 | Dramas |  |
9
ACT I.
SCENE I.
A Wood.Moors employed in preparing tents or pavilions for the Princess. A distant view of Granada, and on the further hills the Spanish camp.—Omar and Selim employed in the front of the stage.
OMAR.
After our long day's travel, here, my friends,
The princess wills we rest us for the night.
Spread her pavilion; for beneath this shade
She will await her royal father's coming.
SELIM.
The good old king! and shall he thus receive
His rescued daughter from the stranger's hand?
'Mong woodland wilds!—not on Granada's throne?
10
Peace! 'twas to stay the civil strife he placed
The diadem on King Abdoulah's brow.
SELIM.
True! for we thought a younger king, forsooth,
Should lead us forth to certain victory—
Mistaken men!—
OMAR.
But only in the chief
Should lead us forth, for victory is ours
Since Prince Almanzor leads Granada's forces,
And since the hero of Castile, Gonzalvo,
In Africa is stay'd by Seïd's arts.
Assist thou our companions. I will seek
The Princess Zelima: on yonder height
She waits th' approach of royal Muley Hassan.
SELIM
(significantly).
And by her side, I ween, the gallant stranger.
OMAR.
Ev'n so.—But from his follower I learn
The noble youth now purposes departure,
Resigning to a father's care his charge.
'Tis pity, Selim, they should e'er be sever'd;
And sure the man who singly rescued her
Might claim her favour.
11
Nay, I will be sworn,
Brave though he be, of courtesy unmatch'd,
He is not nobly born: else why conceal
His name and lineage?
OMAR.
Peace, Selim, peace! the noble stranger comes—
Assist thou yonder—We but lose the hour.
[Selim goes back to assist, and exit Omar.
Enter Gonzalvo and Pedro, in Moorish habits.
PEDRO.
Why thus disturb'd, my lord?—Beware, beware,
That you betray not 'tis Gonzalvo's brow
Conceal'd beneath that turban's folds!—Your arms,
The terror of the Moor, the Spaniard's boast,
Brought by a faithful hand at evening's close,
Will wake your soul to war and victory!
To-morrow! and Gonzalvo is himself!
GONZALVO.
Oh Pedro! Pedro! never wilt thou see
Gonzalvo bear himself as he was wont.
PEDRO.
Rouse you, my lord, to meet your sov'reign's favour:
The gracious Isabel your coming waits
With Ferdinand, her spouse. Attain'd the object
12
From Seïd's snares, oh! judge with what full joy!
Brave Lara, too, your earliest, dearest friend,
Your glory's partner—
GONZALVO
(with momentary joy).
To-morrow I shall grasp
My Lara's glowing hand!—But oh! I shrink
From friendship's searching eye.
PEDRO.
What says my lord?
GONZALVO.
Pedro, this fatal habit has unmann'd me.
PEDRO.
This Moorish garb, my lord, has done you service:
Beneath it you escaped from Afric's coast,
Although beset by Seïd's base assassins,
And on this hostile shore, possess'd by Moors,
It lull'd suspicion:—throw it off with thanks.
GONZALVO.
Oh! that Gonzalvo ne'er had stoop'd to wear
This base disguise! then Zelima had known
Her country's foe, and honour had withheld
Her gentle hands that medicined my wounds;
And the sweet accents, far more powerful,
That bade me live—bade her preserver live!
13
Behold! she leads her royal father on.—
Avoid her eye, she must not see you thus.
[Exeunt.
Zelima appears among the trees, conducting Muley Hassan, Almanzor, and train. They advance with expressions of joy and affection.
MULEY HASSAN.
My child! my child! beyond all hope restored!
What joy to clasp thee thus! and can it be
Gladness once more should visit my sad age?
Oh! what is loss of empire to me now?
Thou art my all!
[He embraces Zelima, and appears overcome.
ZELIMA.
My father! my dear father!
[Turning to Almanzor.
My brother too! my ever loved Almanzor!
[They embrace.
And do I hold thee to my heart again?
Avenger of Granada's injured realm!
How sweet to hear thy name through all the land,
Lisp'd even by babes, as guardian of their home!
ALMANZOR.
And this blest day will doubly nerve my arm,
Which the sad loss of thee had half unstrung.
