 | Henriquez |  |
SCENE III.
The burying vault of the castle, with monuments of the dead; and near the front of the stage, a newly covered grave, seen by the light of a lamp placed on a neighbouring tomb, the stage being otherwise dark. A solemn requiem for the dead is heard at a distance, sounding from above. As it draws to a close, Henriquez appears at the further end of the vault with a light in his hand, which he holds out from him, as if in search of some object, and, seeing the grave, casts the light from his hand, and rushes towards itHen.
(after gazing some time on the grave).
And here thou liest with all thy noble parts,
Thy lofty, liberal soul, and goodly form,
And heart of love so thorough and so true!
This is thy rest, the meed and recompense
Thy generous worth hath from thy friend received!
Thy friend! O savage heart and cruel hand!
Fell, hateful, faithless, cowardly, and base!
Of every baleful thing, by heaven cast off,
Most cursed and miserable!—
O that ere this the dust had cover'd me
Like a crush'd snake, whose sting is yet unsheath'd!
Would in the bloody trench some sabred Moor
Had lanced this hold of life—this latent seat
Of cruelty! or rather that some dart,
Shot erring in our days of boyish sport,
Had pierced its core! Then by my early grave
He had shed over me a brother's tears;
He had sate there and wept and mourn'd for me,
When from all human hearts but his alone
All thoughts of me had been extinguished. Juan!
My Juan, dear, dear friend! Juan de Torva!
Thy name is on my lips, as it was wont;
Thine image in my heart like stirring life;
Thy form upon my fancy like that form
Which bless'd my happy days. How he would look,
When with his outspread arms, as he return'd
After some absence!—Oh, it tortures me!
Let any image cross my mind but this!
No, no! not this!—Sable, sepulchral gloom!
Embody to my sight some terrible thing,
And I will brave it. (Pausing and looking round.)
It doth! it doth! there's form and motion in it.
Advance, thou awful shade, whate'er thou art!
373
[Rubbing his eyes.
It was but fancy.—No; the soul to Him
Who is the Soul of souls ascended hath,
Dust to its dust return'd. There is nought here
But silent rest that can be rous'd no more.
Beneath this mould, some few spans deep he lies.
So near me, though conceal'd!—Curs'd as I am,
The cords of love e'en through this earth have power,
Like a strong charm, to draw me to him still.
[Casting himself upon the grave.
Burst, guilty heart! rend every nerve of life,
And be resolved to senseless clay like this,
So to enlap his dearer clay for ever.
Enter Carlos.
Car.
(looking round him).
He is not here: nought see I through the gloom
Save the cold marble of those tombs which, touch'd
With the wan light of yon sepulchral lamp,
Show their scroll'd ends to the uncertain sight,
Like shrouded bodies rising from the earth.
[Going towards the grave.
Ha! something stirring on the new raised earth!
It is Henriquez, wrapped in frantic sorrow.
[Advancing to him.
Henriquez! hearst thou not, noble Henriquez?
Nay, nay! rise from the earth: such frantic grief
Doth not become a man, and least of all
A man whose firm endurance of misfortune
Has hitherto so graced his noble worth.
Giv'st thou no answer but these heavy groans?
Thou canst not from the tomb recall the dead,
But rouse thy spirit to revenge his death.
Hen.
(raising his head).
What saidst thou?
Car.
Quit this dismal bed of death,
And rouse thee to revenge thy murder'd friend.
Hen.
He is revenged; heav'n deals with guilt so monstrous:
The hand of man is nothing.
Car.
Ay, but the hand of man shall add its mite.
[Taking hold of his hand to raise him.
Up from the earth! I've found the murderer.
Hen.
(springing up fiercely, and seizing him by the throat).
Layst thou thy hand on me?
What is or is not,
The God of heaven doth know, and He alone.
Darest thou with mortal breath bestow that name,
To the dishonour of a noble house,
On one of ancient princely lineage born?
Car.
Let go thy frenzied grasp! Should brave Castilians
Thus grapple hand to hand, like angry boys?
Fit time and place shall justify my words,
If they indeed offend.—Our watch hath seiz'd
In hiding near the castle, most suspiciously,
A youth who hath to Mencia's love pretended,
Whose hand, we cannot doubt, hath done the deed;
But if he be of such high lineage born,
'Tis more than he hath claim'd or we will credit.
Why drop your arms thus listless by your side;
Your eyes upon the ground? Will you not go
And see the prisoner, and hear him question'd?
Hen.
Ay, ay, this is required: I'll go with thee;
I comprehend thee now.
Car.
And yet thou mov'st not:
Does any sudden pain arrest thy steps?
Hen.
I am benumb'd and faint.—I'll follow thee.
[Exeunt.
| Henriquez | |