University of Virginia Library

Scene I.

—The Battlements of the Alcazar of Toledo.—Stormy Sunrise.
Enter Padilla, followed by Florio.
PADILLA.
Not here! Maria stole away at dawn,
And I have search'd for her in vain to win
One word of comfort e'er I go to battle;
Boy, have you seen your mistress?

[Seeing Florio.
FLORIO.
She went forth,
And, as I heard, met other noble ladies
Bent on some pious care.

PADILLA.
Heaven bless her in it!
How happy am I that, 'midst fortune's storms,
My little household, morticed in the rock
That shall outlast the visible world, uplifts
A pinnacle that, on its slender summit,
Reflects unrisen dawn! Yet I'd not miss
Maria's valiant smile. Run with best speed,
And pray her join me on this height made dear
By last night's feast.
[Exit Florio.
Those ponderous clouds that drew
An awful splendour from last evening's sun
Spread now a black pavilion, where the storm
Waits to make noon-tide terrible.

Enter Alphonso.
PADILLA.
My son,
I must inquire at last, are you prepared
For orphan'd ruin, which this battle lost
Must bring on your young head? You look serene
As if on some heroic pastime bent,
Contemplating its prize.

ALPHONSO.
Such a desire
Throbs in my eager heart, and hopeful waits
My father's sanction.

PADILLA.
What have I to grant
Except my prayers?

ALPHONSO.
The noblest of all boons,
Your leave to fight beside you.

PADILLA.
And so risk
The only treasure of a doom'd man's widow!

ALPHONSO.
Oh do not speak so sadly! How the tales
Which you made bright with shapes of boyish valour,
While at your knee I stood, reproach me now!
Can I forget how children of the house
Of the great Marquis of Cadiz achieved
Scars from the infidel, e'er thirteen summers
Flush'd in their cheeks? How King Alphonso's heir
At tenderer age, with eager heart, exchanged
The rare felicities of princely youth
For arid battle, and, expiring, strove
To trace in bloody dust consoling words
Whence might be sent assurance to his home
That he died happy? These, and dearer tales,
Which veterans oft with swimming eyes have told me,
Of your own deeds before you reached my age,
Proclaim me laggard.

PADILLA.
If with cheerful heart
I went to this day's battle, you should share it;
But this will be my last.

ALPHONSO.
And should it be,
Let me not miss the last occasion left me;
How shall I ever mix in glorious war
Without one living lesson from my father?

PADILLA.
Are you prepared to die?

ALPHONSO.
I think I am—
Perhaps more fit than if my age were riper.

PADILLA.
Have your desire; go to the priest who offers
Prayers for us in the chapel; make confession
As for your dying hour—it will not need
To hold him long; then hither bring the sword
I gave to you for sport, and I will gird it,
And we will go together.

ALPHONSO.
Thank you, father;
I'll prove no hindrance.
[Exit Alphonso.

PADILLA.
He has chosen bravely,
And has a right to choose, for on his life
Lies nothing that should make death fearful.
[Shouts from the city.
Shouts—
Hollow and wreckless—
In their pause I hear
A deep, low ponderous sound,—the very sound
Of the cathedral's funeral bell when heard
On yonder mountains through the evening air
In far-off years.
[Shouts renewed.
Those clamours surely rise
From some unhallow'd revel:—dreadful pleasure
At such a crisis!

Enter Florio.
PADILLA.
Whence are those wild shouts?
What means that funeral knell?

FLORIO.
I heard no knell;
The shouts rise from the veteran bands who share
Among them heaps of gold and gems dispersed
From the cathedral's chapels.

PADILLA.
From the shrines?
The treasures dedicate to Heaven profaned
To pay my soldiers! Who has pull'd this curse
On my last struggle! Tell me, that my sword
May deal swift justice on the guilty! Speak!
I see you know the robbers—do not shiver—
But speak, if you would live.

FLORIO.
A train of ladies
Attired in shroud-like vestments, moving slow
With spectral pageantry and saddest music
Besought the saints to pity and forgive
A deed compell'd by such sad urgency
As will assure its pardon.

PADILLA
(grasping his sword).
Urgency!
How durst you—

FLORIO
(kneeling).
Spare me—I have meant no ill.

PADILLA.
No ill!—Stand up—You meant no ill—alas!
So soon corrupted by the sophist world
To use its basest words! You think those treasures
Which fatal sacrilege has rifled, shows
For idle gazers—nay perhaps have learn'd
To hold the honor'd dead who heap'd them fools
Thus to bestow their wealth beyond return
Of mortal use. Oh child! They are the offerings
Which prodigality of boundless love
And grateful adoration, wanting words
For utterance, sought amidst the precious things
Earth holds, to speak in beauty to the future;
And on each gift a radiant angel waits
To guard devotion's symbol! I must fight,
By these abandon'd!—you beheld the spoilers—
Who led them? Answer—or my sword shall search
That quivering heart—speak!—I implore you, speak!
Say—it was not—Oh mercy!

[Shouts renewed.
Enter Maria.
PADILLA.
Can it be?
You have no portion in this impious daring?—
Say so and bless me!

