University of Virginia Library

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.