University of Virginia Library

2. PART II.

Scene—A grove in the rear of the Patriot camp, before the Rancho del Venadito.
MINA
—solus.
Since waking thought doth mar my quiet sleep
With dreams of horror and strange visionry
Of coming ill, 't is fitting that I watch
And meditate in silence on the ways
Of changeful destiny. There is a gloom
Unwonted on my heart; my nature's spirit,
Erst active, vigilant and unsubdued
By danger in most dread extremity,
Doth listen now to fancy's whisperings
And the half-uttered oracles of dreams.
Dim visionary shapes around me flit
Like shadows of futurity, and seem
To hold dominion o'er my cowering soul,
As 't were their right to tyrannize. Unused
Am I to all fantastic visitings
Of wild imagination, working on
The temporary ills of human life
And turning petty woes to agonies.
I will disrobe my spirit of the spell
Of fancy's wizardry by converse high
With things aërial, and so forget
These dark presentiments and auguries
Of gathering sorrows.—On this lovely grove
How softly gleams the waning moon! the leaves
Dance in the autumnal night-breeze pure and fresh,
And gleam in dewy radiance as they turn
Their silken texture to the glimmering light,
And breathe such music as the spirits of air
And water love to drink; and stillness sleeps
Upon the verdured earth and azure heaven,
Like holy thoughts of heavenly love within
The cloistered vestal's bosom.—But, alas!
Man's warring passions blot the fairest scenes
Of heaven's creation; and his curst ambition
Corrupts and desecrates all human rights
And natural prerogatives, till the slave
Robes him in panoply of dire revenge,
And rushes forth to deeds of wo and death.
And thus doth grief turn every lovely sight
And sound in heaven and earth to its own mood,
Desponding, dark and desolate. The world
Wears just the hue the spirit's robed withal,
And is not gay or gloomy in itself.
His heart is man's world, and as that is full
Of joy or sorrow, so doth nature seem
Or dark or beautiful. Ah, me! how sad,
Whene'er the warrior sinks into the man,
Appears this penal planet, where hopes, fears,
And loves and agonies forever war!
How little know the multitude that hail
The conquering chieftain in the pride and pomp
And power of victory, and send his name
In shouts triumphant o'er the echoing skies—
What sorrows in his bosom's inmost core
Dwell—silently corroding life away!
The most exalted deeds that ever blazed
Amid the trophies of immortal fame,
Have sprung from woes that sought relief and found
Alleviation in the loud uproar
And rage and slaughter of embattled armies.
Oft from the dun obscurity of life
Driven by hopeless passions, men have gone
Forth to the spirit-stirring field of blood,
And raised proud monuments, on which their names
Live 'mid the eternal blazonry of fame,
From individual sorrow, when the world
Weened all their greatness sprung from purest thoughts,
Or patriotic or aspiring. Deep
Within the human breast unseen, the seeds
Of actions lie; the first growth of our thoughts
And feelings none can trace—beneath the veil
Of motives undefinable they spring
And flourish into being unbeheld;
'Tis only when they shoot up full and strong
That their existence is perceptible;
And then as they bear fruitage, good or bad,
Beholders cultivate or check their growth.
Discharging duty, I have blessed myself,
And, while absorbed in general misery,
Forgot my own. Rosalia's love hath been
The exciting cause of my most famous feats
In this exterminating war, though power
Tyrannic forced me to the battle's shock.
But now, amid this moonlight grove, my love!
I'll think of thee in silence!

Enter Rosario, suddenly.
ROSA.
O, my lord!

MINA.
How now, my little page! why thus abroad,
Searching me out amid this lonely wood,
Not rather using the dear privilege
Of undisturbed repose, so seldom granted
To any of our troop?

ROSA.
I could not sleep!
My soul was harrowed up by fearful dreams
And visions of such dread import, I rose
And fled to shield me from their influence
To thy forsaken room; but thou wert gone,
My lord, and so I wandered forth to seek thee.

MINA.
Well, my sweet boy! sit down upon this knoll,
And tremble not so fearfully—thou wilt
Ne'er fail to find in me a guardian friend,
Ready to shield thee from worse foes than dreams.

ROSA.
O, my dear lord—oh, wilt thou never leave me?
How thy words gladden my affrighted heart!

MINA.
Why this emotion?—dost thou doubt my faith?
Or think thou hast just cause for gratitude
For that protection which each soldier claims
From me by right of service 'neath command?

