University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

SCENE I.

Scene on the walls of the city overlooking the field of battle. On the distant hills is seen the Spanish camp. Moors pass hastily across the stage, and look anxiously over the walls on the combatants beneath. Two Moors come forward from the crowd.
FIRST MOOR.
They yield—they yield on all sides to the foe!

SECOND MOOR.
Their ranks are broke.

THIRD MOOR
(from the walls).
Mark, yonder on the left
They make a stand.—

FOURTH MOOR
(on the walls).
'Tis but to check the bands
Of fierce Castilians pressing on the rear.
And see! our friends along the valley pour
With breathless speed—

THIRD MOOR.
They throng the eastern gate!

FIRST MOOR.
Granada! oh my country! woe for thee!
Press'd by the foe without—within thy walls
Tumult and civil strife! The envious Zegris!
They have fall'n off to blast Moraizel's fame,
The Aben-Zurrah chief who led them forth!

SECOND MOOR.
The chief is brave, but bends beneath his years:
Youth's fire is quench'd. Had Albin Hamad led
The morning's onset, it had not been thus.
He is alike of Aben-Zurrah lineage,
Nor envy prompts my speech.

FIRST MOOR.
True, he is nobly gifted: yet, methinks,
Of youth too green, too confident, too rash,
To hold a leader's charge; but I will haste
And meet our hapless friends, of them to learn
The worst that has befallen.

SECOND MOOR.
'Tis well advised.
And see—the beauteous daughter of Moraizel,
With hurried step, disorder'd, and her train
Of Moorish damsels, on the ramparts throng.

FIRST MOOR.
The clamorous grief of women is not music
To the dull ear of age. I will avoid them.

[Exeunt two Moors.
The train of women are looking anxiously over the battlements, with actions expressive of various emotions, while Xarifa, as if unable to bear the sight any longer, totters forward, supported by Esperanza.
XARIFA.
Look, Esperanza, look:—survey the field—
Say, is the last sad remnant of our troops
Received within the gates?

ESPERANZA
(after looking over the walls, returns).
Alas! dear mistress,
Few, few remain upon the fatal plain,
Save those who never more—

XARIFA
(hiding her eyes).
Oh dreadful sight!
Confused through tears, the hill, the valley, all
To me appears one mingled mass of horror.
Yet look again—thou hast no father there!
See'st thou the milk-white steed, the crimson vest,
The lofty turban, ensign of command?

ESPERANZA
(looks again, and returns).
Alas! no—nothing. But, perchance, Moraizel,
When treacherous fortune frown'd upon his arms,
With the first band return'd.

XARIFA
(indignant).
Ha! Esperanza,
Speak'st thou of brave Moraizel?—of my father?

ESPERANZA.
Pardon, dear mistress; I would calm thy fears,
And weigh not well my words.

XARIFA
(kindly).
Thy thought was kind;
Yet, Esperanza, know, although 'tis hard
To tremble for his life, 'twere not relief
To deem his glory tarnish'd.

ESPERANZA.
Yet be patient.
The valiant Albin Hamad will, ere long,
Bring tidings fraught with comfort. Well thou know'st
The band he leads this morning went not forth.
And is it not some joy to think that he,
The faithful youth, thy bosom's chosen lord,
Was spared a part in this disastrous day?

XARIFA.
Thy gentle cunning now has touch'd the theme
That best might soothe my cares. I thank thee, friend;
But Albin Hamad tarries long, methinks:
To-day his post was at the eastern gate.

ESPERANZA.
E'en while I look'd, the eastern gate was closed.

XARIFA.
Then is he free to come. Does he forget
How dear her father to Xarifa?

ESPERANZA.
Nay,
Since the eastern gate was closed, an arrow's flight
Had scarce the distance measured—and behold,
Unjust Xarifa! Albin Hamad comes.

Hamad enters, takes Xarifa's hand, and appears unable to speak.
HAMAD.
Xarifa! oh!

XARIFA
(terrified).
Thou canst not speak thy tidings!

HAMAD.
Our troops repulsed with loss—

XARIFA.
But say—my father!—
Speak!—how fares Moraizel?

HAMAD
(clasping his hands).
Good Moraizel!

