Dramas Translations, and Occasional Poems. By Barbarina Lady Dacre.[i.e. Barbarina Brand] In Two Volumes |
 | I. |
| GONZALVO OF CORDOVA,
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| II. |
 | Dramas |  |
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GONZALVO OF CORDOVA,
A ROMANCE DRAMATIZED.
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[_]
This first attempt at dramatic composition was made in the year 1810, without any previous study or reflection. The subject was taken by mere accident; yet on revising the piece after so many years, I am struck with the situation of the hero as one capable of great interest in more able hands. I am aware how little the Gonzalvo of the drama is the “great captain” of history, but I must plead in my excuse, that I took him from Mons. de Florian's novel.
I beg the indulgence of my friends for the weakness which induces me to retain a sort of dedication, in the form of a sonnet, to my late aunt, Mrs. Ogle. Many of those whom I address remember her piety, her goodness, her touching animation, and even youthful cheerfulness in extreme old age, under great infirmity, and after thirty years of total blindness: these will not wonder that the recollection of her having shed tears over this poem should give it a value in my eyes of which I feel unwilling to divest it.
The Hoo, April 25, 1821.5
TO MY AUNT,
WITH A COPY OF GONZALVO OF CORDOVA.
Although Time's heavy hand thy form may bow,And leaving Earth's low cares, be fix'd on high
Thy graver thought, youth's every energy
Forgets not in thy boundless heart to glow:
Those orbs that Heaven's gay light no longer know,
Nor meet with kindred beam affection's eye,
(Long, long denied each grateful ministry),
Still own the tear that flows for others' woe;
Nor flows o'er sad reality alone:
Ev'n for the fabled ill the Muse portrays
The sacred drop upon thy cheek has shone.
Be thine the lay so graced, and so endeared!
Thou, as the sainted author of my days,
Alike from earliest years beloved, revered!
Hampton Court Palace, January 27th,
1812.
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GONZALVO OF CORDOBA.
- Ferdinand, king of Aragon.
- Gonzalvo of Cordova, prince of Venusa.
- Lara, his friend.
- Pedro, his servant.
- Garcia, Alvarez, and other Spanish nobles.
- Isabella, queen of Castile, married to Ferdinand.
- Ladies of her train, &c.
PERSONS OF THE DRAMA. SPANIARDS.
- Muley Hassan, late king of Granada, having abdicated his throne in favour of Abdoulah, his eldest son.
- Almanzor, his youngest son, leader of the Moors.
- Omar, Selim, and other Moors.
- Zelima, daughter of Muley Hassan.
- Moorish damsels of her train.
- Chorus of Moors, Messengers, &c.
MOORS.
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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?
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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.
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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
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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!
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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.
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(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,
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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.
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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.
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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,
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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.
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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,
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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.
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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.
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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
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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,
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'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.
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(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.
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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,
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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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ACT II.
SCENE I.
Royal Tent in the Spanish Camp.Enter Ferdinand, Isabella, and Suite.
FERDINAND.
True, Isabel; when I received advices
That thy Gonzalvo had escaped the snares
Of treacherous Seïd, I gave forth to all,
That he, ere many suns should set, would join
The glorious strife as he was wont. Methinks
Thy hero slackens in our cause, or else
Why this delay?
ISABELLA.
We know not yet how many
Disastrous chances may beset his way.
Thou dost not love the flower of my heroes,
For that he still has borne the palm away
From those of Aragon. Yet, Ferdinand,
Since he who conquer'd Cordova no longer
Flames in the van of battle, the proud Moor
Has borne himself right vauntingly; nay, oft
With such true mettle, that our knights of name
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The soldier's ardor.
FERDINAND.
Isabel, thou wrong'st me.
Would he were here, so he might woo again
The truant Victory to smile on us! Enter Lara.
Welcome, brave Lara! Ha! methinks thy mien
Bespeaks some joyful tidings.
LARA.
Yes, my liege,
And gracious queen! These letters, from good Pedro,
Announce Gonzalvo's coming. A faithful Moor
(I know not how won to his service), bore them,
And now conveys his arms, and gallant steed,
To meet th' impatient chief.
ISABELLA.
Oh! doubly welcome,
For all the dangers past! How 'scaped he, Lara?
LARA.
He and his faithful Pedro, clad as Moors,
In a frail fisher's boat put forth by night,
And purposed, when at open sea, to join
The ships that bore his train; but, tempest-tost,
The crazy, unresisting bark was drifted
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They were as Africans received, and shared
The liberal rights of hospitality.
FERDINAND.
The moon has fill'd her horns and waned again
Since he escaped, as our advices stated.
LARA.
A grievous sickness seized him, good my liege:
And Pedro further adds, his lord not yet
Has gain'd his wonted cheer.
FERDINAND.
The Moors are soft,
And they have dark-eyed maids, with wily speech.
Methinks thy friend has loiter'd on his way,
Till, haply, Moorish hospitality
Has won his soul from glory's love; and yet
The infatuated soldier, if he lead,
Will rush, as 'twere, enamour'd ev'n of death,
When met beneath his eye.
LARA.
My liege, what praise
So great as that which from thy lips has fall'n,
Though in contempt? The leader who is loved,
Beneath whose eye 'tis glory but to fight,
And deathless fame to fall, whate'er th' event,
Leads on to what a soldier covets—honour!
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Her very nature; and, as 'twere, spell-bound,
Wait on his charmed sword.
FERDINAND.
Thou pleadest well,
And art an honest, and an eager friend.
Nay, 'twas but our impatience, Isabel,
(To Isabella.
That chid Gonzalvo's stay. When may we hope
To speak a joyous welcome?
LARA.
Ere the close
Of evening I dare swear he will appear,
And by his wonted bearing, put to flight
The half form'd doubts that cloud the royal brow.
Enter Messenger.
MESSENGER.
My liege, our outposts near the city walls
Have mark'd advancing heralds, with the wand
That speaks their office.
FERDINAND.
Ha! What may it be?
We will receive them as befits our state.
Come in, my queen: let all things be prepared.
[Exeunt.
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SCENE II.
The Wood.Gonzalvo leaning against a tree, lost in thought. Zelima enters timidly; he starts, and meets her with rapture.
ZELIMA.
I come, my friend, since thou wilt have it so,
To speak a long, thou say'st a last, farewell;
Yet I had hoped—believed—my father's claims—
For Muley Hassan loves thee—
GONZALVO.
Oh! my princess!
Might I obtain my wildest dream of bliss,
It were no other than to share with thee
Each filial care; but I should violate
The sacred ties of nature and of honour—
Nature's, that binds us to our country; honour's,
That binds us to the cause we have espoused.
ZELIMA.
Mysterious stranger! say, what tie of nature,
Or of capricious honour, can forbid
That you should cheer, when battle gives short respite,
The tedious hours of age? and must I never
Behold thee more? nor know whose valour saved me?
