innocent,
And see thee thus?—Spare me, and say thou'rt guilty.

THE EXECUTIONER.
We may not thus delay the obsequies.

MULEY HASSAN
(with assumed firmness).
My injured country, prince, demands thy blood.
Thy life is forfeit to the sacred dead;
A father's vengeance claims it!
(To Zelima.
Thou, my child, withdraw.
[Zelima retires in great disorder.
And now, dread minister of justice, strike!

GONZALVO.
My Zelima! my love! farewell for ever!

[Muley Hassan hides his face. The executioner lifts his axe, when Lara and Pedro rush in.
LARA.
Stay—stay your hands! ye impious murderers!
I!—I slew your Almanzor!

MULEY HASSAN.
Who art thou?
None other but Gonzalvo could have done it!

LARA.
Here Lara stands to avouch the glorious deed!
Behold Almanzor's conqueror!

GONZALVO.
My Lara!
Whither would cruel friendship lead thee? Go—
Sever'd from her I love, death is my choice.
Live, Lara, live, for Spain and for Gonzalvo.
(To the Executioner).
Strike, Moor! why stand ye thus suspended?
(To Muley Hassan).
Command, good king! This frantic man would save
His friend, and knows not what he says.

LARA.
Old king! I swear 'twas I who slew thy son.

GONZALVO.
Strike here! the king, Abdoulah, bade despatch.
Dread the fierce tyrant's wrath.
(To Lara.)
Away, my friend!
Thy artifice shall not prevail.

LARA
(to the Executioner.)
Strike here!

ZELIMA
(rushing from among the women, and throwing herself at her father's feet).
Pardon, my father, both these noble youths!
'Tis Lara speaks the truth—Gonzalvo pardon,
For that he tarried with thy Zelima,
Swearing to spare her brother, while his friend
Struck at our peace; yet pardon Lara too,
For that he thus would die to save Gonzalvo.

MULEY HASSAN.
The Spaniard's blood will not allay the pang
That rankles in this breast; but how may these
Consent to lose the sweets of promised vengeance?

ZELIMA
(to the attendants).
My friends, who knew my brother's generous soul,
Think you his spirit may be soothed by blood
Of kindred spirits butcher'd o'er his tomb?
Not nobly shed in battle?—No—'tis he,
'Tis my Almanzor's hovering ghost that prompts
My feeble voice to cry for mercy!—Mercy!

[Distant sounds are heard of the storming of the city.
Enter Omar hastily.
OMAR.
Granada is invested on all sides!
The vengeful Spaniards lay the city waste,
Claiming their leaders, Lara and Gonzalvo.

GONZALVO.
Release me, king, and I will stay their fury:
It were more grateful to Almanzor's spirit
That I should stanch his country's blood, than shed
My own upon his corse.

ALL THE MOORS.
Release him, king!
Release the noble Spaniard!

[Muley Hassan releases him, and Pedro gives him his arms.
GONZALVO
(embracing LARA).
Oh, my Lara,
Generous and brave alike!—My Zelima!
Yes, thou dost pity me—deny it not!

ZELIMA.
Haste, haste, dear prince, nor lose again the moment.

MULEY HASSAN.
Let them depart, while thou and I consign
To earth, the mortal part of him whom now
The Prophet welcomes to the bowers of bliss.

[Exeunt Gonzalvo and Lara on one side, followed by the young Moors. On the other the funeral procession, with Muley Hassan, Zelima, Maidens, &c. and the Scene closes.

SCENE III.

A public Part of Granada.
Storming of the City heard. Spaniards and Moors in great confusion, fighting: the Moors driven off.—Muley Hassan and Zelima afterwards, with attendants.
MULEY HASSAN.
My friends, it is the Prophet's will these eyes
Should see, ere yet they close, Granada's realm—
Land of my fathers—fall!—My son! thou sleepest
The eternal sleep, not ev'n thy country's groans
May break!—I am resign'd!
[He kneels, and for a moment is wrapt in devotion,
While yet I reign'd,
I did not cause my people's tears to flow;
And at this awful moment, when I wait
The stroke of death, no form terrific gleams
Athwart my soul of one accusing Moor!