MARIA.
I have acted boldly
In firm belief that pardon will attend
A deed which brings the treasures of the saints
To aid a cause which, living, they had died for.

PADILLA.
So! I am alone; there is a gulf divides us—
All lost!

MARIA.
How lost?

PADILLA.
For this world; but that's little;
I thought till now, however lapsed in duty
To my anointed sovereign, I maintain'd
My fealty to Heaven's eternal Law
And Him who sits beyond it;—that is gone—
And death's no refuge.

MARIA
(kneeling).
Kill me here, and live
Assoil'd from guilt my desperate love brings on thee!
Do not transfix me with those eyes of stone,
But slay me!

PADILLA.
Slay! who spoke that dreadful word?
Slay! you should live for ages to implore
The saints for pardon! Slay! That word means death;
And, in that death, which I esteem'd a haven
Of golden rest, the shadow of this hour
Will follow with its vengeance.

MARIA.
Then divorce me;
Sever your lot from mine; if I have sinn'd
Beyond forgiveness, cast me off, and keep
Your right to blessing,—so you let me kiss
Your hand once more, and hear one gentle word
Before we part for ever.

PADILLA.
No, Maria,
I will not separate my lot from your's,
Here or hereafter. Rise, and look with love
Upon your blasted husband.

MARIA.
Blasted! Spurn me.

PADILLA
(raising and embracing Maria).
No; thus, once more, I join my soul with yours
For ever. I remember when we stood
Before the Priest to consecrate the state
In which the holiest ecstasy of earth
Enriches the immortal, and exchanged
The common vow of constancy “till death
Should part us,” which gay brides and bridegrooms take
And keep without reproach till parting comes
According to the word, and then forget
Their loss in other contracts which they seal
With the same brief formality, and pass
In decent round of duty, till the grave
Sets the survivor free to wed again,
As if the marriage of pure hearts had bonds
For mortal life alone; I felt your hand,
Which had been tremulous in mine, grow firm
And your eye flash'd a question on my soul
Which from that soul I answer'd,—with disdain
Of the poor limitation of a span
For such great bargain, and a pledge that ours
Was for both worlds. I own that bond and pray
That I may share your doom.

MARIA.
I cannot weep,
For my heart's iron.

PADILLA.
Do you not hear a knell
As from a distant church?

MARIA.
No—any sound
Were better than the silence.

PADILLA.
A funeral knell;
Yet softer than before you came: its portent
Seems fraught with solemn mercy.

[Enter Alphonso gaily, with a helmet on, and sword in his hand.
ALPHONSO.
I am ready;
The troops wait in the Square.

PADILLA
(to Maria).
He goes with me.

MARIA.
Oh not to-day!—

PADILLA.
Hold!—not a word to him.

MARIA.
Oh not to-day; all things in earth and sky
Are charged with terror; see the river's mists
Rise like huge shrouds to veil your battle-field
And the air's fill'd with storm.

PADILLA.
We must abide it;
My army will to-morrow be dissolved
Unless to-day it conquers.
[Girding the sword on Alphonso.
Let me arm you;
The sword fits well; embrace your mother.

[Alphonso kisses Maria, who stands abstracted.
ALPHONSO.
Cold
As marble! Do not fear for me; I go
To win my knighthood.

MARIA.
Go—I dare not bless you.

PADILLA
(embracing Maria).
Farewell, my dear one; let me see you smile;
That's well; be hopeful. Now, young soldier, tread
With lightest foot, for there's no freer heart
In all the thousands that share this day's peril
Than that you carry.

[Exeunt Padilla and Alphonso.—Trumpets below sound a salute.
MARIA
(alone).
Gone—those trumpets greet them—
Time rushes to its cataract.
[Looking over the battlements on thick mists rising from the Tagus.
Part, clouds,
And let me see the squadrons of our foes
To mate these phantoms of despair!
[Lightning.
That flash
Came at my call to show in jagged fire
The plumes down-pouring from the mountain brow
And streaming swords.
[Lightning.
Another flash—they are gone—
Already in the narrow vale where Death
Is busy, while the tempest veils his work.
Oh for a moment's glance of yonder conflict
The mists conceal, or for one battle sound
Above the thunder!

[Storm rages nearer.
Enter Lopez.
LOPEZ.
Madam, will you seek
The chapel where the Friar with ceaseless prayer
Implores the Saints to aid us.

MARIA.
Saints! I am barr'd
From intercession of the martyr'd dead
And from all sacred roofs; but here, in right
Of my remorse and wretchedness, I cry
To the bare Heaven for succour!

LOPEZ.
Yet descend—
The winds impel a deluge which will sweep
In a few moments hither.

MARIA.
Let it come,
And wrap me in its fury.

LOPEZ.
As my master pass'd
He pray'd me, as if life hung on the word,
To urge you to take shelter; and my hand
Prest as in final parting.

[Weeps.
MARIA.
Good old servant—
You weep; I thank you; for your tears dissolve
The iron at my heart, and bid it yield
Obedience to its lord. Lead where you please.

[Exeunt Maria and Lopez. Storm continues.