University of Virginia Library

Charles Stuart Prince of Wales;

Or, The Minstrel of Mirandola;

A Romantic Drama, In Five Acts

Preface

The grandeur of this play is historical. It is founded on the principle achievements of that most extraordinary man, Charles Stuart who aspired to the throne of Scotland. His adventures were enthusiastic and striking. He was patriotic and valorous. His nature was as noble as his ambition was great. His ambition was unlawful, and he saw the vanity of his undertaking by reaping the harvest of a perilous defeat. The incidents of his career are made use of only as the basis of the superstructure of the Drama. The character of Madalena was suggested to the author by a beautiful story which he read in one of the papers three or four years ago. The object of the drama, as will be seen by the plot, is to develop the vanity of unlawful ambition, and, in contradistinction to it, the pleasure that may be derived from following the dictates of the Deity, as recognized in the nature of things. The Author has attempted to make this vanity, of which he was the victim, the more conspicuous in the domestic felicity which he is supposed to have enjoyed after his defeat. How far he has succeeded is left for his friends to judge. May 1st, 1838

Persons of the Drama

• Men
• Charles Stuart, Prince of Wales.
• Francisco, a Monk.
• Boisdale, a Highlander in love with Flora.
• Sir Ronald, a Highlander, younger brother of Timlock Moidart.
• Timlock Moidart, a Highlander.
• Clanranald, a Highlander, their kinsman.
• Marquis of Tullibardine.
• Sir Joshua Macdonald, Flora's father.
• Cameron, brother to Lochiel.
• Buchanan, messenger of Cardinal Tencin.
• Lochiel, Highlander, Chief of the Clan of Camerons.
• Fernando, son of Angela.
• Women
• Madalena, Charles Stuart's daughter, afterwards disguised as the Minstrel of Mirandola, his page.
• Angela, sister of the Nuns.
• Madre of the Convent.
• Madalena, an orphan of Mirandola, betrothed to Fernando.
• Flora Macdonald, daughter of Sir Joshua Macdonald, afterwards Charles Stuart's wife.
• Highland Ladies and Gentlemen, English Soldiers, Priest,
• Officials, Nuns, Processionists.

Scene—Mirandola, in the First Act. Scotland in the next three Acts. Then it shifts back again to Mirandola in the Fifth Act.

Act I

Scene I

Mirandola, a magnificent Apartment in the Palace of Charles Stuart. He is seated on a sofa reading a letter. Enter his daughter, Madalena, with a bouquet of flowers in her hand.
Charles Stuart
(coming forward)
I have received most joyous news from France,
The Cardinal informs me in this letter,
That every thing is ripe for active war;
And earnestly requests me, in the same,
To be in Paris by the earliest date,
And thence embark for Britain.

Madalena
Nay, sweet sire!
It cannot be that we must part?

Charles Stuart
We must,
Sweet Madalena! we must part tonight—
Tomorrow I must be in Rome.

Madalena
Tonight,
Dear father? Would you have me here alone?

Charles Stuart
I am appointed General of the Troops.
Prepared for Scotland, whither we now go
To seat thy royal sire upon the throne,
Of his great ancestors.

Madalena
But should you fall?

Charles Stuart
I have prepared for thee the best of homes,
The convent, where, if I should chance to fall
The arm of persecution will be stayed.

Madalena
The convent would be death without thy love!

Charles Stuart
Nay, do not weep, but rest assured it is
The royal House of Scotland calls me hence;
For now my ardent spirit pants to see
The diadem of Caledonia wave
In glory over Stuart's lictour once more;
And when that fatal hour shall come, in which
The destiny of Brunswick shall be sealed,
And Scotland's deathless glory shall be made
An epitaph for England in her grave,
Then shall the royal Madalena share
The glory that encircles Charles' brow,
And down the stream of time descend with him
To after ages, as the holiest name
That ever graced the noble line of kings.

Madalena
I know it is your duty calls you hence,
And feel it is most fruitless to complain;
But then, you know, to mourn is woman's lot!
And, oh! to part from one we hold so dear,
It seems like taking from the rill its source,
And then expecting that that rill should run!

Charles Stuart
Come, Madalena we will part in joy

Madalena
Can not the sceptre of Placenza shield
The child of Valentina from all harm?

Charles Stuart
The royal arm from which you might expect
Protection, looks most jealously upon
The house of Stuart, who is but, at most,
Thy Princess mother's distant relative,
And whose imperial law of state is, none
But male descendants can ascend the throne;
Therefore, the Convent is the safest place,
Where, if by some base hand I chance to fall,
My marriage with thy mother still unknown
To England—you may be protected by
Good Angela, the tutoress of your youth,
And Madre of the Convent. Come, my child.

Madalena
Then it must be—there is no other hope!

(Exeunt.)

Scene II

(A parlour in the Convent of Santa Maria della Pieta. The bell is tolling for midnight vespers. Enter Comptessa, Angela di Pianneza, attended by the Madre of the Convent).
Madre
Where is thy son?

Angela
He will be here tonight.

Madre
I hear he is a noble boy.

Angela
He is
A noble boy—the fountain of my life

Madre
The current of thy life, thou shouldst have said;
Thou art the fountain—he the stream.

Angela
We are
So one another unto each. The stream
Returns to feed the fountain, as the fount
The stream; without the one the other could
Not live.

Madre
And yet thou livest without thy boy.

Angela
Our seldom meetings oftener touch the heart.

Madre
I was a mother once.

Angela
Where is thy child?

Madre
He will not visit me tonight!

Angela
Is he
Afar in some strange land?

Madre
Not strange to him.

Angela
Will he not come again?

Madre
No more!

Angela
No more?
How fearfully it sounds!

Madre
No sound like that!
That echo which the grave gives back to us,
When the last clod is hurled upon it from
Above!

Angela
Then he is dead?

Madre
Alone in heaven.
You are mistaken in the dead—they do
Not die—they live again.

Angela
Died he at birth?

Madre
He died when young—the loadstar of my life
The brightest in the heaven of women's love!

Angela
I pity thee, because thy son is dead!

Madre
Pity thyself—because thy son is dead!

Angela
He is not dead?

Madre
Long as he lives on earth.

Angela
Alas! what if he were?

Madre
Then he were blest.
Earth has no joy—the soul no home, but heaven.

Angela
But then a mother's love is great.

Madre
It is
The greatest of all earthly things—but not
The joy of heaven.

Angela
But you would have him here?

Madre
I would—but rather he were there in joy,
Than here in grief! Methinks I see him now!
The memory of his smile, how bright it is!
The Angels play about his couch tonight!

Angela
Think you he hovers near us now?

Madre
He does
In that immortal shape that cannot die!
I hear his voice from out the past—it speaks
To me!

Angela
Who spake to you! I heard no voice!

Madre
The spirit of my child! Its knock is heard at the door.

Angela
Fernando should be here.

Madre
Let him alone.
For you there is much joy—for him the path
Of life is strewn with thorns! A knock again!
Open the door—some person comes.

Angela
(going)
Tis he!

(Enter Charles Stuart with his daughter Madalena).
Charles Stuart
I pray you pardon me, good madre mine,
For this intruding at so late an hour;
For Good Report has said so much of thee
That this Senora is entrusted as
A boarder to thy care. She is my child,
A Cardinal will tell you who she is,
This letter recommends her to your care. (Giving her the letter).

So now, my best beloved—my only child—
Farewell!

Madalena
Nay, father! do not leave me yet!
Oh! is it not too hard to part from thee? (Falling in his arms).


Charles
It is, sweet daughter! but it must be so!
Once more, sweet Madalena, fare thee well!

(Embracing her, and exits).
Angela
The royal Madalena should not weep
Come, royal lady, this is out of place,
And sadly will affect your noble mind!

Madalena
Sweet Angela! forgive these tender tears,
And know, my sacred mother, that they fall
Not for myself, but for my sire alone!
Do you not see that he has left me here,
Beneath the guardian Angel of your love,
To guard me from the watchful eyes of those
Who would exterminate this hated race?
I feel that he must fall!

Angela
Nay, think not so,
For he that wears upon his lofty brow
The impress of his royal father's seal,
Can never fail of rich success.

Madalena
(aside)
There is
But one alternative—one hope is left—
And that shall frame the purpose of my soul,
At whose invention all the world shall gaze!
I will not chain my fortitude for naught,
But climb Ambition's ladder to the top,
And make my noble daring, overleap
All but the deathless love that gave it birth!
As woman's love transcends all other love,
So shall her Fortitude, the child of love,
Be made the prompter of such noble deeds
As kings shall wonder at with loftiest thought,
And find no parallel on earth or sea!

Angela
Come, royal lady, we must now to bed,
See, it is growing late, the lamps are dim.

(Exeunt omnes.)

Scene III

(The same apartment in Charles Stuart's apartment. He is seated in a sofa reading a letter. Enter Francisca and a Monk).
Francisca
I wait your orders, good my lord.

Charles Stuart
Wait till
You shall receive them an hour from then.

Francisca
I will attend to you, my lord. (Starting away.)


Charles Stuart
Nay stay,
You know my daughter is in the convent now.
Watch over her as if she were your own.

Francisca
It shall be done my lord. When go you hence?

Charles Stuart
Tomorrow I must be in Rome.

Francisca
May heaven
Protect you on your route.

Charles Stuart
The same to you. (Knocking is heard.)

But stay, Francisca. See whose knock that is.

(Exit Francisca, who returns again.)
Francisca
A page is now in waiting at the door,
And craves admittance.

Charles Stuart
He must wait awhile,
I have some business to attend to now.

Francisca
Straight from the Princess, so he says, my lord.

Charles Stuart
What! from my daughter? Show him in

(Francisca shows him in. Enter Madalena, his daughter disguised as a Page.)
Page
(bowing)
My lord. (Handing him a letter.)


Charles Stuart
Whence comes this pacquet, boy? How fares my child?

(Opening the letter.)
Page
So please your royal highness, she is well.

Charles Stuart
What! is it possible that she has sent
The young Di Ossima to be my page.

Page
It is as you have said, my lord.

Charles Stuart
Why so?

Page
I sang for her the song of other days,
And while my spirit panted for the war,
Watching the enthusiastic tears steal down
My cheek from joy which overflowed my heart,
She loved the soul that gave such music birth,
And chose me from that moment as thy Page,
Saying that while you listened to my songs,
You might remember her when far away.

Charles Stuart
But tell me, gentle Page, what is thy name?

Page
Fernando, may it please my lord.

Francisca
(aside)
What! young
Fernando? By my troth, it is her boy!

Charles Stuart
Thy gentle form but ill befits the war,
Thou art not more than sixteen years of age?

Page
I am, your highness, seventeen or more.

Charles Stuart
Our voyage is too great for one like thee.
Thou art as gentle as the summer breeze
Laden with perfumes from the odorous flowers.

Page
And yet my nature, like that summer breeze,
When roused to valor by the breath of Fame,
Can rise as far above its gentler self,
As Ocean, troubled by the angry winds,
Is more tempestuous than the placid lake.
Oh! how my ardent spirit pants to see
The doubtful conflict on the battle-field,
Between two kingdoms, where the bristling spears
To the lightning-music such brisk contention keep,
As stars commingling on the raging sea!

Charles Stuart
But when the martialed multitudes are spread
In countless thousands on the battle-field,
And when their armour glittering in the sun,
Shall strike thine eyes with one effulgent blaze;
And when the clashing spears, the glittering helms,
And splintered javelins, with one obstreperous clang,
In terrible array of close-wedged troops,
Shall mingle with the charge of neighing steeds;
Methinks the harp would better suit thy strength,
Than such calamities of war.

Page
My lord!
Peril is joy to him whose heart is brave.

Charles Stuart
My noble boy! indeed, where got you this?
The Convent is no place for such as thou.
The glossy ringlets of thy raven hair—
The upturned flashings of thy darker eyes,
The olive colour of thy roseate cheeks,
Those frolic-smiles, alternate to the scorn
Which sits enthroned upon thy roseate lips,
All speak the language of thy noble birth
And more, the freedom of an honest heart.
From this day forth it shall be known to all,
That young Di Ossima shall be my Page,
And bear me company to Scotland's shore.

(Exit Francisca.)
Page
(Kneeling)
Most royal master! let me thank thee on
My knee, for filling thus Fernando's heart
With more than mortal joy! this hand shall be
The Guardian Angel of my king's life;
These lips shall soothe him in the hour of grief;
And when some ruthless hand shall aim the blow
At his proud heart, it first shall pass through mine!

Charles Stuart
Most noble boy! look up, my generous youth!
I love thee almost as my own dear child!

Fernando
(Kneeling)
I thank thee on my knees, my noble lord!

Charles Stuart
Rise up, my noble boy! you should not kneel.
But said you not that you could sing, my boy!

Fernando
I did, my lord. What will you have? One grave
Or gay?

Charles
I do not care, choose for yourself.
Invoke you Thalia, or the Muse of Pan?

Fernando
Fernando's Song

Charles Stuart
The music of thy liquid voice is like
The eloquence of an embodied song;
Which feeds upon its own sweet melody.
But, come-tomorrow we must be in Rome.

(Exeunt.)
(Enter Francisca leading in Madalena.)
Madalena
Stay, my father! answer me this once—
Is Angela the sister of the Nuns?

Monk
Why ask me that which you already know?
You saw her there last night.

Madalena
I saw her not—
I have not seen her for these many months.

Monk
You are mistaken—you beheld her there
Last night.

Madalena
What! art thou blind?

Monk
You are, or would
Play false, if you pretend you saw her not.

Madalena
Indeed I saw her not.
Has he not heard of this before? Oh, speak!

Monk
I tell thee Angela is with the Nuns
And wrote to soothe thee in thy sorrow.

Madalena
She has no medicine can cure this grief!

Monk
Nay, cheer thee up—thy sire will come again.

Madalena
Why speak of him? I have no sire!

Monk
No sire?
Nay, you are crazed, my child. You should go home.

Madalena
I shall go soon enough.

Monk
Come, you must go with me.

Madalena
No, father! broken-hearted as I am,
I would not follow thee from this to Heaven,
Until I hear the truth of what I seek;
Then if it be as thou hast said it is,
I care not if you take me to the grave!

Monk
What blasphemy is this to shirk my care?

Madalena
I sought thee knowing thou wouldst speak the truth.

Monk
Who doubts my word? Come, you must go with me.

Madalena
Not yet until the thunderclap is heard
And the fierce lightning blast me!

Monk
Not till then?
Then all the convents in the world were naught!

Madalena
Now comes the thunderstroke! It blasts me now!

Monk
Why talk you thus?

Madalena
Fernando, then, is gone?

Monk
He went with Stuart to the war.

Madalena
Then I am lost! (She faints in his arms.)

Monk
Oh, royal mistress! do not faint!
She must not die so soon! Oh! do not die!
Thou, Father! hear thy servant's prayer! restore
This child again! She breathes! my prayer was heard!
Look up again! look up, my child! She lives!
Oh! speak to me!

Madalena
Then bear me to his arms!

Monk
Be calm! thy father will return again!
No mischief shall befall the royal Charles!
Was ever daughter's love so great as this!

(Exit, bearing her out.)

Scene IV

(A parlour in the Convent of Santa Maria della Pieta, as in Scene Second. Enter the Madre and Angela.)
Madre
Well! where could she have gone?

Angela
I do not know.
She slept in the adjoining room to mine!

Madre
And are you sure she went to bed?

Angela
Most sure.

Madre
The gates were not left open through the night?

Angela
I think they were all shut.

Madre
It is most strange.
But, see, some person comes! it is the Monk!

Angela
He bears the form of one just dead with him!
What can it mean?
(Enter Francisco bearing Madalena in his arms.)
Say, brother, who is this?

Monk
Our daughter Madalena!

Angela
Then she's found!
Where found you her?

Monk
Back at her father's house.

Angela
How came she in this fix?

Monk
Grief for his absence.

Angela
(to Madalena)
Alas! can you not stand alone?

Madalena
(recovering)
Alone!

Angela
You are with us—we are your friends.

Madalena
Fernando! thou wilt come again—I know
Thou wilt!

Angela
Why talk you of Fernando, child?

Madalena
I should have been his wife.

Angela
His wife!

Madalena
His wife—
His wedded wife!

Monk
(to Angela)
Well, that is strange! for he
Came recommended to the king from her.

Angela
Your father left you in our care—we are
Your friends.

Madalena
I have no father!

Monk
Mark you that!

Angela
What! know you not the tutoress of your youth?

Madalena
I would if she were here.

Angela
Is she not here?
Is Angela Di Pianneza not
The Tutoress of your youth?

Madalena
She was to be
My mother, but Fernando now is gone!

Angela
Fernando gone? what mean you by these words?
Fernando is not gone!

Monk
I saw him go—
He went with Stuart to the war.

Angela
My son?

Monk
Thy very son.

Angela
Then I am sad indeed!
It cannot be! Fernando is not gone!
You may have been mistaken in the boy!

Monk
I am mistaken, then, that you are here;
That now the Princess is before thine eyes;
That we have never spoken of this thing;
And that we are not wondering while we speak!

Angela
Are you not Madalena? speak to me!

Madalena
That is my name.

Angela
(to Monk.)
Look! do you know that face?

Monk
'Tis Madalena's face! You are most strange!

Angela
It is most strange! The more we see of her,
The more we wish to see, which, seeing, makes
Us only see the less!

Madalena
Go, bring him back!

Monk
Are you not certain that you heard that voice?

Angela
It is most strange! Fernando is not gone!

Madalena
(springing on her feet)
Has he returned? Who was it spoke that word?

Angela
His mother—thine.

Madalena
(Embracing her)
Oh! bless thee for that word!

Monk
Are you not certain that you heard that voice?

Angela
I am most certain that she speaks most strange!
Have you no father, Madalena?

Madalena
None!
A father had not left me so alone

Angela
Thy father, child, has left us all alone!
But go, Francesco, speed it quick to Rome,
And bring me back my son! Away! begone!

Monk
If laying down my life will ravel out
This mystery, it shall be done. Farewell!

Angela
And be it known to all, that from this day,
The Convent gate shall not be opened till
You come again. Farewell!

Monk
Farewell, my child!

Madalena
Farewell, good father! take my heart with you,
And give it to Fernando! Fare-thee-well!

(Exit Francisco as the curtain falls.)

Act II

Scene I

(Boradale in Scotland. Enter Charles Stuart attended by his daughter Madalena disguised as a Page.)
Charles Stuart
Come hither, gentle Page! Thou hast become
As necessary to my being as my life.
I have despaired of that success which Hope
First promised me for active war!

Page
Why so,
My royal lord?

Charles Stuart
I have received no news
From France in answer to my letter yet.

Page
Nay, do not doubt while young Fernando lives,
But Stuart shall be seated on the throne.
I pray you that your boy should learn to fence.

Charles Stuart
To fence, my boy? why do you wish to fence?

Page
For glory good my lord! while on the field
What ecstasy would young Fernando feel
To know that he had saved his Master's life?
For know, my royal lord! that this proud heart
Shall first receive the dagger aimed at thine.

Charles Stuart
Enthusiastic boy! why say you so!

Page
Because you are so doubly dear to me,
That were you slain, this life would not be life!

Charles Stuart
Thou art the noblest of all gentle youths.
And shall not find an equal in this land. (Enter Boisdale.)

Well, noble Boisdale, what is the news?

Boisdale
None that your highness would delight to hear.
The battle of Fontenoy has been fought;
And news arrived the English troops were much
Depressed.

Charles Stuart
Their ardour, therefore, being damped,
Without assistance from ungodly France,
Could we not safely march our Highland troops,
And take possession of the field?

Boisdale
Such would
Be useless in the worst extreme. Without
The regular troops not one will take up arms.

Charles Stuart
The ardour of my resolution keeps
The better of my judgement, Boisdale!
Where is Clanranald? He will better suit
A Stuart's intrepidity.

Boisdale
He will
Not come.

Charles Stuart
Why speak you thus?

Boisdale
He will not take
Up arms without the regular troops to lead.

Charles Stuart
Will you not use your power to bring him here?

Boisdale
I have no influence over him, my lord.

Charles Stuart
Wilt not become ambassador to Skye
To brave Macdonald?

Boisdale
No, 'tis vain.

Page
(Indignantly)
Implore no more that traitor to his king, my lord,
And let us seek Macdonald for ourselves.

Boisdale
(Drawing)
What! traitor, did you say? By heavens! But no!
I will not vent my spite upon a child!
What! did you bring such soldiers as this boy
To fight with hardy England? No, by Heaven!
He looks as if you had just taken him from
His mother's breast! The suckling shall be spared!

Page
What! traitor! weakly as you think I am,
This arm is strong enough for thee! (Drawing)
Come on!
And see who is the suckling, you or I!
I pity thee. I spurn thee from my sight.
The presence of all honest men should freeze
Thy coward heart to ice! Away! begone!

Boisdale
By Heaven! You shall not taunt me thus!

Page
Come on!

Charles Stuart
(Stepping between them)
Nay, peace! young man! You, Boisdale, put up
Your sword! The royal Charles commands you both.
And you, young Page. (Exit Boisdale.)


Page
(Falling on his knees.)
Nay, pardon me, my lord!
A traitor's insolence provoked my rage!
I had forgot the duty which I owed
Thy former love! Pray, pardon me, my lord!

Charles Stuart
(Eagerly taking his hand)
Look up, my noble boy! Look up, my noble son!
And tell me, more than mortal, who thou art!

Page
I am, my royal lord—

Charles
Say what thou art?
For by yon Heaven thou art the sun.

Page
That which
I glory in, the favourite of my Prince.

Charles Stuart
(Studying his features)
A chastened smile dwells on thy sweet lips.
As if thy soul, just purified by love
Gazed on the snowy wings of virgin Hope,
Leading it gently to the gates of Heaven!
But rise, my gentle Page! some person comes.
(Enter Sir Ronald)
What news from France?

Sir Ronald
I come to learn the news.
For, hearing that our royal Prince was here,
We come to give him welcome to our shores.

Charles Stuart
Who?

Sir Ronald
Moidart, Clanranald.

Charles Stuart
Moidart, Clanranald?
Show me this moment to my friends.

Sir Ronald
They come.

(Enter Moidart and Clanranald.)
Charles Stuart
My noble friends! Why have you thus delayed
Your presence from your king?

Clanranald
My lord! we heard
That you had come without your regular troops,
And well we know the Highlanders would not
Take arms without the regular troops to lead.

Charles Stuart
And are you sure they will not take up arms?

Clanranald
I know they will not. If they should, it would
Be instant death—destruction to them all!

Charles Stuart
Is this the common cry throughout the land?
The seed of cowardice is sown therein,
And shall be watered by the bravest blood!
Who would not rather die than live such men!
Oh, for another heart just like my own,
We two would cling together through the fight,
And live to conquer England or die!

Page
Here is another heart as brave as thine;
It tolls the knell of bondage on my ribs,
And swells my bosom with an eager throb,
As if upon the vigil-pants it bore
The form of Victory triumphant, air
To Liberty! Here is another heart like thine.

Charles Stuart
Take an example from that arduous youth
Whose nature is too gentle even to bear
The simplest frown, but whose undaunted soul
Is like the eagle when he plumes his wings,
And straightway soars up to the sun!
That which is glory unto him, as is
The sunbeam to the eagle, makes ye blind,
And fills your puny hearts with gaudy fears,
Which magnify the more you gaze on them!
Would you not rather die than live to see
The fathers that have bred you, slaves?

Ronald
We would.

Page
(Embracing Sir Ronald.)
Behold that gallant youth! See how his eyes
Sparkle with glory at the very thought!
See how his mighty soul speaks through his cheeks,
Although his lips are mute! Will ye not die?

Ronald
A thousand death if but my royal lord
Will make me his companion in the tour.