XARIFA.
Have pity yet. Oh say not he is slain!

HAMAD.
No, dear Xarifa, no!—thy father lives!

XARIFA.
All powerful Heaven, thanks!—But yet methinks
Thy looks, thy tone of sadness, ill accord
With these glad tidings. Oh my fears! he is wounded?

HAMAD.
Not so.—The scars that grace the hoary chief
Bleed not afresh!

XARIFA.
Then all, methinks, were well,
If Hamad's brow but wore its wonted cheer;
And I to-morrow—so my father bade—
Should vow to Hamad all a wife's obedience.

HAMAD.
For us to-morrow is no day of joy.

XARIFA.
Ah! wherefore? wherefore?—Is it Hamad speaks?

HAMAD.
Could'st thou know joy, Moraizel far away?
Say, who but he can give Xarifa's hand?

XARIFA.
Nor slain! nor wounded! Yet these dreadful words!
Oh! worse than all!—a captive—

HAMAD.
Doom'd to chains
Those noble hands from youth to veteran age
Used but to wield the terror-flashing sabre,
Till now so fatal to Granada's foes!

XARIFA.
What! fasten chains on him?—Oh no, they durst not—
They durst not for their lives!—His eye, in anger,
Would dash their hardihood. His reverend head
Wears awe and strong control: no, their rude hands
Would slacken—but thou smil'st in tender pity.
Are they so hard?—have they no mercy?—none!
And will they tear the father from his child?
[After an agony of tears.
Has filial love but unavailing tears
To give a father? Yes, it has—it has
A worthier boon! Farewell, my Albin Hamad!
Yes, I must follow in captivity
My honour'd father. From my infant years
I have been his heart's best joy! he told me so
But yesterday, and press'd me to his bosom.
His tears fell on my tresses as he spoke,
And then he thought but to have given me, Hamad,
To thee and happiness! 'Tis mine to follow,
And in the stranger's land to tend his age.
Nay, stay me not!

HAMAD
(detaining her).
Thy looks and words how wild!
Think of the guarded walls that bar thy way!
Think of thy youth! thy sex! thy matchless beauty!
Thou would'st but rush on danger, or dishonour,
The sport, the mock of brutal, pitiless men!
Spurn'd haply by their chief! the haughty Juan!

ESPERANZA.
Oh, speak not thus!—Born in Andalusia,
The blood my parents gave me swells my heart
To hear my generous countrymen so slander'd.
While I was yet a child in Carthagena,
Don Juan was the universal theme
For deeds of courtesy no less than valour.

XARIFA.
Pardon, good Esperanza!
(To Hamad).
Yes, full oft
She has with tales of noble Juan's worth
Beguiled the heavy hour—and portray'd him
As one who own'd, beneath a soldier's sternness,
The kindliest feelings: e'en so gently temper'd,
That when war's clarion ceased to rend the air,
His ear would drink the lute's soft mingled sounds,
Till he was lost in pleasing ecstacy;
And he would lend his fancy to the tale
Of fabled woe, till from his ardent eye
Big tears would follow each disastrous chance.

ESPERANZA.
Oft have I seen it! Oh that he were here!
And young, and pitiful as then!

XARIFA.
Ha! “pitiful!”
Was that thy word? and “would that he were here,”
Said'st thou?—Thou thinkest then Xarifa's plaint
Might touch in noble Juan's heart the string
Would answer to the lute, were she to plead
As filial love should prompt?

ESPERANZA.
My life upon it!

XARIFA
(with enthusiasm).
Thanks, Esperanza, thanks! Dear Hamad, come!
Honour and knighthood shall protect and guard
The suppliant and the woman! Come, away!
Yes, I will throw me at the victor's feet,
Prone in the dust, and clinging to his knees,
Will claim my father with an orphan's cry!

HAMAD.
Thou art inspired! Thy ardent eye, thy words
Burn with a fire the prophet's self has lent!
My soul has caught thy hope! all fear is fled!
Thy promised husband, I attend thy steps.
Let us go forth—
[During this speech the King, Alhamut, and attendants, appear on the battlements. As Hamad is leading Xarifa off he sees them.
Ha! yonder walks the king,
With looks disturb'd! I would avoid his eye.
My love, why didst thou stray so near the tower
Whence 'tis his custom to survey the plain?

