 | Alzira |  |
ACT III.
Alziraalone.
Shade of my murder'd lover! shun to view me:
Rise to the stars, and make their brightness sweeter;
But shed no gleam of lustre on Alzira.
She has betray'd her faith, and married Carlos!
The sea, that roll'd it's wat'ry world betwixt us,
Fail'd to divide our hands—and he has reach'd me!
The altar trembled at th'unhallow'd touch;
And Heaven drew back, reluctant, at our meeting.
Oh, thou soft-hovering ghost, that haunt'st my fancy!
Thou dear and bloody form, that skims before me!
Thou never-dying, yet thou buried Zamor!
If sighs and tears have power to pierce the grave;
If death, that knows no pity, will but hear me;
If still thy gentle spirit loves Alzira:
Pardon, that even in death, she dar'd forsake thee!
Pardon her rigid sense of nature's duties:
A parent's will!—a pleading country's safety!
At these strong calls, she sacrific'd her love;
To joyless glory, and to tasteless peace:
And to an empty world, in which thou art not!
Oh, Zamor! Zamor! follow me no longer.
Drop some dark veil, snatch some kind cloud before thee,
Cover that conscious face, and let death hide thee!
Leave me to suffer wrongs that Heaven allots me:
And teach my busy fancy to forget thee.
Enter Emira.
Where are those captives?—Are they free, Emira?
Where those sad children of my mournful country?
Will they not suffer me to see, to hear them?
To sit and weep, and mingle with their mournings?
Emi.
Ah, rather dread the rage of angry Carlos,
Who threatens 'em with some new stroke of horror.
Some cruel purpose hangs, this moment, o'er 'em!
For, through this window look, and see display'd
The broad red standard, that betokens blood;
Loud bursts of death roar from their iron prisons,
And answer, dreadful, to each other's call!
[Guns.
The council hastes, alarm'd, and meets in uproar.
[Shouts.
All I have heard besides is, that the prince,
Your father, has been summon'd to attend.
Al.
Immortal Guardian of th'endanger'd just!
Have I for this, in vain, betray'd my peace?
Dares the dire husband, recent from the altar,
New to my forc'd consent—and scarce yet lord
Of my repenting hand; so soon let loose
His recommission'd murders! Must my nuptials
Serve as the prelude to my people's blood!
Oh, marriage! marriage! what a curse is thine,
9
Enter Cephania.
Ceph.
One of the captive Indians, just set free,
In honour of the joy that crowns this day,
Prays your permission, Madam, to be heard,
And at your princely feet disclose some secret.
Al.
Let him, with firmness, and with freedom enter.
For him, and for his friends, he knows I live.
Dear to my eyes, I mark 'em with delight,
And love, alas! in them, their poor lost country.
—But why alone?—Why one?
Ceph.
It is that captain,
To whose victorious hand, I heard, but now,
Alvarez, your new lord's illustrious father,
Ow'd his remitted life, from Indians sav'd.
Emi.
With earnest pressure, he has sought your presence:
He met me entering, and with trembling haste,
Implor'd me to be friend th'important prayer.
He told me, farther, that the prince your father,
For some strange cause, this Indian seems to know,
Had charg'd the guards he 'scap'd from, to prevent
His access to your ear—Methinks, there sits
A kind of sullen greatness on his brow,
As if it veil'd, in grief, some awful purpose.
Ceph.
I watch'd him—and he walks, and turns, and weeps:
Then starts, and looks at heaven; and to the gods,
Pours up an ardent sigh, that breathes your name!
I pitied him—but, gather'd, from this freedom,
That he's a stranger to your rank and greatness.
Al.
What rank? What greatness?—Perish all distinction,
That, from the wrong'd unhappy, bars the great!
Who knows, but this was once some gen'rous friend,
Some brave companion of my Zamor's arms!
Who knows, but he was near him, when he fell;
And brings some message from his parting soul!
How dare I then receive him?—Can my heart
Be proof against the last kind words of Zamor?