Charles Stuart
Oh! for another heart just like my own
Thrice would we then be armed against the foe.

Page
Fernando has another heart like his,
One that will lose the last drop in his wars,
Or seat his Royal Master on the throne.

Charles Stuart
Undaunted youth! with such brave hearts as thine
What should we fear from England's bravest sons?
Ye shall be leaders of the Highland troops;
And when the victory shall be won, ye shall
Be both as near my throne as now my heart.

Clanranald
Noble Prince! we are constrained to go.
Thus shall we all be mingled into one,
And melt the tyrant-chaos, as the sun
Dispels the darkness of the night, until
The world is wrapped in one continuous glow!

Page
Friend of my soul! we are but one at heart!

Sir Ronald
We are but one at heart, as thou hast said;
But we shall be like three upon the field
The valor of my heart has echoed thine
And Scotland's warriour shall unite his soul
In deathless friendship to the child of Song.
Thus, as our hearts are here united, so
Shall be our hands in rosy bands of love!

Page
Remember, thou hast spoken what may be

Sir Ronald
It may not be what is already done.

Page
I call upon my royal liege, from this time forth,
And these two friends to witness what is said.

Sir Ronald
And would you doubt the truth of Ronald thus?

Page
I would not doubt it.

Sir Ronald
Then it shall be so.

(Enter Marquis de Tullibardine, Sir Joshua Macdonald, Cameron, Buchanan, Lochiel and Timlock.)
Charles Stuart
Welcome, my noble friends! What news from France?

Macdonald
We still hear nothing from the troops, my lord!

Charles Stuart
If some vile serpent had but stung thy child,
Whose death were antidote to that keen bite,
Would you not kill it?

Macdonald
Ay, for joy, my lord.

Charles Stuart
Thou wouldst not long for its destruction more
Than Stuart for that serpent who now sits
Arrayed on England's throne.

Macdonald
Then let him die!

Charles Stuart
He who has driven the fiery wheels of war
Above the battlements of exiled Kings,
Shall, by thunderbolts of Stuart's power,
Amid the whirlwinds of protracted war,
Behold his glory leveled with the dust!
The Owl shall mutter his dolorous notes
Above the wailings of her recent chiefs,
And Stuart's faithful followers shall reap,
The garnished glories of her wasted kings
And gather up their spoils for household gods,
While their unwilling recreants shall behold
The fire of Liberty, rekindled, burn
Upon the Altar of our isle, new built
A quenchless beacon light for after times;
And dart athwart the pestilential gloom
Of Tyranny the lucid beams of truth,
And usher in that glorious morn of peace,
Whose rising on the world shall never set.

Sir Ronald
Thy spirit-stirring eloquence of Fame
Shall guide our barque of glory through the sea,
And stay the tides of Tyranny. No warriours' heart
Wrung by humanity, shall pour the balm
Of memory over their deserted names;
These and the magic wreath which gems the brow
Of Charles shall fall the freshening dews of fame,
And yield its blossoms an eternal youth.

Macdonald
No power could urge the grateful tear to fall
Upon the prostrate form of Tyranny,
Stretched on the opprobrious earth in shame!

Sir Ronald
No, lest that tear should water it with life,
Lock up the fountains of the grateful heart,
And save it for affection's flower, whose life
Depends upon the dew drops of the soul.

Charles Stuart
The rich barbaric infidel no more
Shall bruise with hostile feet the tender flower
Of Caledonia's isle—nor shall her vales
Be trodden by the feet of would-be kings;
For when the vengeance of my noble house,
Shall give the shock of centuries to this,
The fragments caused by my revenge shall lie
In shattered desolation over all.
The land from which they exiled me, as wrecks
Of naval myrmadons on savage shores—
More silent in their desolation than
The last sad wails of Israel hushed to rest
In everlasting silence, or the voice
Of Wo struck dumb forever!
For liberty has no objective being—
It stands eternal in the will of God,
To lift our being up to noble ends;
It is evolved by instinct from the soul,
And lives immortal as itself in thought.

Sir Ronald
'Tis like the idea we have of God,
An everlasting law unto itself,
Which triumphs over Tyranny as Life
Does over Death.

Charles Stuart
For as man dies to live,
So Liberty, when seeming dead, survives.

Macdonald
Thy words are all prophetic of the truths
Which soon shall be
And we will learn to conquer or to die!

(Exeunt omnes.)

Scene II

(The residence of Cameron of Fassafern. Enter Lochiel to Boisdale.)
Boisdale
Good morning, Lochiel! for the morn is good,
Although the times are bad. What is the news?

Lochiel
The King is here.

Boisdale
He is. Where go you now?

Lochiel
To seek my Prince.

Boisdale
Well, you had better stay.
Seek not the Prince, let him return to France.

Lochiel
For this he should be sought. Why urge me thus?

Boisdale
I urge you, knowing that his cause is vain.

Lochiel
I would persuade him to return to France.

Boisdale
But he will not return.

Lochiel
How know you this?

Boisdale
I know it by my knowledge of the man.

Lochiel
Saw you the scorn that sat enthroned upon
His florid lips?

Boisdale
I saw his scorn—no more of that.

Lochiel
I never shall forget his looks.

Boisdale
Nor I.

Lochiel
Decision sat enthroned upon his brow
In awful dignity. Upon his lips
A writhing scorn triumphant played, as if
In concert with an agony within,
That restless grew for something to devour.
He is the shadow of some mighty god—
Nay, if the very gods were on the earth,
They would not be more like themselves, than is
This royal Charles.

Boisdale
Most noble trumpeter!
You are no fit companion for this god.

Lochiel
What mean you by this taunt?

Boisdale
I mean, you are
No fit companion for a god.

Lochiel
Your praise
Tastes bitter as 'tis sweet—your honey much
Like gall—your love like hate.

Boisdale
I hate him? Yes—
But saw you that young god he has with him?

Lochiel
The Child of Song?

Boisdale
The Child of Hell!

Lochiel
This Page?

Boisdale
Ay—Page! He is a Page—a twelve mo. page—
A diamond cheap Edition bound in calf!
An excellent impudence!

Lochiel
The type is small,
Although you seem to read it well.

Boisdale
And such
A Page I hope never to read again.

Lochiel
Why? Did he hurt your eyes?

Boisdale
He was too small—
I scarcely saw the print!

Lochiel
And yet it seems
He left the print.

Boisdale
Of what?

Lochiel
Not of his sword,
My lord! but of his Page.

Boisdale
He is too small
For my perusal. Printed thus, he is
A bijou Almanac in which his lord
May read his own eclipse!

Lochiel
When next you read
This Page, put on your spectacles.

Boisdale
I will.
And magnifying glasses they shall be.

Lochiel
You cannot magnify his worth—he fills
The boundless heaven of admiration

Boisdale
Ay!
He has the impudence to think he does,
As many other men.

Lochiel
You hate the king,
And hating him, you hate the Page. Your hate
For one should not affect the other's worth.

Boisdale
I hate the Page? He is beneath my hate!

Lochiel
Why does his praise taste bitter to thy tongue?

Boisdale
Because he is a crab—tastes sour in spite
Of me.

Lochiel
But then the King is not a crab—
Why does he taste so bitter to thy tongue?

Boisdale
Because his heart is rotten to the core.

Lochiel
But then he tastes most sweet to Flora's lips.

Boisdale
To Flora's lips! No, by God's Heavens! were she
To taste such fruit, her soul would sink as far
From its original brightness, as did first
The mother of transgression at the fall!

Lochiel
And, like that mother, though she knew she'd die,
Yet would she eat the fruit.

Boisdale
No, by the gods!
Until the Serpent tempted her—then would
She fall as low as Hell's from Heaven!

Lochiel
Not by
The King.

Boisdale
Ay, King! of what?

Lochiel
Of thee—of me.

Boisdale
He may be King of thee—but not of me!

Lochiel
Should I report to him what I have heard,
You would not live an hour!

Boisdale
I have no life!
My lips went with my honor! Yes, my life
Is gone! Spurned by a boy—scorned by the king—
No! vengeance shall be mine!

Lochiel
You are in love?

Boisdale
I love to hate thy King!

Lochiel
Art jealous, man?

Boisdale
If Royalty could win her heart, she might
Be won.

Lochiel
If Royalty could win her heart,
The sooner won the better.

Boisdale
He might win
Her fancy—not her heart.

Lochiel
Nay, if she loved
No Royalty could win her heart.

Boisdale
Well, well,
I know you better than you do yourself—
Seek not the King.

Lochiel
Why so?

Boisdale
You love the king?

Lochiel
With all my heart!

Boisdale
Where is thy love for me?

Lochiel
Love is immortal, simple, pure, divine;
And, to divide is not to take away.

Boisdale
Well, well, tomorrow we shall meet again.

Lochiel
Farewell!

(Exit.)
Boisdale
He called me traitor—traitor to his King,
And all because I would not bow to him!
No, Boisdale will never bow to him—
Not while Eternity shall roll its sounds!
Greatness does not depend upon the things
Eternal—chance, or fortune, wealth, or fame;
But builds its temple in the mighty soul—
Looks on the towering front of giant Time
And sways its scepter o'er the menial earth.

(Exit.)

Scene III

(The interior of the park in front of Macdonald's Palace. Enter Charles Stuart to Flora Macdonald.)
Charles Stuart
Oh! how upon the impatience of my ears,
Fall the soft billowy bounding of thy steps,
As if an angel from some glorious sphere,
Walked in the middle watch of still night,
Beneath the vigils of the moon in search
Of some immortal soul lost in the bowers!

Flora
The gentle firstborn of the flowery spring,
That knows no handling but the zephyr's kiss,
If once transplanted from its native bower,
Will droop beneath the culture of the hand.
There is no city love. Give me the pure
Felicity of cottage life, or none—
The joyous laugh, that mocking-bird of youth,
Singing of childhood's holy happiness
From the deep willings of the living soul,
Here, where the unsealed fulness of my heart
Rings its loud shout of jocund joy to Heaven,
And fills the infinite with melody!

Charles Stuart
Oh, thou art bound to me by all the ties
Of earth—cemented by the seal of heaven!
This gives me double duties to perform,
To keep the flower unsullied here on earth,
And make it yield its perfumes to heaven,
The sweetest flower in Caledonia's isle.
I am alive to newer longings now,
What is adversity to hearts most brave,
Since thou hast smiled upon my cause, but food
For my ambitious soul!

Flora
I smile for him
Whose glory shall contend with after-time
For Immortality.

Charles Stuart
Most glorious queen!
Thy words are to my heart like crystal streams
To their own banks adorned with odorous flowers.
To give all that we have to one we love,
Is not to lose.

Flora
But 'tis to make both rich.

Charles Stuart
For we profess not only what we give,
But her we give it to.

Flora
And thus it is,
That two, by keeping what they have, have naught,
Till they exchange, when each has made both rich.

Charles Stuart
For to profess that which we have is not
To have, if we exchange not to be rich.

Flora
So if we give to each what each one has,
We shall profess what both united have.

Charles Stuart
How different from the bargains of this world.
It is not so in aught but love.

Flora
In naught.
(Enter Boisdale, unobserved, behind them.)
To take from love is not to make it less.

Boisdale
(Aside)
What! making love? Fine business for a King!
This is the god that Lochiel told me of!
The King that drove me from his Page! By Heavens!
I would not have believed it from her lips!
Were I to take him from her arms, would there
Not be one less! There would. Thine is a false
Philosophy, my love! (Charles Stuart takes her hand.)

By Heavens! he takes her hand!
Oh! all ye thunderbolts of Heaven! Come, strike
Me dead!

Flora
Heard you not what I said, my lord?

Boisdale
(Aside)
My lord!

Charles Stuart
I did, my love.

Boisdale
(Aside)
And so did I,
My love! I never will trust woman more!

Charles Stuart
Thy voice is echoing in my soul.

Boisdale
(aside)
And mine.
Like seven loud thunders ruinous!

Flora
Come my lord!

Boisdale
(Aside)
By heavens! she beckons him away!
(They start away hand in hand.)
False! false!

Charles Stuart
(Leading her out)
The sweetest flower in Caledonia's isle!

Boisdale
Oh, God! she was the green oasis in
The dead alion of my soul! But no,
I will not curse her. Memory plucks away
The execration from my burning lips,
And sets forgiveness there! But she is false,
False as a harlot's oath. Yes, false as Hell!
And had he now ten thousand lives to lose—
For I would kill them all—they would not pay
Me for the injury he has done! No! no!
The fiery retribution of my hate
Is so intense that nothing but his blood,
His cursed blood, shall ever quench its flame!

(Exit)

Act III

[Scene I]

(Ormaclade. Macdonald's residence in the background. Enter Sir Ronald and Madalena as Page.)
Sir Ronald
But tell me, gentle Page! how is thy hand?
I would that it were well, we lack thy songs,
The soul-inspiring music of thy harp,
But more, the pleasing sadness of thy voice.

Page
I would forego the pleasures of my harp,
To know that they are masters of the day.

Sir Ronald
They are, as you desire, the masters of the day.
They nobly routed all their foes.

Page
We live!
But are you sure that we will conquer?

Sir Ronald
Yes,
Unless the sightless Chariot of Fate
Should drive his iron wheels above our hopes,
And crush the life blood from our royal Charles!
As if the eternal thunder rolled above
The fragments of dissolving empire!

Page
Shout!
And let the caverns of the mighty earth
Reverberate the loud acclaim! Shout! shout!
And make the echoes of our joyful hearts
The knell of England's destiny!

Sir Ronald
The Chiefs
Are shouting now upon the far-off hills,
Until the mighty mountains echo back
Their thunderbolts of vengeance on the foe!
Soon shall the mighty arm of royal Charles
Unsheathe the blazing sword, whose edge shall cut
The adamantine chains of Tyranny.
For now they cry aloud for Scotland's King,
While we stand here debating how they fought.

(Enter Francisco, the Monk, who gazes intently at the Page, who, seeing him, falls in Sir Ronald's arms.)
Page
Come, quick! away from this! my heart is sick!

Sir Ronald
For Heaven's sweet sake, Fernando, speak! what is
The matter? What could thus have harmed you so?

Page
(The Monk passes on slowly)
There, nothing now, Sir Ronald, give me air.

Sir Ronald
I pray you, tell me what it is? (The Monk passes out)


Page
(Recovering)
There, now,
'Tis nothing now. I am most well again.

(He fixes his eyes upon the ground, as if absorbed in thought.)
Sir Ronald
But why do you thus gaze at nothing so,
As if you were absorbed in your own thoughts?
Methinks you are unwell.

Page
No, not at all.
I was just thinking of that beauteous girl,
The lovely Madalena.

Sir Ronald
What of her?

Page
I thought how purely beautiful she looked,
As softly radiant as the peaceful Heaven,
When first aurora comes with rosy smiles,
To ope the portals of the dappled East,
And lead the morning forth to light the world.

Sir Ronald
Who is the lovely Madalena, Page?

Page
She is the royal Prince's only child.

Sir Ronald
Ah! Young Fernando! are you sure in love?
Is that the cause of thy sad countenance?
Where is she now? Come, tell me where she is?

Page
Ah! if you had beheld her dark bright eyes,
When we were doomed to part, suffused with tears!

Sir Ronald
But why not tell me where she is?

Page
She is—
Her father left her at the convent—with
My mother Angelica. Would she were here.

Sir Ronald
But say, Fernando, are you not in love?
Come, do not say it is not so, you are!
These fainting fits are symptoms of such things.

Page
And then, Sir Ronald, you have been in love?

Sir Ronald
I would be, were you not now in the way.
Methinks, from what you have just said, that she
Was formed to be the partner of my joys.
Why change, as if you had entire control
Of her?

Page
I have more right than you may think.
But is it true that you could love that girl?

Sir Ronald
Why ask so oft? Are you not jealous, boy?

Page
I would be jealous were you now in love
With any one beside, but you are not?

Sir Ronald
Most fascinating boy! were you but now
A woman, beautiful as now thou art,
I would prefer thee to the world.

Page
And were
Fernando any thing but what he is,
He would prefer Sir Ronald to the world.

Sir Ronald
Methinks, one smile would win me from the war
And make me subject unto her alone.

Page
Well, you acknowledge your allegiance soon,
For she is heiress to the Scottish throne.

Sir Ronald
The Mirandolean Minstrel then can stand
But little chance.

Page
True, did you ever know
A Princess marry with her father's Page?

Sir Ronald
I never did.

Page
Then why retrive the day
In love.

Sir Ronald
I only asked if it were so.
You may have been in love with her, without
Her absolutely being so with you,
For if my eyes do not deceive me, as
I do profess to be some sort of judge
In matters of this kind, you are in love.

Page
Indeed, Sir Ronald, you astonish me!

Sir Ronald
Most persons are astonished why they love.

Page
Then you have been astonished in that way?
Come—no prevarication—speak the truth.

Sir Ronald
Indeed you need not urge me to confess.
But should we thus marvel at such things?
I love the royal Stuart as my life;
And would, to shield him from the foe, rush in
And sheathe the dagger that was aimed at him,
In my own heart.

Page
(Embracing him)
Friend of my raptured soul!

Sir Ronald
From henceforth let the Highland Chieftain's heart
Be mingled with the Mirandolean boy's.

Page
And feel for him what now he feels for thee?
Or what the Princess Madalena yet
May feel for thee?

Sir Ronald
Ay, were thou both combined,
But are you not in love with her.

Page
I am;
But not affianced to her any more
Than unto you, or any one beside.
What if we should behold her here tonight?

Sir Ronald
What would Fernando say?

Page
Why, I should say
That she was worthy to be made thy wife,
Or even an heir to Scotland's throne.

Sir Ronald
But Ronald never can be hers.

Page
Why not?

Sir Ronald
He is too lowly born.

Page
Too lowly born!
A Highlander too low? Were you not born
Upon the hills?

Sir Ronald
I was—upon the mountains top.

Page
Then let your soul be like your birth nigh Heaven.
You are the Eagle—she the faithful Dove.

Sir Ronald
My tongue is bankrupt for sufficient words
To give the praise.

Page
Nay, keep them to bestow
On her, who is to be thy wedded wife,
The royal daughter of the godlike Charles.

Sir Ronald
Ah, sweet Fernando, if it could be so,
The love-sick Ronald would forget the war.

Page
It will, if young Fernando have his way.

Sir Ronald
And you have known her from her infancy?

Page
I have. She was the playmate of my youth.

Sir Ronald
I loved the royal Prince before—but now,
I feel endeared to him by stronger ties.

Page
Then will you promise me one thing?

Sir Ronald
I will,
Fernando, promise anything.

Page
Perform
What you may promise?

Sir Ronald
Ay, indeed I will.

Page
Then, swear that you will never wed, except
The royal Madalena.

Sir Ronald
What if she
Be ugly?

Page
She is most beautiful
Yet, gentler than the gentlest of her sex.

Sir Ronald
But what if she will have me not?

Page
She will.

Sir Ronald
I swear! But wherefor do you ask me thus?

Page
It is enough that you have sworn. Come on,
The royal Madalena shall be thing.

(Exeunt)

Scene II

(A splendid apartment in Macdonald's palace at Kinnclade. Enter Charles Stuart to Lochiel.)
Charles Stuart
Welcome, my noble Chieftain! What's the news?

Lochiel
No news, my noble lord, from France as yet.

Charles Stuart
I recently dispatched new messengers
To those from whom one might expect some aid;
But they have not returned.

Lochiel
They have, my lord.
I read the message of your strange desire
To lead the Highland troops directly on
The field.

Charles Stuart
And doubt you the propriety
Of such a measure now?

Lochiel
I do, my lord,
The enterprise is pregnant with much danger.

Charles Stuart
Why say you so? This is the common right.
No, as the hound will eager cry, pursue,
Through woody vistas all unknown, the hart,
And thus more ardently in the chase,
So does my soul pant for the war!

Lochiel
But as that hound, still crying in the chase,
Pursues with eager hopelessness the hart
Till, by the swifter game left farther in
The war, his cries are lost among the woods;
So will the eager heart of godlike Charles
Pursue the unreached boon of his desire,
Through fame's dark vistas till forever lost!

Charles Stuart
No; with the Blast-hound-Furies of the hills,
A few brave Highlanders, we will put
The Royal Standard in the front of war,
And show usurping Brunswick to his face,
That Stuart comes to claim his father's crown!
Though we are few, yet we shall win the field,
Or perish in the attempt! So, curb me not!
Auld Lochiel, whom my father ever thought brave,
Nay, from the papers learn, while housed at home,
The fate of Stuart's House.

Lochiel
No, though the attempt.
To vanquish England's host be more than vain,
Yet every rebel over whom my sword
Can have control, shall take up arms for thee,
And Lochiel meet whatever fate may now
Await his royal Charles.

Charles Stuart
Then seek at once
The Highland chiefs—tell them their king is here—
And longs to lead them to the battle field.

Lochiel
I go.
To do your bidding, but before we part,
Should they accompany the regular troops?
Without assistance from some other source,
It will be most disastrous to our cause.

Charles Stuart
No; Justice, Honor, Dignity, are on our side,
And where such triune glories wait our steps,
And beckon us to fame—why talk of doubt?

Lochiel
Whatever be Charles Stuart's fate, the same
Be Lochiel's destiny.

Charles Stuart
There seek the Chiefs,
And learn when we shall meet them on the field
(Exit Lochiel.)
(Enter Page)
Come hither, Page. Come near to me. Can you
Not see in my sad countenance the stars
Of joys that have been written there of late?

Page
I think there is not aught of what you speak;
But rather marks of recent grief.

Charles Stuart
'Tis strange!
And know you not that there are things which seem
To be, but yet are not?

Page
It may be so,
But yet Fernando never saw such things.

Charles Stuart
And think you not that one, by gazing on
Some face resembling that she loves, might see
The image of that loved one in that face?

Page
A smile might linger on the face of one,
In faint resemblance of the one away,
For there are faces so resembling each
That persons have mistaken them for such,
And would not be convinced they were not so.

Charles Stuart
Thus, in the outlines of thy beauteous face,
I now behold the countenance of one—

Page
Nay, nay, my lord! There is no truth in this,

(A knock is heard)
Charles Stuart
Whose knock is that? Go see.

Page
I will, my lord.
(Exit Page.)

Charles Stuart
A nobler being never lived! (Reenter Page.)


Page
My lord!

Charles Stuart
Why turn so pale?

Page
(Much agitated)
Our holy father craves
Admittance. (Aside)
Gods! what shall be done?

Charles Stuart
How now!
What means this strange reaction? Speak! thy face
Is pale as death! What means it, boy? thou'st ill?

Page
I am not ill, my lord.

Charles Stuart
Why turn so pale?

Page
(Aside)
Gods! is it possible the Monk is here?

(Enter Francisco, the Monk)
Charles Stuart
What means this sudden entrance? speak, my friend!
How is my child? my Madalena? well?

Monk
I trust she is, my lord.

Charles Stuart
Speak out—the truth?
If she be dead or dying, tell me so!

Monk
She is not dead, my lord.

Charles Stuart
I thank high Heavens
That she is well!

Page
She is, my lord, she is
Most well.

Charles Stuart
Then what mishap has brought thee here?

Monk
I dare not tell it to Fernando's ears.
I fear the sudden news would drive him mad!

Charles Stuart
(Aside)
It cannot be that Angela is dead!

Page
Nay, if my mother Angela were dead,
I yet could bear that too—for all must die!

Charles Stuart
Great Heavens! if she is dead, what will become
Of Madalena? Speak, old Monk!

Monk
I trust
She is not dead.

Charles Stuart
Then why to Scotland come?

Monk
I came to soothe the grief of Angela,
And seek Fernando.

Page
Seek Fernando? why?

Monk
For Madalena's sake.