XARIFA.
Led on by anxious fears, and step by step—
But whither shall we turn? The king has mark'd us!
See—he approaches! Let us stand apart.

The King advances in conversation with Alhamut.
KING.
The flower of my warlike bands mow'd down;
Moraizel taken, say'st thou?

ALHAMUT
(with affected sorrow).
Even so!
Yet gallantly, my liege, your troops bore on,
Till their brave leader lost, their order broken—

KING.
No more!—For this we must not to the foe
Present a heavy brow, and hang the head;
But with to-morrow's sun, in prouder cheer,
Pour from the gates, and bear ourselves in all
As men who follow up late victory.
(Observing Hamad and Xarifa avoiding him).
Young Albin Hamad—is it not? Draw near—
Yet nearer—
[Takes him aside, watching Xarifa.
Noble youth, who is yon fair one
Who from my presence would withdraw close-veil'd?

HAMAD.
My liege, she is the daughter of Moraizel,
And weeps her father's fate.

KING.
Tell her the king
Partakes her grief. Conduct her hither, Hamad.
(Aside).
Fame speaks her passing fair; 'tis haply, therefore,
Secluded from my sight, her father ever
Would find some specious reason—
[Hamad leads her forward, veiled.
Gentle mourner,
Teach me how best to soothe thy virtuous sorrow;
But first, I pray, remove thy folding veil,
That I may read thy story in thy eyes,
And sympathize ere thou canst speak thy pain.
[She meekly unveils; the King starts.
Ha! Fame has wrong'd thee much, bright excellence!

XARIFA.
Give me thy royal sanction, great Abdallah!
That I go forth and seek the Spanish chief;
Bow'd at his feet redeem my captive father,
Or follow him, and share his chains.

KING.
Nay, rather stay where never chains shall bind
Those graceful limbs, save such as Love may weave
Of thornless roses, and unfading myrtle:
Thou art too fair to meet the lawless gaze
Of mail-clad ruffians. By Mahomet, methinks,
Should the bold winds too rudely kiss that cheek,
Or flutter on those lips with fond delay,
They were my envy!

XARIFA.
King! these flattering words
Distasteful strike on misery's sicken'd sense.
I do entreat your royal nobleness,
Let my soul's honest purpose but have way:
A secret voice within my bosom whispers
Assurance of success.

KING.
To dry those tears
My coffers shall be tax'd for boundless ransom!

XARIFA.
Pardon, my liege; methinks that proffer'd gold
Were held offence to knighthood.

KING.
Yet be cheer'd,
A monarch's suit shall soothe the Spaniard's pride!
A monarch's awe strike off thy father's chains!

XARIFA.
The orphan's prayer will oft times more prevail
O'er sterner tempers than a monarch's awe.
Fierceness itself in lions, and in wolves,
Has pitying stoop'd to infant innocence;
And haughtiest spirits put not on defence
When lowliness assails.

KING.
There is no spirit
So savage, or so brutal, could resist
Thy sweet persuasion! Reason sinks abash'd,
Robb'd of her argument, and wisest deems
Whate'er wild fancy counsels by thy voice.
Then be it as thou wilt:—but come thyself,
And bring thy rescued father to my presence;
From thy hand only will his king receive him.
(To Hamad).
Tend her, brave Hamad, as a sacred trust
Committed by Abdallah to thy faith.

HAMAD
(indignant).
Moraizel's daughter is a charge so precious
To Hamad's faith, not thou canst make it more so!

KING
(indignant).
Ha! heard I well? was it a subject spoke?

XARIFA
(anxiously interposing).
From childhood he has honour'd—loved my father.
Great king! his eager thought is gone before;
And for the Spaniard's ear that firmer tone—

KING.
'Tis well, sweet maid! since thou wilt have it so.

XARIFA.
Thanks, gracious king! Permit me to retire.

[As she goes with Hamad and Esperanza, he gazes after her.
KING.
And must it be?—so soon?—Alhamut, mark
Her graceful carriage!—Sure she treads in air,
And draws the willing spirit from my bosom
To float the way she leads. I never yet
Beheld the form so robb'd me of myself.

