University of Virginia Library

SCENE IV.

Abdallah,
Solus.
Avaunt! thou vision, from my tortur'd brain
And rack my soul no more; canst thou not leave me
One short repose, or wilt thou always sting me?
Ah there thou standst all crimson'd o'er with blood!
There is the wound, this cruel hand inflicted,
Gaping within thy breast! why lookst thou so
Relentless on a wretched, childless father?
Oh leave me now, let me enjoy repose.
No, never! furies haunt this feverish brain
And goad me on to madness; gracious heav'n!
Have mercy on my agonizing heart.
Alzira! art thou come again to sting me?
Why standst thou there so ghastly and so pale,
Why point'st thou to that dark and deathly wound?
But dearest child, could I destroy thy life,
Thou, who wert once the best of earth-born daughters,
Who lov'd me once so fondly? have compassion,
I pray thee, on thy miserable parent,
Oh soften down that stern relentless brow
And give me but one smile; no! thou canst never
Pardon that cruel, hell-inspired murder.
But hast thou in thy hand that bloody dagger,
By which I slew thee? ah I see the drops
Trickle along its blade! oh give it me
And let it pierce my heart! my dear Alzira,
So lovely once, so merciful and kind,
Grant me but this request and let me lay
My aged head in thy untimely tomb.
Ah no, thou frown'st! the angel of despair
To poor Abdallah; why that darken'd brow
And fiercely flashing eye? Say, have thy charms
Been alter'd to a fiend's unhallow'd features?
Why look'st thou now so wild? why dost thou beckon?
Ah whither would'st thou lead thy wretched father?

Zamor.
To hell, thou murdering king!

[who had previously appeared at the door and listened to Abdallah.]
Abd.
Child of my heart!
Is that thy voice, or is it but a dream?
Oh what a horror thrills along my brain!
But it was more than phantasy, 'twas real;
I heard a voice, oh 'twas an awful sound.
But there she comes again, frowning and gloomy,
Ah see, she shakes the crimson, gory dagger
And beckons me to follow. Oh Alzira!
Where would'st thou lead thy parent now?

Zamor.
To hell!
[Then rushes on the stage.
Prepare to die, thou murderer of thy daughter,
This instant! well may visions haunt thy brain
And goad thee on to madness; but look up!
Here's no ideal dagger, here's no vision,
That glares before thy sight, but here is steel,
Sharp, vengeful steel, that soon will drink thy blood.

Abd.
Oh art thou Zamor, or some vile assassin?

Zamor.
Yes, I am Zamor, once thy mighty hero,
The stay and prop of thy dissolving throne.
Look at me, gray-hair'd ingrate, and remember
How thou didst break my sword! could'st thou suppose,
That I would pardon thee that foul disgrace?
No, vengeance is too sweet to be forgotten.

Abd.
Zamor, wert thou not once a faithful prince,
Hast thou not promis'd to forget that deed,
The unhappy deed, I did through ignorance,
As thou didst own to me?

Zamor.
I pardon thee!
Let heaven and hell unite in fond affection,
Before I pardon or forget an injury.
Little thou know'st the spirit of a Moor,
To trust in one, who promises forgiveness,
No! thou must die, that I may be reveng'd!

Abd.
Die by the hands of such a wretch as thou?

Zamor.
Yes, even by Zamor's hand thou now must die.

Abd.
Alzira, shield the bosom of thy father!

Zamor.
Call to the winds for aid! Alzira's dead,
And murder'd by that cruel hand of thine.

Abd.
Oh, wretched monarch! murderer of my daughter.
Almanzor! oh my son!

Zamor.
Call to the winds!
They'll hear thee sooner than thy son Almanzor;
His corpse is welt'ring on yon field of battle,
And know, my sabre clove his skull in twain.

Abd.
Thou slew'st Almanzor! Oh, thou child of hell!
Save me, my guards, from such a barbarous monster!

Zamor.
Call, call again! thy guards have all deserted,
And flock'd around my standard. Take thy sceptre
And costly crown! can they defend thee now,
Ah! can they ward away this deadly blow?

[Prepares to strike.
Abd.
This is the consummation of my woes!
My wife is dead; Alzira lost and guilty,
And murder'd by my hand.

Zamor.
Alzira's innocent,
She's innocent and spotless as an angel;
The thing I told thee was a lie of mine,
To drive thee on to be her murderer.

Abd.
Satan, art thou incarnate

Zamor.
If thou think'st so,
'Tis all the same to me: so take this dagger,
[Stabs him.
And ne'er forget, 'tis dangerous and dreadful
To rouse the insatiate fury of a tiger.

Abd.
Ah, this is my reward for all my kindness!
I nurs'd thee, and thou now hast been a scorpion,
And stung me to the heart.

Zamor.
And thou didst rouse
[Abdallah dies.
That scorpion's fury by thy proud injustice.

[Fatima enters.
Fat.
Villain! hast thou destroy'd him? 'tis too late,
Oh, 'tis too late to save my dearest king.

Zamor.
Stand off, thou feeble woman, nor insult me;
Provoke me not or thou shalt feel my vengeance.

Fat.
Strike, monster! if thou pleasest, kill me now,
And let me die beside my honour'd king.

Zamor.
I kill a woman, I who oft have slaughter'd
Whole troops of enemies; say, shall my dagger
Be stain'd by such unmanly blood as thine?

Fat.
Hero! great as thou art, thou now canst lift
Thy dagger 'gainst the breast of helpless age,
Can'st slay the fetter'd pris'ner in his dungeon,
And stab the sleeping monarch on his couch.

Zamor.
Insult me not, thou worm! rouse not my wrath,
Or I will bid the assassin pierce thy heart.

Fat.
Pierce it thyself, thou art the chief assassin!
Pierce it thyself! thou bloody, lurking coward!
'Tis the last bosom, thou shalt ever wound.

Zamor.
Desist! canst thou believe I'd stab a woman?
No, greater deeds than that await me now.

Fat.
Go! go to death! destruction yawns around thee,
Exult in thy success, but ere the sun
Has lighted up again the vault of heaven,
Thy corpse shall be the prey of dogs and vultures,
Thy name the hiss and obloquy of all.

Zamor.
Cease! cease thy croakings, nor disturb me more.

[Exit.
Fat.
There he has gone to triumph and to die.
Little he knows the dark and dreadful tempest,
That threatens sudden to o'erwhelm his fortunes;
But he must shout a moment and then fall,
Fall to be hated and despis'd forever.
Oft have I look'd upon that splendid hero;
Oft have I seen him hail'd by all the nation,
Their brave and noble saviour; fortune wove
A wreath of stars to circle round his brow,
And glory mark'd him for her brightest son:
But pride and mad ambition, urg'd him on
To deeds of cruelty, of perfidy
And blackest guilt; these darken'd his renown
And blasted all the honours of his name.
[Addressing Abdallah's corpse.
But thou shalt live, tho' murder'd by the hand,
Thou nurs'd so tenderly; yes, thou shalt live
Secure within the memories of thy people,
And thou shalt be reveng'd! for now, even now,
Almanzor's sword is lifted 'gainst the wretch,
The ungrateful wretch, who dar'd destroy thy life.