Will not the half-lull'd pain, rekindling fresh,
Burn, with increase of smart, and wring my soul?
—No matter—let him enter.—
[Exit Cephania.
—Ha, what means
This sudden chillness, sadd'ning round my heart,
In short faint flutt'rings never felt before!
Ah, fatal residence!—From the first hour
These hated walls became Alzira's prison,
Each diff'rent moment brought some diff'rent pain.
Enter Zamor.
Za.
Art thou, at length, restor'd me?—Cruel! tell me!
Art thou, indeed, Alzira?
Al.
—Gentle spirit!—
Forgive me.—Do not come to chide th'unhappy!
I have been wrong'd; but—
[Faints into his arms.
Za.
Thine, she wou'd have said;
And her imperfect purpose fully bless'd me.
Revive, thou dearest, loveliest, lost Alzira!
Zamor will live no longer, should'st thou die.
Al.
The kind, forgiving shade, is still before me!
It wak'd me, by a sound, that seem'd his name.
Za.
I am no shadow, if Alzira's mine;
I am thy living lover, at thy feet
[Kneeling.
Reclaiming thee, thou noblest half himself!
Al.
Can it be possible, thou should'st be Zamor?
Za.
Thy Zamor—thine.
Al.
But—art thou sure, thou liv'st?
Za.
'Tis in thy power,
To make that truth undoubted.—Do but say
Thou would'st not have me die—and I will live,
To thank thee thus with everlasting love.
[Rises, and catches her in his arms.
Al.
Oh, days of softness!—Oh, remembered years,
Of ever-vanish'd happiness!—Oh, Zamor!
Why has the grave been bountiful too late?
Why sent thee back in vain? to make joy bitter;
By mix'd ideas of distracting horror!
Ah, Zamor!—What a time is this—to charm in!
Thy every word, and look, shoots daggers through me.
Za.
Then mourn'st thou my return?
Al.
I do—I do.
Because—it was no sooner.
Za.
Generous tenderness!
Al.
Where hast thou been, thus long, unknown, till now?
Za.
A wand'ring vagabond, that trod the world,
In fruitless search of means to save Alzira.
Not all the tort'ring racks of villain Carlos,
Cou'd from my panting heart expel Alzira.
The bloody spoiler tir'd his rage in vain:
I brav'd his wounds and insults.—Life had yet
No leisure to forsake me. Thou requir'st me.
The groans of suff'ring nations reach'd my soul,
And bade it struggle to revenge mankind.
Alas, thou tremblest! Thy soft nature shrinks,
At bare recital of these Spanish virtues.
Doubtless, the guardian god that smiles on love,
Knew thy kind wish—and, for thy sake, sustain'd me.
And thou wilt thank, I know, his gentle goodness.
Thy pious heart disdains to quit thy gods,
Because they suffer with thee; and have fail'd
To stem th'invading host of Spain's new heav'n!
Thou hast too little falshood for a Spaniard.—
Hast thou e'er heard of a base wretch, call'd Carlos?
A birth that blackens nature! a taught monster!
Sent, in our shape, from some far distant world,
To humble ours, with sense of human baseness!
They tell me, he is here.—Grant Heav'n thou knowest him!
Thou then shalt guide my vengeance—to this first,
And vilest of it's victims.
Al.
Find him, here—
Black in my breast, he lives: strike, strike, and reach him.
Za.
Hold, heart—and break not yet—This may be—pity.
Al.
Strike—for—I merit neither life—nor thee.
Za.
Ezmont, I feel thee; and believe thee all!
Al.
Did he then tell thee?—Had my father power
To dwell so sadly on my hopeless woes,
As to describe 'em to thee?—Did he name
The dreadful husband—his lost daughter owes him?
Za.
No—but thou may'st: for that will harden Zamor,
That he shall never be astonish'd more!
Al.
Yes—I will tell it thee—Prepare to tremble:
Not for thyself to tremble—but for me.