Charles Stuart
What! say you so?
Are you not tampering with the lion, Monk,
To baffle me this way? Speak what you know,
Or, by yon Heavens!

Monk
Nay, hold, my lord! you should
Not strike your friend!

Charles Stuart
Then tell me why you came?

Monk
For that lost boy, for whom his mother mourns.

Page
And is that all?

Monk
(Aside)
Not moved? no tears are shed?
Ungrateful boy! you little know the pangs
That rend thy mother's heart!

Page
Why should she grieve?

Charles Stuart
Upbraid him not, he is of noble stuff,
And worthy to ascend the throne.

Monk
Nay, he
Is fitter for an outcast than the throne.
I fear that Angela has spoken truth!

Page
What should she speak but truth?

Monk
What! still unmoved!
Thou dost develope none of her good traits,
Though it was said thou didst inherit all.
I blush to see the golden ore of love
Transmuted by the Alchemy of Fame
To such base stuff! you little know the pangs
That Madalena feels for thee!

Charles Stuart
For thee!
It cannot be! it is impossible!

Page
It is
Impossible, so get you gone, old Monk!

Monk
Ah! had you seen the agonies which rent
Her royal heart!

Charles Stuart
The agonies? It must
Be so, Fernando! Speak, old Monk!

Monk
And speaking, shall command Fernando's tears
With words more powerful than kingly speech.

Charles Stuart
Then you have spoken falsehood all this while?

Monk
Naught but the living truth, my lord.

Page
'Tis true.
My royal lord—she is not dead.

Charles Stuart
Away,
Fernando, I must have the truth!

Page
My lord,
Did ever thy Fernando play thee false?

Charles Stuart
No, never in thy life.

Page
Then, doubt him not—
For may this right arm wither to its joints,
If what Fernando says is not the truth.
I tell thee, Madalena is not dead,
But all that she has ever been, shall be
To thee again.

Charles Stuart
How know you this, my boy?

Page
It shall all be explained, but after this.

Charles Stuart
Most noble boy! I could not blame her if
She loved, for no one ever saw thy face
Who did not love, except this heartless Monk.

Monk
I love him and for his mother's sake,
Who bade me watch above him as my own.

Page
Nay, watch above yourself, you need it more.
I am Fernando, royal Charles' Page,
And will be watched by no one but himself.

Monk
I though you were of tender mould,
And would be melted by the simplest grief,
But now you are more tearless at the heart
Than is the sightless stoic of the woods.

Page
As Angela di Pianneza's son,
I weep, but as the royal Charles' Page,
I deem it meet to smile. Goodbye, old Monk.

(turning indignantly away.)
Charles Stuart
Most noble boy! Where are thy tears, old Monk?

Monk
Ah! had thine eyes beheld what mine have seen,
Thy heart, like mine, had been dissolved to tears!

Page
(Returning)
Thy Madalena lives.

Charles Stuart
I know she does.
Farewell, old Monk!

Page
(Tauntingly)
Goodbye, old Monk! goodbye!

(Exeunt Charles Stuart and Page.)
Monk
Good heavens! was ever mortal so beguiled!
I will pursue him to the very last.

(Exit.)

Scene II

(The interior of Macdonald's Park at Ormaclade. His residence in the distance. Enter Lochiel to Boisdale.)
Boisdale
Lochiel, I tell thee, Lochiel, I have seen
A sight!

Lochiel
A sight, my lord?

Boisdale
A sight, my lord!
A cursed, damned, loathesome sight!

Lochiel
A ghost,
My lord?

Boisdale
No ghost, my lord! No ghost, or if
It be a ghost, a ghost in princely robes,
On whose Medean folds a villan's heart
To desolation burns!

Lochiel
What can he mean?

Boisdale
You are a hypocrite?

Lochiel
(Drawing)
A hypocrite? By heavens!

Boisdale
Put up your sword. I will not fight with thee.
I have reserved my steel for other blood.

Lochiel
You called my hypocrite?

Boisdale
I did, you are.

Lochiel
I say you lie.

Boisdale
I care not what you say;
You could not make me fight you, did you call
Me traitor, liar, thief, or what you please.

Lochiel
You called me hypocrite.

Boisdale
I did, you are.
I thought so once, but now I know you are.

Lochiel
By heavens! you shall not taunt me thus. Defend
Thyself!

Boisdale
Put up your sword. I will not fight
With thee.

Lochiel
Then take that for your insolence.

(Striking him.)
Boisdale
The day will come when you shall howl for this,
Howl like a beaten hound! Put up your sword.

Lochiel
A coward, by my soul!

Boisdale
You know that, else
You had not acted so.

Lochiel
Recall your words,
Or, by heavens, you shall not live for them!

Boisdale
I shall not die by you.

Lochiel
You could not die
By better hands.

Boisdale
When I do die, it shall
Be by what you consider better hands.

Lochiel
(Putting up his sword)
Come home, my sword, he is no work for thee.

Boisdale
There are two things on earth I love to hate.

Lochiel
What things are these?

Boisdale
A serpent and a goose.

Lochiel
What does he mean? The man has lost his wits.

Boisdale
Why should I keep my wits when all that made
My wits is gone?

Lochiel
What have you lost?

Boisdale
The world,
The riches of Peru, Golconda's mines.
Not all the bankrupt jewels of the earth
Could buy me back that precious gem again.

Lochiel
What have you lost? I pray you tell me now.

Boisdale
A gem more costly than the stars, from whose
Bright beams the abject world drank living light!
Should he not die?

Lochiel
What frantic mood is this?

Boisdale
It is no frantic mood, 'tis truth most true—
And, being truth, what frantic mood so sane?

Lochiel
You are abused, or maddened; which to guess,
I do not know.

Boisdale
I am abused, which heaven
Doth truly know, and madness follows next.

Lochiel
Who has abused you thus?

Boisdale
Were you my friend,
You would not ask. I have no tongue to tell.
A thousand tongues were dumb to give it better!

Lochiel
I shall despair to know your grief.

Boisdale
You would
Despair to know such grief.

Locheil
What? is there no
Relief?

Boisdale
Give medicine to a dying man;
A straw to one fast drowning in the sea;
A sound to him who has no ear to hear;
A taste to him who has no tongue to eat;
A sight to him who has no eyes to see;
And each will sooner live, hear, taste and see,
Than Boisdale will find relief!

Lochiel
Alas!
Are you not angry with the king?

Boisdale
Why ask?
To be the herald of my hate?

Lochiel
Thy hatred,
What cares he for thy hate?

Boisdale
It is a man's!

Lochiel
He has been hated by brave men before
Today.

Boisdale
I do not wonder that he has,
My only wonder is, he lives!

Lochiel
He lives,
And likely long to live.

Boisdale
Art sure of that?

Lochiel
I know it by my knowledge of the man.

Boisdale
Say rather that you wish it in your love.

Lochiel
You would not like the king?

Boisdale
Oh no, I would
Not kill him—give him to the dogs, the wolves,
The hounds of hell! 'Twere merciful to kill
The king!

Lochiel
Your power is great if measured by
Your words

Boisdale
They are the symbols of that power!
The measure of that soul-subduing power
Which never sleeps! 'Tis on the vigil now,
And waits the prowling of that cursed wolf,
Who robbed me of the sweetest lamb on earth,
Took from my Paradise the sweetest flower
That ever bloomed!

Lochiel
Poor Boisdale, you are
In love.

Boisdale
In love with one who loves me not.
Who was the spring-tide of my life, my soul-love,
Whose smiles were beacons to the Land of Joy,
Whose blue-eyed beauty beckoned me to come,
And drink contentment from the cup of Bliss.

Lochiel
Forget her, man; forget her, let her go.

Boisdale
A base, abandoned profligate, to steal
The only joy I had on earth. Oh, God!
And does that villan live who robbed me thus?
Ay! revels in the joys that once were mine.
Oh, could his life-blood quench my agony,
It were oblivion to my soul indeed!
But I was lowly born, a cottage is
My home. But there is in my heart a pride
As lofty as a monarch owns. It is
Not on the throne that Nature owns her sway.
The straw-thatched cottage, where dwells poverty
In mean attire, may hold a heart as great
As that within a Monarch's heart. Then why,
Before th' illusive shadows of rich pomp,
Should simple dignity bow down? It shall
Not be! no, by yon Heavens, it shall not be!

Lochiel
Come, Boisdale, be calm again.

Boisdale
Alas,
A crushed affection has no balm on earth.
My soul is plundered of its richest wealth,
And all the merchandise of earth is naught!

Lochiel
I know no remedy for ills like thine.

Boisdale
An aspirant for Heaven, when on
The threshold of the spies, was not more pure.
A holier vision never met the eyes!
But now, compared with what she was, as Hell
To Heaven! Where is that heavenly beauty now?
The benedictions of whose love fell on
My soul like dew drops on the tender flowers,
Making my heart a paradise of joys.
Her brook-like voice ran through my thirsting soul,
Like silver waters over golden sands.

Lochiel
Become the subject of the king, and you
Shall hear that voice again.

Boisdale
No, Lochiel, no!
For misery's climax will delight to that.
I could not bear to gaze upon those eyes,
Two liquid heavens reflecting love, that face,
From whose sweet smile my soul drank living light—
And she another's! No, it cannot be.

Lochiel
I pity thee! But we must part. Farewell!

Boisdale
Farewell! (Exit Lochiel.)

Now for the king again! Tonight!
An ague-like revenge chills through my soul,
And makes distraction in my heart. Tonight!

(Exit.)

Scene III

(The same apartment in Macdonald's palace at Ormaclade. Flora is seated by a table binding a bouquet of flowers.)
Flora
Ah! he will love me, when I give him this.
A flowery book, whose words of different flowers,
Shall tell him in one volume all my heart.
Ah! how the rose's velvet lips shall speak,
And tell him with mute eloquence my love,
Nature's interpreter of God to man.
Ye are the alphabet by which we read
The poetry of love. An angel's hand
First scattered you on earth that ye might be
A symbol of the heart that cannot speak.
Ye are the perfumed lips by which we speak
A language innocent as pure—as free
From guile as this fond heart which owns you now.
I breathe upon you now, that when he takes
Your fragrance in, he may inhale my sighs.

(Enter Boisdale)
Boisdale
Now she is here alone, could I not save
Her from the king? Oh, how my heart burns in
My heart! Two mighty kings, Love and Despair,
Reign in my heart each subject unto each,
Not knowing which is mightiest! How she smiles!
A loveliness sits on her lofty brow,
Like beauty on an ivory throne. She fills
The atmosphere around with living light,
It clothes the sinuous sweetness of her limbs,
Like that around an angel's form as when
The seasons smiled on Venus when she rose
Up from the sea. I feel new life run through
My heart, as when some flower disported by
The summer south, unfolds its fragrant leaves
To kiss the god of day! How mild she seems!
I have grown jealous of the very air,
Lest it should bear away some smile unseen.
I will not be—no, I will speak to her.
(Approaching her and kneeling)
Most beauteous Flora! Angel of my heart!

Flora
(Rising)
What! Boisdale?

Boisdale
By name but that alone!

Flora
Why do you kneel?

Boisdale
A worshiper should kneel.

Flora
You are too kind.

Boisdale
Why look upon me thus?

Flora
Then I will turn my eyes away.

Boisdale
No, no.
Then it were dark again.

Flora
Why talk you thus?

Boisdale
My love is like eternity. It bends
Above thee like the Heavens. It hovers o'er
My spirit like an Angel's wings! Thou art
My sun, the center of that heaven. Without
Thy light my heaven is dark!

Flora
You are too kind.
Are there not other lights?

Boisdale
There is but one
Bright Cynossure; she gazes on me now,
The queen of my soul's heaven.

Flora
But when that star
Is set, you will forget that it has shone,
To see the real shine bright.

Boisdale
Thou art no star;
Thou art the moon, the satellite of this
Dark earth.

Flora
But when that moon goes down,
The stars will shine again.

Boisdale
But give no light. They will
Not light me through this wilderness of life.
As travelers in this hour of thirst, pant for
The cooling stream, so does my soul for thy
Sweet healing love.

Flora
But there are other streams.

Boisdale
Ah, none shall slake my thirst! The more I drink
The more I want. Thou art my mountain stream,
The purest waters on the face of earth
Are those which rise the highest from the sea.
Look on me, Flora! let me not despair!

Flora
No danger. Grief has its own balm. There are
In nature medicines for all our ills.

Boisdale
There is no medicine can cure this grief.

Flora
What is thy grief?

Boisdale
Are you so skilled in cures,
And yet know not my grief? You should, to know
The remedy, first know the ill; for there
Are ills which have no cure.

Flora
But none time will
Not heal.

Boisdale
But mine grows worse with age, Alas!
The intenseness of our feelings measures life.
And thus our years are measured by our pains.
If we have many, we have fewer years.
And thus, in one, we live through many lives,
Making that life of many lives our age.
Pain is the scythe which lays our harvest low,
The reaper that mows down our better life.
It is the unseen worm within the bud,
Born in our heart's deep core!

Flora
You look upon
The dark side of all things.

Boisdale
All things are dark!

Flora
They are but shadows of the light of life,
Life's picture here unfinished else. Pain is
A necessary thing, else life had been
All joy.

Boisdale
Ah, Flora! did you know my heart!
As autumn's damps make sere the fragile leaf,
As sorrow chills the heart of man! One robs
The leaf of all its springtime gaity;
The other robs the heart of all its youth!
Flora, did you know my heart, you would
Be sorry from your soul.

Flora
I'm glad I do
Not know it then.

Boisdale
But you should know my heart.
Do you not recollect the hours we spent
In youth?

Flora
I do,

Boisdale
Were they not joyful hours?

Flora
I think they were.

Boisdale
Do you not know then, ever?

Flora
Why ask me this?

Boisdale
Then we were friends.

Flora
Are now!

Boisdale
Then, on the whirlwinds of my passionate soul,
Were all thy blessed words borne up to Heaven!
The dew drop, trembling in the morning's ray,
By Phoebus from the mountain flowret kist,
Was not more vestal than thy virgin heart!

Flora
Not less so now.

Boisdale
Then let me kiss thy hand!

Flora
Nay, that is wrong.

Boisdale
You did not think so then.
Once you were happy in my love.

Flora
You jest.
Nay, Boisdale, you wish to anger me.

Boisdale
I would not harm you for the world.

Flora
Then hush
Talk not of youth nor love.

Boisdale
Once you were glad
To prattle of those innocent days.

Flora
Then we
Were children, talked as such.

Boisdale
Ah, we have talked
Like children since.

Flora
I think you talk so now.

Boisdale
Would you could feel as you did then, that we
Could talk as we did then.

Flora
We have no need
Of children's talk.

Boisdale
We have much need of it.
Thy smiles were then to me as heaven to him,
Who on the threshold of the skies, first gets
A glimpse of immortality. Then—then—
I cut thy name upon a tree; mine was
Above, thine all below; it stands there now,
A living witness of our love. Thy tracks
I used to follow in the sand, as if
They were some book I loved to read. But now,
Where is that childhood now?

Flora
'Tis gone, and think
No more of it.

Boisdale
Then I must cease to live.
Ah, Flora! let me kiss thy hand.

Flora
Well then,
You may.

Boisdale
Not that, the left one, next thy heart.
Whose flowers are these?

Flora
Why ask me that?

Boisdale
The kings?
Thus do I crush them to the earth!

(Snatching them from her and trampling on them.)
Flora
Frail man!
Think not to win me from the king this way!
As you have bruised these flowers, so shall he bruise
Thy heart.

Boisdale
Not all the powers on earth could add
One atom to its grief. I am king-proof.
I stand amid the saplings of the woods,
A mighty oak! I lift my thousand arms
To heaven, forgetful of the lightning's blast,
Time-racking hail, or thunder! Why should I
Then, fear thy king? The hour is nigh, at hand,
The thunder-clap of his dark fall shall drown
The breakage of a hundred wrecks at sea.

Flora
No, Boisdale, you shall not harm the king.
He is above thy flight.

Boisdale
My soul soars high,
Higher than Eagle ever flew!

Flora
Then Sir,
Disdain the flight of meaner birds.

Boisdale
I do
Therefore, I hate thy hawk.

Flora
My hawk?

Boisdale
Thy hawk,
Or crow, or vulture, which you please.

Flora
The king
Shall hear of this.

Boisdale
Would he were here to hear
It now.

Flora
You would not dare to look at him.
He is the sun!

Boisdale
Take care of thine eyes

Flora
They have been tempered to his heavenly beams.

Boisdale
(Aside)
A Pythagoras Prometheus has inspired.

Flora
They have drunk glory from his heavenly smiles.
Away!

Boisdale
You have grown sensitive of late,
The fate of queens.

Flora
You are offensive, Sir!

Boisdale
Who saw thy bud of love unfold itself
To heaven? This will be prison to the king.
You loved me then.

Flora
I loved you not.

Boisdale
You said
You did.

Flora
No, had I loved you then, this last
Rash act had swept it all away, even as
The ocean, in his angry mood, sweeps off
The name once written on his shore! Farewell!

(Exit.)
Boisdale
Oh, God! if ever there was Hell on earth,
If ever there was Hell beyond the grave,
No, all the Hells in Hell were heaven to this.
A calculating coldness fills my heart.
With awful coldness. Yes, the king shall die!
And down descend plague-spotted into Hell,
With everlasting curses on his soul.

(Exit.)

Act IV

Scene I

(A magnificent apartment in Holyrood House, Edinburgh, splendidly decorated for a fancy ball, in the center of which a throne of purple is raised, embroidered with gold against which leans the harp of the Minstrel of Mirandola. Enter Highland ladies and gentlemen, who dance to delightful music. Enter Charles Stuart as king, Flora Macdonald as Melpomene, Madalena, or the Page, as Apollo, and Sir Ronald as Mars.)
Charles Stuart
(Leading Apollo to the throne.)
Swell high the joyful notes! swell high the joyful song!
And let thy trembling fingers kiss the strings
As softly as the zephyrs sigh amen.
Thy raven locks, now flowing on thy neck
Of alabaster purity. Break forth
And let thy modulations be so soft
As echoes from the sighs of those that love.
Apollo's Song
If you break the smallest link
In the softest earthly chain,
Save the one of which I think,
You may mend it oft again;
But the heart that ever is riven,
Oh, it cannot mended be,
For its links were made in Heaven,
And the smiles that came from thee.
If you rob the turtle's nest,
If her little ones she tries,
All the next day to find rest,
With her pinions in the skies;
And, alas! wherever driven,
She is willing there to be
Just because she has no Heaven,
Like my soul, love, without thee!

(The king and Mars retire among the crowd to the back of the stage, while Melpomene, who has been gazing on him intently, approaches him with the Golden Violet of Minstrelsy.)
Melpomene
If tales of other times be true, sweet Page,
Thou art indeed the God of Minstrelsy.)

Apollo
And thou, sweet Melpomene, the Tragic Muse.

Melpomene
As thy acinthus was of yore to young
Catona's child, so let me be to thee.
And let the badge of Minstrelsy be placed,
By Caledonia's mournful flower upon
Thy youthful heart. (Placing it on his heart.)


Apollo
I thank thee, Queen of Love,
For who would not be crowned by thy fair hand,
When in thy sunny smiles the meanest flower
Is made to blossom in eternal youth.

Melpomene
Relinquish not thy hold, fair gentle youth.
And let the flower of Caledonia's isle
Present thee, kneeling, with the richest gift
That ever shone on earth, an honest heart.

Apollo
Thy heart, fair lady! No, the gift were far
Too great for aught but Caledonia's son.

Melpomene
And may not Caledonia's Mournful Flower
Be made the Crown of thy divinity?

Apollo
'Tis prudence, not disdain, forbids it now.
But were thy Minstrel aught but what he is,
Thou shouldst behold thy more than beauteous smiles
Reflected from the mirror of his soul,
As clearly as Diana's face in Heaven
Beholds her likeness in the lowly sea;
For thy art now as far above thy Page,
As was Diana when she left her Heaven
To seek Endymion on the Carian Mount.

Melpomene
Nay, why the downcast sadness of thine eyes,
In which there is so much of love divine,
As if the schoolboy's genius had been just
Rebuked in innocence? Nay, look not so.

Apollo
Were thy Fernando to receive thy gift
He could not make thee suitable amends,
And thou, his benefactor, wouldst have power
To bind his soul in thraldom from this hour,
Even to the sullying of his purity.
When next we meet, fair lady mine, thou wilt
Forgive me for declining thy fair hand,
And save me from imploring pardon now.

(Descending from the throne.)
Melpomene
Stay, gentle youth! Depart not from me yet!

Apollo
Nay, thou shalt lift thy drooping head ere long,
And give thy odor to the godlike Charles,
Thou hadst forgotten he was king? Farewell!
(Exit Apollo.)

Melpomene
The king! (Charles Stuart comes forward.)

My royal Charles—thy Page is my king.
A nobler being never lived on earth.

Charles Stuart
He is so hale, he seems not of this world,
But of some glorious sphere where all is love.

(They dance again to delightful musick when the king and Melpomene retire to the back of the stage. Reenter Apollo as Nymph of Dian.)
Mars
(Hastily approaching her.)
Sweet Nymph of Dian! Oh, that beauteous face!
Now to the snowy wings of hope lead me
Again into the rosy bowers of peace,
Where Beauty is made noble in love.
Sweet Nymph, the God of War alone should lead
Thee through the mazy dance.

Nymph of Dian
The God of War
Should seek some hand more suited to his taste.
The Nymph of Dian, drawn by four white stags
In chariot of rich pearl, would ill befit
The Thunder-Phaeton of the God of War.

Mars
There is but one immortal thing on earth,
That is the soul—that soul is love—that love
Can bring the gods down from their lofty thrones,
And bind them here on earth with rosy hands.

Nymph of Dian
Whose flowing festoons they must often break,
And, bringing their most precious leaves to earth,
Inhale the fragrance of the dying flower
With more than wanton joy.

Mars
Such never loved.
As divers value most the pearl that they
Have fetched from stormy seas, so will my soul
Value the jewel snatched from hours like these;
For love is strongest in the boldest heart;
The dulness of the quiet hour will make
The lion feeble.

Nymph of Dian
Woman is not so.
The strongest of her affections is the same
In hours of greatest peril as in peace;
She is the same unchanging thing you see—
Full of undying love. But I have loved.
'Tis said the smiles of woman's love fall on
Thy heart like moonlight on the crystal rill
That winter has congealed.

Mars
It has been so;
But now affection's day-god melts away
The unsunned ice that froze my formal heart,
And lets its crystal fountains loose for thee.
Th' immortal beauty of thy face is now
Buffeted from the mirror of that stream,
Which thy sweet notes have thawed to flowing love.
See how Diana climbs the Hills of Heaven, (Looking out.)

As if she sought the chambers of the Sun,
Meek as the soul that seeks thy love tonight,
For as the night without the glorious Moon,
So is my soul without thy richer smiles.

Nymph of Dian
How sad she seems.

Mars
What looks she like to thee?

Nymph of Dian
Priligion leaning on the breast of God.

Mars
See how she gazes on this world below
As if she wondered how we love so much,
Not knowing that my soul burns on for thee,
In ceaseless splendor like her own sweet light.

Nymph of Dian
I would not be ungrateful for the world;
The ungrateful soul is like the faithless dog,
That snarls while eating from his master's hand;
I, therefore, smile upon the noble Mars,
And give him thanks.

Mars
Nay, do not leave me yet!
The rose exhaling its sweets to heaven
Invites the florist to its native bower.

Nymph of Dian
Yes, we must part.

Mars
Not yet.