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Alas! methinks I oft have said enough
To lead thy shuddering fancy to portray
The hated thing I am.
ZELIMA.
No, never, youth!
If e'er I sought to know your name, your race,
Your colour alter'd, and some strange distress
Hung on your brow, and changed your wonted cheer:
Deeply your debtor, silent I respected
Your secret sorrow; but my father now
Approves my gratitude, and bids me think
Of you as one—of whom then must I think,
As now my father wills?
GONZALVO.
Yes, thou shalt know
The wretch I am! but say, sweet excellence!
Say, would'st thou spurn him thou hast call'd thy friend,
If, strange to fame, a lowly peasant born,
He were the basest thing that bears a name?
ZELIMA.
I smile, brave stranger, while you talk thus idly.
Can he be base whose actions are so noble,
Rear'd though he were beneath the humblest roof?
GONZALVO.
But if I were perfidious, false; had practised
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By vilest fraud had won her confidence,
Her fair esteem—though mine the world's wide empire,
Wouldst thou not scorn me?
ZELIMA.
No, not such thy deeds!
For if thou glance at hapless Zelima,
Thou never, never hast in aught deceived her.
Was it deceit, from a most cruel death,
Or worse than death, to save her at the price
Of thy own generous blood? To honour her
(A poor, deserted, helpless wanderer),
And guide her to her father and her home?
These deeds are honest: for these deeds I thank thee,
Nor ever will they fade from my remembrance.
GONZALVO.
How shall I e'er deserve this angel goodness?
Yet do I tremble, and my faltering tongue
Refuses still to name the wretch accursed,
Call'd by the Fates to lift his murderous sword
Against thy brother.
ZELIMA
(with horror).
Gods! the dread Gonzalvo!
Granada's ruthless foe!
[After a pause recovering, yet fearfully.
Oh, no; you mock
35
Should I thus tremble? Friend, this is not kind!
'Tis now you practise on th' unguarded heart.
Away, vain terror! no, it is not so!
Is this the look the fierce Gonzalvo wears?
His looks must speak his cruel soul! his deeds
Are all of blood! He is not wont, like thee,
To rescue innocence; to watch, nay, weep
[Observing his emotion.
O'er the unfortunate! Sure some jealous fear,
Or thought injurious to my faith, has led thee
To prove me thus. Away then all disguise!
Know, though thou shouldst blame my frankness, Zelima
Wrongs not, as false ones do, whom once she loves:
And that I love thee, love thee in that sort
That links my fate with thine, whoe'er thou be—
GONZALVO.
Gods! give me power to bear this flood of joy!
Speak the blest words again, and bid me hope,
E'en if I were the wretch thou oft hast named,
Hated Gonzalvo—
ZELIMA.
Name him, name him not!
But oh, I fear me, e'en if thou wert he,
I could not hate thee: no, I fear I could not.
36
Swear it, my love! for I indeed am he!
It is Gonzalvo clasps thee to his bosom.
[She sinks into his arms.
My Zelima! my love! The hated sound
Has check'd the current of her life. Oh look!
In pity look on me! She breathes! she lives!
Enter Almanzor behind.
ALMANZOR
(aside).
Or do I dream, or does Granada's princess
Hang on the bosom of a wandering stranger?
ZELIMA.
From what fair dreams of bliss do I awake!
What horrors compass me on every side!
Oh thou, whom I so long have wish'd to name
Other than “stranger!” thou, to whom my heart
In secret gave each title that endears!
How blest that ignorance I once deplored!
ALMANZOR.
(Coming hastily forward, and separating them roughly).
A brother's arm protects the princess now.
We thank you, sir, nor need your farther service.
[Zelima appears terrified.
GONZALVO.
Fear nothing, princess; I am arm'd with patience,
Nor heed the haughty Moor.
37
“Thou heed'st me not!”
Thou arrogant, nameless thing, that dost presume
To parly with the princess of Granada!
[Drawing.
ZELIMA
(rushing between them).
Almanzor, ere thy sword shall reach the breast
Of my preserver, it shall drench itself
With thy poor sister's blood.
ALMANZOR.
Degenerate maid!
Loose me, I say, and give my vengeance way.
[Breaks from her and attacks Gonzalvo, who, after a short conflict, seizes his arm, and holds it firmly with superior strength.
GONZALVO.
Disdainful Moor! but thou'rt a sacred thing:
Gonzalvo's sword shall never take thy life!
[Releasing him with dignity.
ALMANZOR.
(After they have contemplated each other in silent astonishment).
Is it the hated rival of my glory—
Gonzalvo! who by stealth, in base disguise,
Attempts the sister of his deadly foe?
GONZALVO.
It is Gonzalvo who restores that sister;
38
As good men pay to excellence divine.
It is Gonzalvo, who, for her dear sake,
Forgives the slanders of thy haughty tongue.
ALMANZOR.
Thou, the destroyer of my bleeding country!
Thou, who too long hast choked my way to glory!
Thou, the fell wolf, who in the shepherd's seeming,
Hast stolen into the fold, and by this baseness
Cancell'd the vaunted rescue of my sister,
Think not I will forego my great revenge!
Think not, for that, unmann'd by female cries,
Thou took'st me at some disadvantage now,
Thou shalt escape the fury of my arm.
GONZALVO.
Resentful as thou art, thou shalt not move me.
Prince, I adjure thee by the tender love
Thou needst must bear thy sister, I adjure thee
By the white hairs of thy age-stricken father,
And by thy people's weal, recall thy challenge.
ALMANZOR.
Never, Castilian! To the Spanish camp
E'en now my herald bears the strong defiance:
Defiance to the death!
ZELIMA
(clasping his knees).
Almanzor, hear me!
39
Till thou unknit thy gather'd brow. Oh, hear me!
By all the joys of our first childish days;
By all that memory hoards of tender—sacred—
Oh, hear me!—hear me—
ALMANZOR.
For a Spaniard plead,
Whose guile has won thy softness from the path
Of duty and of honour? Nay, forbear.
[Breaks from her, and aside.
Each string that readiest in man's bosom vibrates,
Jarr'd thus to agony! In glory's field
Shoved from my place, and jostled by this boaster!
Deliberately thus insulted now,
Nay, almost pitied by the proud Castilian!
[She attempts again to soothe him, and he puts her away.
Away! begone! Here break we off. Look, sir;
You meet me in the deadly strife to-morrow.
[Exit.
ZELIMA.
Oh stay, my brother, stay, nor part in anger.
He's gone, he's gone!—nor ever from his lips
Did aught of harshness reach my ear till now.
Wretch that I am!
GONZALVO.
Hear me, my Zelima!
40
Ere the slow herald reach my sov'reign's tents,
I'll by a shorter course, with all love's speed,
And ere his fatal purpose he declare,
To gracious Isabel will speak of peace:
My queen has often listen'd to my counsel.