[The noise redoubles.
ZELIMA.
The dreadful tumult grows upon the ear!
Havoc and death approach!—My dear, dear father!
[Clinging to him.
They shall not tear thee from me—my last breath
Shall speak a blessing on thy parting child.
They come! they come!—Oh, hold me to thy heart!

Enter Selim.
SELIM.
The guard is forced!—Within the gates they rage,
The furious Spaniards!—Fly, my princess, fly!
Fly, good old man!
(Kneeling.)
I was thy subject once,
And my heart owns thee still—Oh! if my arm
Could stay the stroke that threats thy reverend head,
One moment stay it—think'st thou I would fly?—
But they are thousands drunk with blood and conquest.

[Starts up, and exit.
Spaniards rush in, led by Garcia.
GARCIA.
This—this is he! the hoary infidel!
Drag him before victorious Ferdinand!

[They seize him.
A SPANIARD
(seizing ZELIMA).
This is a prize indeed!—Come on, fair Moor!

ZEZIMA
(struggling).
Save me, my father! save me from these ruffians!
Gonzalvo! Oh Gonzalvo! where art thou?

MULEY HASSAN.
Unhand her, villains! Leave the royal maid!

ZELIMA.
Save me!

MULEY HASSAN.
Can age, e'en palsied age, unnerve
The arm of him who hears a daughter's cry!
Oh, my heart's darling!—Brutal villains, off!
[He makes a violent effort, breaks from them, strikes down one, rescues his Daughter, is wounded by Garcia in the struggle, and sinks into Zelima's arms.
This trembling hand was arm'd with Heaven's might
To save a daughter!—Yes, I hold thee still—
Thanks to the Prophet!—Cling to me—I faint.

ZELIMA.
Oh gracious Allah! See—he bleeds—Help! help!

Enter Lara.
LARA.
Whence came that piercing shriek?—The Moorish princess!
Hold, ruffians, hold!—Hold in Gonzalvo's name!
[To Muley Hassan.
From him I come with grateful tidings, king,
Alas, I fear too late!—Recal thy spirit—
Peace to thy bleeding country!

MULEY HASSAN
(reviving).
Oh! I thank thee!
That word has life in't.—I can hear thy tale.
I bleed apace, but my firm spirit yet
Wings not its flight—
[To Zelima.
It hangs on all it loves,
And will not part.

LARA.
The tide of blood is stayed.
The heartless Moors, deprived of their Almanzor,
Yielded on all sides, when Gonzalvo's voice
Quarter proclaim'd, and check'd the hot pursuit
In the names of Ferdinand and Isabel.
In gentlest triumph see the victors come!

MULEY HASSAN.
I breathe more freely.

ZELIMA
(with rapture).
Yes, thy swimming eyes
Are lighted with new fire. Oh thou wilt live,
And bless thy daughter still!

MULEY HASSAN.
Yes, Zelima,
I grapple still with death, and will not yield.
A purpose to my parting soul most dear,
Supports me still a space against the course
Of nature—and I will—will yet—

Enter Ferdinand and Isabella, Gonzalvo, Spanish Nobles, &c.
GONZALVO
(kneeling, and raising MULEY HASSAN).
Oh, Muley Hassan! honour'd, reverend king!
What ruthless hand has done this?—Look on me,
Dear, good old man! and call me once thy son.

MULEY HASSAN
(joining their hands).
Protect her—Oh! my son!

ISABELLA.
Live, Muley Hassan!
Live to bless these, and see thy people blest!
The weal of fall'n Granada we commit
To thy Gonzalvo.

MULEY HASSAN.
Now I die content—
Thanks, generous victors!—Oh, my Zelima!
My pent soul flutters to be gone.—We must—
Yes, we must part.—I forced my spirit—stay
Awhile—and still—still would behold thee once—
Why dost thou vanish?—Why dost flit away?
My child—my child—I hope—I hope I die
Within thy arms.
(Reaching, as if to seek her).
Oh! that I could feel thee!—
Press me—Oh! press me to thy heart, my child! [Dies.
[After a pause Zelima lays her cheek to his face, and starting.


ZELIMA.
Hush! hush! was't not a breath of life that fann'd
My cheek?
[Laying her hand on his breast.
Oh no!—no, no—I may not hope—
Thy kind heart beats no more beneath my hand—
All, all is still!—My father! oh, my father!

[She leans over the body lost in grief,Gonzalvo supporting her. The Curtain drops.