Nymph of Dian
Indeed, we must

Mars
There is no glory in the warriour's strife,
Wherein his soul is prompted to high deeds,
So spirit-stirring as one hour with thee.
The Moon, now holding of her silent course
In Heaven, moves not along that blue serene
With grace more pensive than thy gentle steps
Sped like the antelopes in joy to me.

Nymph of Dian
But say, thou hast forgot the Minstrel Boy?

Mars
Ah, dost thou know that generous boy?

Nymph of Dian
I do;
And see you have forgotten him that said,
But now, you never could forget.

Mars
That boy;
I never will forget him in the world.
But have you seen the face of that fair youth?

Nymph of Dian
I have most noble Mars. I learn he is
Thy chief companion.

Mars
Nearest to my heart
Of all on earth, except the one who now
Adores him more than she dare say.

Nymph of Dian
I do,
Great Mars, adore that gentle youth.

Mars
Dost love
That gentle boy?

Nymph of Dian
With all my heart. Why, is
It strange the Nymph of Dian should so love?

Mars
It is not strange for no one ever saw
His face, who did not love.

Nymph of Dian
I am in love.
Wilt thou not recommend me to that Page?
Come, thou shalt promise me when next we meet,
That this same Page shall speak of me in terms
Borrowed from thy most lofty praise.

Mars
All that
The tongue of man can say shall then be said.
(Aside.)
That is the first time Ronald ever lied!
(Exit Nymph of Dian.)
I would not have her to behold that Page
For Stuart's wealth in Caledonia's crown!
What, gone! Then I must kneel here all alone.

(Ee kneels, his bowed head on his hand. They dance off again to delightful music, then exeunt omnes. Reenter Nymph of Dian as Fernando the Page.
Page
What, Mars upon his knees? The God of War
Should not permit his knees to kiss the earth.
To what idolatry is valour bowed?
Perhaps at this propitious hour thy heart
Is playing truant with thy country's cause;
Is worship of some great divinity
More sacred than Charles Stuart's crown?

Mars
Thy words are truth, fair Page.

Page
Where are thine eyes
That, in the burnished glare of solid steel,
Can pierce the vistas of the warriour's helms,
And court the bannered host afar; but still
Are blind to Flora's heavenly charms.

Mars
(Aside)
Thank God!
The generous boy has coupled his desires
With all my hopes. The nymph of Dian's name
Shall not be mentioned lest it free new hopes.
Flora Macdonald—she is neither thine
But not the love of Mars—thine is the heart—
Genius like thine is Flora's soul's delight.
But look, thou art the same angelic-limbed,
Sweet creature like the frightened antelope.
As much as is the Moon upon the sea
The likeness of the same sweet Moon in Heaven!
And now thy sighs responsive to thy smiles
Are all like hers—they are the same to me,
And yet thou art Fernando. Speak again!

Page
Methinks, great Mars, the God of Wine
Has brought thee to thy knees. In love, my lord? (Fondingly.)

Did not the downward flowing of her locks
Grow ashen in the fires of thy breath,
Like the sad droopings of the willow bough,
Swayed by the kisses of the odorous breeze? (Teasingly.)

For like the cedar evergreen, she stood,
Courting my whispers with her amorous looks
And, grasping held my hand, prest it so soft,
A thrill of tenderness ran through my heart,
And told me what her own then felt—(Enough)—(Aside.)

(Flora Macdonald is not loved by Mars)—(Aloud.)

Until my raptured soul drank in her words,
Which made my heart intoxicate with sweets,
And sounds of harmony. Ay, lived upon
Her sighs, as on an atmosphere of song,
Which seemed to feed me with immortal youth!

Mars
By Heavens, thy words are echoes of her own!
Thy smiles—thy very eyes like hers—all—all—
Hast thou no sister?

Page
None in all this world.

Mars
Ah, thou incarnate spirit! thou art so
Engrafted in my soul that all the world
Seems hallowed by thy beams. Come we must go.

(Exeunt.)

Scene II

(A private apartment in Holyrood House. Enter Charles Stuart to Fernando.)
Page
Oh, good my lord, have you not seen
The lovely Flora yet.

Charles Stuart
Why ask me that
Which you already know? She kist thy hand,
Beguiled the time most ardently with you.

Page
Indeed, she did not, though she prest it oft,
And trembled while she did so; hers was moist
And softer than the down upon the swan.

Charles Stuart
And did she sigh to thee?

Page
She did, my lord,
Presenting me a jeweled ring, which shone
Like Hesperus. Her words dropt from her lips
Like honey from the parted comb.

Charles Stuart
(Aside)
Fine words—
The very ring I gave to her—fine words;
And you accepted it, of course?

Page
Not so,
I bade her earnestly take back the gift,
And in refusing whispered in her ear,
Those soothing words which were more grateful than
Apologies.

Charles Stuart
In love!

Page
Is that a crime?

Charles Stuart
It is. What would the Caledonian Flower
Do with DiOssima, my youthful Page?

Page
I thought as much, therefore, refused the gifts.

Charles Stuart
But know you not that Ronald is in love?

Page
With whom, my lord?

Charles Stuart
With Flora, to be sure.

Page
It is—it is not so.

Charles Stuart
Art sure of that?

Page
I spoke to him in Madalena's praise,
At which his bosom panted as for war.
He loves thy daughter as he does his life.

Charles Stuart
Nay, you shall have my Madalena, boy.

Page
Indeed, Sir Ronald would be jealous then.
He has best right to Madalena's love.

Charles Stuart
But mind! You sing for Flora no more songs.

Page
What, think you that Fernando would unsurp
The right of royal Charles? Was it for this
He left his native land—became thy Page?

Charles Stuart
Most noble boy, thou art thyself again!
Come to my arms!

Page
(Embracing him.)
Then promise me one thing,
Shall not Sir Ronald be thy son?

Charles Stuart
He shall,
For he is noble, worthy of my child.

Page
Then, let me go, for he must know of this.

Charles Stuart
But mind! I will be jealous if he grasp
Thy hand too often; it must all be mine.
(Exit Page.)
(Enter Lochiel)
What news, my noble friend?

Lochiel
No news, my lord,
But from that Boisdale.

Charles Stuart
The Highland Chief?

Lochiel
The very same.

Charles Stuart
He was the first who chanced
To meet me on the shore.

Lochiel
The first, my lord?

Charles Stuart
The very first.

Lochiel
Well, that is strange.

Charles Stuart
Why so?

Lochiel
Did he receive you with much joy?

Charles Stuart
Not he—
It was no greeting such as thine.

Lochiel
Most true.
But did no angry words between you pass?

Charles Stuart
Not one. When he refused to bring us troops,
My Page accosted him with his drawn sword,
At which his bosom panted like the sea,
As if it bore an agony within,
Too mighty for his heart.

Lochiel
Would he had burst.

Charles Stuart
Why so?

Lochiel
Because he is thy deadliest foe.

Charles Stuart
I care not for his rage. There never was
A storm without a calm.

Lochiel
There is no calm
To his eternal storm.

Charles Stuart
I heed him not.
Man's passion is the suicidal act
That kills itself. Why should I care for him?

Lochiel
He will destroy thy life.

Charles Stuart
How heard you this?

Lochiel
From his own lips.

Charles Stuart
From his own lips? The fool
Has impudence enough to drown his rage.

Lochiel
It is amphibious—cannot drown.

Charles Stuart
What is
The cause of this?

Lochiel
Thy Flora, so he says.

Charles Stuart
The fool is mad. Tell Ronald of this thing,
He must be watched.

Lochiel
He has an evil heart.
The lion, raged, will show his teeth—he will
Uncase his fangs—they are the shafts of death.
He seemed to gather all his soul in one.
Great effort to disgorge his wrath, his lungs
Still heaving like the sea, his nostrils wide,
His visage all inflated, dark as Hell,
His eyeballs glaring, forehead pursed to frowns,
His lips still pregnant with intent to speak,
His arm highlifted, clenched his fists,
As if to clutch his victim by the throat,
His teeth still grinding all distinct to view,
As when the wild boar whets his tusks for war;
And thus while laboring to repress his wrath,
Which like the swollen torrent would come forth,
He vomited his black bile on thy name.

Charles Stuart
Look out for him! Set every blood hound on
His track; pursue him to the Gates of Death;
When found precipitate him down to Hell!

(Exeunt)

Scene III

(Culloden, the battlefield. Enter Sir Ronald and Fernando to Charles Stuart. Alarums.)
Charles Stuart
What news from Falkirk?

Sir Ronald
Glorious news,
But sadder far than glorious is the news
That comes from old Drumossie Muir!

Charles Stuart
What news?

Sir Ronald
The Chiefs are routed from the field; one half
Are slain. We must not tarry here, come fly!

Charles Stuart
No, let me rally our brave men again,
And cheer their drooping spirits for the fight.
What, would you have us run like frightened lambs,
From the obstreperous howlings of such wolves?
No, let my cousin of Cumberland come on!

Sir Ronald
(Alarums.)
My lord, thy valor should be curbed awhile!
Let prudence by thy shield to save thy life!
It is too noble to be lost in such
Inglorious strife. If we are beaten, we
Must fly. Away, the foe is near us now.

Charles Stuart
Adversity may chill the heart of Charles,
But no despair shall ever quench its fire.

(Alarums.)
Page
Come, we must fly! Away to Boradale.

Charles Stuart
What, fly to Boradale where first my Page,
In Scotland's holy name took up his lyre,
And like the river to the parching vales,
Poured on my thirsting soul the tide of song,
Which made the flowers of love immortal grow?
No, let them come; my soul is mighty yet.

Sir Ronald
I heard the clangor of the eagle's wings
Hurtling amid the bustling clouds of Heaven,
While clambering up their perilous cliffs
To fan the sun to glory. On he flew!
My sight grew tired to follow him so far,
When suddenly as if by lightnings struck,
He curveted once more the bounds of Heaven.

Charles Stuart
Stay the bold eagle in his flight to Heaven,
Or pierce the bosom of the milky swan
Soaring aloft above the reed isles green.
As well may ye attempt to curb me now.
I tell you that my soul is mighty yet.

Sir Ronald
Fair as the Moon that came to watch her there,
Feeding an eagle from an ivory cup,
That Genius sculptured for the Feast of Fame.
And while he stood there pouring out his song
Drinking the fire of glory from her hand,
A voice from out the angry cloud was heard
Muttering dolorous vengeance in her soul.
I saw him fix his keen eye on the throne,
And ere the thunderbolt could lay her low,
Anchored his talons on the perilous shaft,
And saved his holy Minister from death!

Charles Stuart
A dream more beauteous never has been told.
Before me in the visions of the night,
Went the tall warhouse through the Highland camp,
Lifting his trumpet nostrils in the air,
With feet dabling in blood. Heard ye no sound?
The fiery depths of the infernal world
Seemed to disgorge the entrails of her wrath.

Sir Ronald
My lord, it was an omen of thy fall!

Charles Stuart
But on that steed a rider rode, who said,
“Remember Stuart, to avenge my death!”
It was my father. He is mighty yet. (Alarums.)


(Enter Lochiel in haste.)
Lochiel
My lord, we are in danger here. Come, fly!
The living are now treading on the slain,
Like sleepless ghosts that come to stalk the world,
Vomiting the fire of desolation forth!

Charles Stuart
Who leads them on?

Lochiel
That traitor Boisdale.

Charles Stuart
Oh, for a hundred thousand years to kill
Him in! Had he as many lives as there
Are sands upon the sea, I'd kill them all.

Sir Ronald
They come my lord, they come upon us now!

Charles Stuart
Come forth my sword! Draw, every one of you,
And let us stand for Liberty or Death.

(Enter Boisdale with English soldiers.)
Boisdale
Behold the power of Boisdale's revenge.
He comes to set thee on thy throne in Hell!

Charles Stuart
This sword shall be thy passport to that place.
Come on, ye paleface, chicken-hearted rats!
And let me teach you Stuart's skill. No, stand,
And let your hearts grow stronger by delay.

Boisdale
Give back the jewel which you stole from me!
You cannot wear it on your crown—'tis lost.

Charles Stuart
I wear your jewel, as you call her, in
My heart.

Boisdale
Give back that jewel or thy life!

Soldier
Was it for public or for private good,
You brought us here?

Boisdale
For public good

Charles Stuart
Thou fiend!
I will not suffer thee to live an hour!

(They fight. Sir Ronald, Lochiel, and Fernando, back out the Soldiers, while Stuart forces Boisdale off the stage. Alarums. Reenter Charles Stuart and Fernando.)
Page
Where is that villian Boisdale?

Charles Stuart
He fled.

Page
Where is Sir Ronald?

Charles Stuart
Fighting still.

Page
Where? now,
My lord, he may be slain!

Charles Stuart
No, he shall live,
He is too brave to die.

Page
See, Lochiel comes;
But not Sir Ronald, he is slain! (Reenter Lochiel.)


Charles Stuart
How now?

Page
Where is Sir Ronald? Speak!

Lochiel
My lord, he lives.
Thy cousin of Cumberland is on the field;
Ten thousand pounds are offered for thy head.

Charles Stuart
A thousand pounds I would not give that price
For all the heads in Christendom, were they
Not such as thine. What think you of that dog's?

Lochiel
What, Boisdale? I would not have his heart.
He comes replenished with new troops.

Charles Stuart
Again?

Lochiel
Again, my lord.

Charles Stuart
I thought he had enough.

Lochiel
The bloodhound is upon thy track—he thirsts
Not only for the prize, but for thy blood!

Charles Stuart
Then he shall die for want of both.

Lochiel
Then, fly
To Boradale! While my words hang on
His lips, the fires of Hell burn in his heart!
The foe is near us now. Thy flight is safe
To Boradale!

Charles Stuart
Come hither, Page.

Page
(Approaching him.)
My, lord!

Charles Stuart
(Giving him a letter.)
Be thou unto me as the faithful Dove
That goest in quest of some immortal leaf,
Then comes back laden to an Ark divine.

Page
The Eagle may outsoar the Dove—but yet
The Dove flies swifter to her native nest.
The bee that gathers honey from the flower,
Knows where to find that tender flower again;
And as it hungers for the same sweet flower,
So will Fernando for his master's love.

Charles Stuart
Then we shall wrestle with the storms of fate,
Like Jacob with his angel in the night,
And rise up from the labour with the strength
Of an immortal. Fare thee well!

Page
Farewell!

Charles Stuart
I send thee from the Ark to my fond love,
A cross the deluge of deep grief to fly,
And bring me back the olive leaf of Peace.

Page
I will if there is dry land to be found.

(Exit.)
Lochiel
My lord, the foe is near us now!

Charles Stuart
They are,
Let us evade them; lie in ambush here.
They will not harm Fernando?

Lochiel
No, they ask
Thy life, not his.

Charles Stuart
Meanwhile, you seek
Sir Ronald—bring him safe to Boradale.

Lochiel
I will, my lord. Farewell, till we shall meet
Again.

Charles Stuart
Farewell, may Heaven defend thy steps.

(Exeunt.)

Scene IV

(Another part of the field. Enter Sir Joshua Macdonald wounded, leaning on Fernando 's arm.)
Page
(Dropping the letter)
Macdonald wounded? Dying? Speak, my friend!

Macdonald
Ay, wounded but not dead.

Page
Then rise again
And let us seek our Prince.

Macdonald
No, let me die.
I would not live to see my country's fall!

Page
Ay, rise; the enemy is near us now.

Macdonald
Had I an eagle's wings I would not fly.

Page
Then lean upon Fernando's arm; though weak
Yet will it help to bear you from the field.
(As he attempts to rise, he falls again.)
Oh, noble chieftain, thou art gone, too late!

Macdonald
Take back my dying words—go to my Prince,
Tell him that my daughter is his wife.

Page
As thy last dying wish, it shall be done.
How art thou now, brave friend?

Macdonald
I am no more. (Dies.)


Page
Oh God, my noble friend is dead. Farewell!

(Enter Boisdale picking up the letter.)
Boisdale
What have we here? A letter! Yes, a dead
Man and a Page. This comes of thy great lord.

Page
(Approaching him)
Give me that letter—it is mine!

Boisdale
'Tis thine?
How came it on the ground?

Page
I dropt it there.
Do give it to me!

Boisdale
Who gave it to you? The king?
It goes to Ormaclade. I see it does.
It is directed to his amorous queen.
Then as the amorous Wind deflowers the Rose,
So will I rifle it of all its sweets.

Page
Oh, do not break the seal—I beg you not!

Boisdale
What was his charge concerning it? Speak quick!

Page
Oh, do not break the seal!

Boisdale
Was that his charge?
Then will I break it, as I will his heart.

Page
Oh, do not! for a thousand worlds I would
Not have you break that seal!

Boisdale
Then tell me all.
Where is thy king? Speak, or the letter flies.

Page
Nay, give it me.

Boisdale
Will not the contents tell?
Speak, or it flies! (He breaks open the letter and reads.)

The sealing of thy lips
And not my hands, did break the seal. Away!
Go, bear it to thy mistress—all is right. (Returns the letter.)


Page
For this rash act thy blood shall drench the earth!

Boisdale
Be not too rash or thine shall flow. You know
You called me traitor once.

Page
Ay, traitor thrice!
A double villian! earth has not thy match,
No, nor the depths of Hell. All honest men
Shall hate the name of one named after thee,
And evil men grow jealous of thy name,
Because thou art above all emulation!

Boisdale
Peace, peace, young boy!

Page
As you have broken this—
So is the seal upon my lips; now read
The contents of my soul!

Boisdale
Show not thy pearls,
Or if you will, but do it with a smile.

Page
Within the casket of my heart there lies
A truth, which couldst thou see, would strike thee blind!

Boisdale
It is so rare I only hear it when
It thunders; then I know 'twill rain.

Page
You are
No wit.

Boisdale
I do not pass for one.

Page
You are
A base, abandoned wretch! You are no man!
A serpent who has fangs, but fears to bite!

Boisdale
My poison then will do no harm.

Page
That is
No virtue. Good is negatived in you
By fear of doing evil. Good, without
Volition, is no good at all. An act,
To be a good one, must be done by one
Who does it for the sake of good. When did
You this?

Boisdale
Look there upon the ground. See what
Your king has done. Talk not of goodness now!

Page
What has he done?

Boisdale
Destroyed that good old man.

Page
Would he were here to hear that lie! Base fiend!
The last word that he spoke was of the king.
Nay, ask thy wretched soul—let conscience tell
Who is the murderer! Thy cheeks are pale!
It was thy very hand that took his life!

Boisdale
That letter is an antidote for thine.

Page
You dare not look me in the face.

Boisdale
Away!
And when thy heraldry is over, we
Shall meet again!

Page
No, never let me
See thy face again!

Boisdale
At Boradale we all
Shall meet again, where each shall know his doom.

(Exeunt severally. Enter Lochiel and Sir Ronald in haste.)
Sir Ronald
Where is my lord?

Lochiel
Fled—gone to Boradale.

Sir Ronald
Then let us hence. What have we here? Ye gods!
It is the temple of the mightiest soul
That ever lived in man.

Lochiel
Alas, what is
This world, if sacriligious hands shall rob
A temple of such heavenly workmanship,
Of such a soul?

Sir Ronald
It is an object world!
His thoughts were so sublime they were like stars
Above the midnight of men's minds, on which
They gazed with emulation, as of old,
The Chaldean Shepherds watched the stars with joy
And admiration. Look how low he lies!
See where the golden bowl was broken, how
The wine of life wastes on the abject earth.
It looks up in the peaceful face of Heaven,
Imploring vengeance on the foe!

Lochiel
Come, let
Us lay him in the dark cold—he rests.

Sir Ronald
And as the face of the embowered lake
Reflects the foliage on its verdant banks,
So shall the mirror of our deeds today,
Shew forth our actions to the latest time.

(Exeunt, bearing the body out.)

Scene V

(Ormaclade. A magnificent apartment in Macdonald's palace. Flora is seated on a sofa binding a bouquet of flowers. Enter Boisdale seizing her by the arm.)
Boisdale
Now Princess, thou art mine!

Flora
(Rising indignantly.)
What do you mean?
Let go my arm?

Boisdale
Where is thy Page?

Flora
I know
Not where he is. Why ask me that?

Boisdale
You have
Not heard the news?

Flora
What news?

Boisdale
Most direful news.
The king has fled!

Flora
Fled where?

Boisdale
To Boradale.
He was obliged to fly—his troops are slain.

Flora
Oh, joyless fate! Where is my father?

Boisdale
Dead!

Flora
My father dead! my father slain! Oh, God!
Then let me die! Who slew my father? You?

Boisdale
It is not known. You cannot now be queen.
His cousin of Cumberland will wear the crown.

Flora
Oh, joyless fate! There is no comfort now.

Boisdale
Look on the face of him who loves you still.
Oh, beauteous island in the Sea of Life!
Though darker be the waves around thee cast,
Yet will the sunshine of my former love,
Mantle thy bosom with the spring of joy!
There on thy beauteous bosom girt by waves
Of sorrow—let me lean my pensive head.

Flora
What would you have me do?

Boisdale
Be mine—forget
The past—look on me as thy lord—thy king—
Ay, wed thine equal—wed with him whom Heaven
Designed for thee.

Flora
Then show me to the king.

Boisdale
No, he is gone. Come, fly with me to some
Sweet island where we will be king and queen.
Where we will reign, the king and queen!
With you it would be peopled with the world.

Flora
Ah, Boisdale, have you not spoken false?

Boisdale
In what, my love?

Flora
Where is my father?

Boisdale
Dead!

Flora
The king?

Boisdale
In Hell, I hope.

Flora
Then, fly from me.

Boisdale
Be calm, my love.

Flora
My sorrows make me calm.

Boisdale
Then, will you not be mine?

Flora
No, Boisdale,
I tell thee, never!

Boisdale
Nay, relent! You know
I love you—love you as my life.

Flora
Away!

Boisdale
Will you live single?

Flora
Die the maid I am,
Or Stuart's wife.

Boisdale
But he is gone.

Flora
Then I
Will wed his memory.

Boisdale
Look down, ye gods!
And tell me from your starry thrones, what doom
Is hanging on me now?

Flora
The doom of death!

Boisdale
You echo but the voice of mine own soul.
For, rather now than live this living death,
I will put poison in the Cup of Fate,
And, drinking with the king thy health, go down
With him the bloody path to Hell! Farewell!

Flora
Death spurs the bloodless sides of his pale horse,
Impatient for thy life.

Boisdale
The king! the king!

(Exeunt severally.)

Scene V

(Boradale. The sea shore. A ship at anchor, lying in the distance. A storm. Thunder and lightning. Enter Charles Stuart disguised.)
Charles Stuart
The splintery lightnings scourge the angry clouds,
Until they weep themselves to death in rain;
While yonder sea lies hovering as with fear.
The mighty thunder rolls from cloud to cloud.
Shaking the ponderous earth with tremendous fear,
As if Heaven's battlements were tumbling down.
It is the footsteps of the mighty God
Walking in storms.

Boisdale
(without)
Howl on!

Charles Stuart
He comes.

(Enter Boisdale not observing Charles Stuart.)
Boisdale
Howl on,
Ye mighty Thunders, howl! the voice of Fiends
Were silence to the thunders of my thoughts.
Come down, ye massy clouds! Come down in floods,
And drown me like the sea. Tear up the pines
And pile them on my head as high as heaven.
Lead me to some impending cliffs, where rolls
The noiseless river of the dead—then pitch
Me down to Hell!

Charles Stuart
You stand upon that cliff.
Below is Hades! there, the inky stream
Which rolls in sullen lethargy along
The Vale of Death!

Boisdale
Is there oblivion in
That wave?

Charles Stuart
Eternal death! Oblivion stands,
With open arms to hide thee from the Past.

Boisdale
Put memory in the grave and all is well.

Charles Stuart
Thy life is forfeited!