ROSA.
No—yes—my lord! I thought that thou—indeed
I know not what I thought—but I hoped—

MINA.
What?
Thou seem'st in strange bewilderment; but tell
The dream that shook thy soul with such affright,
And I will be the prophet of thy visions,
And from thy fancy's revellings will draw
Such sage revealments of approaching joy
As shall dilate thy thrilling heart with rapture.

ROSA.
My dream was vision, and I saw two forms,
A youth and maid, reposing in a grove
Of flower-wreathed citrons, bordering a bright
And beautiful lagoon, and they did seem
Each other's heaven, so vividly their eyes
Gleamed in their hearts' light, so rapturous fond
Was every look, so passionate, and yet
Pure was their long communion of delight.
How blissful was their being! paradise
Could never bless faith's fondest votaries
With more ecstatic rapture. They appeared,
As thus they sat within that bowering grove,
Holding the eloquent converse of the heart,
Like two young seraphs who were twins in soul,
Whose every thought was melody. I watched
The lovers long; and, oh, how happy thus
Locked in each other's fond embrace, must be,
I said and sighed, those two congenial spirits!
That vision fled—the grove, the lake—were gone—
The lovers parted. In a distant land
Of sky crowned mountains and of ocean streams,
I saw the youth, in martial garb arrayed,
I' the van of a few high souled soldiers move
Undaunted through the phalanxed ranks of foes
Unsparing in their power, and like a god,
Bear victory upon his morion's plume.
I had not long beheld him glorying so
When by his side I saw the well-loved maid,
In stranger guise and aspect masked, with fond
Devotion following the uncertain track
Of him—the idol of her love—

MINA.
Strange dream,
Rosario—thy vision is most marvellous.
Go on—I hold my heart in deep observance.

ROSA.
The youthful hero through entangling snares
And guileful ambuscades and perils dire
Kept on his path of glory, and by love,
Stronger than death, upheld 'mid scenes of blood,
That agonized her soul, the gentle maid
Went on, the unknown companion of the chief;
Her sole delight to see him—hear him speak
Counsel to rashness—ardour to the weak—
Hope to despondency—to traitors death—
And watch the serpent wiles of coward foes
And blast them yet unformed. O, to be near
Her warrior-love and see his generous heart,
Unhardened by his wrongs, expand with true
Philanthropy e'en to his enemies—
'Twas holier bliss than all his private love!

MINA.
Thou seem'st, enthusiast, in thy wondrous dream,
To have beheld the secret springs of thought
And loneliest founts of feeling, well as deeds
That silently in wild meanders flow.

ROSA.
Ay, my good lord—thou dost surmise aright,
Such was my vision—but I'll tell thee all.
The youth and maid again each other knew,
And loved as in the springtime of their hearts,
Though changing years had passed; but as I watched
Fondly once more their mutual loves, I saw
A serpent wreathe his intertwisted folds
Around them as they sat, and strain his coil
Envenomed to its utmost dreadful power;
I heard their shrieks—their dying sobs—I heard
The sundering of their crushed and broken frames!
—My spirit fainted in its agony,
And, struggling in my terror, I awoke
And flew to thee, my own dear lord, for help.

MINA.
A story of romance clothed in a dream!
Methinks, howe'er, thy maid was passing bold
Thus to adventure in the ranks of war.

ROSA.
How could I stay in peace—enjoying all
The sweet delights of life save love, when thou
Wert borne upon the hurricane of war,
With none but mercenary hands to serve
Thy wants or soothe thy sufferings! How—

MINA.
Hark!
Rosario, heard'st thou that appalling shout?

ROSA.
I heard a hollow sound, my lord, as 't were
Voices commingled with the tramp of steeds;
Perchance, 't was but the gaunt wolf's midnight cry
Or wandering tread of trooping chargers—

MINA.
Hark!
Again! 't is some nocturnal fray—'t is base
Orrantia ambuscading round our camp—
The royal robber—the vindictive fiend
Who riots in the brave man's agonies.
We are betrayed by Torres—he did swear
Revenge when I denied his right to sack
And burn an unoffending pueblo—ah!
He hath not yet forgotten our duello
In earlier days, regarding Garza's child,
The beautiful Rosalia. Let him come
Within the compass of my Toledo,
And he and treachery will part for ever.
Away, Rosario! loose thy hold—I'll go
And smite the midnight bandit to the dust.
Dost hear me, boy? begone!—there—hark, again!
By heaven! thou well maintain'st thy hold—but thus
I free me! Now—

ROSA.
O Xavier, Xavier, stay!
Rosalia bids thee stay!

MINA.
Rosalia!