I will lay open the vast horror to thee:
Then thou wilt weep and live—and bid me—die.
Za.
Alzira!—Oh!
Al.
This Carlos—
Za.
Carlos!
Al.
He.—
I was this morning sworn for ever—his!
Za.
Sworn whose?—not Carlos?
Al.
I have been betray'd.
I was too weak alone—against my country.
—Even on this fatal, this foreboding day,
Almost within thy sight, christian Alzira
Plighted, in presence of the christian God,
Her hapless hand to Carlos.—'Tis a crime
That hopes no pardon!—All my gods renounc'd!
My lover wrong'd! my country's fame betray'd!
All, all, demand revenge.—Do thou then kill me:
Thou wilt strike tenderly—and my glad blood
Shall meet thy dear-lov'd hand—and that way join thee.
Za.
Carlos Alzira's husband!—'tis impossible!
10
Were I dispos'd to mitigate my crime,
I cou'd alledge a father's awful power;
I cou'd remind thee of our ruin'd state:
And plead my tears, my struggles, and distraction,
Till three long wretched years confirm'd thee dead.
I cou'd, with justice, charge my faith renounc'd
On hatred of those gods, who sav'd not Zamor.
But I disclaim excuse—to shun remission.
Love finds me guilty; and that guilt condemns me.
Since thou art safe, no matter what I suffer.
When life has lost the joys that make it bless'd,
—The shortest liver is the happiest always.
Why dost thou view me with so kind an eye?
Thou should'st look sternly, and retract all pity.
Za.
No—if I still am lov'd, thou art not guilty.
—Wishing me bless'd, methinks thou mak'st me so.
Al.
When, by my father urg'd, and by Alvarez,
And inly too impell'd, perhaps, to fate,
By some forsaken god, who meant revenge;
When by the christian's fears, and my touch'd heart,
At once beset, they dragg'd me to the temple,
Even in the moment when advancing Carlos
Sought my escaping hand, though I then thought thee
Dead, and for ever lost to my fond hopes;
Yet then, beneath the altar's sacred gloom,
I bow'd my soul to Zamor: memory
Reliev'd me with thy image.—Indians, Spaniards,
All, all have heard, how ardently I lov'd thee.
'Twas my heart's pride to boast it to the world!
To earth, to heav'n—to Carlos, I proclaim'd it!
And now, e'en now, in this distressful moment,
For the last time—I tell thyself, I love thee.
Za.
For the last time! Avert the menace, Heav'n!
Art thou at once restor'd—and lost again!
'Tis not love's language, this!—Alas, Alzira!
Al.
Oh, Heaven!—Alvarez comes, and with him Carlos.
Enter Don Alvarez, followed by Don Carlos.
Alv.
See! with Alzira there, my life's restorer!
Approach, young hero! 'tis my son who seeks thee;
Spain's delegate, who here holds power supreme:
My Carlos, bids thee share his bridal joy.
—Meet, and embrace: divide your father's love:
My son, of nature, one—and one of choice.
Za.
Nam'd he not Carlos?—Perish such a son
As the detested Carlos!
Al.
Heaven avert
The rising tempest, that o'erwhelms my soul!
Alv.
What means this wonder?
Za.
'Tis not possible!—
No—I wou'd disbelieve attesting gods,
Shou'd they, from heaven, assert this shock to nature;
That such a father—can—have such a son!
D. Car.
[To Zamor.]
Slave!—from what spring does thy blind fury rise?
Know'st thou not who I am?
Za.
Thou art—a villain.
My country's horror—and whole nature's shame!
Among the scourges whom just Heaven has left thee,
Know me, for Zamor.
D. Car.
Thou Zamor?
Alv.
Zamor!
Za.
Yes—the tortur'd Zamor.
Blush to be told it; and remember, with it,
The bloody rage of thy remorseless cruelty;
That basely dar'd insult a yielded captive!
Now he returns—triumphant in distress,
To look thee into shame: to see those eyes
Fall their stretch'd fierceness, and decline before him.