Boisdale
Whose voice is that?
I know that voice—it echoes through my soul.
The dead sea of my heart is turned to fire,
And every hope lies drowned beneath the wave!

Charles Stuart
This sword shall be thy passport to that place!

Boisdale
Who wields that sword?

Charles Stuart
An enemy to thee!
Behold! (Throwing off his disguise.)


Boisdale
(Drawing)
Usurper! villian that thou art!
I am destruction—proof! You cannot hurt
Me now! Come on!

Charles Stuart
Strike, traitor, for thy last!

(they fight. Boisdale falls.)
Charles Stuart
Down—down among the Fiends!

Boisdale
The Fiends are here. (Dies.)


(Enter Flora Macdonald attended by Francisco, the Monk, and the Page.)
Charles Stuart
Oh, Flora, you have come in blessed time! (Embracing her.)


Flora
My lord, that traitor said that you were gone.

Charles Stuart
What traitor?

Flora
Boisdale.

Charles Stuart
Ah, name him not.
See where he lies—beneath the reach of hate.
The earth that gave him life now drinks his blood.
Where is Sir Ronald?

Page
Ah, he may be slain!

Charles Stuart
Macdonald?

Page
He is dead. I saw him die.

Charles Stuart
Ah, Flora, noble Flora, is he dead?

Flora
He is, my lord. Fernando says he is.

Charles Stuart
Then let me help you weep, for he was great.

Page
He bade me tell you, ere he died, he could
Not live to see his country's fall.

Charles Stuart
Alas,
All that could dignify the valorous heart,
And make him nobler than the rest of men,
Impelled him onward in his country's cause.

Page
He bade me say that Flora was your wife.

Charles Stuart
She is my wife—my noble wife! (Embracing her.)


(Enter Sir Ronald and Lochiel.)
Sir Ronald
My lord!

Charles Stuart
My noble friends, you are most welcome here!
My gratitude is all that I can give.

Sir Ronald
'Tis all we wish. We are most glad you live.

Charles Stuart
(Pointing to Boisdale.)
Look on the opprobrious earth! There lies
A traitor slain—rotting upon the earth
That valor has denied to him.

Sir Ronald
Poor fool!
If he had lived a thousand years, he could
Not have been better slain!

Lochiel
His life was one
Continual strife for that which Nature had
Denied to him!

Page
(To Sir Ronald)
Have you no word for me?

Sir Ronald
My heart is bankrupt for sufficient words
To give thee praise.

Charles Stuart
In all my sorrow there
Is joy.

Page
For sorrow is life's shade—the moon
Shines brightest in the darkest night—so does
The light of joy upon the greatest grief.

Charles Stuart
Thou art the Ministering Angel of my life,
And could I now behold my child—my own
Dear Madalena—I would die in peace.

Page
Then you shall die in peace—for here she is—
Behold thy child! (Throwing off his disguise.)


Charles Stuart
(Amazed)
What do I see? my child?
A spirit or my child?

Madalena
Thy child, thy child!

Charles Stuart
Come to my arms, my child! it is my child! (Clasping her in his arms.)


Sir Ronald
Great God, my heart is in my throat!

Charles Stuart
Look down
Ye angels, on this blessed sight! look down
Upon a father's love, who would not give
His child for all the thrones on earth.

Sir Ronald
Look down,
Ye Angels, who have watched above our souls!
She is the “Nymph of Dian!” (Embracing her.)


Madalena
God of War!

Flora
“Apollo” of the masquerade?

Madalena
The same
And thou sweet Melpomene the Tragic Muse!

Sir Ronald
As Stuart's “Page” I loved thee from my heart;
As “Nymph of Dian” better than his Page;
As Madalena better far than all!

Madalena
As Ronald's self alone, I loved you first;
“God of War”, I loved you none the less;
And now, as Ronald, first and last, I love
You still!

Sir Ronald
Then I am happy—happier far
Than if a king!

Charles Stuart
And I am king indeed!
Before high heaven, I join your hearts and hands.

Sir Ronald
I wish I had a thousand hearts; I'd give
Them with a thousand hands.

Charles Stuart
She is thy wife.
And now, sweet Flora, let me take thy hand,
And in the face of heaven pronounce thee mine.

Francisco
(Joining their hands)
I do present thee to thy lord, while with
The present, I bestow thy lord on thee.

(Alarums.)
Sir Ronald
Friends of my soul, we are in danger yet!

Charles Stuart
Come to my arms, my wife, my child!

(Alarums.)
Sir Ronald
They come!
Come, Lochiel, we must meet them front to front;
And save our friends!

(Exeunt Lochiel and Ronald. Alarums.)
Charles Stuart
We must not tarry here.
Come to the ship, the ship!

Madalena
Nay, father, stay!
I see Sir Ronald's plume! it waves! he reels!
He totters! sinks to the earth! he's slain! (She faints.)


Charles Stuart
She falls! Sir Ronald's slain! Now, we must fly!

(He bears his daughter in his arms, and they enter the ship as the curtain falls.)

Act V

Scene 1

(Mirandola. A magnificent apartment in Charles Stuart's palace, as in Act First, Scene the First. Enter Charles Stuart and Flora.)
Charles Stuart
Now do mine eyes behold all that my soul
Hath pictured to me in my dreams—infinite perfection in thy form,
Of angel beauty, whom my dying friend,
In the last moments of his parting soul,
Bade me remember.

Flora
Ah, you were his friend.

Charles Stuart
And now thy beauty steals upon me in
The likeness of that being gone. Thou art—
If ever beauty mirrored back in truth,
The likeness of her parentage—thou art
Indeed Macdonald's child. Why do you weep?

Flora
Oh, how my soul could love him, did he live,
Seeing it loves him so now he is dead.

Charles Stuart
I recollect the hour when first my heart
Was stirred to passion by the birth of love;
For when my heart first mixed itself with thine,
And each beat bounding unto each, thy voice
Stole on my raptured soul as soft as if
The spirit of the solitude had sighed.
Man is deluded when he hopes to build
Ambitious temple on unhallowed ground.
He lays his corner stone upon the bones
Of man-made cement by their own dear blood.
The more I see of thee, the more I hate
The vanities of kings.

Flora
How much great good
Could you bestow on man, were you to teach
Them what you know.

Charles Stuart
Had I the power to make
My voice a trumpet for mankind, I would
Arouse the Present to a dignity
Of Self, and make it live in centuries
Of years to come. I would send forth my thoughts
As on eagle wings, through all the dark
Abysmal future where sits raven Time
In silence, on her peaceful years unfledged,
And scatter them to all mankind—where each
Should grow to Liberty's triumphant tree,
And fill the earth with one continuous shade—
Beneath whose oaky boughs forever green,
The generations yet unborn should sit,
And see their present joys in other years,
Fulfilled with prophet's eyes as mine to me.

Flora
What is it makes the vain, ambitious man,
Unsurp the rights of other men?

Charles Stuart
The love
Of power—that bastard offspring of a want
Of something good to do.

Flora
If all men have
Their natural gifts—those gifts which make them men,
They all have natural rights which they should use
Proportioned to those gifts. If they are not
All equal in those several gifts, they have
Enough to make them men, therefore, they all
Profess an equal right—should use that right.

Charles Stuart
One subject of our realm we have to lose.
Poor Madalena, she is sad indeed;
And I am sad to think of her.

Flora
She is;
And takes Sir Ronald's death but ill at heart.

Charles Stuart
I thought if I could only see her wed,
I would be happy for the rest of life.

Flora
You might have known such interest for your sake,
Betrayed ambition to that sake.

Charles Stuart
I did not think
Her aught but what she seemed.

Flora
She acted well
For she deceived Sir Ronald all the while.

Charles Stuart
She lay upon his bosom like the swan
Upon clear waters, while his soul grew white
To image back her form. She was his joy;
And now she dies for Ronald's sake.

Flora
She does,
Singing her own death song, like that same Swan,
Which, matchless, will not seek another love.

Charles Stuart
But she has found her mate—she takes the veil—
And what she could not find on earth, she hopes
To find in Heaven.

Flora
It is most strange, that what
We most desire on earth, to lose it here,
We seek in Heaven.

Charles Stuart
It gives no joy to think
That what we valued here, shall meet us there;
For what is most like Heaven on earth, we hope
To find in Heaven.

Flora
If we profess on earth
That which is most like Heaven, we shall be most
Like Heaven possessing it. If we seek Heaven,
We shall profess the joy of that we seek.

Charles Stuart
In some degree we shall. She goes tonight.
Then will she look her last upon the earth.
The wavy grandeur of the sloping hills,
Which look so beautiful in morning's light,
As if they were the mighty graves of gods—
The rising stepstones to the Deity;
The honest oneness of the verdant fields;
The soft retiring mystery of the vales;
And all the sweet variety of view,
Which once was pleasing to her soul.

Flora
Alas,
How different from her aspect while your Page!

Charles Stuart
Ah, sorrow works sad havoc with the heart!

Flora
But, what if he should come—would she have power
To wed him then?

Charles Stuart
If she should wed High Heaven,
And, after, break that vow for aught on earth,
She would be forfeiting that Heaven.

Flora
Alas!
Is he not all the Heaven she ever sought?
The very Heaven for which she makes the vow?
Then, if she take the veil to seek that Heaven,
To find that Heaven is not to break that vow.

Charles Stuart
By all the ties of contract it is so.

Flora
Ah, that is what the priest would say. As for
Myself, I do not think that aught on earth
Could make me break the vow I made to you.

Charles Stuart
Then why her vow to Heaven?

Flora
Because the vow
She made to Ronald was before the one
She makes to Heaven—the cause of that to Heaven.

Charles Stuart
It is no less a heavenly vow.

Flora
Then she
Can wed him if he come.

Charles Stuart
How is she now?

Flora
No more the Minstrel Boy.

Charles Stuart
Her fate is sad.
Does she not sing?

Flora
Ah, like the dying Swan!
The saddest songs you ever heard. He yet may live
And Hope is better than Despair, if he
Should never come.

Charles Stuart
That is an Angel's truth
And spoken by an Angel. Come, my love,
For as before the rising of the sun,
The mountain's tops are gilded by his beams,
Gladdening the verdant prospect all around,
So does thy soul betoken on thy face
The pleasing sigh of coming good. Come on.

Scene II

A parlour in the convent of Santa Maria della Pieta, as in Act First, Scene Second. Enter Angela and the Madre to Francisco the Monk.)
Angela
Francisco, you are welcome home again.
Where is my son?

Monk
Why did you bar the gates?
Had you not done so, you had seen him long
Ago.

Angela
How is Fernando? Is he well?

Monk
The great enigma must be solved.

Angela
What great
Enigma? Speak! Fernando is not dead?

Monk
That will be known when you have solved this great
Enigma.

Angela
Strange how he can sport with us,
As if Fernando's death were naught to me;
Oh, speak! if he is dead why, tell me so!

Monk
You have the name of that which you have not.
Now, if you solve it, you shall hear if your
Fernando live or not.

Angela
But if not solved—

Monk
You cannot hear.

Angela
Then I can never hear,
For I can solve no riddle like to that;
And, not to know, is but to feel his death.

Madre
You have learned much since you first went away.

Monk
I have learned much, but chief of all that I
Have learned is to believe not what I see,
Nor what I hear.

Angela
Why so?

Monk
Because we see,
And do not see, and hear, and do not hear.

Angela
He speaks in parables.

Monk
I speak in truth.

Madre
What good is truth in such disguise?

Monk
'Tis truth.

Angela
(To Madre)
What can he mean?

Madre
I think he is deranged.

Monk
Had you but seen what I have seen, you had
Been wise.

Angela
What have you seen? Come, tell us that.

Monk
Where is the Prince's daughter? Tell me that.

Angela
She is within.

Monk
Then bring her forth.

Madre
I will.

(Exit.)
Angela
What do you mean by this strange talk?
I pray
You pardon me—I do not mean to tell.

Angela
Why not?
Have you not been to Scotland yet?

Monk
I have.

Angela
And seen Fernando?

Monk
Ay, I have—have not.

Angela
Alas, I know he's dead.

Monk
How know you that?

Angela
You seem to say he is. But here she comes.

(Reenter Madre leading in Madalena.)
Madalena
(Grasping his hand)
Oh, holy father, you have come again!
Speak, where is Fernando? Where is my lord?

Monk
What is thy name?

Madalena
My name? Why ask me that?

Monk
I wish to know.

Madalena
You frighten me.

Monk
You will
Be more frightened than that before you die.
Your name?

Madalena
My name is Madalena? Why?

Monk
You are—yet you are not.

Madalena
He is not dead?
Has he returned?

Monk
He has—yet he has not.

Madalena
Oh, do not grieve me thus! Has he returned?
Where is your father?

Madalena
Dead.

Monk
Your mother?

Madalena
Dead!

Monk
(To Angela)
What think you of this talk?

Angela
It is most strange.
We are mislead; but who shall set us right?

Monk
You heard her say her sire was dead.

Angela
We did.

Monk
That Madalena was her name?

Angela
We did.
We heard all that.

Monk
She is—yet she is not.
She is the Madalena that you have,
But not the Madalena that you seek,
If Stuart's daughter is the one you wish.
She bears the name of her, but that is all.

Angela
It is most strange! The more we see of her,
The more we wish to see, which, seeing, makes
Us only see the less. Nay—speak to me!
Are you not Stuart's daughter?

Madalena
No, he is
No sire of mine.

Angela
But you are like to her,
As if you were the same. Now we can see
Wherein you spoke the truth.

Monk
There are more ways
To speak the truth than one.

Angela
You are most learned.

Monk
This proves that every like is not the same.
Fernando did not go. I was deceived.
'Twas Stuart's daughter went as Page.

Angela
As Page?
What mysteries on mysteries? Then, you have been
To Scotland, all for naught?

Monk
And learned by it,
More than thy son will ever know.

Madalena
Could you
Not tell a woman from a man?

Monk
I have
Seen people worse deceived than that. She drest
Her as a Page and called herself thy son.

Angela
And was her father, too, deceived?

Monk
He was,
Until he came to Boradale, where she
Unsexed herself.

Madalena
Then let me go.

Angela
Nay, stay,
I must inquire about this marriage with
My son.

Monk
And I will seek him in her stead.

Angela
Yes, go (Exit Francisco.)
Was ever mystery like to this?

(Exeunt omnes.)

SCENE III

(Street in Mirandola. Enter Sir Ronald. He perceives a wild swan soaring through the heavens.)
Sir Ronald
Thou art soaring away, beautiful bird,
Upon thy pinions into distant land,
Bathing thy downy bosom's loftiest flight
In welkin zephyrs. Whither art thou borne
From snowy home through heaven's unclouded depths,
As now thy pillowed wings are cleaving heaven?
(Enter Fernando.)
Most noble youth,
You live in Mirandola, do you not?

Fernando
I do. Are you a stranger in this place?

Sir Ronald
I am. You see it by this Highland dress.

Fernando
A Scottish garb? What news from Scotland now?

Sir Ronald
Ah, sad indeed.

Fernando
You tell me that by your looks
The noble Stuart has been beat, they say?

Sir Ronald
Charles Stuart? Do you know that man?

Fernando
I do.
Know you the Prince?

Sir Ronald
I know him well.

Fernando
Were you
A soldier in the war?

Sir Ronald
I was. But know
You not his daughter Madalena?

Fernando
Ah,
That precious name! Call that sweet name again!
It gives me more than joy?

Sir Ronald
(Aside)
What can he mean?
It cannot be that she is false? Ah, no,
She is too pure—too good for that. Are you
Acquainted with that name?

Fernando
The name most dear
To me of all on earth—linked with my joy
In life—my hopes in Heaven.

Sir Ronald
(Aside)
If she is false,
May all the thunderbolts of Heaven descend
Upon me now! Tread mountains into vales,
And overwhelm the sea, ye mighty gods,
If she be false!

Fernando
What is the matter now?
Are you in grief?

Sir Ronald
In grief? What is thy name?

Fernando
Fernando.

Sir Ronald
(Aside)
Gods! the very name she chose
To shrine her from the world! She loved the man,
Or she had chosen not his name! The name
By which I knew her first. I love that name.
He must be noble. Else she had not chosen
His name. It cannot be that she is false!
No, no, it cannot be!—Thy mother's name?

Fernando
Is Angela.

Sir Ronald
The tutoress of her youth.
The one she called her mother, oh, ye Heavens!

Fernando
Why is this changeful mood? Are you in love?

Sir Ronald
(Aside)
He taunts me, conscious of his triumph.—No!
The green oasis of my life is one
Eternal wilderness of wo!

Fernando
The same as mine!
A few short months ago, my hopes were bright;
They led me to the gates of joy where Love
Stood smiling, beckoning me to bliss, when, all
At once, their snowy wings grew dark as night,
And Grief now stands my only comfortor.

Sir Ronald
Has she rejected him? It must be so.
My Madalena is not false. No, no,
I fear we are twin-mated in our grief.

Fernando
Then we can feel each other's loss the more.
The world cannot repay. I was betrothed.

Sir Ronald
But not to Stuart's daughter?

Fernando
No, to one
Most beautiful, as much like her as if
They had been twins.

Sir Ronald
You keep me on the rack—
She is the same!

Fernando
Not so, it is not so.

Sir Ronald
Her name—

Fernando
Is Madalena

Sir Ronald
'Tis the same!

Fernando
It is not so.

Sir Ronald
Where is she now?

Fernando
Ah, lost,
Forever lost! Our wedding day was set;
And on that day, attired, she disappeared,
And no one's eyes have ever seen her since.

Sir Ronald
The embers of aspiring joy begin
To glimmer in my heart again. One ray
Of hope falls on my soul, like that first star
Which gems the pensive brow of even. She is
Not false—no, no—I shall be happy yet.

Fernando
What is thy grief?

Sir Ronald
Is Madalena well?
On this hangs all my joy.

Fernando
I understand
She takes the veil tonight.

Sir Ronald
Tonight, the veil!
Why so?

Fernando
I do not know—some private grief.

Sir Ronald
Now then the withering dew of grief falls on
My bud of joy again. It shall not be!
Where shall I find her? At the Chapel? Speak!

Fernando
I think you will. It is about the hour.

Sir Ronald
Then show me to the chapel—quick!

Fernando
No use—
The gates are locked.

Sir Ronald
Then show me to her house.
Come—do not tarry here. My life is thine.
Why do you linger thus?

Fernando
You are in love.

Sir Ronald
In more than love—my heart is now on fire!
For know, my soul was linked to her by ties
Of undissolving love! As two young plants,
With seeds alike, are grafted into one,
But yield, according to each differing germ,
A different kind of fruit—so were our hearts.
Her absence is the sepulchre of all
My joy!

Fernando
And hers the epitaph of mine.

Sir Ronald
I was a part of every thing that was,
Of which she was the spirit—she the all
Of every part of every thing that was,
To me. But look, Francisco comes!
(Enter Francisco)
My friend!

Monk
What do I see? Are you alive or dead?
The real Ronald, flesh and blood, or are
You, what the rest have been, what you are not!

Sir Ronald
I am just what I am—just what you see.

Monk
Then you are different from the rest of us;
For we are not what we appear to be. (To Fernando.)

Are you a man, a woman, or a ghost?

Fernando
I am much nearer Death than you.

Monk
Were you
That king, himself, I would not be surprised.

Fernando
We are the playthings of our fate! We live,
And die—and thus an end of us.

Monk
We then
Begin to live. We shall exist in truth,
And not as phantasies, as we do here.

Fernando
Look here! What think you of the soul? Is it
A mere traduction from the parent plant?

Monk
No, it was born—born of the breath of God,
So Job affirms.

Fernando
Think you that any thing,
Derived can live forever?

Monk
Ay, it can,
If he who made it, wills it so.

Fernando
Where think
You love was born?

Sir Ronald
Its birthplace is the heart,

Fernando
They say it has no eyes.

Monk
'Tis Argus—eyes;
Of all things felt, not seen, it has most power.

Sir Ronald
It lives through all eternity, which is
The lifetime of Love's God—God's love—
For in the circle of his love it dwells,
A boundless circle in a circle.

Fernando
True—
A circle is the nearest to its form.

Monk
It must be round—it keeps me on the round.

Sir Ronald
Where is the Prince?

Monk
I hope he has not changed,
And if you are Fernando, as you seem,
And not another, I have news for you.

Fernando
There is but one thing that I wish to hear,
And, that is, that my Madalena lives.

Monk
Then you shall hear most joyful news. She lives
Now in the convent awaiting thy return.

Fernando
What, now?

Monk
Even now.

Fernando
Why were the gates kept locked?

Monk
For reasons reasonless—now all explained.

Fernando
Ah, ravish not my heart with too much joy!
But is she well?

Monk
She is most well—but sad—
Expecting thy return so long delayed.
For you, Sir Ronald, you have come in time
To see your Madalena veiled.

Sir Ronald
What is
The hour?

Monk
One hour from this.

Sir Ronald
I thank high Heaven

Fernando
As we were friends in grief, so let us be
In joy.

Sir Ronald
Away, there is no joy for me! (Exit.)


Fernando
Nay, Ronald, stay! You will not find the way!
No, he is gone. Oh, you have filled my heart
With too much joy. Come, we must seek her now.

(Exeunt.)

Scene IV

(The interior of the chapel of the Convent of Santa Maria della Pieta. Charles Stuart, Flora, and his daughter in the attire of a Nun, on the left hand in the foreground of the crowd. The Madre, Angela, and Madalena on the right. The Officials walk to and fro swinging the Censors. A procession enters from the back of the stage, chanting solemn music. The lights of the High Altar are extinguished, but the chapel remains illuminated. As the Priest enters the music ceases.
Priest
(Taking Madalena's hand)
Is it your own free will that you resign
The world?

Madalena
It is.

Priest
Your own free will alone?
Remember, you become the Bride of Heaven.
You are to look no more upon the things
Of earth—you are to be Heaven's bride alone.
If there is any thing you love more than
You do this Heaven, you should not take the veil—
For nothing can absolve you from it then.
Speak, is it so?

Madalena
It is.

Priest
Then, from the brow,
All radiant now with thought, must these dark locks
In rich profusion, now be clipt. Kneel down.

Madalena
(Kneeling)
The sweet little bird of my hope is gone,
Pillowed away up in the peaceful sky
Upon the beautiful wings of his soul!

(As he gathers her locks in his hand to cut them off, Sir Ronald enters.)
Sir Ronald
Hold, hold thy hand! these locks are mine, away!

Madalena
(Rising and embracing him)
Oh, Ronald, Ronald! Is this you?

Sir Ronald
It is.

Madalena
My own dear Ronald! And he lives, he lives!

Sir Ronald
And loves thee still.

Madalena
I know he does, he does!

Charles Stuart
The hand of Providence is here.

Flora
These are
The fruits of love.

Charles Stuart
Now there is joy indeed!

Sir Ronald
Ay, joy of joys! My heart is circumposed
With joy!

Charles Stuart
Now are we kings indeed!

Flora
And queens
My lord.

Madalena
Ay, joyful queens all crowned with love—
Far richer than the Caledonian crown.

Sir Ronald
How have you been?

Madalena
Right sick at heart, but now
Quite well.

Charles Stuart
Now my happiness is complete.

(Enter Francisco, the Monk, Fernando following him.)
Monk
Make way for young Fernando—let him come.

Madalena
(Embracing him)
Fernando, is it you?

Fernando
My own sweet bird!

Madalena
Where have you been?

Fernando
In search of thee!

Charles Stuart
Now, both are one—both mine.

Sir Ronald
(embracing her)
My wife!

Madalena
My king!

Sir Ronald
Oh, if my soul was ever filled with love,
Or ever valued virtue for its sake;
If ever mortal felt immortal joy,
Or drank new pleasure from the cup of bliss,
I feel it now—feel it with all my soul.

