University of Virginia Library

SCENE XI.

Night.
On one side, the Apennines, with the entrance of a Cavern half way up; on the other, a thick wood. Enter Valmont.
Valmont.
Oh! what a lost and wretched thing is man!
Who, bold in Hell's worst embassy, will start
At the small rustling of a beetle's wing!
The wind that moans along these cavern'd cliffs
Seems like the murmurs of a thousand tongues
That tell my soul's undoing! The faint stars,
The many-million eyes of prying Heav'n,
Gleam humid, and surcharg'd with nature's tears!
Yet what of that? 'Tis but my mind's disease,
That feeds faint reason with portentous signs,
And makes it sicken at the touch of thought!
What have I not committed that Heav'n loathes?
First, in the ghastly train of hellish crimes,
A noble brother, who in my defence
Slew a proud Milanese, beheld in me
His curs'd accuser; and, to exile driv'n,
Left me the lord of all his vast domains.
Next, a chaste wife I banish'd from her home;
My fickle sense was sated with her charms,
And meaner beauties triumph'd in their turn!
Where shall my fev'rish conscience find repose?
All the long sunny day, when Summer smiles,
And leads old Time in flow'ry garlands on,
A living spectre, hopeless and forlorn,
I journey forth to an oblivious grave?
Nor at that fearful goal will the dread strife
Feel blissful termination; for beyond
The rending pangs that warn the trembling soul
From its clay habitation, reason tells
Of something terrible! and yet so sure,
That nature starts to think on't! Hark! what stirs? [Alferenzi appears in the wood, and the day begins to dawn.

Is it the potent fever of my brain
That takes my coward fancy prisoner,
Or do I hear the sound of mortal tread? [After listening and looking round.

'Twas but the waving of the sun-parch'd boughs,
Whose tawny canopy o'erspreads the wood.

[Valmont advances towards the cavern. Alferenzi rushes forward.
Valmont.
Horrible spectre! wherefore dost thou haunt me?
Why from the shrouded pallet of the grave
Present the form of murder'd Alferenzi?
In pity hence; for know, that spirits pure
Can hold no converse with a damned wretch,
In whose convulsive soul all hell is raging!
Away! away!

Alferenzi.
Valmont! thy hour draws near!
I know thee, and will try what guardian fiend
Will blunt my sword, uplifted to destroy thee!
What wraps thee so in horrible conceit?

Valmont.
Thick mystery! that dims the mental eye,
And makes us, scarce believe us that we are,
Seeing, what cannot be! 'Tis all illusion.

Alferenzi.
Strike at my heart, inexorable parent!
Or guard thy own, for one of us must fall.

[Drawing his sword.
Valmont.
If Alferenzi lives, then all is well!

Alferenzi.
All is not well, prevaricating slave!
Draw, draw thy sword; let Heav'n decide between us

Valmont
(drawing his sword.)
Then be it so! Though thou hast once escap'd,
Thou'rt not invulnerable: now, come on;
I'll teach thy tongue to quell its lofty phrase,
Or perish in the combat.

[They fight; Honoria rushes forth from the cavern, and stands before the entrance.
Honoria.
Oh! spare him! spare him! [Alferenzi drops his sword.

Barbarian, do not kill an aged man!
Or stay thy sword, and let me perish with him!

(Honoria descends; Alferenzi recedes.)
Alferenzi.
Thou sainted spirit! shade of my Honoria!
That, like an angel, com'st to turn my sword,
And save my soul, thirsting for blood of man,
Do not approach me! ev'ry trembling nerve
Obeys thy potent eye, and the cold drops
That bathe my brain will quench the ray of reason.

Honoria
(Valmont leans against a tree.)
He lives! he lives! It is my Alferenzi!
Light of my life! dearer than life itself! [Embracing.

Oh! do these eyes behold thee once more breathing?
My father, here, before the face of Heav'n,
Kneel, and adore the minister of pity,
Who, bending from its sphere, restores him to us!
(Valmont appears pale and faint. Honoria supports him.)
Speak! art thou hurt? Hah! from thy mangled breast
The life-stream gushes! Ye relentless pow'rs!
Turn not the measure of my joy to woe! [Valmont falls; Honoria kneels.

Let me support thee: look upon thy child:
Oh! speak, for I must hear thy voice once more,
To say, that thou forgiv'st me: Save him, Heav'n!

Valmont.
Sweet image of a chaste and injur'd saint!
A dying father's blessing shall be thine.