14
(returning to her father).
My father, you look pale and worn with sorrow!
Was it the loss of your poor Zelima?
Oh yes, it was!—But I am yours again,
Thanks to the generous stranger, of whose deeds
My messengers gave something to your ear.
But—no—it was not for their tongues to tell,
How, rushing on the Ethiopian ruffians,
Who bore me shrieking to the sea-beat shore,
As though his hand had grasp'd the thunderer's bolt,
He dealt destruction! How, with desperate strength,
Though bleeding, cover'd o'er with wounds himself,
He bore me—nobly bore me—till he sunk,
O'erspent with toil, and weltering in his gore.
MULEY HASSAN.
May Heaven reward his valour!—Where is he?
ZELIMA.
Haste, Selim, and entreat the stranger's presence.
[Exit Selim.
ALMANZOR.
Say, since he rescued thee, my Zelima,
How hast thou fared?
ZELIMA.
Trust me, most royally.
Soon as the thronging multitudes had learnt
My high condition, and my piteous tale,
15
With all things both for service and delight.
The stranger's wounds, so grievous, ask'd the 'tendance
Of gentlest skill; and happy! oh, thrice happy!
These hands unwearied minister'd relief,
Until restored to health, my brave preserver
Might safe conduct me to my father's arms!
And let thy fancy picture, my Almanzor,
A simple people's love, devising ever
Honours uncouth, but prompted by the heart,
To grace the generous stranger as he pass'd.
My travel through the realm has been as 'twere
A fair delightful vision, and the waking,
Oh! 'tis more joyous still!
Enter Gonzalvo—Zelima meets him eagerly and joyfully.
ZELIMA.
Say why, my friend,
Breaking so sudden from my side, you shun
To witness happiness yourself dispense?
MULEY HASSAN
(to ALMANZOR).
This joy tumultuous pains my aged breast.
[Zelima presents Gonzalvo to her father.
Words are but poor to speak a father's thanks,
And as a father only can I thank thee.
16
In some sort prove my heart's deep gratitude,
But beggar'd as I am, my prayers and blessings
Are all I can return.
GONZALVO
(embarrassed).
Spare me, good king;
Bred in the tented field, I am unused
To gentle words like these.
MULEY HASSAN.
Give me thy hand!
Let these tears speak.
GONZALVO.
Oh! never—never yet
Has such a tear as thine been shed for me;
The widow's and the orphan's tears are those
My deeds have caused to flow.
ZELIMA
(tenderly).
Nay, say not so!
ALMANZOR.
Your arm, brave youth, has won us to your love:
I thank you, as a soldier thanks a soldier,
And hope, when, fellows in the field, we strive
With the insulting foe who threats Granada,
By open deeds my pleasing debt to quit.
Forgive me, sir, that yet I know not how
To name the stranger, whom henceforth I hold
Brother in arms, t'avenge Granada's wrongs.
17
Prince, I am one mark'd in so strange a sort
By Fortune's hand—(happy alone in that
My favour'd sword has done your sister service),
That my distemper'd mind, at war within,
Sees evil in each good men value most.
My name in Fame's proud record is enroll'd,
Yet would I fain erase it from her page;
Forgive me, then, if I pronounce it not.
ZELIMA
(who has been talking apart with her father).
Oh! my loved father, you are too much moved.
Come and repose beneath yon canopy,
There will I paint to you my dangers past;
It will be grateful to retrace them now—
Your happy daughter will support your steps.
[She leads her father to the Pavilion, looking back at Gonzalvo, who watches her as if lost in admiration.
ALMANZOR
(observing them).
Ha! that soft interchange of mutual looks!
[He follows slowly, looking with keen suspicious glances at Gonzalvo.
GONZALVO
(alone).
How my soul sickens to dissemble thus!
To bear myself as midnight murderers use,
To hang the head, and stammer some quaint phrase,
18
Detested fraud! Oh! one must love as I do,
And be, like me, just object of the hate
Of her he loves, expect her utter scorn
If he throw off this serpent's slough, and yet
Disdain to wear it from his very soul
As I do, but to guess at what I feel.
Enter Omar, from the Pavilion.
OMAR.
Brave youth, the king requests some conference.
GONZALVO.
I obey.