(Curtain falls.)

Leoni, or the Orphan of Venice.

A Tragedy in Five Acts

When I was a student of Medicine in Transylvania University, some person gave me a pamphlet containing the Confession of Beauchampe, who was condemned to die for the murder of Colonel Sharpe of Kentucky. I then made a sketch of the outlines of a Play which I intended to write upon that remarkable occurence; but before I had finished it, some person took the pamphlet away from me, and I then wrote the following play. Any person acquainted with that unparalleled circumstance, will see, at once, that the play is based upon it, and that the catastrophe is the same.—The young lady who was seduced by Colonel Sharpe, and afterwards married to Beauchampe, will be recognized in the character of Leoni. Beauchampe, who was instigated by her to kill Sharpe, will be recognized in the character of Alvino, and Sharpe, in that of Count Alvar. The Scene of the action, and the names of the characters are

only omitted—the spirit is the same. The creation of the other characters, and the construction of the plot, are my own invention.

Dramatis Personae

• Men
• Count Alvar, Leoni's seducer, afterwards married to Theresa.
• Don Carlos, friend to Leoni, and brother to Elvira.
• Alvino, cousin and husband to Leoni.
• Don Pedro, friend to Count Alvar.
• Count Rodolph, father to Theresa, and one of the Duke's Council.
• Duke and his Council.
• Officer and Guard.
• Women
• Leoni, Orphan of Venice.
• Elvira, her friend.
• Theresa, wife to Count Alvar.

Act I

Scene I

A magnificent apartment in the palace of Count Alvar. Enter Count Alvar and Leoni.
Count Alvar
You know what pains most people take to lie.
What said Elvira on thy quick return?

Leoni
She bade me keep the face of Virtue bright.

Count Alvar
That means that thou shalt shun my company?

Leoni
Nay! give me but one atom of thy love,
And like the healing medicine of old,
'Twill cure the heart that thou hast wounded so!
For there are priceless joys along our path—
They scatter now their rich perfumes to Heaven.

Count Alvar
I cannot swallow down Elvira's words. (Starting away.)


Leoni
Nay, stay but one sweet moment, that my life
May not be darkened longing for thy love!
The Dove will love but one fond mate through life,
And if the fowler's hand should lay that low,
Thou mayest at noontide in the sultry sun,
When wanton zephyrs play around her wings,
Stand auditor beneath the much loved pine,
And hear her plead the merits of his cause—
'Twould lend affection to the hardest heart!

Count Alvar
My soul must link itself with larger views
Than with Leoni's love.

Leoni
What! sayst thou so?
Would'st thou betray the trust reposed in thee,
For that poor paltry recompense called pride,
And drive me loathesome from myself and Heaven!

Count Alvar
(Aside.)
What if the link that bind me to the world,
Should break in nature's chain? 'Twould let me down
To dark nonentity with Devil's damned
To rise no more! But Gods! It must be done!
(Aloud.)
So now, Leoni, fare thee well!

Leoni
What! now?
And break the chain that binds me unto Heaven?

Count Alvar
If that will break it, it must break.

Leoni
And you,
Have sworn this from your heart?

Count Alvar
I have not sworn—
But it must be.

Leoni
So, you will leave me now,
And yield me for another's love.

Count Alvar
I must.

Leoni
Then, by the eternal Gods, there is no hope—
No recompense beneath the sun!

Count Alvar
There is—
Go, marry with your cousin now in Rome.

Leoni
I thank thee for that noble thought, my lord!
I thank thee for that thought! for after this,
Methinks the wretched lies that thou hast told,
Will make each second of thy dying life
A thousand years of misery! Hear me now!
(Dashing away her jewels.)
I would not wear another gift of thine,
If every hair upon thy head were gold!
But this fond heart—so full it fain would burst—
That would not harm the simplest thing on earth—
As both to scorn as fierce to insult given—
(Until despite is on its honor thrown!)
Shall turn an August for thy dying life,
And thirst for every drop that fills thy heart!
So now, farewell! (Weeping.)


Count Alvar
Leoni, fare the well!
(Exit Count Alvar.)

Enter Elvira.
Elvira
Leoni, why have you been shedding tears?

Leoni
My soul is full of sorrow and my heart
Is crushed beneath the mountain of my woes!

Elvira
Count Alvar has deceived you then!

Leoni
He has,
And bitterly shall he repent the deed!

Elvira
Perhaps he loves Theresa better then?

Leoni
An enemy to virtue, love? Tell me
That Heaven is Hell! that he will go to Heaven!
The mountains' heights are ascertained—the seas
Are fathomed, and the oceans' depths are known—
The Heavens are fettered by material space—
Revenge in woman hath no limitations!

Elvira
Revenge? Why talk you of revenge?

Leoni
'Tis sweet!
I tell you there is in my breaking heart,
A chronic sorrow most incurable!
A fell disease, unequalled by the worst
Of all contagions, striking to the soul!
Then mark me well! Keep this, my secret hate,
As silent as the grave confines the dead,
And go to Carlos—tell him that my soul
Desires that he should watch the perjured Count,
And then report to me what he may see
Between Count Rodolph's daughter and himself.

Elvira
I will. It shall be done this very night.
(Exit Elvira.)

Leoni
And now, by yon eternal sun that rolls
His chariot through the confines of the sky;
And every star that gems the arch of Heaven,
I swear that never shall my soul find rest,
Until the purple mirror of his blood
Reflect the deep damnation of his deeds
And make Seduction stare him in the face!

(Exit.)

Scene II

A magnificent apartment in Count Rodolph's palace.
Enter Count Alvar and Theresa. Don Carlos enters, unobserved, behind them.
Count Alvar
The air is filled with freshness from the sea,
And all the winds seem laden down with balm.
And now, Theresa, blessed of my heart,
How sweet to trace the outlines of thy face,
And drink the living music of thy voice,
Whose tones first taught me what it was to love!
How sweet to hear the softness of thy sighs,
And fold thee gently on my bosom thus!

(Embracing her.)
Theresa
When next we meet, my lord, this hand of mine
Will have the privilege of grasping thine
In everlasting love.

Count Alvar
Then shall thine eyes,
Twin-born divinities, gaze into all
The secret sanctuary of my soul,
And learn the richness of my love for thee.

Don Carlos
(Aside.)
That voice reminds me of my native land.

Count Alvar
(Observing him.)
What brought you here?

Don Carlos
(Aside.)
Foul fiend!
(Aloud.)
When that is told,
Thou wilt not hate Leoni's love.

Count Alvar
(Drawing his sword.)
Begone!

Theresa
(Preventing him.)
What, would you have his blood upon your sword?

Count Alvar
(Putting up his sword.)
No, by the Gods! Retire awhile, farewell!
(Exit Theresa.)
Well, Carlos, stealing on me as thou hast,
What business have you with me at this hour?

Don Carlos
(Aside.)
If that is not the everlasting voice
Which drowned the music of my soul, there is
No discord in the language of the damned. (Aloud.)

I come as some dark whirlwind from the sea,
Crushing the oak amid the silent woods,
When from the forest boughs the morning dew,
Is shaken by the mighty sound in rain.

Count Alvar
Who made thee bearer of such wondrous news?

Don Carlos
Leoni, she who was betrayed by thee!

Count Alvar
What could have urged her on to this extreme?

Don Carlos
Revenge! Ay, deeper than thy perjury,
And stronger than the whirlwinds of the sea!

Count Alvar
Then go, foul braggart! tell her that the down
Upon the turtle's wing were better armed
Against the furious hurricane!—Revenge!

Don Carlos
You know that schoolboy friend of hers,
Who means to marry her on his return?

Count Alvar
By heavens, if that is all, he will do well.

Don Carlos
By Jove, that is not all. He will do well!

Count Alvar
(Aside.)
He will do well. By Heavens, he is too bold!
There must be something devilish in his talk.
(Aloud.)
What, heard you Leoni was his bride?

Don Carlos
I did not come to tell you what I heard.

Count Alvar
I trace the outlines of some devilish deed,
Upon the marble of thy lofty brow.

Don Carlos
But if Count Alvar would advise me how
To shame the Devil of the mask he wears,
I would unfold to him the foulest crime
That ever stained the Annals of the damned.

Count Alvar
Foul crime! Will Carlos tell me what he means?

Don Carlos
With joy if you will listen to my tale.

Count Alvar
I will with all my heart. Speak on.

Don Carlos
Then mark,
It was the gentlest of those summer eves,
When day stood pausing on the hills of Spain,
That, wandering through the orange groves alone,
I met Almeda coming from the sea-
A sweeter spirit never came from Heaven.
She stood so sinless that you might have plucked
Perfection from her lofty brow.

Count Alvar
And then—

Don Carlos
As innocence hath ever done, she sought
Protection, due her gentler sex, within
My arms.

Count Alvar
Which bore her soon away.

Don Carlos
I did,
Alas!

Count Alvar
And married her that night.

Don Carlos
I did.
But Gods! it ended sooner than 'twas done.
Two years had scarcely told our hopes were crowned,
When late one night about the hour of ten,
A villian came tapping upon my door,
And waking her from slumber by my side,
Playing upon his lute, won her heart.
She rose like Venus from her downy sea,
And leaping in his arms with frantic joy,
There, Devil-like, forgot that she was mine!
Oh, God, such earthquake vengeance rent my heart,
I chased her Paris with Achille's speed,
And like another Grecian—

Count Alvar
Stabbed him dead!

Don Carlos
No, by the eternal Gods, the villain lives!

Count Alvar
And did she die?

Don Carlos
I neither knew nor cared.
I left my perjured Helen from that hour,
A jewel worn upon my breast in joy—
And from that fatal hour, now twenty years,
I have not seen my childhood's native land.

Count Alvar
And did you ever learn that villain's name?

Don Carlos
I did—although he traveled in disguise—
A Florentine, who courted with his lute,
And oft repeated songs—who never knew
Nor cared what garment virtue wore, so he
Could win her by the sorcery of false smiles,
To his lascivious arms. Should he not die?
By Heavens, the answer stifles in thy throat!

Count Alvar
Away!

Don Carlos
Count Alvar, thou shalt die tonight!

(Exit.)
Count Alvar
Tonight, by Heavens, the villain said tonight!
As if there were no time to die but night!
The reed that cannot stay the torrent's course,
Must die beneath the glory of its force.

(Exit.)

Scene III

A magnificent apartment in Don Carlos' palace.
Enter Leoni, attended by Elvira.
Let nature reinstate herself again.
The past in happiness has gone forever,
And lends the present only sterner grief.
We cannot feel the joys we have enjoyed,
And only know the joys we now enjoy.

Leoni
The fiery blood leaps through my burning brain,
And there enkindles thoughts too wild too name—
Foul, murderous thoughts!

Elvira
Thy vengeance then will seek
The villain throughout all the world?

Leoni
It will;
And finding him will open every vein,
And filling each foul tube with molten lead,
Shall hang him up for mockery to the world,
Till he has grown so old in ugliness,
That every fowl that soars through Heaven shall scream,
And every wolf stand howling at his course!
But did your brother watch him to my wish?

Elvira
He did. He has more in his heart against
The Count, than ever entered thy soft soul.

Leoni
Then he has watched the fiend for something more
Than friendship for an injured girl?

Elvira
He has;
But every fibre of thy tender heart
Will echo back the justness of the cause.

Leoni
The cause? What cause is that?

Elvira
Revenge! revenge!
But see, my brother comes.

Enter Don Carlos
Don Carlos
Leoni weeps
Would that my hand could stay those gentle tears.

Leoni
Ah, know you not some way to wipe them off,
And make the cheeks of poor Leoni smile?

Don Carlos
If I could muster in my faithful soul
A single thought that would, when called to act,
Be beneficial to thy injured cause,
I would devote the remnant of my days
In exercising it for thee!

Leoni
Then mark,
I would not have him chronicled on earth,
But have thee dip thy dagger in his blood,
And write upon the tablet of his heart
The fulness of the vengeance of my hate.

Don Carlos
Then glut the hunger of my own revenge!
But then his wife—

Leoni
His wife?

Don Carlos
Ay, wife, by Heaven!

Leoni
Then you have seen her with the Count.

Don Carlos
I have;
And told him if every hair upon
His head were gifted with ten thousand lives,
And every life were punished by the inch
Through all eternity, that he would not
Repay you for the injury he has done.

Leoni
But why not blast him to Theresa's face!

Don Carlos
I would have told her of the blackest crime
That ever lashed the groping soul to Hell,
Had it not been that, when he drew his sword,
She spat upon me with her words and said,
“What, would you have your blood upon his sword?”
As if she looked upon me with disdain!
Then pity, that moment, left my heart,
And such eternal vengeance took its place,
I said, “Now may his pestilential breath
Contaminate the air in which she lives,
Breed foul consumption in her honored blood,
And rot her bones through all eternity!”

Leoni
Then, in the name of all that is most dear,
Let not another day roll round!

Don Carlos
But stay!
What if she heard me tell him he would die?

Leoni
Well, did you say it, Carlos?

Don Carlos
Yes, I did.
And sorry am I that the word was said.

Leoni
Why so? Alas, all false!

Don Carlos
You called me false!
How false, Leoni?

Leoni
Puerile as the child,
That over-fed will vomit in its sleep.
I thought thou wert the thorn among the flowers,
Who stood to wound the hand that came to pluck
The rose. But, like the Dead Sea Apples, thou
Hast won upon my appetite to taste
The hope that turns to ashes on my lips!

Don Carlos
By Jove, you wrong me!

Leoni
Then, revenge thyself!
Revenge thyself upon Theresa's lord!
Wait not another day—not even an hour!

Don Carlos
I told the villain he should die tonight.

Leoni
Then let it be tonight—the dead of night!

Don Carlos
Nay, wronged Leoni, that would never do.
She may have heard my threat, which, if she did,
Such foul suspicion would be fixed upon
Me from that hour, that all would say at once,
“'Twas Carlos killed the Count!” No—mark me now!
Let not the fragment of an evil thought
Give utterance to the breathing of his name,
And write Alvino to return from Rome.

Leoni
Alvino, call that blessed name again,
And let the music settle in my soul,
And tune the discord of my broken heart
To childhood melody!

Don Carlos
And when he comes—

Leoni
The Count—

Don Carlos
But let no human being know
That Carlos ever knew the Count—

Leoni
Shall die!
I thank thee for that blessed thought, good friend!
I thank you for that thought—Count Alvar dies!

(Exeunt omnes.)
Curtain falls. End of Act First.

Act II

Scene I.

The same apartment in Don Carlos' palace. Enter Leoni attended by Elvira.
Elvira
Ah, Leoni, why should sorrow weigh
So heavily upon thy heart? Come, speak.

Leoni
If an unbroken trust in human truth,
Prompt the pure soul to its idolatry;
And if the heart in its fond, gushing love,
Pour out itself to one no less than self,
And in its trusting innocence become
The victim of that villain's power—should it
Be called the harlot of that man? By Heaven!
And by the heart that he has broken—he
Shall die!

Elvira
Would not repentance urge thee on
To some forgiveness, if upon the depths
Of his great sacrilege be poured the balm
Of penitence!

Leoni
No, that can never be.
There is no stream of mercy in my soul.
But now, from out the fountains of my heart,
A tide of indignation rushes up,
And mounting to my brain forever drowns,
Beneath the wide oblivion of its roar,
The voice of all persuasion. He shall die!

Elvira
The bird that soars the highest into Heaven,
If once its wing is broken in its flight,
Is only bruised the greater by its fall.
And like the Angels that once were so pure,
Will mourn the humbleness of its descent,
Just in proportion to its flight above.

Leoni
I now remember when Alvino loved
Me first, the first time that we ever met.
The day was very beautiful. No cloud
Was seen in all the vastness of the sky,
But Nature seemed so much in love with Heaven,
That she forbade the rustling of the boughs
To wake the silence of her noontide joy!

Elvira
Oh, still this sorrow of thy gentle heart,
And like the priceless diamond in the mine,
Tossed by the earthquake into purity,
Suffer the ills of life but now to add
New particles of beauty to thy soul.

Leoni
Let not the tears of pity cease to flow
Upon the wasting sands of this poor life!
But let them fall upon each golden grain,
As softly as an Angel's sighs upon
The soul of Virtue dying by the hands
Of enemies!

Elvira
Methinks that Nature heard,
The awful sadness of that prayer.

Leoni
She did;
And God has registered each word in Heaven.

Elvira
If that be so, why should the God of Heaven
Not punish him for guilt?

Leoni
He will—through us. (Exeunt severally.)


Enter Don Carlos and Alvino, as in conversation.
Don Carlos
Before High Heaven, Alvino, it is true!
I could divulge to thee the foulest news
That ever hung upon the lips of truth.

Alvino
What news is that? Come, let me hear it now!

Don Carlos
Since thy return thou hast not heard the news
Which float about like chaff upon the wind,
Whichever way it choses to blow?

Alvino
No, Gods,
You speak as if some devilish deed had come
To light again! What is the matter now?

Don Carlos
True—if some devilish deed had not been brought
To light, these hands had not been proffered in
The cause. You know Count Alvar, do you not?

Alvino
He was the guardian of my youth. In Spain—

Don Carlos
He traveled in disguise, and still he was
The guardian of thy youth! Then watch the dog,
And show the villain thou art old enough
To teach him honesty!

Alvino
Thou wouldst impugn
Him with thy very wrath!

Don Carlos
I would, by Heaven,
And cut the rascal's throat besides. You know,
Leoni, do you not?

Alvino
Leoni? she
Who was the playmate jewel of my heart?
Thou hast beheld the straying Hart, with wild
Exultant bound, leap from the azure hills,
And rushing with impatient speed, dash where
The silver Swan lay sleeping on the lake,
And frighten her to Heaven?

Don Carlos
Ay, watched the Fawn,
Bounding along the river bank at noon,
Pause on the margin of the mossy brink
To sip the cool, delicious wave that curled
In dimpled eddyings near the shore, take fright
At its own picture in the limpid stream,
And dash away with wild, delirious bound,
To where its mother watched it from the hill,
As if it were too lovely for this world.

Alvino
So did Leoni look upon herself,
And see too bright an object for this world.

Don Carlos
But now her cheeks are furrowed down with tears.

Alvino
With tears? Leoni has no tears!

Don Carlos
She has,
And needs the strength of such an honest arm,
To crush the wretch who made them flow!

Alvino
Why so?

Don Carlos
She is deceived!

Alvino
Deceived?

Don Carlos
Yes, by heavens,
And by Count Alvar!

Alvino
The hound!
She was the orphan cousin of our house.
By Jove, he must have used some violent means!

Don Carlos
And if he did—which thou shalt seek to know—
Not only tear the wolf-skin from his back—

Alvino
But draining every life-blood from his veins,
Winters of death shall blow upon his soul,
And freeze up his existence into ice!
The eagle that has roosted on the pine,
Will shake his pinions on the pensive bough,
And rising on the dewy breath of morn,
Will speed him to the sun's eye gloriously,
Nor heed the frozen armor that has weighed
All night upon his snowy wings!

Don Carlos
Then shake
Him from the altitude whereon he roosts,
And let the clamor of his mighty wings
Strike terror to the ear of Night!

Alvino
Night! night!
Thou wouldst not have me kill him in the night?

Don Carlos
I would—secure him in the dead of night,
Then balance consequence with insult given!
Pluck out the thorn that wounds Leoni's heart—
Stamping the adder underneath thy feet!

Alvino
(Seriously.)
I would not wound the feelings of his slave;
But if the chalice of my hopes, so full
Of pure and perfect love be drained to the dregs,
And I am forced to drink the wormwood left—
By Heavens, my run-mad heart will quench its fire!
For there are crimes which, when committed, call
For aid which, when bestowed, would be but crime
Itself wer't not for this—the shedding blood,
As sacrifice, for orphan honor stolen.

Don Carlos
Then let the vengeance of thy burning heart,
But cheer impatience on to swifter speed,
Till grasping hold the dagger by its hilt,
And seeing how its face will shine—thou'lt sheathe
It in the foulest heart that ever beat!
For such an absolution sweeps away
The guilt that dyed the name of innocence!

Alvino
Till then, farewell! We may not meet again,
Until Leoni listens to my voice.

Don Carlos
Farewell! May all the Gods defend thy steps!

(Exeunt severally.)

Scene II

A magnificent apartment in Count Alvar's palace.
Enter Count Alvar and Don Pedro.
Count Alvar
Then answer me, who was the greatest friend
That ever helped thee in the hour of need?

Don Pedro
I swear, my lord, Count Alvar, is the man.

Count Alvar
Do you believe this from your very heart?

Don Pedro
I do, if ever words came from my heart.

Count Alvar
Knowing that all thy words come from thy heart,
I would divulge to thee the secretest thing
That ever came from out the soul of man,
And have thee keep it secret as thy own.

Don Pedro
I will, my lord.

Count Alvar
Then listen to me now.
I have been taunted by the vilest foe,
That ever mocked the royalty of pride,
And I would have thee whisper in his ear
The loudest vengeance that the voice of man
Hath ever uttered to the soul. Be firm!
I would not have thee suffer in thy heart
A single sympathy to dwell. His blood—

Don Pedro
His blood, my lord? Whose blood?

Count Alvar
Thy face is pale.
Now promise me before the Gods, whose frown
Is darker than clouds above Olympus,
That Carlos shall not live!

Don Pedro
What, must he die?

Count Alvar
And by thy hand!

Don Pedro
What, murdered by my hand?

Count Alvar
Thy hand!

Don Pedro
What for, my lord?

Count Alvar
The foulest blot
That ever stained the dignity of man
Will then be wiped away!

Don Pedro
Then he must die!

Count Alvar
Yes, plunge thy dagger in his cursed heart,
And send him to the river of the dead!
Be thou thyself revenged!

Don Pedro
Revenged, my lord?

Count Alvar
Ay, who has kept thee from Elvira's arms?

Don Pedro
Elvira? Carlos!—damned as he is—
I cannot slay Elvira's friend.

Count Alvar
Her friend?
What, cannot take the life of him who robbed
Thee of the sweetest joys on earth? Oh, fool!

Don Pedro
The sweetest spirit ever sent from Heaven,
But will the death of Carlos make her mine?

Count Alvar
It will. She would be with thee even tonight,
If it were not for him.

Don Pedro
Then he must die!

Count Alvar
Swear, then, that thou wilt take his life!

Don Pedro
I swear!

Count Alvar
Remember that his destiny is death!

Don Pedro
It shall be done, my lord, farewell!

Count Alvar
Adieu!
(Exit Don Pedro.)
Now, if he is the soldier that he seems,
And loves Elvira as he says he does,
And only serves the wishes of his heart,
And he has served the prompter of its ire;
The savage that has prowled along my path,
Will find the depths of my revenge so deep,
He will not seek to lavish out his own!

(Exit.)

Scene III

The same apartment in Don Carlos' palace.
Enter Leoni meeting Alvino.
Alvino
Leoni!

Leoni
(Embracing him.)
Oh, Alvino!

Alvino
Speak again!
I love to see thee shed such anxious tears.
They speak the language of thy virgin soul,
Shed lofty fervour round expectant joy,
And make the pathway of my purpose bright.

Leoni
(Weeping.)
Alvino!

Alvino
Speak, my love, tell me thy grief!

Leoni
There have been strange vicissitudes to damp
The ardor of my spirit, since we met.
I have no resting place beneath the sun.

Alvino
What, cannot he who loved thee in thy youth,
Find recompense enough for thee? Say, love!

Leoni
Alas, Alvino!

Alvino
Carlos told me all!
I would not have you name it for the world!
I only want the whispers of revenge!

Leoni
Revenge? The sweetest music to my soul
That ever calmed the discord of my heart!
Then you have sworn—

Alvino
Destruction to his soul!