ZELIMA
(with a melancholy smile).
Thou wilt but woo the fowler to forego
The quarry, while thou placest on his wrist
Th' unerring falcon.
GONZALVO
(cheerfully).
Nay, but if the bird
Refuse to mount?
ZELIMA.
Alas! alas! what reasons
Can sway the Spaniard from his cruel purpose?
GONZALVO.
Wrested by love, each circumstance shall prove
An argument to win the soul from war.
The losses late sustain'd by the besiegers,
The hydra valour of the patriot
Who fights for home, and all that makes home dear.
ZELIMA.
Fly, fly, Gonzalvo! kneel, implore, and paint
In angel characters the charms of peace.
Who shall resist thee if thou plead with all
41
[Pedro appears among the trees with Gonzalvo's armour.
GONZALVO.
Pedro, approach.
PEDRO.
My lord, behold the arms
Your father gave you when he sent you forth
The flower of Castilian knights. Away!
Castile and Aragon demand their champion.
GONZALVO.
Farewell, my love! I pray thee droop not thus:
Ere thou retire within thy father's palace,
I will with tidings of success return.
PEDRO.
My lord, if you delay—
GONZALVO.
If I delay!
My soul is on the rack with strong impatience.
My shield! my corslet!
[He throws off his turban and takes his armour; Zelima shrinks back terrified.
Dost thou shudder, love,
At this my hostile seeming? Many times
In form horrific, choicest good appears.
The deep-toned thunder, and the threat'ning cloud,
42
Are harbingers of peace.
ZELIMA.
May they prove so!
The God of mercy speed thee! Farewell, prince!
Farewell! and oh, remember that thou bearest
Within thy breast my life with thine entwined!
[Exeunt severally.
43
ACT III.
SCENE I.
The Spanish Camp. Royal Tents.Ferdinand and Isabella in full Council. Garcia, Alvarez, Spanish Nobles, &c.
FERDINAND.
Princes and nobles, join'd in holy league
Against the infidels, we have convened you,
For that we have accepted the defiance
Of proud Almanzor, in Gonzalvo's name,
Who, as ye know, from Africa returns.
Each moment we expect to welcome him.
ISABELLA.
And hark, my friends, the joyous sounds that ring,
In gratulation wild, through all the air!
He comes! 'tis he! the champion of Castile!
Flourish of trumpets. Gonzalvo, attended by Lara, with great demonstrations of joy. He advances, and kneels at Isabella's feet.
GONZALVO.
Receive, my queen, the long expected treaty,
44
The forces destined to Granada's aid.
ISABELLA.
Welcome, Gonzalvo, welcome to our presence!
Prince, we know all thou hast endured for us
And our great cause. The thanks of Ferdinand
And Isabel keep pace with thy deserts.
FERDINAND.
Prince, we have miss'd you in th' embattled field.
Capricious victory but plays the wanton,
Half granting, half withdrawing, the fair guerdon
Of our hard service, since her favour'd chief
No longer seeks her grace.
(Aside to Lara).
Haste, valiant Lara,
Spread wide the joyful tidings through the camp,
And rouse each spirit to the work of death,
That must to-morrow make Granada ours.
[Exit Lara.
ISABELLA.
The god who leads the armies of Castile
Brings thee, brave prince, in an auspicious hour;
Yes, brings thee, by a single feat in arms,
To stamp eternal glory on thy name:
The Moorish Chief, Almanzor, gives his life
To thy unerring blade. Granada falls
When proud Almanzor dies!
45
How may that be?
The armed Moors defend their native land,
Their heritage, their homes, their wives, their children.
In such a cause a people rests not, Queen,
Its every hope upon a single arm:
Almanzor fallen, each Moor that has a heart
Will an Almanzor rise to meet his foe.
ISABELLA.
It was not so they met thy sword, my friend.
Mark me!—Almanzor slain, ere shrouding night
Close on their consternation, we invest
Granada on all sides. Abdoulah, sunk
In luxury's soft lap, nor danger's voice,
Nor glory's will awake. Without a chief,
The infidels dispersed, an easy prey,
Fall to our swords. The impious city rased,
Fair peace shall smile o'er all this happy land!
GONZALVO
(with enthusiasm).
Oh why, my queen! oh why may not fair peace
Smile on this land ere it be drench'd in blood?
Does peace delight in mangled carcasses,
In dying groans, and agonizing shrieks?
You will give peace to those who now would kiss
The royal hand that dealt the precious boon,
But who will then lie stretch'd upon the plain,
46
To deal its bounteous gifts!
FERDINAND
(sarcastically).
Venusa's prince
Returns from Afric other than he went.
GONZALVO.
Oh, yes, my sovereigns: Since I parted hence,
I have beheld misfortune face to face,
Have mark'd the ills of desolating war
In all the sad details kings never see.
The sun that rises on the peasant's toil
In happy lands not visited by war,
And gilds their waving harvests with his beams,
With barren splendour glares on desert fields
Depopulated by the sword. The gale
Sweeps sullen o'er them, loaded with the cries
Of frantic widows and of orphan babes,
That else had borne upon its gladsome wing
The careless carol of the husbandman,
Tilling in peace and liberty his field.
FERDINAND.
Is it Gonzalvo? He of Cordova?
He on whose sword attended victory,
Binding each day his brow with fresher laurels?
He who was wont to lead Spain's gallant knights
Gaily to battle as 'twere to a feast?
47
True, king, I led them on as to a feast—
A feast of blood! Such laurels may beseem
O'erbuoyant youth, maddening in glory's field!
Reckless that every leaf of such a wreath
Is, for the pearly dew-drop heaven had hung,
Gemm'd with a drop of blood!
[A general expression of discontent in the assembly.
GARCIA.
A shepherd swain,
But not a soldier and a Spaniard, speaks.
FERDINAND.
Gonzalvo, sure, has sigh'd away his hours
In Seïd's haram, where some soft sultana
Has held this silken language.
GARCIA.
Can it be
The fame obtain'd of late by brave Almanzor—
GONZALVO
(laying his hand on his sword).
If any here believe my arm unbraced,
Him do I challenge—let him feel its force.
ISABELLA
(haughtily).
Prince of Venusa! you forget yourself.
This language in our presence?
GONZALVO.
Pardon, queen!
48
(graciously).
'Tis past. We know your valour, and the more
Stand in astonishment at this your speech.
GONZALVO.
And can thy gracious nature, Isabel,
Marvel that one who has so late received
From Moors each right of hospitality,
Should lay aside the rancorous despite
Of an ungenerous foe? Granada's realm
For centuries has been the native land
Of its possessors. They who were usurpers
Have long been dust—Oh! then let vengeance sleep.
When Moorish fathers, husbands, brothers, sons,
Fall by our swords, as many bosoms ache
As among us when they fall whom we love.
