University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE I.

Dungeon.
Alonzo,
Solus.
My dungeon still is dark, the beams of hope
Cannot illume its dreary, gloomy vaults;
My soul still lingers for its darling home,
Still lingers for my parent, and my friends.
The son of great Alphonso, now a wretched
And solitary captive, in a dungeon
Wall'd round with stone and void of every comfort;
No ray of light is seen, but that which glimmers
Through yonder narrow grate, no sound is heard,
But when the bat flits by on filmy wings,
Or in the tow'r the bird of night complains.
All, all is dark and dismal, all is still,
This dreary dungeon seems the pris'ner's grave,
The gloomy charnel-house of living death.
But solitude and darkness, though they freeze
My very soul, are not my direst evils;
'Tis anxious expectation of the future.
Oft have I sat at midnight, when the stars
Just show'd their twinkling forms between my grates,
And shook at every breeze that whistled by.
Methought I heard the dying pris'ners groan
Sound in the blast; I trembled and I fear'd,
Some sabred Moor was coming to dispatch me.
Then I would hear a feeble, hollow sound,
Amid the distant vaults: methought I heard
The tread of midnight murderers; then despair
Rush'd o'er my feelings and I felt like death:
Again the owl, moaning at darkest midnight,
Would strike my ear and seem the shriek of terror;
I listen'd, and the sound was still repeated;
I started from my cold and wretched bed
And hasted to my grate; the full orb'd moon,
Then riding in her zenith, silver'd o'er
The distant walls, and from the lofty towers
Spread shadows wide and vast; the night was still,
A beauteous radiance shone on yonder mountain,
And play'd upon the distant waving trees,
The lonely owl at times was heard to wail,
The chilling breezes whistled round the walls
And cool'd the fever of my burning temples.
This is my greatest pleasure, thus to brood
On my misfortunes; even my soul is us'd
So much to misery, it has smooth'd its terrors
And soften'd down the iron of its brow:
Still I am not so harden'd to despair,
That I am happy in this wretched dungeon;
Yes, I am miserable, but for one hope,
The hope of freedom, by the aid of Zamor:
This keeps my courage up from sinking wholly
In dark despair; before he came and bless'd
My ears with that dear sound, “I am thy friend,”
I almost lost each hope of liberty,
I wish'd for death and yet I fear'd to die,
I fear'd to think upon my dissolution,
And look into the darkness of the grave.
Had I no hope, I should indeed be wretched;
Had I no friend, this world would be a desert;
Had not this Zamor, with a voice of mercy,
Sooth'd my poor broken heart, I now had been
Sunk in complete despair; but while he lives
And speaks the same kind words to poor Alonzo,
I still shall hope, whatever may betide me.
[Enter Zamor.
Zamor, hast thou come here again to sooth me
And cheer my wounded heart?

Zamor.
Yes, dear Alonzo,
Again I come to feed thy soul with hope.
Still hope, Alonzo; thou may'st yet be free!
Before the sun has set behind those hills,
Thou may'st have liberty, my dear Alonzo.

Alonzo.
What say'st thou, Zamor? shall I yet be free,
And that before the shades of evening close?
Or dost thou tantalize me with vain hopes?

Zamor.
Alonzo, I can never be so cruel,
As thus to raise the pris'ner's expectations
By promises and hopes as vain as wind;
Believe me, when I tell thee, that ere night
Has clos'd around thy head, thou may'st be free.

Alonzo.
Zamor, can I believe thee? Oh, this hour
Of joy supreme! O, fortunate Alonzo!
Oh, bless'd above all bless'd! this day be free?
It thrills the very life-strings of my bosom!

Zamor.
Alonzo, greater happiness awaits thee,
Lovely Alzira comes this day to see thee,
Before thou leav'st thy prison, to console thee,
And speak more heavenly music to thy ear,
Than Zamor can.—

Alonzo.
But Zamor, do not leave me,
Stay, and partake with me my exultation,
Stay, and enjoy with me this hour of triumph!

Zamor.
Alonzo, duty calls, I must obey,
Else I would stay and keep thee company
Year after year; still hold thy courage up,
Let not despondency depress thy soul,
But still remember, ere the sun has set,
Alonzo shall be free.—

Alonzo.
My faithful Zamor,
I cannot speak the ardour of my feelings,
I cannot speak the strength of my affection
For one so good, so merciful as thou.
[Zamor exit.
This is an hour of triumph, this an hour
Of highest exultation! soon, my friends,
Shall I embrace you, soon my native hills
Shall meet my longing eye, and down the vale,
Where oft I spent the hours in boyish sports,
I soon shall see the rivulet descend;
Then cease my murmurs, cease from all my grief,
And let this day be given to exultation.