Leoni
And thou wilt keep that promise to the last?

Alvino
The latest moment of my life, if thou
Wilt only promise to be mine!

Leoni
Not thine,
Nor to bestow this hand on mortal man,
Until my woes are baptized in his blood,
And this poor life redeemed by loss of his!

Alvino
The mighty Gods have registered that oath
Upon the shining Adamant of Heaven!

Leoni
And thou wilt dip thy dagger in his blood,
And send him with the legacy to Hell!

Alvino
As sure as yonder sun will ever set!

Leoni
Let not reluctance weigh upon thy purpose,
Be buoyant as the Turtle on the wing!
Take thou this Dove into thy bosom's Ark,
Who brings the Olive-leaf of peace to thee—
And let her sorrows make thee more than bold!

Alvino
But will the crystal mirror of the lake,
Enbosomed in the forest-girdled vale,
Be wreathed the less by the tempestuous wind,
Because the rosy-scented breath of morn
Has settled on its pinions? No, my love!

Leoni
And lest one breath should blow him back his soul,
And kindle life again, be sure to tramp
The embers into ashes. Be not rash—
The thing should be well done. Tonight! tonight!

Alvino
This night shall be his soul's eternity!

Leoni
When it is done, return to me again.
I'll wash thy bloody hands with tears of joy.
Swear now before we part, that he shall die!

Alvino
(Kneeling.)
Ye silver lamps, which hang tonight in Heaven,
Ye auditors to God, whose beauty lights
The glorious dome that canopies the world,
I call upon ye from the dim abodes
Of everlasting ether, to behold me now!
In reverential awe, upon my knees,
I offer up to you the holy vow
That ever shall as sacrifice ascend
From off the altar of my soul to Heaven!
And now in the allotted duty which
I owe myself, to nature and the world;
I do devote the remnant of my days
But to the shedding of that villain's blood! (Rising.)

And now that his suspicion may not prompt
Him to the coming of that dread hour;
I must mature the purpose of my plans
Amid the grandeur of the mighty hills,
Whereon the thunders of the roaring winds
Shall make dolorous music to my soul!

(Exeunt omnes.)

Scene IV

A chamber in Don Carlos' palace. Don Carlos is lying asleep on his couch. Enter Don Pedro with a knife in his hand.
Don Pedro
(Approaching him.)
Now then, he dies! He sleeps! Still as the dead!
As if the silence of the grave were all
That reigned around such sweet repose. Now then—
But he should not be murdered in his sleep!
For then his eyes will not behold whose hand
It is that takes revenge upon him for
His dear Elvira's sake! No, he must rise!
Awake! thou murderer of my happiness,
Arise!

Don Carlos
(Waking and rising.)
What, Pedro! Villain that thou art!
Who set thee on to this foul deed? (Wresting the dagger from his hand.)


Don Pedro
Hold! hold!
And thou shalt hear!

Don Carlos
(Grasping him by the throat.)
No, thou shalt die, with all
The multitude of sins upon thy head!
If thou hast any prayers to offer up
To God's offended majesty, 'tis time
The voice of penitence had cried aloud
For mercy!

Don Pedro
Carlos, spare my life!

Don Carlos
To die
A thousand deaths for every day you live!

Don Pedro
No, you shall hear it all!

Don Carlos
Then speak the truth!

Don Pedro
Count Alvar—

Don Carlos
Devil that he is! Now die! (Raising the dagger.)


Don Pedro
Oh, Carlos, spare me for Elvira's sake!

Don Carlos
Elvira? Villain, call that name again,
And thou shalt strangle in thy cursed blood!

Don Pedro
Count Alvar—

Don Carlos
Pedro, utter not that name again
Or all the elements that shake my soul,
Will in consuming me destroy thee too!
What is thy destiny? (Letting go his throat.)


Don Pedro
To do thy wish.

Don Carlos
Well, that will be to drown thee in the sea!

Don Pedro
But thou wilt hear the truth?

Don Carlos
Speak, then, the truth!

Don Pedro
I did not come to murder thee in sleep,
But frighten thy compassion for the soul
That loves Elvira.

Don Carlos
(Contemptuously.)
Murderer for the Count!

Don Pedro
I would convey thy vengeance to his soul.

Don Carlos
That is, that you will kill the Count for me!

Don Pedro
If killing him would make Elvira mine.

Don Carlos
(Raising his dagger.)
Then swear before this bright, uplifted steel,
That should descend upon thee in revenge—
That thou wilt never serve Count Alvar more!

Don Pedro
I swear it from my heart, my lord, if you
Will promise that Elvira shall be mine

Don Carlos
That choice is with herself.

Don Pedro
Then promise me
That we shall see each other once again.

Don Carlos
It may be so.

Don Pedro
Then, by yon heavenly light,
Whose beauty is the image of her eyes—
I swear to dedicate my life to thee!

(Exeunt omnes.)
Curtain falls.

Act III

Scene I.

A magnificent apartment in Count Rodolph's palace. Enter Count Rodolph, Count Alvar and Theresa.
Count Rodolph
I understand Don Carlos was the man.

Count Alvar
He was, my lord. He had the impudence
To chide me to my face.

Count Rodolph
Not in the street!

Count Alvar
No, in this very house, my lord.

Count Rodolph
By Jove,
I would have crushed the villain where he stood!

Count Alvar
I would have slain the recreant in his tracks.
Theresa, being nigh, prevented me—

Theresa
I saw
The fellow who addressed you yesterday
With some strange accusation, which has been
A puzzle to my senses ever since.

Count Alvar
Nay—Carlos was not conscious what he said;
And, doubtless, had been tasting, too much wine.

Count Rodolph
But had you no dispute before?

Count Alvar
Before,
My lord? He had not seen my face before?

Count Rodolph
Perhaps he may have seen you when in Spain.

Count Alvar
He may have seen me casually in Spain.

Count Rodolph
But who was thy companion in the tour?

Count Alvar
Alvino, one who loved me well; a youth
Of promise, who disdained the very earth
He trod upon. He was a noble soul.
But she, of whom Don Carlos spoke, was young
Alvino's cousin.

Theresa
She it was, my lord,
Whom Carlos mentioned when he said to you,
I think, “Thou wilt not hate Leoni's love.”
And when you drew your sword upon him there,
I saw him brighten with an evil fire,
As if he wished he had his own with him,
Which, having, there is no doubt he had used.

Count Alvar
I knew that well, therefore prepared for him,
I told Don Pedro from that moment forth,
To watch the prowling of the cursed wolf;
And if he found him straying from his path,
To cut the life strings from his iron heart,
And dash him to the dogs!

Theresa
Then he is dead!
I would not hesitate to swear that some
Foul mischief is now breeding in the world!

Count Alvar
Oh yes—some mischief. Some foul, devilish thought
Is always uppermost in woman's mind.

Theresa
But has he not been absent now too long?
You may depend upon it, he is not
The man he seems to be.

Count Rodolph
It may be so;
She may have seen more of his thoughts than you;
For women oftener see more faults in men,
Than they see in themselves.

Count Alvar
By Jove! What if
He has beheld Elvira? Sight of her
Would change the purpose of his amorous soul,
And make the hardness of his iron heart
As soft as down upon the turtle's wing,
For love will cool the fever of revenge.

Theresa
Revenge, my lord? On whom?

Count Alvar
When Pedro comes
The message of his mission will be read.

Theresa
Now written with an iron pen in blood!

Count Alvar
The fancies always paint some cloud upon
The dawn of thine expectancy.

Count Rodolph
Revenge!

Count Alvar
That same infernal Carlos, whom our friend,
Don Pedro hates, is brother to his love,
Who, having sworn that they shall meet no more,
Don Pedro swears that he shall die. That's all.

Theresa
May Heaven protect the innocent from harm!

Count Rodolph
Amen to that!

Count Alvar
(Aside.)
Who cares, so Carlos dies.

(Exeunt omnes.)

Scene II

The same apartment in Don Carlos' palace. Enter Don Carlos and Alvino.
Don Carlos
What is your wish? You have not told me that.

Alvino
Revenge—revenge as powerful as death.
And greedy as the yearnings of the grave!

Don Carlos
The universal cry of vengeance is—
Revenge! that everlasting, bring hate
Which oozes from the bottom of the soul
And storms the passions of the heart to rage!
But mark! the hardest whetstone to the edge
Of our revenge, is Pedro.

Alvino
Pedro?

Don Carlos
Yes,
The rascal's friend, Don Pedro, came within
An ace of frightening me to death last night.

Alvino
Of frightening you to death?

Don Carlos
Indeed, he did—
Of murdering me in sleep!

Alvino
Most devilish fiend!
Who set the coward on? Where is he now?

Don Carlos
We shall confer with him in private soon,
He may be of especial use to us.
There is some lying, to be done, you know,
And he will fill that office to the life.
I mean to instigate him to the death
Of Rodolph, promising Elvira's hand,
And then both murders will be fixed on him.

Alvino
The innocent will suffer for the guilty.

Don Carlos
What, Pedro innocent? Are you prepared?

Alvino
I am.

Don Carlos
Then mark me. Lodging in my room
Tonight, which looks upon Count Alvar's house,
Will save you from the watchmen in the streets,
And hide suspicion. Therefore, go thou thence,
And after you have sacrificed the dog
Upon the altar of legitimate, revenge,
Return back from the palace of the dead,
And lodge there all night. Now, mind the storm,
And navigate your vessel through the sea,
As though you this pilot at the helm;
And when you shall approach the happy shore,
The far-off scenery bristling on the sky,
Will seem Elysian Gardens to the soul.

Alvino
The traitor then will have no home.

Don Carlos
Farewell!
Take lodgings in my room tonight.
(Exit Don Carlos.)

Alvino
Farewell! Who knows how soon man's nature may misgive.
But stronger than my fear is my revenge.
Ye Gods, support me in that trying hour,
Which is to set an everlasting seal
Upon the soul of him whose life is death,
And whose eternal destiny is Hell!

(Exit.)
Enter Don Pedro and Elvira
Don Pedro
But are there still suspicions in his mind
That Alvar sent me to destroy his life?

Elvira
There are although your future conduct may
Dispel the cloud which overhangs his soul.

Don Pedro
But would Elvira doubt her Pedro's word?

Elvira
The idea has not wholly left my mind.

Don Pedro
By all the Gods, at once dispel the thought!
There is not in the vastness of my soul,
A single thought that is not spent for him;
And all the bright things of the living world,
Are brightened in the presence of thy smiles!
The fanciful array of odorous flowers
Which deck the emerald mantle of the spring
Whose perfumes, rising on the breath of morn,
Float upward to the embrace of the sun,
Are coloured by the beauty of thy smiles,
And sweetened by the odor of thy breath!

Elvira
I tell you, Pedro, that my brother thinks
Count Alvar sent you to destroy his life,
And if he find you feeble in his wish,
Or faltering in the purpose of his hate,
His enmity will grow upon you fresh,
But if he find you wedded to his soul,
And quick to execute his simplest thought,
Then will he look upon you as his friend,
And treat you as if he had never been
Aught but the friend that he will be to you.

Don Pedro
Such is the temper of his manly heart.
But he who would deceive an orphan girl
By blushes, silvered over with his tears,
Would murder Carlos in the dead of night.
But see, he comes!

(Exit Elvira.)
Enter Don Carlos.
Don Carlos
The hour will soon arrive.

Don Pedro
Is every thing prepared?

Don Carlos
Tonight! tonight!
Alvino seeks him by the moon tonight.

Don Pedro
Then will his soul ascend above the stars.

Don Carlos
Ascend? Descend into the depths of Hell!
But mark! There is one villain living yet,
Besides Count Alvar, Pedro. He must die!

Don Pedro
Who can that be?

Don Carlos
Count Rodolph—he that stands
Against Alvino, if Count Alvar die.
Now swear before high Heaven that he shall die!

Don Pedro
Then promise that Elvira shall be mine!

Don Carlos
I tell you, Pedro, she is free to choose,
And thou art standing now above my soul,
As does the unchanged thundercloud of Heaven.
Above the parched lips of the cracking earth,
And if thou wilt descend upon that fiend,
The sweet refreshment of the stormy shower
Will make the dearest April of my life.
Now swear!

Don Pedro
I swear, my lord, that he shall die
As surely as Elvira shall be mine.

Don Carlos
The oath is registered among the Gods!
This way. (Going.)


Don Pedro
The Gods shall see the duty done.

(Exeunt.)

Scene III

Time, midnight. In front of Count Alvar's palace. Thunder and lightning. Enter Alvino drest in dark clothes.
Alvino
Roll on, thou billowy trumpeter of night!
And let the clamour of thy mighty voice
Fill up the embrace of eternity!
Spread out the groaning Hell-tones of thy bass,
Until the mountains echo back your song,
And scorch the foldings of the curtained earth,
With thy cloud-breaking vengeance!
(Ceases thundering.)
All is still!
Still as the awful silence of the grave!
Now that the mantle, night, is thrown around
The cradle, earth, whereon mankind repose—
There is no time so suited to the deed—
No deed so hateful to the eye of day!
But who shall wake him from that fatal sleep,
And bring him back to consciousness again?
Of all the periods in the Book of Time,
There is no full stop to the human soul
So awful in its nature as that point
Which ends the final chapter of his life!
For when we turn the last leaf over, we
Behold the everlasting blank beyond
The which is that eternity wherein
No light shall ever enter to the damned!
Now then, the villain slumbers for the last!
Enter Count Alvar from the palace, not seeing him.
Count Alvar! in the presence of the Gods,
I call upon thee to defend thy life!
Judgment hath come against thee in the world,
And thou shalt liquidate thy last account!
The fiery fingers of the fiends of Hell
Can only grasp the pages of thy deeds!
Think of the beauteous rose that thou hast plucked!
And though it seemed to wither at thy feet,
The thorn is here to stab thee to the heart!

Count Alvar
(Drawing his sword.)
Alvino, is it thou?

Alvino
(Rushing at him.)
Leoni! Die! (They fight.)

Look on the vengeance of an injured girl!
This very night thou shalt descend to Hell!

Count Alvar
Alvino, art thou mad? beside thyself?

Alvino
I have enough to make me mad—to burn
Up every atom of my raging blood!

Count Alvar
Alvino, mark the danger thou art in!

Alvino
Behold, my sword is thirsting for thy blood
And it shall drink the river of thy life!

Count Alvar
Alvino, speak! The cause?

Alvino
(Rushing at him.)
Leoni! Die!

They fight again, when Alvino stabs him to the heart and he falls.
Count Alvar
Alvino, may the vengeance of the Gods
Descend upon thee now! My soul is gone. (Dies.)


Exit Alvino. Scene closes.

Scene IV

The same apartment in Don Carlos' palace. Enter Leoni.
Leoni
I have been waiting like the lonesome Dove,
And still my comforter delays his time.
What if the villain has been rash indeed?
Enter Alvino
Alvino, thou hast saved my tears! Oh, love!
Did you not hear some sweet dolorous sound?
It was my soul that went out audibly
In search of thee, but never returned with thine.

Alvino
Oh, how the monster trembled at my sight!
I called upon him to defend his life,
And three times offered him this pointed steel,
Which he as many times refused with his.
I then stood o'er him, as the cypress mourns,
Preaching his funeral with exalted wrath,
Till like the willow twig snapt from its stem,
I cut the brittle thread of life in twain;
And left him weltering in his own heart's blood!

Leoni
Then he is dead, indeed!

Alvino
Yes, he is dead!
Gone down to Hell, where all seducers go!

Leoni
Plunged you the dagger in his perjured heart?

Alvino
I did, but disinterred it o'er again,
I would not let it rot in such a grave!

Leoni
(Embracing him.)
Then I am thine, forever thine!

Alvino
'Tis sworn!

(Exeunt.)
Curtain falls.

Act IV

Scene I.

An apartment in Alvino's house. Enter Alvino and Leoni.
Alvino
Now, we commence another path of thorns.
Thou hast beheld the bark upon the sea,
With swan-like majesty ascend the waves,
And spreading out her penons to the winds,
All pregnant with the glory of the storm,
Plough on her journey for the destined port,
But as she rises on the billowy hills,
To see the forest bristling on the coast,
When every heart beats gladly at the sight,
Behold, the breakers of an angry sea
Dash on the languor of her wave-worn sides,
When shrieking to the mercy of the storm,
She bows, once more in grandeur to the gale,
And conquered by the rudeness of the blast,
Sinks down an hour's sail of land.

Leoni
Oh yes, we have beheld all this in time,
But why the downcast sadness of thine eyes
In which there was so much of youthful joy,
And love ineffable? Tell me the cause.

Alvino
A wintry fear lies cold about my heart.

Leoni
But did he not deserve to die?

Alvino
He did—
Ten thousand deaths!

Leoni
Then why regret the act?
Is there not comfort in the downy arms
Of her, who prompted thee to that great deed?
And consolation in the happy thought
That she would die ten thousand deaths for thee?

Alvino
There is, indeed.

Leoni
Then rest assured thou art
The great avenger of an injured girl,
Whose honor has been trampled on by one
Who now inherits all the misery of his guilt
In Hell's deep gulf, where hope can never come.

Alvino
You know that handkerchief I used to have?
I left it on the bed where Carlos sleeps!

Leoni
Not where you slept last night?

Alvino
That very place!
I have been thinking that if Carlos find
It there, he will be false enough to swear
'Tis mine, if he is borne to prison.

Leoni
He?

Alvino
Yes, I am not suspected by the Count.
I never showed Count Alvar any hate,
But he has, threatening him with instant death.

Leoni
But if they find it there, will they not think—

Alvino
That Carlos killed the Count.

Leoni
So let them think!

Alvino
And have him suffer for an act of mine?

Leoni
No, find some cunning means to set him free.
By all the golden links that bind us in
The chain of everlasting love, let not
An outward show of honor ruin thee now.
No, summon Pedro, if it should be so,
To go to Carlos, when confined in chains,
And hear the secrets of the then formed plot,
And tell Don Carlos for his own soul's sake,
By promising Elvira to be his
To instigate Don Pedro to the death
Of Count Rodolph. Then contrive some means
When that is done, to set Don Carlos free.

Alvino
Oh, blessed women! Angel that thou art!
Man says that thou art weaker than his sex;
But what is lost in feebleness of limb,
Is made up in the cunning of thy soul!
For with one effort of thy dazzling thought
In dangerous hours of fierce extreme, thy plans
Can minister to his relief, when all
His own have failed him in despair! Then let
The Warriour on the battlefield think not
To win the victory by his power alone,
But seek some gentle creature, like thyself
And ere the ramparts of the enemy
Appear in living lines along the field,
Commune in gentle earnestness with her,
And he will gain more glory on that day,
Than ever was the lot of one proud man.

Leoni
Then listen to the voice of one that loves.

Alvino
Well, let it be as thou hast said. Come on.

(Exeunt.)

Scene II

The same apartment in Don Carlos' palace. Enter Don Carlos, Don Pedro and Elvira.
Don Carlos
So, he that was the gardner of the flower—
Who plucked the sweetest rose that ever bloomed,
And left the nectar of its ruby folds
To perish in the stagnant winds of Heaven—
Has withered by the frost before the flower!

Don Pedro
What, has Alvino lashed him for the deed?

Don Carlos
I heard that he had murdered him last night—
Although no one suspects he is the man.

Elvira
What, is it possible he is dead?
I fear, dear Carlos you have been too rash!

Don Carlos
But no one saw me save his wife.

Elvira
Behold, who enters there?

Don Carlos
I need not doubt—

Elvira
Alas,
Then for your sister's sake, dear Carlos, fly!

Don Carlos
Why should I fly?

Elvira
They come for thee, away!

Enter Officer and Guard.
Officer
Sir, by the oath invested in this writ,
I am compelled to fetter thee in chains.

Elvira
In chains? Why bind the innocent in chains?

Officer
I am compelled to do so by the law.

Don Carlos
(Giving himself up.)
It is your duty thus to do.

Elvira
(Taking his hand and kneeling.)
Alas,
And shall my brother die? We must not part.

Don Carlos
Arise, my gentle sister. We shall meet
Again. (She rises)


Elvira
Perhaps no more on earth.

Don Carlos
We shall.
And, Pedro, parting as the best of friends,
I owe thee obligations, which shall live
As long as thou shalt live to think of them.
So, fare thee well!

Don Pedro
Farewell to meet again.

Exit Don Carlos followed by Officer and Guard.
Elvira
Oh, Pedro, what will be our prospects now,
Seeing the brightest of our hopes is gone?
Can you not save him from that cruel death?

Don Pedro
And prove that Pedro is the friend of one
Who called upon him in the hour of need?
Then he who would not promise me thy hand,
Shall have the joy of being saved by mine.

Elvira
He will consent. My heart, you know, is thine.

Don Pedro
Elvira, Pedro cannot lie to thee,
For he has worshipped thee in all his dreams!
And when the chambers of the night were hung
With all the silver shining lamps that deck
The azure palace of the glorious sky,
Like roses blossoming in the fields of Heaven,
He has communed in silence with thee.
And think that Pedro can forget thee now?
I swear, Elvira, Carlos shall be saved!

Elvira
Oh, Pedro, never did my heart believe
That mortal man could be so true as thee!
But see, Alvino comes. He looks not strange?
(Enter Alvino.)

Alvino
I see, Don Pedro, Carlos is not here.

Don Pedro
He is not here for he is prisoner in thy stead.

Elvira
Alvino, if thou art the man thou art,
I now conjure thee to be true to him!

Alvino
What, think you that Alvino will be false?
The heart that urged him on to that great deed—
To mend the broken vessel at the fount,
Which after ministering to his delight,
Was thrown in wilful wantonness away,
Shall be the prompter to restore his friend.
Alvino will be faithful to the last.

Elvira
Then instantly release him from the chains!

Alvino
This letter shall be evidence of that
I wish it, Pedro, to be borne to him,
And after Carlos has divulged it thee,
I wish an answer speedily returned.
I would not trust another man on earth,
And hope you will be faithful as
The trust reposed in you. (Giving the letter.)


Don Pedro
It shall be done.
I will be with him straight.
(Exit Don Pedro.)

Alvino
(Aside.)
The work is done!

Elvira
What was there in that letter?

Alvino
Pedro knows,
Or soon will know, when it is read.

Elvira
But tell
Me, what was in it?

Alvino
Know you not our plans?

Elvira
I know them not.

Alvino
Then you shall never know
From me.

Elvira
Perhaps it may effect his life?

Alvino
If Pedro is the friend he seems to be
He will divulge it all, when he returns.
No woman ever kept a secret yet.

(Exeunt omnes.)

Scene III

A prison. Carlos is discovered bound in chains. Enter Don Pedro.
Don Carlos
What, Pedro, is it you? What is the news?
Does Carlos own thy heart?

Don Pedro
He does, my lord.
And he is destined—

Don Carlos
Destined?

Don Pedro
To be free.

Don Carlos
Alas, those cherished hopes were almost gone.

Don Pedro
Amen
To that! Alvino bade me hand you this,
And wished an answer speedily returned.

Don Carlos
(Reading the letter.)
Alvino? Is he faithful to the last?

Don Pedro
He wears the aspect on his brow full well.

Don Carlos
Alvino—Pedro, listen! swear that thou
Art harder than the adamant of Hell,
And thou shalt have the Jewel of my house!

Don Pedro
I am, to do the simplest thing for thee.

Don Carlos
Alvino instigates me here to prompt
You to the murder of Count Rodolph—go!
That we may be as free as air again—
And bear this unsealed letter to him straight!
And should he question you about its truth,
Then show him, when the message has been read,
This handkerchief he left upon my bed!

(Giving him the handkerchief and letter.)
Don Pedro
If this will save thy life by risking mine
It shall be done.

Don Carlos
It will—be quick!