Have we not wasted the best blood of Spain
Before these walls, firm rooted in the fealty
Each thing that lives bears to its native place?
Then spare alike the Spaniards and the Moors;
'Tis now th' auspicious moment when blest peace—
FERDINAND
(interrupting him).
Forbear, Gonzalvo! lest thy recreant tongue
Infect the warlike spirit of these chiefs.
After a contest of so long a date,
When Europe's eye and Africa's are fix'd
Upon the issue of this glorious strife,
49
Shall we, brave knights, with sickly thoughts like these,
And dainty hands that cannot dip in blood,
Disdain to grasp her?—But if so it be
Gonzalvo choose the rural joys he paints,
Castile and Aragon have many heroes
Ready to answer the proud Moor's defiance.
[Several grasp their swords.
GONZALVO.
On your lives, sirs! 'tis mine exclusively!
He that would meet Almanzor in the lists
Must bear Gonzalvo's life upon his sword.
FERDINAND.
My noble friends! we much amiss interpret
The brave Gonzalvo's words. See with what ardour
He claims the glorious combat! none but he
Shall win the deathless laurel victory wreathes
To bind his honour'd brow. Behold, brave prince,
The sword that graced the famed Rodrigo's side,
The valiant Cid! th' avenger of his father!
Who won Valencia's realm, and fair Ximena!
[Ferdinand gives him the sword, which he accepts with apparent confusion.
ISABELLA.
Prince! you have need of rest: few hours remain
Ere, summon'd by the warlike trumpet's voice,
50
To single fight th' invincible Gonzalvo!
[Exeunt with ceremony, as the Scene closes.
SCENE II.
Before Lara's Tent.Enter Lara and Pedro.
LARA.
My faithful Pedro, this thy wondrous tale
Confounds all reason. Oh! he is undone!
Unhappy, lost Gonzalvo! that a girl,
A Moorish girl, should by her wiles ensnare thee!
PEDRO.
Nay, sir, the princess is a gracious creature;
My lord had died but for her tender care.
Oh! she is innocent as nature's self,
Fair as her fairest works, and yet withal
She wears a native simple dignity,
Commanding most when most her sweetness wins.
LARA
(smiling).
Why, Pedro, thou hast caught thy master's frenzy.
PEDRO.
Oh! 'tis no time to jest. My lord has sworn
His sword shall never take Almanzor's life.
51
Blasted his fame! For ever wrapt in night,
If he so bear himself as he has sworn!
Gonzalvo throw his country's cause away!
Impossible!
Enter Gonzalvo.
GONZALVO.
Is it Lara speaks my name
As 'twere in anger? Pity, sure, my friend,
Had better suited thy Gonzalvo's sorrows.
LARA.
Oh, my Gonzalvo! I do pity thee;
I pity thee, but I must blame thee too.
GONZALVO.
Speak, Lara, show me any way to escape
The brand of treason or of perjury.
LARA.
We are our country's ere we are our own;
This tie is prior to all other claims.
GONZALVO.
And know'st thou, Lara, all my country asks?
LARA.
To rid her of the proud insulting foe
Who checks her arms.
52
Nay, more than that, my friend:
To be ungrateful as the venomous serpent,
That stung the bosom which had foster'd it;
To mock the laws of hospitality,
Sacred to all who bear the form of man:
The very savage, in the deadly strife
By life's first wants provoked, will slack the bow,
Or drop th' uplifted club, if he but mark
In th' adverse band his sometime host, whose hut
Had housed him from the night storm.
LARA.
Why, Gonzalvo,
Then why receive the sword of famed Rodrigo?
Confirming thus th' acceptance of the challenge.
GONZALVO.
That none other might.
LARA.
Think'st thou no other arm
Has power to wield?
GONZALVO.
Think'st thou the Spaniard lives
Shall claim the challenge to Gonzalvo offer'd?
LARA.
Then wilt thou meet the Moor, and by thy arm
Almanzor dies!—Thou art thyself again.
53
(shuddering).
“Almanzor dies!”—Is this to be myself?
Oh horror! horror! which way soe'er I turn,
Dishonour meets my view. Or I betray
My country's sacred trust, or break the faith
I swore to her I love! Shall a Castilian
Not shudder at the charge of perjury?
LARA.
The time has been when we two, side by side,
Like two young lions rush'd into the fight.
The turban'd infidels, disparting wide,
Shrank from the lightning of our swords. Thy soul
Then knew not of these nice distinctions; no,
Thy country, and her cause, and love of fame,
Led thee resistless on.
GONZALVO.
I had not loved!
LARA.
The soldier has no leisure for soft love,
Save when, his iron harness all unbraced,
He gives his toil-worn limbs to careless ease,
Or looser revelry; till braying trumpets
Rouse to the war, and scare the baby god
Far, far away, with all his idle toys.
GONZALVO.
Thou hast not loved if thou hast loved but so;
54
Of virtuous attachment. He whose soul
Owns with true loyalty his king and country,
Alike is loyal to the maid he loves.
For oh! what traitor, Lara, is more base
Than he who steals a maid's first thoughts from peace,
And leaves her desolate?
LARA.
I am not skill'd
In Love's quaint rhetoric:—the subject's loyalty,
The soldier's glory mine!
GONZALVO.
Alas, my friend!
My thoughts of glory are not what they were.
To stay the fury of wide-wasting war,
And give fair peace to this distracted land;
This was th' ambition that fill'd all my soul.
How dear I hold my country, witness Heaven!
But I would fold in my expanded love
All—all her children, natives of her soil,
And commoners to breathe her balmy gales.
My friend, the vision's past! war still must rage.
'Tis doom'd!—To-morrow's sun must set in blood!
Thousands must sleep in death!—But not Almanzor.
I fly to tell her this.
[Going.
LARA.
What would'st thou do?
55
Pedro! my steed, my steed!—Thou only, Lara,
Couldst thus have held me from her.
LARA
(holding him).
My Gonzalvo!
GONZALVO.
Off, Lara! stay me not.—Peace may not be!
My Zelima must learn it from myself,
Must know Almanzor's life to me is sacred;
My own, thus lost to her, not worth my care.
[Exit.
LARA.
Follow him, Pedro—Nay, a moment stay—
This passion robs him of his better judgment.
Mark me!—
[After anxious thought.
Remind him not how fly the hours,
And lead him if thou canst through devious paths,—
And still of Zelima thy converse be,—
Devise delays as best thou canst, old man:
His life, his fame, hang on thy skill in this,
Nay more, the weal of Spain!
PEDRO.
I will, my lord;
But how may this delay avert the ill?
LARA.
Gain but a day.—Let pass this fever'd dream,
Then Glory's voice and Lara's will be heard.
56
And trust to friendship;—yes, there yet are means
To save his fame!—His well-known casque, his shield,
Now lie within my tent.—My soul beats high—
Yes, either host shall deem Gonzalvo's arm
Deals the unerring stroke!—His proudest courser
Shall think he yields but to Gonzalvo's mastery!—
Follow him, Pedro,—soothe him, and be secret.