SCENE II.

—A Room in the Palace.
Abdallah and Zamor.
Abd.
This is the time to show thy daring soul;
Our hateful foes approach the city walls,
And waste the fields before them; all is terror,
The shepherd leaves his flock upon the mountain,
The swain his vineyard in the sunny valley,
The villager his home, in wild dismay
They crowd our gates and ask us for a shelter.
'Twas late, I look'd around me from my tower,
And saw behind the hills the smoke arising,
Where now the Spaniards ravage; o'er the fields
I saw the crowd of outcasts, from their homes
And pleasant farms, pursue their anxious flight,
And in the hot pursuit, a cruel troop
Of these banditti; out, this instant out
With all my forces, lead them to the battle,
Rout these marauders, give them to the slaughter,
Or send them headlong to their dens again.

Zamor.
My noble lord, these christian dogs shall feel
The vigour of my arm, they soon shall know,
Their utmost force, exerted 'gainst my prowess,
Is feeble as the reed's against the whirlwind.
I have ten thousand Mussulmen, as brave
As ever drew a sword; I've seen them drive
Through all the armies, Spain could ever muster,
And scatter wide the sable hosts of Nubia;
I've seen them mount the breach, o'er friends and foes
Pil'd high in slaughter, scale the lofty walls
In spite of rocks and spears, rush through the city,
Where every house concealed a lurking foe,
And every step was danger, still undaunted,
I've seen them drag their enemies to light
And give them all promiscuously to death.
But this, the time for action; I will lead
My fearless troops to meet the ruffian Spaniards,
When I have done my duty, by relating
A truth, my lord, that deeply doth concern thee.

Abd.
What is it? tell me.

Zamor.
Canst thou hear the truth,
Although disast'rous to thee? canst thou hear
Of what will touch thy very tenderest feelings?
Or wilt thou shut thy ear against my story?

Abd.
Zamor, I both can hear of smiling fortune
And dark adversity; the songs of peace
Are sweet unto my soul, but still, when duty
Calls me, with equal readiness I listen
To the most melancholy dirge of death;
Not only I can hear of mournful truths,
But I will hear them; cursed be the wretch,
Who dares to tell a falshood to Abdallah.

Zamor.
My lord Abdallah! if thou deignst to hear me,
I tell my story, mournful as it is.
Thou know'st Alonzo?

Abd.
Yes, and what of him?

Zamor.
Thou know'st full well his noble countenance,
His fortitude in danger, and his spirit
Undaunted in the presence of thy power?

Abd.
And what of that? Zamor, has he escap'd?

Zamor.
No—worse than that, would Alla that he had!
Oh, had he left his prison, he had rescued
A thousand sorrows from Abdallah's bosom.

Abd.
Zamor, what now awaits me, is there treason
Lurking within these walls?

Zamor.
No—worse than that,
A dart shall pierce thy heart more cruel far
Than treason.

Abd.
What is't, Zamor? tell this instant?

Zamor.
Alzira—

Abd.
What! Alonzo? tell me, Zamor.

Zamor.
Alzira, she, on whom thou'st fondly doated,
Who, thou hast hop'd, would be the staff and stay
Of thy declining years, yes, dear Alzira
Is lost.

Abd.
It cannot be; Oh! blessed Mahomet,
Have mercy on Abdallah.

Zamor.
Yes, she's lost,
And ruin'd by the beauty of Alonzo.

Abd.
Heavens! what is this? Oh mercy, mercy on me!
Tell me, my Zamor! tell me all the truth,
Reveal the foulest mysteries to my view.

Zamor.
Alzira, captivated by the noble
And manly features of the young Alonzo,
Lov'd him, she lov'd him with the warmest passion.

Abd.
What! love an infidel, Oh misery!

Zamor.
She lov'd him and she pined; the weary pilgrim,
Fainting and thirsting on Arabia's sands,
Longs not more deeply for the cooling fountain,
Than she for young Alonzo.

Abd.
Oh, my heart!
It breaks! it breaks with agony!

Zamor.
She pin'd,
And rous'd at length to furious desperation,
Corrupted all the keepers of the prison,
And sought her dear Alonzo in his dungeon;
There, read this letter, 'twill reveal the truth.

Abd.
Oh, fury! rage! distraction! what, my child
Become a Spaniard's mistress! heaven, have mercy,
Have mercy on my soul! Oh, poor Alzira!
Corrupted, vile Alzira! I did love thee
With all a parent's fondness; yes, I doated
With all the tenderness, that e'er a lover
Felt for his mistress, on thy op'ning beauty;
I hop'd to see thee worthy of a crown,
The noble daughter of the great Abdallah;
But, heavens! thou now hast sunk to infamy,
To infamy degrading; thou shalt die
And wash away thy infamy with blood.