Don Pedro
Then swear Elvira shall be mine

Don Carlos
By Heavens, she shall!
But go find Rodolph at the risk of life.

(Exit Pedro. Scene closes.)

Scene IV

The same apartment in Count Rodolph's house.
Enter Count Rodolph and Theresa.
Count Rodolph
The trial comes at the hour of three.

Theresa
But will he be condemned?

Count Rodolph
As sure as fate.
But you will be required to swear that he,
Don Carlos, threatened him with instant death.
Leoni was the cause.

Theresa
Who told you so?
I heard the thing from good men's mouths. Then, mark!
The evidence against Don Carlos will
Be truer than the truth, when that is known.

Theresa
Why so?

Count Rodolph
Because he killed him for that girl.

Theresa
But as Alvino married her, why did
He not revenge himself upon the Count?

Count Rodolph
There is the mystery which will be cleared
Of all its darkness when the truth is known,
And brought before the Council. Who comes there?
Withdraw—perhaps he may dissolve the doubt.

(Exit Theresa.)
Enter Don Pedro.
Pedro
(Bowing)
My lord.

Count Rodolph
Don Pedro?

Don Pedro
That's my name, my lord.

Count Rodolph
Who saved you when the sentence of your death
Was registered upon the Book of Fate?

Don Pedro
Count Alvar did.

Count Rodolph
Then why forsake that man?
Why, rather than be faithful to your friend,
Colleague yourself with that damned infidel,
Who, laden with the heavy chains of State,
Now reads his destiny among the dead?

Don Pedro
Because the trust reposed in me by him,
Was sacrificed to gain another's love.

Count Rodolph
Who could be dearer to you than he was?

Don Pedro
My love for her—Elvira's love for me.

Count Rodolph
No, thou art forging in thy cursed heart
The lying words which hang upon thy lips,
I will not suffer thee to live an hour!

Don Pedro
Hold, let me show thee to thy naked eyes,
That Carlos is not guilty of the deed!

(Handing him the letter.)
Count Rodolph
(Reading it.)
Now tell me at the peril of thy life,
If under any circumstance of hate,
Alvino wished to instigate thee, by
This letter to Don Carlos, to destroy
My life!

Don Pedro
He did, my lord. He surely did,
Leoni being prompter to the deed,
This handkerchief was found upon his bed.

(Giving him the handkerchief.)
Count Rodolph
Ye Gods, how eloquent is this poor thing!
My ears are sated with its silent speech.
It says more than the clamorous tongue of man,
With all his liquid fluency of words!
There is no evidence against his soul,
Can speak so loudly as this drop of blood!

Don Pedro
And then his name is on the corner there.

Count Rodolph
Alvino, yes, it is most true—'tis here!
And though he used the cunning of his soul,
To keep the secret of the deed untold,
Yet, he has spoken more by this same thing,
Then if he had proclaimed it to the world.
But go—tell Carlos he is free again—
Alvino shall be prisoner in his stead.

(Exit.)
Don Pedro
And man may call me coward, if he will,
But who would not, in such an hour as this,
Lie boldly in the very face of truth,
To gain possession of that woman's love!
Since but to hesitate is losing all!
Then, as my interest prompts me to the act,
And as Elvira will be mine, if done,
And happiness must follow, if she is,
There shall be nothing to deter my power.

(Exit.)

Scene V

The same apartment in Alvino's house. Enter Alvino and Leoni.
Leoni
So, of the handkerchief thou hast not heard?
And Pedro has not yet returned?

Alvino
He stays,
And by that staying brings me nearer death!

Leoni
Oh, say not so! He may have been detained.

Alvino
I must say so; there is no other hope.

Leoni
You do not think that Pedro will be false?

Alvino
If Carlos promise him Elvira's hand,
He will betray to Rodolph all our plans,
And then the sentence of the law will fall
Upon us with avenging wrath!

Leoni
Most true!
But cannot there be something done to ward
Away this direful blow? Yes, let us fly!

Alvino
Leoni, it is best that we should stay—
Flying would only serve to prove our guilt,
And give suspicion stronger claims to proof,
And not remember in this trying hour,
If any portent should retard our hopes—
Be strong as love is infinite!

Leoni
I will;
And drink the last drop of the bitter cup,
As freely as the first one—to the dregs!
But when is Carlos to be tried?

Alvino
At three—
The Duke is sitting now in Council.

Leoni
Now?
Then, let us fly! Alvino, why delay?
The icy fingers of the hands of death
Are tugging at my heartstrings—now thy pull,
And stretch beyond endurance.

Alvino
Hush, my love!
An officer is coming with his guard.

Leoni
Then, fly! Leoni will be with thee—fly!

Alvino
I cannot, dearest, all is over now!
It is too late! Don Pedro has been false!
And now, forsaken as we are on earth,
Remember that we have two friends in Heaven.
And as we are united here on earth,
So let us be when we shall meet in death.

Leoni
In death? Thou wilt be dear to me then,
Than thou hast ever been in life. No, love,
They cannot separate us in this world!
And, come whatever bitterness there may,
They cannot do it in the world to come.
For that which prompted me to hate the Count,
Has only made me value thee the more,
And love thee better in the hour of need.
And, therefore, dying at whatever hour,
The pleasure, that my life shall end with thine,
Will blot away the terrors death may bring.
But look, they come!

Alvino
Now, reconcile thyself.

Enter Officer and Guard
Officer
Seize on him, Guard!

Alvino
(Drawing his sword.)
Stand back, obedient dogs!
Your mothers bore your fathers no such sons.
In Lombardy the Axeman says, that when
The storm is raging loudest on the hills,
The tallest trees bend lowest to the ground.
And I would spill thy blood upon the earth
Like rain! (To Leoni.)

Now like the Persian Shepherd, when
He wandered through the Desert of the East,
And, from the wilderness beheld the glimpse
Of Arem's Gardens, never to behold
The beauty of that paradise again,
So do we turn away from all things dear,
And from the radiant vision of that hope
Whose glory burst upon us yesterday,
To gaze upon the icy shape of Death! (Turning to the Officer.)

Bind me in chains! (They bind him.)


Leoni
Oh, ye of little souls!
Have ye in office love to show your power!
I do despise you from my very soul!

Alvino
(Aside to Leoni.)
Leoni, recollect the vow we made! (To Officer.)

Now we are ready to abide the law.

Leoni
And if the Duke's decision be thy death,
The sentence of thy guilt shall be my death!
For if the life that is in thee shall die,
The dying of that life shall be my death!

Alvino
Leoni, that has sunk deep in my heart!

(Exit Alvino and Leoni, attended by Officer and Guard.)

Scene VI

The same apartment in Don Carlos' palace. Enter Don Carlos to Elvira.
Elvira
Don Carlos, are you free?

Don Carlos
As free as air.

Elvira
Who set you free?

Don Carlos
That letter which our friend,
Don Pedro, brought to me.

Elvira
Then, Carlos, let
Revenge now sleep.

Don Carlos
It has been sleeping long—
Just now waked up, never to sleep again!

Elvira
You hate him still. Reward him for his pains.

Don Carlos
I will reward him for his pains! He is
My creditor vast arrears. The debt,
If nothing happens, will be paid today!
He lent me ruin—I mean to pay him—death!

Elvira
Where go you now?

Don Carlos
I go to do my work!
The raging fever of my heart for years,
Parching my soul with an immortal thirst,
Will soon be medicined to coldness now.
The last Act of the Drama then will close.
With the redemption of my noblest friend.

(Exeunt severally.)

Scene VII

The Council Chamber.
The Duke and his Council assembled. Enter Alvino attended by Leoni, and followed by Officer and Guard. Enter, afterwards, Count Rodolph and Theresa.
Count Rodolph
(With a paper in his hand.)
My Liege, before you for an awful crime,
The murder of Count Alvar in the night,
Alvino stands accused of that foul deed!
That he was murdered in the dead of night,
When God's all-seeing eye alone could see,
Is sworn to in this sacred writ of mine.
And that the murderer stands before you now,
Is proven by this letter, which he sent
To Carlos by Don Pedro when in chains,
To prompt him to the taking of my life.
And by this handkerchief which you behold,
Which Carlos said he found upon his bed,
The which, if not sufficient to convict,
Shall be confirmed by evidence of both.

Duke
(To Officer.)
Then bring them forward—they shall both be sworn.
(Exit Officer.)
Alvino, if you have a word to say,
Against the evidence adduced, speak out!
My liege, that innocence may plead, without
Disguise, her own truth-telling cause, there is
No more than truth in what the Count has said.
That in the dead of night Count Alvar fell,
When some life-taking hand drove off his soul,
And left him sleeping in the arms of Death,
May all be true, but that this thing was done
And by Alvino's hand, must yet be proven.

Re-enter Officer, bringing in Don Carlos and Pedro.
Count Rodolph
Now, that the evidence may be adduced,
I charge you, Carlos, by an awful oath,
To say if this foul letter came from him.

Don Carlos
It did!

Count Rodolph
And that this handkerchief was found
Upon his bed.

Don Carlos
It was.

Alvino
(To Carlos.)
Oh, man! Frail man!
When thou art false, thou art, indeed, most vile!
There stands the injured cause of all this guilt,
A Sanctuary holy—perfect—pure!
From that bright bush he plucked the sweetest rose
That ever bloomed—whose virtuous sweets he stole—
Then spurned her, that she had no more to steal!
The last soft tendril of the dearest vine
That ever wreathed the pillar of affection!
The rest are gone to an untimely grave!
And, now that we are destined to that place,
Where all our ills shall be forgotten—we
Shall be the first in this assembly who
Shall covet no remembrance in this world.
And now, whatever lot may fall on one,
I crave this boon, that it may fall on both!

Duke
Alvino, that the law is blood for blood—
That justice may be given to whom 'tis due—
That human passion may rich lesson learn—
But more than all, that Heaven may be appeased,
I now pronounce thy sentence—it is Death!
May all good Angels guard thee to thy home!

Leoni
Have you no tongue to speak the same to me?
Oh, if you have, pronounce it now—yes, now!

Alvino
(Aside to Leoni)
Leoni, recollect the vow we made!

Leoni
(Taking a phial from her bosom and drinking.)
What, think you Count Rodolph has the power
To take revenge upon such love as this?

Alvino
(Aside to Leoni)
Revenge! thou hast revenge upon them all!
Yes, deeper than the depths of Heaven from Hell!

(He takes the phial from her hand and empties it.)
Leoni
(Aside.)
The sweetest death that ever mortal died!
I have another friend, if that should fail.
It sleeps beside the beatings of my heart,
Counting each anxious sorrow, one by one!
And when the curtains of dark night shall fall
Upon the eyelids of the Day—the last
Of all that is now spoken be known!

Alvino
Ye Gods, behold the power of my revenge
And pity all that has been done in hate!

End of Act Fourth. Curtain falls.

Act V

Scene 1.

The same apartment in Don Carlos' palace. Enter Don Pedro and Elvira.
Don Pedro
Open thy bosom—take me to thy heart—
And cage my soul there, where it loves to live,
For, as the matchless Swan long from his home,
Waits for the coming of the gentle Spring,
To leave the sunny waters of the South,
And seek the milder Summer of his own
And rising from the languid blades at even,
Soars through the untrod regions of the air,
And from the pathless altitudes above,
Descends upon the bosom of his home,
And meeting with his fellows floats in joy;
So hath my longing soul from day to day,
Soared through the desert—bleakness of dark deeds,
To gain possession of this longed-for joy.

Elvira
And Carlos lives to recompense thee now,
For all the benefits bestowed on him,
And see thee happy in Elvira's love.
In giving thee my hand my heart is given;
In yielding up my heart my soul is thine,
And giving that there is no more to give,
But that devotedness in after life,
Which is the consequence of all my gifts.

Don Pedro
Then are the buddings of my earliest hopes,
Expanded to the fulness of that flower,
Which only decks the paradise of bliss.

Elvira
And now the pulse of Carlos is as calm
As that most solemn pause in nature, when
The silence doth succeed the raging storm.
For there is not within his friendly heart
A single pulse that beats beyond the time
In which the sympathies of tranquil life
Are chained in one harmoneous round of joy.
But poor Alvino, fettered as he is,
And doomed to suffer for an act so just,
And poor Leoni, faithful to the last,
It makes me sorry from my very soul.

Don Pedro
Is she permitted still to stay with him?

Elvira
She is more faithful to Alvino's love
Than is the sunflower to the God of Day.
For though it meet him at the rising morn,
And follow him through all the weary hours,
To the soft drooping of the languid West,
At night there is no sun to follow then;
But through the weary hours of all the sun,
And through the weary hours of all the night,
Has she been faithful to Alvino's love.
But see, my brother comes. How mild he seems!

(Enter Don Carlos.)
Don Carlos
Don Pedro, in the presence of the Gods,
I now present to thee the richest gem
That ever sparkled in the mind of truth!
And one that has been worn upon my breast
For eighteen gentle summers—she is thine!
And now, as if the heavenly gift were made
To be restored again at some blest hour,
With all the richness of her present worth,
I charge you to be dutiful to her,
And cherish her with all the power of love,
For she is thine—forever to be thine!
(Uniting their hands.)
And like the mountain rock forever more,
Standing amid the brief decay of things,
Robed with the greenness of its velvet moss,
Which while it hides its inequalities,
Gives beauty to the outline of its forms;
May all thy years, while others fall around,
Present the greenness of enduring youth!

Don Pedro
Then, Carlos, in this hour—this single hour—
Thou dost behold more joy in Pedro's soul,
Than ever lived in man. Give me thy hand!

Don Carlos
(Giving his hand.)
Thou hast been faithful, Pedro, to the last,
And for thine honesty shouldst have the girl,
Therefore, the gift is thine, forever thine.
For you, Elvira, you may wait awhile,
I have some business with your lord, before
Your wedding day! (Exit Elvira.)

Oh, ye immortal Gods!
How I do thank you for this hour, this hour
Of all my life is sweetest to my soul!
It sweeps away all former grief, as if
It had not been. I thank you. Oh, ye Gods,
One villain in the grave—the other here!
They should have both been tumbled in one hole,
Rotting in death as they have lived in life!

Don Pedro
(Aside, much agitated.)
I have foreboded this! What must be done?

Don Carlos
Don Pedro, come this way, come near to me!
The Chalice which I offered thee just now,
So full of perfect joy that it ran o'er,
I dash to fragments on the Rock of Hell!

Don Pedro
Oh, Carlos, you are angry with me now!
If I have wronged you, let it pass—forgive!
For I am sorry from my soul!

Don Carlos
Base fiend!
Did you expect my sister's hand? That hand
Which is as dear to me as life! Think you
That I would give my sister to a fiend?
Oh, cursed fool, I gave her thee, to show
Thee, snatching her away, the cruel pangs
Of unrequited love! She loves thee not,
No, hates thee—hates thee as my soul does now!

Don Pedro
Oh, Carlos, kill me rather than say that!

Don Carlos
Kill thee? I mean to cut thee all to pieces!
The splintery lightnings of the unsealed Heavens,
Were snailpaced to the thunders of revenge!

Don Pedro
Think, Carlos, who has saved thy life?

Don Carlos
My life?
My cunning, not thy treachery, or if
It did, you should not live for it, but die—yes, die!
Nay, rather say, who stole my life? Who helped
Count Alvar bear Almeda from my arms?
Ah, tremble, tremble at my power!

(Drawing his dagger.)
Don Pedro
(Kneeling.)
Forgive!
Have mercy on your friend!

Don Carlos
My foe, you mean!
Did you have mercy on my heart, when it lay
Bleeding—withering at your feet? No, no!
And do you ask forgiveness in this world?
Do you expect it in the next?

Don Pedro
I do,
And hope you will forgive.

Don Carlos
Hope not.
There is no hope—forgiveness none!

Don Pedro
Do spare my life!

Don Carlos
No, thou shalt die, guilt-spotted as thou art!
Thou shalt descend to that infernal world,
Where Hell's immortal dogs shall gnaw thy soul!

Don Pedro
Let me but see Elvira once!

Don Carlos
No more,
Not in this world or the world to come!
She shall not go to Hell, nor you to Heaven!

Don Pedro
Then, farewell world!

Don Carlos
(Taking him by the throat.)
That was well said. Thy life!

Don Pedro
Oh, spare me but one hour, but half an hour!

Don Carlos
No longer than the impatience of my soul
Can lead thee hence to instant death, come on!

(Leading him out.) (Re-enter Elvira.)
Elvira
What, gone? Yes, gone, but where? Ah, by this time
Poor Pedro's soul is on its way to Heaven!
If not to Heaven, to that unfathomed gulf,
Where all the sinful in this world must go.

(Re-enter Don Carlos in haste.)
Don Carlos
Elvira, it is done!

Elvira
What have you done?

Don Carlos
Dispatched that devil's soul to Hell; down—down!
Where Hell's lank wolves, forever famished, howl,
And bark obstreperous thunder round the damned!
Will he not serve the devil there as here?
What if my wife should meet him in that world?
Would she not know him there as here? She would!
If there is lechery in Hell, they have hot times,
Count Alvar being there among the rest.

Elvira
I wish it had not been.

Don Carlos
Why so, what now?

Elvira
I fear I shall never find rest.

Don Carlos
What, are
You better than I am? We need no rest!
There is no rest on earth, nor peace, nor joy,
Nor any thing that you should care about.

Elvira
I fear that I have sinned.

Don Carlos
You have not sinned.
You are as guiltless as a newborn child.

Elvira
But then I promised to be his.

Don Carlos
How his?
Don Pedro's wife? Then you have sinned indeed!
For that your soul can find no rest on earth.
I did not think that I could hate you so!

Elvira
Oh, hate me not, but do forgive, forgive!

Don Carlos
I have no time for parley now. Each grain
Of sand that from the hour-glass of old time,
Falls on the earth crowds on the life of one,
Olympus high, which must be saved. Ye Gods!
That through the vistas of long trying years,
Have smiled upon my purpose to this hour,
Look down upon me with propitious smiles,
And aid me to achieve my greatest work.

Elvira
Where go you now?

Don Carlos
I go to save my friend.

Elvira
Farewell, may God have mercy on your soul!

(Exit.)

Scene II

The same apartment in Count Rodolph's palace. He is seated by a table writing. Enter Theresa.
Theresa
When does Alvino die?

Count Rodolph
He dies at three.

Theresa
Where is Don Carlos?

Count Rodolph
He is free again.

Theresa
He should be free. He is a noble soul.

Count Rodolph
You talk of soul. Leoni has the soul—
She is All Soul!

Theresa
Does she remain with him?

Count Rodolph
She does.

Theresa
Think you she will die with him?

Count Rodolph
She will. Why should she live? She has no friends.
And living friendless is but living death.

Theresa
To die, you know, is terrible to all.
I question much if she will have the nerve.

Count Rodolph
A woman's spirit can do any thing
I almost wish he had not been condemned,
Or that he could be pardoned for her sake.

Theresa
That would not do. Then he would kill us all.
No, he must die! There must be no reprieve!

(Exit.)
Enter Don Carlos
Don Carlos
Count Rodolph, is Alvino dead?

Count Rodolph
Not yet.

Don Carlos
When does he die?

Count Rodolph
At three.

Don Carlos
Thou liest—he lives!

Count Rodolph
What do you mean?

Don Carlos
I mean he shall not die!
Not while this arm has power to wield this sword!

Count Rodolph
No power can save his life. He dies at three!

Don Carlos
Then say thy prayers. Thou shalt not live an hour!

Count Rodolph
Are you insane?

Don Carlos
Insane as sanity
Can make a man—distracted for my friend!
His life is in thy power—he must be saved!

Count Rodolph
My power? I cannot save his life!

Don Carlos
Then you
Can die!

Count Rodolph
I am astonished at this talk.

Don Carlos
Astonished? Did you ever love your friend?
Would you not die to save thy friend? Then die!
He is thy friend—yes, everybody's friend.

Count Rodolph
How can I save his life?

Don Carlos
Do you not know?
Give me the keys!

Count Rodolph
I have no keys.

Don Carlos
Then write me his reprieve.

Count Rodolph
I have no power to grant you his reprieve!

Don Carlos
Then sign the Duke's name to it.

Count Rodolph
Forge his name?
Then I shall die for forgery!

Don Carlos
Better that,
Then die so suddenly—so unprepared!

Count Rodolph
(Writing.)
Well, if it must be done—it must be done.

(Giving Don Carlos the paper.)
Don Carlos
Then by the Gods, he lives—he lives again!

(Exit.)
Count Rodolph
By Heavens, there is some mystery in this,
And I must leave the city for my life!

(Exit.)

Scene III

The interior of a prison. Alvino and Leoni are lying asleep, from the effects of the narcotic which they have taken. A noise, as from a crowd, is heard without.
Leoni
(Slowly recovering.)
So, twilight visions gather round my soul,
And Angels play about my couch tonight.
Where is Alvino? Was it he that spoke?
If it were Heaven, Alvino would be here.
There are no sounds in Heaven—there Angels sing.
There Angels' songs are heard. There Alvino sings!

Alvino
(Slowly waking.)
Leoni, darkness gathers round my soul.
What gloom is this that overhangs my head?
Oh, there are heavy things upon me now.
Leoni, gentlest of revengeful loves,
Look at these manly hands, all chained, yes chained
As if my soul found music in their links!
Oh, how they sing the requiem of my death!

Leoni
(Rising.)
Thou hast redeemed me unto death with thee,
The sweetest death that ever mortal died!
To live without thee would be living death,
To die with thee will be eternal life!
This is the gate through which we pass to Heaven.
We are not dead until we pass this gate.

Alvino
(Rising.)
Oh, for the carol of that heavenly bird!
The Nightingale that has complained so long—
Pouring the sweetness of her plaintive song
To the deaf ears of an offending world.
Sing on, sad bird, for those shalt sing no more!
(Noise without.)
Leoni! 'Tis too dark for Heaven—'tis Hell!

Leoni
Look here, thou dost not see this precious thing?
This was an Angel's gift. 'Twill couch all pain!
Through all the fibres of thy manly heart,
Send sleep—immortal sleep! Send night—dark night!
And wake thy morrow in another world!

(Noise without again.)
Alvino
What sound was that? The summons! We must part!

Leoni
We part? We will not sever in this world.
I have a tale to tell too sweet for that!
'Twill send an anthem through thy very soul.
It is too deep to fathom in this world!
(Raising the dagger.)
Here is one chapter thou hast never read.
Alvino, this shall drowse away all life.
'Tis warm with that which it shall turn to ice!

Alvino
A little moment more, Leoni, then—

Leoni
I, who have been thy pathway to the tomb,
Will be thy partner through the shades of death.
This is the marriage banquet of our loves!
Alvino, thou hast never known me yet.
This world has never known fond woman's love.
This is the place that lesson shall be taught,
That he who ever knew Leoni's love,
May love her that her love is woman's love!

(Noise at the door without.)
Alvino
They come, Leoni—hold, thou canst not kill!

Leoni
What, cannot kill? The strength of death too weak?
A lion's strength is weak to this—now, come!

(She stabs herself, hands him the dagger, and falls.)
Alvino
Now, that her own dear blood is on the blade,
And she is waiting at Heaven's Gate for me,
I cannot bear to stay so long from her!

Leoni
Alvino! (Dies.)


Alvino
Ha, she calls me—I must go!
(Stabs himself and falls.)
Leoni, see! Alvino comes to thee!

(Dies.)
(Enter Don Carlos in haste.)
Don Carlos
Gods, are they dead? Yes, they are dead, dead, dead!
And I have come too late to save my friend!
Oh, my Alvino, Carlos was your friend,
And yet you died believing him your foe!
Great powers above, where is my comfort now?
Here, with Alvino, poor Leoni—dead!

The Curtain Falls.