[Exeunt severally.
57
ACT IV.
SCENE I.
The Wood.Zelima, Gonzalvo.
ZELIMA.
Yes, we must part:—leave, leave the wretch thou hast made.
Oh, fly me! Hush—methought I heard a voice!
The breath of morning, panting on the leaves,
Comes o'er me like deep thunders.—Heard'st thou aught?
GONZALVO.
'Twas but the carol of the early woodman.
Thy looks affright me: no, I cannot leave thee.
ZELIMA.
Thou must! thou must! and I must learn to see
In him who saved me but my country's foe.
It is a fearful task! for deep, too deep
Is stamp'd thy image here. Oh leave me then
To utter sadness,—lonely,—desolate,—
That I may conjure to my weak heart's aid
The ghosts of all my butcher'd countrymen,
58
Thy true love's token be the sword that slew them!
I'll fix my eyes on the blood-crusted blade,
And listen to the sobbing of the night-blast,
Till to my ear it seem the upbraiding wail
Of dying men, cursing the unhallow'd love
I bear their murderer!
GONZALVO.
Oh, check thy speech,
Lest my brain turn, and, urg'd by fell despair—
ZELIMA.
'Tis I who must despair!—for thou art call'd
To take my brother's life, or he must plunge
His ruthless blade in my preserver's breast.
I am alike destroy'd by either blow.
Already treason!—ere the sun go down
It may be fratricide to love Gonzalvo!
Then listen what I swear. If in the lists
Thou prove victorious, glory be thy meed!
Never will Zelima behold the man
Who bears her brother's blood upon his sword.
GONZALVO.
Then art thou mine! for at thy feet I vow,
By all the passion in this bosom pent—
By all my sufferings—by thy sacred self—
By all the trembling hope—by all the joy
59
Gonzalvo's hand shall never take the life
Of one who is thy brother!
ZELIMA.
In this grove
Thou hast no witness of thy deeds, Gonzalvo,
Save love, and thy poor weeping Zelima.
But think'st thou, when the glorious lists appear,
Thy haughty queen, the king of Aragon,
With their proud court in all its bravery;
On either side the eyes of an arm'd host
Fix'd on your single swords;—the shouting voice
Of thousands pour'd upon the gale,—oh! think'st thou,
When all these strike at once upon the sense,
They will not rouse the terrible Gonzalvo,
And bear you on—O horrid, horrid image!
My bleeding brother! the exulting foe!
GONZALVO.
Have I not sworn Almanzor's life is sacred?
ZELIMA.
Ha! cruel! thou would'st say thyself will fall,
And if thou fall, 'tis I—'tis I have doom'd thee!
There's madness in that thought! Thou shalt not go:
Yet stay awhile—my brother's rage is high:
Thou shalt not meet his fury—no, thou shalt not—
Thus will I fetter thee!
[Clinging round his neck.
60
And here, my love,
Here will I grow; and ever, ever, thus
Live in thy eyes, and lose myself in joy!
Farewell to fame! since thou will have it so.
Rest on this bosom, it is thine alone.
Welcome dishonour for thy sake!—But hark!
[After a pause.
What sound was that? a distant trumpet!—hark!
Again?—It bears on every blast reproach!
The sun is high—th' appointed hour is past!
Again! again! it swells upon the gale.—
Ha! now the mingling roar should rather seem
Of general conflict. Never yet Gonzalvo
Turn'd from the battle! Louder, louder still!
My soul burns in me!—infamy, disgrace,
Are on my name! I come! I come!—Farewell!
Haste, Fatima—haste, Zayda—Moorish maids,
Support your princess—soothe her tenderly.
[Enter Moorish women, to whose care he commits her insensible with terror.
My Zelima, to live for thee denied,
Death for thy sake is sweet, but not dishonour!
[He rushes out.
ZELIMA
(recovering, and looking wildly around.)
Where am I?—what has chanced?—Ha! where is he?
61
See, see! he spurs his courser o'er the plain;—
He rushes to the fight! Oh, spare my brother!
Thou shalt not murder him. Forbear, Almanzor!
And would'st thou thus repay a sister's rescue?
Oh! pity, pity! Sheathe your murderous blades!
Live! cruel ones! Live for your Zelima!
[Sinks into their arms, and scene closes.
SCENE II.
The Royal Tents.Isabella, Alvarez, &c.
ISABELLA.
No message from the king? Alas! my fears!
Had Spain's brave champion triumph'd o'er the Moor,
Garcia, (so I enjoin'd him), had, ere now,
Brought the glad tidings. Hast thou mark'd, Alvarez,
When adverse clouds o'er th' Alpuxares meet,
A shuddering stillness creep through all the air
Ere the storm burst? Such Ferdinand observing,
Through either host as either champion yielded,
Urged me to quit the lists. I ne'er before
Beheld so fierce, so obstinate a combat.
62
Such matchless hardihood, such desperate valour?
Enter Garcia.
GARCIA.
This praise from Isabel be now his meed!
Almanzor's fall'n!
ISABELLA.
Then victory is ours!
GARCIA.
Alas! not so: the Moors, with frantic cries,
Rush'd on our troops: a general fight ensued;
And oh, my queen! with grief and shame, these eyes
Beheld the Spaniards yield.
Enter Ferdinand.
FERDINAND.
Joy, joy, my Isabel;
The tide of war is turn'd! Our Spaniards fled,—
In wild disorder fled!—when from the camp
Darted, with eagle speed, one all unarm'd,
Save that he brandish'd wide his desperate sword,
Maddening with rage: and “Spaniards!” he exclaim'd,
“Castilians! men of Aragon! ho! stand!
It is Gonzalvo calls you to the field!”
All turn'd at once: the Moors are panic-struck!
63
Bears down the yielding foe, following amain
The refluent tide of battle.
ISABELLA.
Gallant youth!
Pride of Castile! But how saidst thou “unarm'd?”
In panoply complete he met the Moor.
FERDINAND.
So deem'd each host: but when with toil o'erspent,
And hard-earn'd victory, the conqueror sunk,
His squires unbraced his casque to give him air,
And lo! brave Lara's lineaments!
ISABELLA.
Amazement!
FERDINAND.
More wonderful what follow'd, Isabel.
Our soldiers seize the slain Almanzor's corse:
Behold Gonzalvo head a Moorish band,
Defend the lifeless chief with frantic zeal;
And, aiding the heart-stricken Moors, convey
The corse from off the field.
ISABELLA.
Most strange, indeed!
GARCIA.
Venusa's prince false to the cause of Spain!
64
Nor leave to hungry dogs an infidel's
Unhallow'd corse?
FERDINAND.