Zamor.
Stop! stop! Abdallah! hold thee from thy purpose.
Perhaps Alzira still is innocent,
Perhaps she only sought her dear Alonzo
To breathe her sighs and tell her passion to him?

Abd.
Zamor, insult me not! I swear by heaven,
She shall not live! I'll not survive this shame,
If poor Alzira lives.

Zamor.
Oh, blessed Mahomet!
Console the feelings of my lord Abdallah!
I tell thee, sire, Alzira may be innocent
And spotless yet; Oh, wilt thou bid her die,
Because she lov'd Alonzo!

Abd.
She shall die!
This instant she shall die!

Zamor.
Hear me, Abdallah!
Hear me for mercy's sake! Oh spare Alzira,
Spare her! thou knowst not yet, that she is guilty.

Abd.
Guilty! she's guilty as the fiends in hell.
She dies this instant.

Zamor.
Hear me but one moment!
Remember, sire, this is the first transgression;
Remember, she has ever been a kind
And duteous daughter.

Abd.
Oh! the incarnate devil.
I've seen the fiend smile in her lovely face,
But I will stab her spite of all her charms.

Zamor.
Remember she's thy daughter, and Alonzo—

Abd.
She dies! what, she Alonzo's mistress? help me,
Oh justice! aid me in this hour of conflict,
With desperation steel me to the task,
And firmly close each avenue to mercy.

Zamor.
Abdallah! I beseech thee, now have mercy,
And spare her even if justice bid her die.

Abd.
Justice is sovereign, mercy must submit.
[Abdallah exit.

Zamor.
Oh blessed Mahomet! would there could be mercy.
Mercy on whom? I hope not on Alzira.
Oh what a happy circumstance is this!
I now will feed my hatred with revenge.
Alzira dead, she who could dare despise me!
Oh this is pleasure, I am now reveng'd.
Oh I can now exult! one foe is dead,
And soon I'll fire Abdallah's spirit on
To plunge the dagger in Alonzo's bosom,
And then 'tis easy for me to destroy
The hateful tyrant. Oh my plans succeed
To my best wishes, then exult and triumph.
[laughs.
Zamor, didst thou not hear a demon laugh?
Demons shall laugh and riot in thy ruin.
Did conscience sting me? oh I'll blunt her sting
And dull her arrows, that they cannot hurt me;
In spite of all her loudest, strongest cries,
I'll burst each band of virtue, nor desist,
Till all my foes are humbled in the dust.

[Enter Abdallah.
Abd.
Zamor, tis over now, the deed is done;
Zamor, the cruel, bloody deed is done;
Yes, I have shown me worthy of the prophet.
But it was hard, it cost me many a pang;
She look'd so sweet and lovely, yes, she smil'd
And welcom'd me with all the kind affection,
That children, in the innocence of youth,
Life's tender season, for their parents feel.
I almost melted, justice drove me on
And gave unusual sternness to my brow.
She wept to see me look so melancholy,
With voice of softest tenderness she said,
“My father, what can ail thee? is there aught
That troubles thee? oh let me soothe thy sorrows.”
She look'd so gentle, so affectionate,
I felt forgiveness rising in my heart;
But justice call'd and bade me do the deed:
I seiz'd her; trembling she exclaim'd, “my father,
What is the meaning of all this distraction?”
I clos'd my eyes and drove the dagger home.
She groan'd and feebly said, “my dearest parent,”
And died. I cast a look upon her corpse,
A smile of peace was trembling on her lips,
Her eye was soft and mild, it look'd forgiveness.
She seem'd an angel rob'd in innocence,
She seem'd a cherub sleeping. Is she guilty?
Oh no!

Zamor.
Abdallah! act not like a child;
Come, let us hasten to the field of battle,
Duty demands, the foe is near the walls.

SCENE III.

—A Room in the Palace.
Fatima and Zobeide.
Fat.
Alzira, oh Alzira! art thou gone
And vanish'd from me quite? ah! thou hast left me,
A poor distracted female, friendless, hopeless,
Without a single prop on which to rest me.
And art thou murder'd? What unholy arm
Could lift itself against thy precious life?
Ah who could be so lost to every virtue,
To rifle such perfection? canst thou tell me
The wretch, who dar'd this deed?

Zob.
My noble mistress!
The tale is so distressing to my heart,
I would that thou would'st spare me the recital.

Fat.
No, tell me, I'm prepar'd for every truth,
Tell me, although it rend my very heart strings,
Tell me, although it be the work of fiends.