Honoria.
Thou shalt not die; I cannot live to see
Those darling eyes closed in the sleep of death!

Valmont.
Brave Alferenzi! I believ'd thee murder'd;
In the dark-tangled wood that skirts our castle,
I saw thee fall, thrice wounded by my sword.

Alferenzi.
Thy victim was duke Albert! Hapless Valmont,
Heav'n's sure to hear when murder cries for justice!

Honoria.
Oh! mis'ry supreme! oh! my lost father!

Valmont.
If yet the noble Leonardo lives,
Seek out his lone asylum, and restore
The just possession of his rich domains;
Tell him, that Heav'n at last aveng'd his wrongs,
And humbled his proud brother to the dust!
Now let me press thee to my streaming heart; [To Honoria.

Alas! my parting sigh will soon extinguish
The feeble lamp of life, and my last pang
Pay the dread forfeit which my crimes demand!

[Dies.
Honoria
(to Alferenzi.)
Now, is thy rage appeas'd? If thy fell soul
Still pants for Valmont's blood, strike here! this heart,
This bursting heart, will scorn to sue for pity.

Alferenzi.
Do not distract me with thy fierce reproaches;
A dread coincidence of time and act
Drew me from Reason's empire to Despair!
'Dire and disastrous as the deed may seem,
Twas to avenge thy wrongs that I am guilty;
For I believ'd that Valmont—thy assassin!
Let me entreat thee to be patient, love.

Honoria.
Hence with thy feign'd contrition! my weak brain
Burns with the frenzy thou hast heap'd upon it.

Alferenzi.
This sight will make thee mad! Quit, quit the scene,
Nor feed the gnawing anguish of thy soul.
Soon will I bear thee to my native shores,
Where, 'midst the fond endearments of new friends,
Of noble kindred, and resplendent joys,
The mem'ry of past grief shall fade away.

Honoria.
(rising.)
Oh! 'twill not be! This is my destin'd home!
I'd rather wander like a pilgrim poor!
Toil, like a slave who in the torrid blaze
Curses the sun that mark'd him for despair,
Than journey thither: here will I remain.
Oh! the vast sum of my disastrous life
Seems like an atom to this world of woe! [Honoria returns to the body.

Yet let me kiss that cheek, pale and distorted
Stern was thy aspect, yet my soul would give
Half its dear hopes of an immortal crown
To see those eyes but once more gaze upon me
But they are dark, clos'd in the sleep of death

Alferenzi.
Let me conceal thee in some spot secure,
While to the earth I give this breathless corse.
I do not covet life, depriv'd of thee,
And wilt thou doom me to the tort'ring rack?
Canst thou behold this throbbing, loyal heart,
Mangled and bleeding as a public show?
Wilt thou not shudder when the rabble's shout
Shall drown the agonizing groan of death?

Honoria.
Oh! do not torture me; alas! my soul
Already shrinks beneath its weight of grief,
Wherefore deny a murder'd father's dust
The holy incense of a filial tear?
No other rite will consecrate his grave!

Alferenzi.
Delay brings danger; see, the purple dawn
Is gayly tissu'd o'er with beamy gold!
The merry birds begin their matin songs,
And new-born glory animates the scene!
Let me conceal thee in yon cavern'd cliff.

Honoria.
Ha! now I do bethink me, wretched man!
This is no place for parley! Yon dark cave
Is the dread haunt of robbers: get thee hence;
Danger and death await thee! Oh! begone.

Alferenzi.
What! leave thee to the mercy of banditti?
Forsake thee, helpless, faint, forlorn and sad,
To be the victim of wild rioters!
The sport of ruffians—lawless, cut-throat knaves!
Beside yon mountain a poor clay-built shed
I slightly noted as I pass'd along;
Fly, fly thee thither; I will follow soon.

Honoria.
Oh! dread alternative! oh! cruel task!
Betake thyself to flight, ill-fated man!
For we must meet no more! One little word,
One parting sigh, still struggles at my heart!
Ha! look not so upon me! Is it thus
Our intercourse must end? our radiant morn
Of love, and hope, and youth, and tender joy,
Shadow'd by sorrow, and convuls'd with storms!—
Go to thy splendid home, thy friends await thee;
Death is preparing in the silent tomb
A lonely bed, where I shall sleep at peace.

[Exit.
Alferenzi.
Now in yon cave will I conceal this corse;
And then, O God! teach me to hide myself
From my own knowledge! Busy, busy thought,
Away, and let oblivion be thy grave!

[He advances towards the body; the scene closes.