[Follows to the Pavilion, from whence Almanzor and Zelima advance.
ALMANZOR
(aside).
Ha! why are we dismiss'd? and why alone
Would our good father entertain the stranger?
I like it not.
ZELIMA.
How sweet the evening airs!
Almanzor, while they fan thy war-worn brow,
I will recount the noble stranger's deeds.
ALMANZOR
(sarcastically).
My Zelima, methinks the pleasing theme
Wearies thee not.
19
And can the pleasing theme
Of benefits received be wearisome?
Brother, your heart was wont to beat in unison
With mine.
ALMANZOR
(kindly).
And ever will!—but now, my sister,
I must away; for in such haste I flew,
When first the happy tidings reach'd my ear
That thou wert safe, I, heedless, gave no thought
To matters of high import.—Ere we part,
Declare, who is this youth to whom you owe
Your honour and your life, and in whose praise
You are so eloquent?—There is a something
My spirit brooks not in this stranger's bearing:
Noble his air, right haughty too, and yet
Faltering his speech.
ZELIMA.
He may be languid still,
Newly restored from wounds received for me.
ALMANZOR.
But why that air of woe?
ZELIMA.
Alas! I know not;
Some sorrow sure had labour'd in his breast
Ere I beheld him; yet I mark'd it not
Till hitherward we journey'd day by day,
20
Had ta'en a deeper hold. It was not so,
With looks averted, he was wont to speak,
His brow was open as th' expanse of heaven,
Candour and truth sat ever on his lips.
ALMANZOR.
Hold, Zelima! this truth, this candour—where
Were they when you sought to know his name?
ZELIMA
(embarrassed).
He still besought me—spare him sad remembrance
Of what he would forget—I knew his deeds!
The name of one who had so nobly wrought
Could nothing add to my strong gratitude.
ALMANZOR
(after musing).
Sister, I think he to your hand aspires.
Nay, blush not thus. Yes, this dissembler does.
For that he rescued thee, I freely thank him;
Yet who had worn a sword and had not done it?
His birth, his name unknown—I will not think
Thou couldst so much forget what thou wert born
As brook the suit of such a wanderer.
ZELIMA.
Nay, wrong him not, Almanzor, by these thoughts.
He has not breathed a vow I might not hear,
Nor will he, till his deeds proclaim his birth,
And blazon forth that name he has conceal'd.
21
I will believe thee—Pardon thou, my sister,
A brother's jealous fears. Granada's fate
Sits heavy at my heart. Abdoulah, lost
In the soft slothful luxuries of empire,
Disgraces much our father's yielded sceptre—
I must away—inquire not wherefore.
ZELIMA.
Nay,
Thou shalt not break discourteous thus away
From our loved father's presence.—Yonder see
A faithful peasant train to hail our joys!
Come, lead them on; their rustic courtesy
Will smooth thy careful brow—Refuse me not.
[She leads him out gaily.
Re-enter Muley Hassan with Gonzalvo.
MULEY HASSAN.
Youth, I have read thy heart, and joy to find
My daughter's image there. Nay, start not thus.
Yes, friend, the varying brow, the deep-drawn sigh,
The quick emotions flushing on thy cheek,
Are nature's language, and not strange to me.
I, too, have known how 'tis that young hearts feel,
Nor have forgot how dear I held her mother.
22
On yonder plain—Relieve besieged Granada,
And Zelima is thine.
GONZALVO
(aside).
My tortured soul!
Good reverend king! you know not what you say.
While thus you speak heaven opens to my view,
Then sudden closes with a tenfold gloom.
That I do love and honour your fair daughter
I will confess; but spare me, spare me, king,
The agony to think I may not hope.
MULEY HASSAN.
Thou art too modest, youth; thy worth and valour
Are not so lost on Zelima.
Zelima and Almanzor enter with a train of peasants, bearing fruits, &c.
ZELIMA.
My father,
Behold the offerings of simple duty
Court your acceptance.
[The peasants present their offerings.
Oh! you know not half
The joy that fills this bosom!
[Observing Gonzalvo's emotion, while her father is
23
Why, my friend,
Art thou disturb'd?—If I might see thee smile,
Nothing on earth were blest as Zelima.
GONZALVO.