ALHAMUT.
The maid is fair, I grant.—Yet think, my liege,
How many fairer share your smiles already.
The gentle Miriam! Shall another rival
Dim her dark eyes with tears? Circassia's maid!
Whose bosom scarce has ceased to heave with sighs
For her lost country, and the home she loved.
The blue-eyed Christian damsel, so demure,
Who with her faith so prettily waged war
In Love's victorious cause!

KING
(not attending to him).
Did'st thou speak her name?

ALHAMUT
(with suppressed vexation).
They call the maid
Who parted hence, Xarifa.
(Aside).
Blast her charms!
His soul is fired!

KING
(thoughtful).
Young Hamad—is't not so?—
Is kinsman to the maid.—How near of blood,
That she should be “so precious to his faith?”

ALHAMUT.
He was bequeathed an infant to Moraizel
By a loved sister, twice ten winters since
In sack'd Cardela lost; and with his daughter,
The orphan youth has shared a father's care.

KING.
'Tis well.—How gracefully she shrunk, abash'd,
From my too ardent gaze! What hidden power
Lurk'd in her meek deportment, so to o'erawe
My sovereign will that would have stay'd her steps,
Yet fear'd to offend? I have heard of potent spells,
Of fascination strange, ta'en by the eyes,
That fetters fast each limb, locks up all use
Of wholesome judgment.

ALHAMUT.
Yes—I have heard it said—
The prophet's foes know to compel foul spirits
By charms, and magic, and unholy things,
Unto their service.

KING.
What would'st thou infer?
Why dost thou measure me with anxious looks
And broken speech? Give utterance to thy thought.

ALHAMUT.
The Christian slave, who waited on Xarifa,
Is much suspected to have won her youth
From the pure Moslem faith to rites abhorr'd;
And it should seem, my liege, to see you thus—
Let not my loyalty and love offend!
Might I presume to urge a timely counsel,
Admit her not again.

KING.
Peace, slanderer, peace!
We know the enmity you Zegri knights
Bear to Moraizel, and the Aben-Zurrahs.
Now, by my faith, the maid should rather seem
Graced by the prophet's self with gifts so rare,
The chosen houri of his blissful hours,
Than faithless to his worship. Ha! thou smil'st,
And bit'st thy lip the while.—Leave me, Alhamut;
(Aside.)
Must a king ever be surrounded thus
By prying eyes, officious, that would scan
His inmost thought?
[Going, Alhamut follows humbly; the King waves him off.
I would not be attended. [Exit.
[Alhamut remains confounded—to him Ali.


ALI.
Alhamut, thou art disturbed. Hast thou not heard
The proud Moraizel's ta'en?—our hated foe,
Abdallah's favour'd chief.

ALHAMUT
(impatiently).
I know it all.

ALI.
Oh! 'twas well done!—Our faithful Zegris mark'd
The chief o'erpower'd by numbers, yet delay'd—

ALHAMUT.
Tush! what avails it?—Even now his daughter—
Perdition seize her charms!—with tears and sighs—

ALI.
Well may she weep her sire and fortunes lost!

ALHAMUT.
We, we have cause to weep. Abdallah saw her:
I mark'd the subtle fire that sudden stole
Through all his frame. The slave of lawless passion!
Yet skill'd to bend each adverse circumstance,
By deepest art to work his soul's dark purpose,
That so his tyrannous will may wear the semblance
Of strong necessity!—Was't not enough
The Aben-Zurrah chief should lead the battle,
While in the scabbard slept perforce our sabres,
Forbid to dim the lustre of his deeds;
But now his daughter with her blandishments
Shall trick defeat in triumph's wreaths, and bring him
To claim a victor's meed?—We are undone.
With frowns the king forbade my due attendance.
Displeased he parted hence.

ALI.
Our hopes are blasted.
What! of the Aben-Zurrah race, shall she,
She—curses on her!—rule Abdallah's breast,
And lord it o'er us?—No—it shall not be!

ALHAMUT.
It shall not be—brave Ali, we have said it—
No, perish first the Zegris man by man!

[Exeunt.