Returning, now he mark'd
Brave Lara 'mongst a host of vengeful Moors,
Though faint and bleeding, holding them at bay:
With lightning's speed he rush'd upon them.—Lost
To my sight, I know not the event.
ISABELLA.
My liege,
Oh doubt it not!—'tis victory!
FERDINAND.
Be ours
To improve the advantage gained. Come, Isabel;
We must take order for to-morrow's onset.
[Exeunt.
65
SCENE III.
Before Lara's Tent.Enter Lara, leaning on his attendants as if wounded; Gonzalvo by his side in great disorder.
LARA.
I pray thee, my Gonzalvo, rave not thus!
Nay, hast thou not eclips'd thy former glory;
Snatching amidst defeat itself the palm
Of victory? Hast thou not redeem'd from death
Thy Lara, too? Oh, who so blest, my friend,
That would not barter lots with thee this day?
GONZALVO.
None who could read my heart. Enough of this:
Speak of thy safety, of thy life, thy fame,
For that is all saved from my wreck of bliss.
LARA.
Thy wreck of bliss when thou hast sav'd thy country?
GONZALVO.
Is not Almanzor dead, and by thy hand?
LARA.
Yes, by my hand! Would'st thou that I had bared
My bosom to the Infidel's assault?
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Or he had fallen or I.
GONZALVO.
It was not thine
The combat—'twas thy friend's. Had he met me,
Almanzor had return'd to bless his Zelima.
Wretch that I am! Ev'n now, ev'n now, alas!
My princess bends o'er her dear slaughter'd brother,
Deeming Gonzalvo perjured, false—a murderer!
He, who so lately at her feet had sworn
Almanzor's blood should never stain his sword!
Is't not enough, that, every hope shut out,
Despair be mine, but she must think this hand,
This treach'rous hand, has slaughter'd him?
[Lara takes his hand kindly.
Away!
Offer not consolation, Lara. Off!
Thou liv'st. My soul, at least, is spared remorse
For thee! thou art the victor! Wear the blood-stain'd wreath,
Thy valour's due, and leave me to my sorrow.
[Turning from him.
LARA.
My friendship is not dear to thee as once,
Gonzalvo—
GONZALVO.
He is to holy friendship's laws
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In his friend's sorrows, though he ne'er have proved
Like ills himself. Thou art my fellow soldier,
Not my friend.
LARA.
Nor friend, nor fellow soldier,
Is welcome to thee more. The flatterer—yes,
The servile flatterer, is the friend thou would'st;
But Lara cannot be Gonzalvo's flatterer.
Go, bind the silken turban round thy brow,
Forswear thy friend, thy country, and thy fame;
Go revel in the Moorish wanton's smiles,
And at her feet—
GONZALVO
(drawing).
The Moorish wanton! say'st thou?
[Pedro rushes between them, and catches Gonzalvo's arm.
LARA
(baring his bosom, and with much emotion).
But first take back the worthless life thy hand
So lately gave to him thy recreant heart
No longer owns.
[Gonzalvo gives his sword to Pedro, and turning axay, hides his eyes with his hands.
PEDRO
(going up to LARA).
My lord is not himself. Your wounds still bleed:
I pray you be more calm.
[To his attendants.
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The valiant Lara—bind his wounds afresh.
[Exit Lara supported.
Pray you, my lord, allow me to attend you
To your own tents. Indeed you need repose.
Haply your faithful Pedro, who has shared
The chances that have wrought this change in you,
May better soothe the anguish of your mind.
GONZALVO.
“The Moorish wanton!”—“Revel in her smiles!”
Her brother's blood still reeking on his sword,
To wrong her thus! With friendship's holy name
To grace such insults!
PEDRO.
Oh! be calm, my lord.
GONZALVO.
Yes, Pedro, I will see her once again;
Tell her this hand is guiltless of his blood—
Pardon obtain—or at her feet expire!
PEDRO.
My lord, you rave. The princess is retired
Within th' Albaysin palace with her father.
It were impossible to enter there,
As 'twere to scale yon skies.—Impossible!
GONZALVO.
No, Pedro, nothing is impossible
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And it is better far to die, while, ardent,
I aim my soul's strong purpose to effect,
Than sit me down as coward spirits use,
And, unresisting, sigh my life away.
Yes, I will see her!—Let me pass.
PEDRO.
My lord,
'Tis madness—'tis impossible!—I pray you
Bethink you better.
[Attempting to stop him.
GONZALVO
(with violence).
Nay, attempt not, Pedro,
One to dissuade who is so bent as I am.
Yes, I will enter the proud city thus!
My arms alone are known—alone are fear'd.
What Moor will dream the wretched thing he sees
Was once Gonzalvo? I shall pass unheeded
Amidst the consternation of defeat.
[He rushes out wildly, leaving his sword in Pedro's hand. Pedro, after a moment of consternation, follows him.
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ACT V.
SCENE I.
An Apartment in the Albaysin Palace.Muley Hassan and Zelima.
ZELIMA.
Look up, my father; thus thy hoary head
Low in the dust!
MULEY HASSAN.
My dear, my duteous daughter!
I strive to thank the prophet thou art left me,
But cannot waken grateful thoughts within
My frozen bosom, too severely chasten'd.
My gentle child, can I no longer love thee?
[Weeps.
ZELIMA.
Weep, weep, my father, give thy sorrow vent;
Despair not wholly lords it o'er the heart
That can dissolve in tears.
MULEY HASSAN.
Hah! saidst thou so?
Then wherefore see I not thy female softness
Melting in floods of woe?
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The time may come
That I shall weep.—We both have lost Almanzor:
Pride and support of both!—What else of ill
May heap the measure of my grief so high,
Methinks despair can be but this—regards
None other.—It is mine—mine only.
MULEY HASSAN.
Thy tones of anguish thrill my soul.—My child,
For thy poor broken-hearted father's sake,
Speak yet some word of comfort and of hope.
ZELIMA.
He swore the brother of his Zelima
Was sacred to his sword! the oath still hung
On his perfidious lip.—Alas! my father,
That the dear hand which rescued Zelima,
Should pierce her bosom thus!
MULEY HASSAN.
Degenerate maid!
Thy murder'd brother welters in his blood,
And thou canst name in terms that breathe not hate
The foe who slew him!
ZELIMA.
Not in a moment can we learn to hate
One we have loved so well. Is it not hard
To call him false whom I had thought so true?
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But I will bear myself as bitterest hate,
And dire revenge should prompt, nor ever see
The false, the cruel, perjured Spaniard more.
Enter Omar.
OMAR.
Good king! my princess! I am charged with tidings
May soothe a father's grief.
MULEY HASSAN.
Is't death thou bring'st?
OMAR.
A boon more precious, Muley Hassan,—vengeance!
Gonzalvo's taken.
MULEY HASSAN.
Dost thou mock my sorrow?
OMAR.
