 | Poems, dramatic and miscellaneous |  |
111
SCENE IV.
DON JUAN DE PADILLA and DON FRANCIS.Francis.
Hast thou yet seen th' unhappy queen of Spain?
The vulgar ear, forever caught by sound,
Allur'd by pomp, by pageantry and show,
Revere her person and adore her name;
Her standard planted on the field of war,
Would sanction give to every bold design.
Don Juan.
I have beheld the ruins of a queen,
A sight too piteous for a soldier's eye—
Whose heart, unsteel'd by scenes of human woe,
Has yet a tender corner left for grief.
A sight too piteous for a soldier's eye—
Whose heart, unsteel'd by scenes of human woe,
Has yet a tender corner left for grief.
Rob'd of her crown, authority and peace—
Dethron'd, immur'd, neglected by her son,
Shut up in widow'd solitude to weep
Ungrateful Philip, who despis'd her charms,
She's but the weeping image of despair.
Dethron'd, immur'd, neglected by her son,
Shut up in widow'd solitude to weep
Ungrateful Philip, who despis'd her charms,
She's but the weeping image of despair.
Francis.
Does she yet know the miseries of Spain?—
The indignant wrongs and injuries we feel,
Beneath the reign of her oppressive son?—
Don Juan.
She, all attentive, listen'd to the tale;
And rous'd at once as from lethargic dreams,
And starting, cry'd—is Ferdinand no more!—
Is that great monarch slumbering in the tomb,
While I, a wretched prisoner of state,
Stand the sad monument of human ills?—
She wept and sigh'd, till strong resentment rose,
And kindled in her breast a noble flame.
And rous'd at once as from lethargic dreams,
And starting, cry'd—is Ferdinand no more!—
Is that great monarch slumbering in the tomb,
While I, a wretched prisoner of state,
Stand the sad monument of human ills?—
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And kindled in her breast a noble flame.
With, all the powers of eloquence and truth,
I strove to sooth her wandering mind to rest.
In justice' sacred name I urg'd her aid
To counteract the cruelties of Charles,
To reassume her rights, and reign again,
To extricate her subjects from despair;—
She gave assent with dignity and ease,
And, spite of nature, seem'd to be a queen.
I nam'd Calabria's injur'd noble prince,
The heir of Arragon, long since depriv'd
Of his paternal crown, and princely rights,
Which Ferdinand, by violence, had seiz'd,
And justice bade his daughter to restore;
I urg'd her marriage with so brave a prince,
Entitled, both by virtue and by blood,
To wield the sceptre that his fathers won,
And shield her person from all future wrongs;
But naming love, her dormant passions wak'd,
And kindled up her former flame for Philip;
She sunk despondent, and refus'd to aid,
To act in council, or to guide the realm.
I strove to sooth her wandering mind to rest.
In justice' sacred name I urg'd her aid
To counteract the cruelties of Charles,
To reassume her rights, and reign again,
To extricate her subjects from despair;—
She gave assent with dignity and ease,
And, spite of nature, seem'd to be a queen.
I nam'd Calabria's injur'd noble prince,
The heir of Arragon, long since depriv'd
Of his paternal crown, and princely rights,
Which Ferdinand, by violence, had seiz'd,
And justice bade his daughter to restore;
I urg'd her marriage with so brave a prince,
Entitled, both by virtue and by blood,
To wield the sceptre that his fathers won,
And shield her person from all future wrongs;
But naming love, her dormant passions wak'd,
And kindled up her former flame for Philip;
She sunk despondent, and refus'd to aid,
To act in council, or to guide the realm.
Francis.
Unhappy queen! thus to her people lost.
In melancholy's cell, let her remain,
While her son raves at large about the world,
Not less a madman than the Macedon,
Who kindled up the Grecian world in flame,
And rear'd a pile o'er all his murder'd friends.
Don Juan.
She, rescu'd from her guards, my prisoner is,
And, if we need, her signet is obtain'd.
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But malice whispers murmurs through the camp,
And half our soldiers clamour for their pay—
At least a part, before they take the field.
Don Juan.
Haste to Maria, whose undaunted soul
Reflects a lustre on her feeble sex;
By stratagem, she's gain'd an ample sum
To quiet mutiny, and pay the troops.
But ere the solemn midnight clock shall strike,
Return, and meet me at the gate of Toro.
[Exeunt.
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