Zob.
'Twas late I went see my noble princess
At the accustom'd hour, but as I came,
I saw one hurrying madly from her chamber
Arm'd with a bloody dagger; then my heart
Had almost fail'd me, scarcely could I enter
The scene of death, I found the princess bleeding
And dying, oh it was a sight of woe,
Would melt the hardest heart to tears of pity.

Fat.
Tell me, I pray thee, who the murderer was?

Zob.
My tongue refuses.

Fat.
Tell me, I beseech thee!
Oh let my soul be rack'd with doubt no more.

Zob.
Oh spare me, dearest mistress, canst thou pity
A helpless servant?

Fat.
Nay, but tell me now,
Give me at least one hint, altho' the slightest.

Zob.
The King.

Fat.
'Tis so; Abdallah then has murder'd
His dear and only daughter; leave me now,
And let my heart give vent to all its anguish.
[Zob. exit.
And is this now thy fate? ah, I foresaw it,
I saw destruction hanging o'er thy head;
But how could I avert it, how could I,
Weak, helpless woman, ward away that blow;
Oh had I pow'r, my dearest, only friend!
Thou long had'st liv'd, the fairest flow'r that blew
In this dark world; oh I would die to save thee,
And had I known the purpose of thy father,
My corpse had welter'd by the side of thine.
Yes, I would die with thee, and shall I live,
When every female friend of mine is gone?
What charm is there, that binds me to this world?
Almanzor—yes, indeed Almanzor lives,
And I will live for him. What sounds are those,
That yonder breathe so faint and melancholy?
Ah, tis the dirge of angels o'er thy corse.

[Enter Almanzor.]
Alm.
My dearest love! thou seest me arm'd and ready
To meet the bold invaders of my country.
But what, in tears! is this the only welcome
Thou giv'st thy gallant knight? but hearts like thine,
So soft and tender, easily are melted
By the least thought of danger to their lovers.

Fat.
Almanzor, oh my dear, my only friend,
The only charm that binds me to this world,
Without thee death would be my greatest comfort.

Alm.
Why frighten'd so, my angel? tremble not,
Almanzor shall not forfeit thy affection
On this eventful day.

Fat.
I fear not that,
I know thy dauntless courage.

Alm.
Should I die,
In death I'd show me worthy of thy love.

Fat.
I doubt not that, but oh my strength is gone;
Can I reveal this dreadful secret to thee?

Alm.
What?

Fat.
Art thou ready for a cruel blow,
So cruel, it will make all other sorrows
Seem but the trifling sports of misery?

Alm.
What can it be?

Fat.
Ah there it is, Almanzor;
See it thyself, but no, 'twill kill my love.

Alm.
Oh gracious heav'n! what, is this vision real,
Or but a phantasy, that racks my brain?
Alzira! oh my sister, art thou gone?
Oh hast thou parted from me in such haste,
As not to let me kiss thy dying cheek?
But is there blood? oh gracious heav'n! she's murder'd;
And shall the murderer live? no, not one hour.
Where is the wretch, the base, the cruel wretch,
Where can I find the savage?

Fat.
Oh Almanzor,
Stay, stay thy passion and recall thy words;
Pity the wretched murderer, I beseech thee.
He needs thy pity more than thy revenge.

Alm.
Who is the wretch?

Fat.
Alas! he is thy father.

Alm.
My father! no; 'tis false, unkind Fatima!
His heart could ne'er contain a fiend, whom hell
Would ev'n disdain to hold.

Fat.
But it is true;
Tis true, thy father murder'd his Alzira.

Alm.
Can I believe it? would that I were there,
Would I could sleep the sleep of death be her.
My father! no! it is not so, Fatima,
He never, never could be so abandon'd
And lost to every feeling.

Fat.
But 'tis true.
Religious bigotry, that hateful monster,
Has driv'n him on to such a stretch of guilt:
But leave him, I beseech thee, to remorse
And the just punishment of righteous heav'n.

Alm.
What shall I do? my brain is all on fire.
Where shall I go? I'll hasten to the battle,
And in the fury of the conflict, cool
The flames that burn me; here, my dearest love,
Take the last kiss of such a wretch as I.

Fat.
But leave me not with such a wild farewell!

Alm.
I go, I go to death. I hear the knell
Ring in my ears, that calls me to my grave.
But, oh my love, grant me but this request,
Lay me beside my dear and only sister,
And let one cypress shade our mutual tomb.

Fat.
He's gone, and with him all my hopes are fled,
My dearest friend, my lover is distracted,
And so am I, my tortur'd brain whirls round,
And nought but death can cool its burning fever.