 | Love After Death |  |
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SCENE IV.
—THE CHRISTIAN CAMP.Enter DON JOHN OF AUSTRIA, DON LOPE DE FIGUEROA, DON JUAN DE MENDOZA, and soldiers.
DON JOHN.
Since that this proud city here,
This Galera lies in ruin—
And awaiting its renewing,
One vast phenix doth appear—
And of all that burning sphere
Which eternal vengeance woke—
Seems a burning fragment broke
From the region of God's ire,—
A very minotaur of fire—
A very labyrinth of smoke—
We no longer should remain,—
But before the morning peeps
Over the hills, and smiling weeps
Those tears which in the foaming main
Turn into glistening pearls again,
We from Galera should retreat
And to Berja fly as fleet;
Since at rest I ne'er shall be,
Till this Moorish king I see
Dead or conquered at my feet.
LOPE.
If you wish, my lord, that we
Do, at Berja, what we've done
At Galera—ere the sun
Sinks again, it so shall be;
But, as it appears to me,
The king our gracious ruler meant
Not to destroy the malcontent
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To chastise them—true, severely—
But blending grace with punishment.
MENDOZA.
I with Don Lope must agree;
Cruel yet merciful, they should
Behold you in your milder mood,
Since they have seen thy cruelty:—
Yes, permit them now to be
Spectators of the heartfelt joy,
With which by mercy's mild alloy
Thou temperest vengeance, and so give
A proof that valour can forgive—
Since 'tis not valour to destroy.
DON JOHN.
My brother sent me, it is true,
To pacify this rebel land,
But without my sword in hand
My anger knows not how to sue;
Still as he permits me too,
To pass or punish crimes like theirs—
The world shall know from these affairs,
That, as the occasion needs,
With arms I punish rebel deeds—
With pardon welcome humble prayers—
Don Juan.
MENDOZA.
Please your grace?
DON JOHN.
Away
To Berja, where Valór, I know
Has raised his standard; that I go
To Berja, upon my part, say;
There publicly in the face of day
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Good and evil equally blent:
Say, if he doth yield to me
At discretion, I, by thee
A general amnesty have sent
To all the rebels—that they may
Return and live with us once more,
Resume the rank they held before
This foul rebellion's fatal day.
For all their crimes now past away,
As things of a forgotten era—
I shall ask no more severe a
Punishment: if he says—no—
Then on Berja I shall blow
The burning ashes of Galera.
MENDOZA.
I go thy servant.
[Exit.
LOPE.
Never did
The sack of any town I have known
Turn out so well; each soldier's grown
Rich with the wealth he found amid
The walls.
DON JOHN.
And was such treasure hid
Galera's narrow walls between?
LOPE.
Let the joy that can be seen
In every soldier's face reply.
DON JOHN.
I would wish to give by-and-by
Unto my sister and my queen,
Some gift to which she could refer
As trophy of this victory,—
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Some offering worthy sending her.
LOPE.
I have been a purchaser
With the very same intent—
This necklace which I bought to-day
From one to whom it fell at play—
I would fain, my lord, present—
A jewelled trophy of the event.
DON JOHN.
'Tis fair, and I must not refuse,
That you may not yourself excuse,
Señor, hereafter from receiving
As readily as now thou'rt giving;—
Then to take, as now you choose
To teach me how to give.
LOPE,
giving the necklace.
I see
Its value, since you condescend
To make some use of it and me.
Enter DON ALVARO TUZANÍ, and ALCUZCUZ, dressed as Spanish soldiers; they converse apart.
TUZANÍ.
Alcuzcuz, I have chosen thee
For the exploit I intend,
As my companion and my friend.
ALCUZCUZ.
You did well to trust to me:—
Although you keep as in a sheath
Your valorous project—now this shyness ...
But hush! for yonder is his Highness.
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Is this Don John?
ALCUZCUZ.
It is in faith:—
TUZANÍ.
A man about whom rumour saith
Such deeds, is worthy of mine eyes.
DON JOHN.
How equal are these pearls in size?
TUZANÍ.
And if the reason that I mention,
Would not account for my attention,
Now one more potent doth arise.
That pearly necklace (woe is me!)
Which in his hands (O heavens!) I see,
Is that which once, when Fate was kind,
Around Maleca's neck I twined!
DON JOHN.
Let us, Don Lope, go: how he
That soldier yonder seems enchained,
Looking at me with eyeballs strained!
LOPE.
Who would not look so, please your grace,
When he beholds you face to face?
[Exeunt.
TUZANÍ.
Amazed and mute I have remained.
ALCUZCUZ.
Now tell me, since we are alone,
Why from the Alpujarra near
Have you descended and come here?
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Soon shall the cause be clearly shown.
ALCUZCUZ.
Yes, but the cause may not be known
Until a greater cause have I
To repent that I followed thee.
TUZANÍ.
And why?
ALCUZCUZ.
Listen and I will tell the cause:
Lately, my lord, you know I was
Taken a prisoner as a spy
By a Christian soldier, now if he
See me, he'll kill me.
TUZANÍ.