Yes, at thy bidding I would veil with smiles
Thoughts fraught with nameless bitterness—but no,
It will not be—Give all thy gentle soul
To innocent joy, and heed me not.
ALMANZOR
(observing them, aside).
Again
Those earnest looks! again those tender tones!
MULEY HASSAN
(to the peasants).
Thanks! thanks, my friends!
(To Zelima and Almanzor).
My children! Oh, how sweet
Affection's tribute, howe'er rude and humble!
Trust me, no feast in gorgeous vessels served,
With all the pomp of the Alhambra palace,
While yet I fill'd the throne, was half so grateful
As this repast of simple fruits, thus shared
In full confiding love. Enter a Messenger.
Good Muley Hassan,
24
'Tis meet ye know that through Granada's host
Strange consternation spreads, for that 'tis rumour'd,
Escaped from Afric, to the Spanish camp
Gonzalvo, styled of Cordova, returns.
[All start with terror: Zelima presses closer to her father, as if for protection. Gonzalvo, apart, betrays contending passions.
ALMANZOR.
Shall consternation seize our host for this?
Shame on the dastard slaves! Have they forgot
Almanzor leads them? Have I led them on
Often to victory, never to defeat,
And shall they—dare they doubt me? Go,
Tell them their leader pledges here his faith
To rid them of their terror—Yes, to-morrow
Shall their Almanzor fall in single combat,
Or he shall bite the dust, my glory's rival,
Proud Spain's Gonzalvo!
GONZALVO
(starting from his reverie, and laying his hand on his sword).
Does the Moor Almanzor
Thus rush on certain fate?
ALMANZOR
(with contempt).
“On certain fate!”
Haply to thee 'twere so.
25
(trembling with indignation, his hand onhis sword).
Insulting Moor!
ZELIMA
(seizing his arm, and looking earnestly in his face).
Why, why that terrible brow? that sword why grasp'd?
[He looks tenderly at her, and drops his hand.
Was it to save the wretched Zelima
Once more in her Almanzor?—Yes, 'twas so!
[To her father, with exultation.
Oh, trust these eyes, my father, that beheld
The prodigies of valour which redeem'd
Your Zelima, if this brave youth go forth
Unmatch'd no longer vaunts the dread Gonzalvo.
ALMANZOR
(with irony and disdain).
Haply this arm is palsied! so, it seems,
A sister would infer. As for yon stranger,
Yon fortunate unknown, whose maiden sword
Has done some service to Granada's princess,
I marvel not his new-blown valour suddenly
Aspires to deeds in arms, of other sort
Than to chastise the Ethiop ravisher.
MULEY HASSAN.
My son, repress thy ardour, and attend
A father's counsel.
26
Lend me rather, sir,
A patient hearing, and I will unfold
Reasons of state.—Apart from these were best.
[Exeunt Almanzor and Muley Hassan.
GONZALVO
(aside).
For what am I reserved?
[Seeing Zelima still looking fearfully and wistfully in his face.
Fear nothing, princess!
For this poor arm were nerveless as a child's
To wreak my wrongs on one who is thy brother.
[After a pause, with assumed firmness.
My dream of bliss is o'er—I must away,
Imperious duty calls; but ere I go
For ever from thy sight—Oh yes, for ever—
(For so thyself thou wilt pronounce my doom)
Allow me in yon grove to say farewell,
A last farewell to thee and happiness!
[Breaks from her in an agony, and leaves her thunderstruck.
ZELIMA
(alone).
For ever, said he?—What! for ever part?
A chilling horror creeps o'er all my frame.
How happy! Oh how happy have I been!
Alas! what made me so I cannot tell,
27
Was it that freed from cumbrous dignity
I roam'd at large, restored to simple nature?
Saw the sun rise, and heard the early birds,
Breathed the pure morning airs o'er hill and dale,
And quite forgot I was a wretched princess?
Or was it (I tremble but to think 'twas so),
That with the dawn I saw the stranger youth,
Enjoy'd with him the early choristers,
With him the morning gale!—Alas, for me!
How could I hope it should be ever thus?
Well might I sure have thought that one so brave
Would to the field of fame, nor think of me.
Did he not ask to speak a last farewell?
Yes—I will seek him ere the evening close,
And say—if so I can—farewell for ever!
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