ROSA.
Yes!
Have this wan brow—these pale and hollow cheeks
No traces left of her thou once did'st love,
And oft hast named this melancholy night?
Hath my voice lost by use of foreign tones
Its well-known notes? O Xavier, look not thus
Wildly in doubt upon thine own—own love!
Say—dost thou know me now?

MINA.
O my sweet love!
Let my heart speak in throbs of eloquence
The holiest affection of my soul,
Since words are vain to give my feelings meaning!

ROSA.
Thou wilt not leave me, Xavier?—no, 't is not
In thy kind nature to forsake me now.
Come, sit upon this velvet-tufted lawn,
And I will tell thee all my wanderings
And chance escapes and wondrous masquerades,
In such a garb of speech as shall light up
Thy face with smiles even if hot briny tears
Were gushing from thy eyes. Come, dear love, come!

MINA.
Not now, Rosalia! Thou art more to me
Than aught, save honour, 'neath yon holy dome!
But slaughter rages—midnight massacre
Shrieks for the avenger. Hark! the deadly clash
Of sabres reeking with hearts' blood; the cries
Of leaguer'd patriots echoing through the sky,
And summoning their chief! I must be gone.
O dearest love—thou fondest, truest, best!
Let me from thy last looks endearing draw
Valour invincible to stem the shock
Of merciless Orrantia—courage such
As only they can feel who war for right
Eternal and unchangeable, linked with love
Whose light irradiates eternity.
Rosalia, be this kiss—and this—and this—
Pledge of my love, my honour and my faith.
Farewell! detain me not—I must be gone—
Farewell! till victory weaves thy bridal wreath.

Exit.
ROSA.
—sola.
Alas!—and why alas? Hath he not gone
To prove his fond devotion to my love
By strict fulfilment of his duty, faith,
And spotless honour? O, I love him more
The less he heeds my womanhood of soul
When glory tears him from my arms! From heaven
Angels look down on nothing that so much
Assimilates material things to pure
Intelligences, as when man surmounts
His selfish nature and in duty's cause
Scorns low indulgence of his own desire.
I would again encounter all the toils
And sufferings and perils I have past
Since last I saw the mountains of Navarre,
To witness such a hero in the best
And holiest cause that ever sanctioned war,
As that dear youth, who spurns the encroaching power
Of private feeling at the warning voice
Of liberty—the life of life—the soul
Of soul to man below. And yet, ah, yet
A dread hangs o'er my heart—an omen dire
Shadows my spirit that I ne'er shall see
The conquering chieftain in his pride again.
—Jesu Maria! what a yell of death!
On the still air of night come screams and shouts
And shrieks of agony and trumpet blasts,
And short, quick orisons and curses fell,
And notes of loud command and rallying cries,
And thunder of dread musquetry, and groans
Dreadful—commingled in one horrid mass
Of rending sound! Amid yon glaring fires
Of death, dark forms are grappling in the mad
Struggle of desperation; there they tug
And strain and stab and wield the clotted brand,
Horseman to horseman in the latest strife
That either foe will wage: and there—oh, there
Upon his coal-black steed, through fire and smoke,
O'er dead and dying, Mina hurtles on
Mid bristling lances, bayonets and brands,
Like the death-angel, while the Vive el Rey,
Where'er he moves, becomes the loud, the wild,
The joyful Viva la Republica!
Ah, he hath vanished from my wondering eye
On his career of victory, but still
His voice in louder tones above the noise
And din of battle like a clarion rings.
I'll look no more—my hero-love will come
Soon from the field of glory and receive
His own loved maid. I see an armed band
Approaching now like victors and their plumes
Wave in the morning twilight as they come
Careering on, like harbingers of good
Tidings to me—O Xavier! they are here.

Enter Don Pedro Negrette and soldiers.
PEDRO.
A delicate warrior, by the mass! no doubt
The sage of sages in the council-hall
Of conquering Mina! Art thou well prepared
To hail the victor from his glorious field
Of slaughter, and to chant triumphal songs
In honour of his name, O prophet-boy?
Guards! seize the rebel youth and onward wend
To Don Francisco's central camp, where soon
The wisdom of the beardless wizard will be shown
And proved—if in his art abides the power
To avert his master's or his own sure fate.

ROSA.
O Virgin Mother! have my fears come true?
Is Mina vanquished? May the eternal ban
Of heaven rest on the traitor Torres!

PEDRO.
Ha!
Thou art a very prophet, but thy curse
Falls harmless on the corse of Padre Torres.

ROSA.
O jubilate! Mina is avenged!
His own tried sabre clove the traitor's brain!

PEDRO.
Prophet again! thou soon wilt know the art
Of ruling traitors—onward to the camp!