That can't be,
Since no eye could now know you
In this disguise; and so, we two
May, without the slightest suspicion,
Go through the camp upon our mission;
Christians we will seem to their view,
Since naught betrays that we are Moors.
ALCUZCUZ.
You, because with that tongue of yours
You speak their language, and never were
At any time their prisoner—
And seem a Spaniard—this secures
To you the safety you announce,
But I, who know not how to pronounce—
I who know badly how to express—
I a captive—and unused to this dress,
How am I my fears to renounce?
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By your only speaking to me:
Besides, a servant will not be
Noticed by every passer-by.
ALCUZCUZ.
If they ask me a question?
TUZANÍ.
Don't reply.
ALCUZCUZ.
That will be rather a difficulty.
TUZANÍ.
Not if you wish to avoid pursuit.
ALCUZCUZ.
Mahomet alone could make me mute,
Being from the moment of my birth
The greatest babbler on the earth.
TUZANÍ.
O wild, wild love's insensate fruit!
I doubt not, oh! I do not doubt
That men will say, that thou dost err,
The fond—the vain idolater
Of a bright sun that has gone out,
Vainly thus to roam about,
To try 'mid thirty thousand men
One single soldier here to find,
Whom I follow like the wind
Swift-sweeping over mount and glen,
Without one mark to guide my ken;
But deeper darkness clouding o'er;
Still what is one new wonder more,
When we can naught but wonders see?
Well do I know, it scarce can be,
That I, the vengeance that I swore,
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But what will I have done, if I
Only attempt the possible?—
Still though 'tis nigh infallible,
The first clear trace I've seen in vain—
Because to me the thing is plain—
Whoe'er he be—the fiend of hell—
He can't be noble, he who could
Have dyed his hands in woman's blood—
It neither argues bravery,
Nor does it prove nobility—
Not to view with admiration—
Not to feel with adoration—
What in its very self should be
Woman's best guard—her loveliness—
O love, in vain these signs express
'Twas he that did that cruelty—
Thy proofs are false, it was not he,
It was another's vile address—
Some traitor—monster—struck the blow!
ALCUZCUZ.
Did you come here this fact to know?
TUZANÍ.
Yes.
ALCUZCUZ.
Then let us face about,
For how expect to find him out—
A man you never saw?
TUZANÍ.
Although
Not sanguine, I may find his track.
ALCUZCUZ.
'Tis like the letter, that some one
Sent superscribed, “To my son John
Who lives near the court and dresses in black.”
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Be sure address not old or young.
ALCUZCUZ.
Then my thoughts I must express
By signs, to all I meet with?
TUZANÍ.
Yes.
ALCUZCUZ.
Tie up, O Allah! tie my tongue!
Enter some SOLDIERS.
FIRST SOLDIER.
In this way I think the winnings
Are divided very fairly,
Since the man who plays for two
Should have choice of his own portion.
SECOND SOLDIER.
Why should not the gain be equal,
When the loss would have been so?
THIRD SOLDIER.
Yes, that seems but common justice.
FIRST SOLDIER.
Look now, I have got no fancy
To have quarrels with my comrades
Through an interested motive.
Find me out a man, a stranger,
Who will say that you have reason
On your side, and I am mute.
SECOND SOLDIER.
Any one we meet will say it.
Ho! friend soldier.
[To Alcuzcuz.
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aside.
Me he speaks to!—
And I cannot answer—Patience!—
THIRD SOLDIER.
Will you not answer?
ALCUZCUZ.
Ha! ha! ha!
FIRST SOLDIER.
Oh! he is dumb:—
ALCUZCUZ,
aside.
How well they know it!
TUZANÍ,
aside.
He will certainly destroy me
If I do not extricate him
From the dilemma: brave hidalgoes,
Pardon through your great indulgence
This my servant—who cannot
Understand you, from his being
Deaf and dumb.
ALCUZCUZ,
aside.
I am not dumb,
But it seems on this occasion
Must be pique, repique, and capot,
Trick'd as it were of every word.
FIRST SOLDIER.
What indeed we wished to ask him
Is a matter that can better
Be decided by yourself.
TUZANÍ.
Oh! I shall be proud to do so.
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I, in playing for us both,
Won a certain sum of money
And this Cupid....
TUZANÍ,
aside.
Oh! my sorrow!
FIRST SOLDIER.
Formed of diamonds:—
TUZANÍ,
aside.
Ah! Maleca,
The very jewels of thy marriage
Are relics of thy obsequies:
How, oh! how shall I avenge thee—
If from one extreme to the other,
From the prince to the common soldier,
Fly the proofs of thy foul murder?
FIRST SOLDIER.
Coming to divide the winnings,
I have offered him the Cupid
As his share of what we won—
But he says he wants not trinkets:
Look now, having gained the stakes,
If I should not get a preference
In the dividing.
TUZANÍ.
With your leave
I may reconcile the difference,
Having come so opportunely—
Giving for this gem the sum
That you won, as you have mentioned:
But with only this condition
That you point me out the man
Who first owned it—to secure me
In my purchase.
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All that's played for
Is to-day a safe investment,—
As it forms the booty won,
In the sacking of Galera,
From these dogs.