My words are true. Unarm'd the Spaniard roam'd,
As one distraught, around the palace walls:
His wild disorder'd mien awaked suspicion,
Hemm'd in by numbers, madly he exclaims,
“Moors, dare ye meet Gonzalvo?” they shrink back
In blank amazement; when, indignant, one
Cries, “Countrymen! What!—shall a swordless arm
“Ward off a thousand sabres?” Struck with shame,
They close around and seize him. King Abdoulah
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Of slain Almanzor.
ZELIMA.
Let me rather die
Than witness the too savage rites of vengeance!
Revenge may soothe the angry spirit's pain,
Not heal the broken heart.
MULEY HASSAN.
My life's last comfort!
Oh! I shall lose thee too! (To her women).
Support her—soothe her.
[Zelima retires among her women in great disorder.
Am I a Moor? and is not vengeance dear?
How lost am I!—Alas! alas! my son,
'Twere sweeter far to sheathe the dagger here,
And lay me down by thee, than shed the blood
Of him who saved thy sister. At my feet
When he lies lifeless, will thy lips, my son,
Or smile, or breathe? or shall I aught regain
Of all I lose in thee?—No—I shall look,
As now, on all around, a hideous blank,
And wish alike for death!
OMAR.
The mournful train,
With solemn symphonies, draws near the palace.
Abdoulah wisely urges all despatch,
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Unheeded 'scaped, and may alarm the Spaniards.
MULEY HASSAN.
I come—thy arm.—Oh! give me courage, Allah!
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
The Court of the Palace.The funeral procession of Almanzor. Gonzalvo chained and guarded: the executioner by his side.
CHORUS OF MOORS.
For the warrior young and brave,
Doom'd untimely to the grave,
Pour on the passing gale the voice of woe;
And mark, as deep and sad the numbers flow
Successive from the heart;—the hollow groan
Falls on the ear!—It is a father's moan!
And now the silver tone
Of female tenderness dissolves the soul:
A sister's inbred love disdains control,
Mourning the friend, the brother, and the chief,
With wild impassion'd grief.
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Now on dank pinions hung,
Bear heavily the plaint a nation breathes,
That sorrowing wreathes
Funereal garlands for her hero slain,
Slain in his country's cause, on yon ensanguined plain!
CHORUS OF YOUTHS.
We who on his steps attending,
Learnt from him the soldier's part,
Valour, fortitude unbending,
For our sacred home contending!
Can we tear him from our heart?
No, by our leader's bier, our arms laid low,
Wait we, in mute despair, the now victorious foe.
[Laying down their arms by the bier.
CHORUS OF MAIDENS.
Opening radiant with the morning
Beam'd the smile we strove to share;
For that smile all others scorning:
Now for whom her charms adorning
Would the Moorish maid be fair?
Our chaplets, faded, on his bier we throw,
Our braided tresses tear, and join a sister's woe!
[Placing their garlands on the bier.
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Wake a more impetuous lay!
Keener pangs our bosoms sway,
By patriot rage, and frenzied anguish tost!
Yet—yet—all is not lost!
Revenge! Revenge, is ours! Her bitter smile
Our sorrow shall beguile!
Revenge shall yet a thrilling joy impart,
Dear to the Moorish heart!
While cold Despair shall guide her frantic hand
Deep in the murd'rer's breast to plunge the ruthless brand!
YOUTHS AND MAIDENS.
Breathe again funereal strains,
Give to dust the loved remains;
While from seats of glory bending
Angels hymn the soul ascending;
While a grateful nation's sighs
Waft the hero to the skies,
And its tears embalm his name,
Thus by a people's love consign'd to deathless fame.
MULEY HASSAN.
Prepare thee, youth, to die. Spite of this tear,
Revenge anon will brace my unstrung nerves
To taste the joys she gives.
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Oh, Muley Hassan!
Thy gentle tongue erewhile bade me aspire
To call thee father! erring vengeance now
Prompts that same tongue to speak the doom of death
On one who has not injured thee.
MULEY HASSAN.
Ha! Spaniard,
Thou hast not injured me?—Look there! Look there!
[Pointing to the bier.
GONZALVO.
I do beseech thee, ere I bow my head,
And court the blow that rids me of this life,
Allow me but once more to see thy daughter:
Oh! see me kneel for this, and weep before thee!
MULEY HASSAN
(aside).
And must I pity him?—At distance yonder,
Behold the wreck of all that was so joyous!
So beautiful!—A little month ago
(So tender was her nurture) had she died,
She never had known sorrow.
(To the attendants).
Lead her on.
Speak, prince, we may not long delay.
[Zelima totters forward supported, and on seeing Gonzalvo, hides her face in her father's bosom.
GONZALVO.
Nay, turn
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And innocent of all offence to thee.
ZELIMA.
Perfidious Spaniard! false as thou art cruel!
[To Muley Hassan.
(No, I will not disgrace thee, my dear father,
By any show of pity, though it kill me).
[To Gonzalvo.
Didst thou not swear to me in yonder grove
My brother's life was sacred to thy sword?
And swiftly as thy fleetest steed could bear thee,
Didst rush on him and deal the deadly blow?
GONZALVO.
No, it was I who saved yon corse from insult.
ZELIMA.
Is it thus thou givest me my rescued brother?
Is this thy pledge of faith?
GONZALVO.
I slew him not:—
I go to death, my faith to thee unbroken.
Say, thou believest—Oh! my Zelima,
Say, too, thou pitiest me.
ZELIMA
(giving way to tenderness).
Nay, canst thou wish
Such twofold torture to poor Zelima,
As but to think thy hand is innocent,
And see thee thus?—Spare me, and say thou'rt guilty.
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We may not thus delay the obsequies.
MULEY HASSAN
(with assumed firmness).
My injured country, prince, demands thy blood.
Thy life is forfeit to the sacred dead;
A father's vengeance claims it!
(To Zelima.
Thou, my child, withdraw.
[Zelima retires in great disorder.
And now, dread minister of justice, strike!
GONZALVO.
My Zelima! my love! farewell for ever!
[Muley Hassan hides his face. The executioner lifts his axe, when Lara and Pedro rush in.
LARA.
Stay—stay your hands! ye impious murderers!
I!—I slew your Almanzor!
MULEY HASSAN.
Who art thou?
None other but Gonzalvo could have done it!
LARA.
Here Lara stands to avouch the glorious deed!
Behold Almanzor's conqueror!
GONZALVO.
My Lara!
Whither would cruel friendship lead thee? Go—
Sever'd from her I love, death is my choice.
Live, Lara, live, for Spain and for Gonzalvo.
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Strike, Moor! why stand ye thus suspended?
(To Muley Hassan).
Command, good king! This frantic man would save
His friend, and knows not what he says.
LARA.
Old king! I swear 'twas I who slew thy son.
GONZALVO.
Strike here! the king, Abdoulah, bade despatch.