TUZANÍ,
aside.
O heavens! that I
Thus should listen to this outrage!
ALCUZCUZ,
aside.
Oh! that I can neither kill him
Nor even answer what he says.
FIRST SOLDIER.
I will show you the first owner,
Who, as a token, told me how
He with other jewels took it
From a fair young Moorish maiden
Whom he killed.
TUZANÍ,
aside.
Ah! woe is me!
FIRST SOLDIER.
Come my friend, and you will hear it
From himself:—
TUZANÍ,
aside.
I shall not hear it,
For the first word that he utters
He beneath my dagger dies.—
Let us go.
[Aloud.
VOICES
within.
Stand back!
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within.
Away!
A SOLDIER,
within.
I shall kill him on the instant,
Though the whole world should defend!
ANOTHER SOLDIER,
within.
He has sided now against us.
ANOTHER,
within.
Then my comrade, kill him, kill!—
GARCES,
within.
That you all should be opposed?
Enter GARCES and SOLDIERS, fighting.
TUZANÍ.
Though I am alone, what matter
So many against one! O soldiers,
This is infamous; 'tis baseness;
Back! or by the heavens above me
I will force you to retire!
[They fight.
ALCUZCUZ,
aside.
Matters are progressing bravely,
Here's a row without my speaking.
A SOLDIER.
I am slain!
Enter DON LOPE DE FIGUEROA, with a guard.
LOPE.
What's this?
A SOLDIER,
to the others.
He's killed!
Fly, that we may not be taken.
[Exit.
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Soldier, thou hast saved my life,
And the debt I shall repay thee.
[Exit with the rest of the soldiers.
LOPE.
Hold there! soldier!
TUZANÍ.
I obey thee.
LOPE.
From the two their arms remove—
Take his sword.
TUZANÍ,
aside.
And this, O Heaven!—
Let your lordship be advised
[Aloud.
That I drew it but for peace-sake,
Since the quarrel was not mine.
LOPE.
All I know is, at the guard-room
That I found you with it naked
In your hand, beside a corse.
TUZANÍ,
aside.
Ah! I see defence is useless:—
Has it happened till this moment
He who came (as I) to kill—
Finds himself in greater danger
For the saving of a life.
LOPE
to ALCUZCUZ.
You your sword have not surrendered,—
Good! you only speak by signs,
But as well as I remember
You had a tongue another time,—
In the guard-house place these prisoners—
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Until I o'ertake the others.
ALCUZCUZ,
aside.
Two things lately gave me trouble—
Silence and the quarrel; now
If I can tot up correctly
One, two, three, yes, three there are—
Silence, quarrel, and a prison.
[They are led out.
Enter DON JOHN OF AUSTRIA.
DON JOHN.
What has now occurred, Don Lope?
LOPE.
There has been, my lord, a quarrel,
And a soldier has been slain.
DON JOHN.
If we did not sometimes punish
Matters of this kind, each day
Would produce a thousand murders.
But we must, with discipline
Temper mercy.
Enter DON JUAN MENDOZA.
MENDOZA,
kneeling.
At your Highness'
Feet I kneel.
DON JOHN.
What news, Mendoza—
How replies Abenhumeya?
MENDOZA.
A peaceful trumpet loud I blew
As I reached the walls of Berja—
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Quickly answered to the trumpet,
Then securely I passed onward
To the canopy, or rather
Heaven of proud Abenhumeya,
Since beside him there was seated
Doña Isabel his queen—
She whose name is now Lidora—
(Love! how vainly you awaken
Slumbering seeds of former fires!)
They as is the Moorish custom
Led me to a cushioned hassock,
Giving as ambassador,
Unto me the same precedence
That to monarchs doth belong,
I my embassy then opened,
And the tidings scarce were heard,
That you gave a general pardon,
When through all the streets and plazas
Festal joy and gladness ran—
But the proud Abenhumeya,
Son of valour and of pride,
Burning with his rage at seeing
How at promise of the pardon
Thus the fickle people changed,
Gave to me this haughty answer:—
I am king of the Alpujarra—
And although the realm is small,
Soon will Spain, a larger empire,
Lay submissive at my feet—
If you do not wish to see him
Lying dead, go tell Don John
To retire with all his forces,
And if any base Morisco
Wishes for this amnesty,
Take the wretched recreant with thee—
Let him aid in Philip's war
Against his kinsmen—we shall only
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With this answer he dismissed me,
And I left the Alpujarra
Arming now in hostile bands,
Some of them “Spain!” “Spain!” proclaiming,
Some proclaiming “Africa”—
So that now a greater ruin—
Now a greater gulf for them
Opens wide—since feuds intestine
Rage unchecked within their gates.
DON JOHN.
Never doth a rebel king
Hold his power with long duration,
Or increase; because even those
Who at first came flocking round him,
Are, at last, the first to leave him
Bathed perchance in his own blood:
In this state is the Alpujarra;
So, before these human vipers
Bite, with poisoned teeth, each other,
Let us move the camp to Berja;
Let us rather conquer them
Ere they've time themselves to conquer—
That they may not share the glory
Which must solely be our own.
[Exeunt.
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