Dread the fierce tyrant's wrath.
(To Lara.)
Away, my friend!
Thy artifice shall not prevail.
LARA
(to the Executioner.)
Strike here!
ZELIMA
(rushing from among the women, and throwing herself at her father's feet).
Pardon, my father, both these noble youths!
'Tis Lara speaks the truth—Gonzalvo pardon,
For that he tarried with thy Zelima,
Swearing to spare her brother, while his friend
Struck at our peace; yet pardon Lara too,
For that he thus would die to save Gonzalvo.
MULEY HASSAN.
The Spaniard's blood will not allay the pang
That rankles in this breast; but how may these
Consent to lose the sweets of promised vengeance?
81
(to the attendants).
My friends, who knew my brother's generous soul,
Think you his spirit may be soothed by blood
Of kindred spirits butcher'd o'er his tomb?
Not nobly shed in battle?—No—'tis he,
'Tis my Almanzor's hovering ghost that prompts
My feeble voice to cry for mercy!—Mercy!
[Distant sounds are heard of the storming of the city.
Enter Omar hastily.
OMAR.
Granada is invested on all sides!
The vengeful Spaniards lay the city waste,
Claiming their leaders, Lara and Gonzalvo.
GONZALVO.
Release me, king, and I will stay their fury:
It were more grateful to Almanzor's spirit
That I should stanch his country's blood, than shed
My own upon his corse.
ALL THE MOORS.
Release him, king!
Release the noble Spaniard!
[Muley Hassan releases him, and Pedro gives him his arms.
GONZALVO
(embracing LARA).
Oh, my Lara,
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Yes, thou dost pity me—deny it not!
ZELIMA.
Haste, haste, dear prince, nor lose again the moment.
MULEY HASSAN.
Let them depart, while thou and I consign
To earth, the mortal part of him whom now
The Prophet welcomes to the bowers of bliss.
[Exeunt Gonzalvo and Lara on one side, followed by the young Moors. On the other the funeral procession, with Muley Hassan, Zelima, Maidens, &c. and the Scene closes.
SCENE III.
A public Part of Granada.Storming of the City heard. Spaniards and Moors in great confusion, fighting: the Moors driven off.—Muley Hassan and Zelima afterwards, with attendants.
MULEY HASSAN.
My friends, it is the Prophet's will these eyes
Should see, ere yet they close, Granada's realm—
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The eternal sleep, not ev'n thy country's groans
May break!—I am resign'd!
[He kneels, and for a moment is wrapt in devotion,
While yet I reign'd,
I did not cause my people's tears to flow;
And at this awful moment, when I wait
The stroke of death, no form terrific gleams
Athwart my soul of one accusing Moor!
[The noise redoubles.
ZELIMA.
The dreadful tumult grows upon the ear!
Havoc and death approach!—My dear, dear father!
[Clinging to him.
They shall not tear thee from me—my last breath
Shall speak a blessing on thy parting child.
They come! they come!—Oh, hold me to thy heart!
Enter Selim.
SELIM.
The guard is forced!—Within the gates they rage,
The furious Spaniards!—Fly, my princess, fly!
Fly, good old man!
(Kneeling.)
I was thy subject once,
And my heart owns thee still—Oh! if my arm
Could stay the stroke that threats thy reverend head,
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But they are thousands drunk with blood and conquest.
[Starts up, and exit.
Spaniards rush in, led by Garcia.
GARCIA.
This—this is he! the hoary infidel!
Drag him before victorious Ferdinand!
[They seize him.
A SPANIARD
(seizing ZELIMA).
This is a prize indeed!—Come on, fair Moor!
ZEZIMA
(struggling).
Save me, my father! save me from these ruffians!
Gonzalvo! Oh Gonzalvo! where art thou?
MULEY HASSAN.
Unhand her, villains! Leave the royal maid!
ZELIMA.
Save me!
MULEY HASSAN.
Can age, e'en palsied age, unnerve
The arm of him who hears a daughter's cry!
Oh, my heart's darling!—Brutal villains, off!
[He makes a violent effort, breaks from them, strikes down one, rescues his Daughter, is wounded by Garcia in the struggle, and sinks into Zelima's arms.
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To save a daughter!—Yes, I hold thee still—
Thanks to the Prophet!—Cling to me—I faint.
ZELIMA.
Oh gracious Allah! See—he bleeds—Help! help!
Enter Lara.
LARA.
Whence came that piercing shriek?—The Moorish princess!
Hold, ruffians, hold!—Hold in Gonzalvo's name!
[To Muley Hassan.
From him I come with grateful tidings, king,
Alas, I fear too late!—Recal thy spirit—
Peace to thy bleeding country!
MULEY HASSAN
(reviving).
Oh! I thank thee!
That word has life in't.—I can hear thy tale.
I bleed apace, but my firm spirit yet
Wings not its flight—
[To Zelima.
It hangs on all it loves,
And will not part.
LARA.
The tide of blood is stayed.
The heartless Moors, deprived of their Almanzor,
Yielded on all sides, when Gonzalvo's voice
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In the names of Ferdinand and Isabel.
In gentlest triumph see the victors come!
MULEY HASSAN.
I breathe more freely.
ZELIMA
(with rapture).
Yes, thy swimming eyes
Are lighted with new fire. Oh thou wilt live,
And bless thy daughter still!
MULEY HASSAN.
Yes, Zelima,
I grapple still with death, and will not yield.
A purpose to my parting soul most dear,
Supports me still a space against the course
Of nature—and I will—will yet—
Enter Ferdinand and Isabella, Gonzalvo, Spanish Nobles, &c.
GONZALVO
(kneeling, and raising MULEY HASSAN).
Oh, Muley Hassan! honour'd, reverend king!
What ruthless hand has done this?—Look on me,
Dear, good old man! and call me once thy son.
MULEY HASSAN
(joining their hands).
Protect her—Oh! my son!
ISABELLA.
Live, Muley Hassan!
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The weal of fall'n Granada we commit
To thy Gonzalvo.
MULEY HASSAN.
Now I die content—
Thanks, generous victors!—Oh, my Zelima!
My pent soul flutters to be gone.—We must—
Yes, we must part.—I forced my spirit—stay
Awhile—and still—still would behold thee once—
Why dost thou vanish?—Why dost flit away?
My child—my child—I hope—I hope I die
Within thy arms.
(Reaching, as if to seek her).
Oh! that I could feel thee!—
Press me—Oh! press me to thy heart, my child! [Dies.
[After a pause Zelima lays her cheek to his face, and starting.
ZELIMA.
Hush! hush! was't not a breath of life that fann'd
My cheek?
[Laying her hand on his breast.
Oh no!—no, no—I may not hope—
Thy kind heart beats no more beneath my hand—
All, all is still!—My father! oh, my father!
[She leans over the body lost in grief,Gonzalvo supporting her. The Curtain drops.
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