Thou wafter of the world! Thou licens'd robber!
Thou whose last spoil was my Alzira's glory!
Win her against this sword— [Draws.]
—the sole good gain
Zamor can boast he owes thy haughty country!
Now the same hand, that gave the father life,
Claims, in return, the son's devoted blood:
And, so reveng'd, atones a dying realm.
Alv.
Confounded and amaz'd, I hear him speak;
And every word grows stranger!—Carlos cannot
Be guilty—or, if guilty, cannot answer.
D. Car.
To answer, is a poorness I despise.
Where rebels dare accuse, should power reply,
'Twou'd but forget to punish.—With this sword,
I might; but that I know the reverence due
To your protecting presence, well have answer'd.
—Madam, your heart shou'd have instructed you,
[To Alzira.
Why you offend me, while I see you here.
If not my peace, at least your fame, demands
That you now drive this outlaw from your thoughts.
You weep then! and insult me with your tears!
And yet I love, and can be jealous of you!
Al.
Cruel! [To Carlos.]
and you, my father, and protector!
[To Alvarez.
And thou! my soul's past hope, in happier times!
[To Zamor.
Mark—and condole my fate.—Mix your due pity!
And tremble, at the horror of my woes.
Behold this lover, which my father chose me,
Before I knew there was a world, but ours.
With his reported death our empire fell:
And I have liv'd to see my father's throne
O'erturn'd; and all things chang'd in earth and heav'n!
By every human help, alas! forsaken,
At length, my father, from the christian's God
Sought help, and screen'd a state, behind his name.
Compell'd before this unknown power, to kneel,
A dreadful oath has bound my backward soul,
To love the murd'rer of my real lover!
In my new faith, I own myself unskill'd,
But all that virtue taught me, that I know—
Zamor, I love thee justly—I confess it.
What duty calls for, can deserve no shame.
Yet, where my soul is bound, my heart obeys:
And I can now be thine, alas! no more.
Let me be wretched, rather than unjust.—
Carlos, for you—I am your wife, and victim:
Yet, in abhorrence of your cruel heart,
I hold my hand divorc'd—and hence abjure you.
One way to either, I submit with joy:
If your swords claim me, I am due to both.
Which will reward me with the death I wish?—
Carlos, thou hast a hand already stain'd:
Thy practis'd poignard need not start at blood.
Strike then, for due revenge of slighted love;
And, punishing the guilty—once be just.
D. Car.
I find then, Madam, you wou'd brave my weakness!
Proud of offending one who must forgive.
But you invoke my vengeance, and it comes.
Your fate is ready—for, your minion dies.
Who waits?—a guard there.
Enter Soldiers.
Al.
Cruel christian insult!
Alv.
My son! what mean you? What rash transport this?
Think whom you sentence.—Is his person hateful,
Yet reverence his virtue and his name.
He, who is helpless, in his hater's hands,
Claims safety from his weakness.—Why, why, Carlos,
Must I, a second time, remind your mercy?
I gave you life—but Zamor gave it me.
Be warn'd—nor forfeit honour to revenge.
11
Alon.
Pardon an entrance, Sir, thus unprepar'd.
The woods, that border on the neighb'ring plain,
Pour out a sudden swarm of Indian foes.
Arm'd they advance, as if to scale our walls:
And Zamor's name, resounded, rings to heaven.
Gleamings, from golden bucklers, meet the sun;
And in firm line, and close compacted march,
The stretch'd battalions move, in martial justness.
They hold such discipline, such order'd motion,
As ne'er was known before to savage foes.
As if from us they catch'd the lights of war,
And turn'd the burning lessons on their teachers.
D. Car.
Away then: let us think 'em worth our meeting.
—Heroes of Spain! ye fav'rite sons of war!
All corners of the world are yours to shine in.
Help me to teach these slaves to know their masters.
Bring him along by force.
Za.
Tyrant, they dare not.
Or, are they gods, who cannot be repell'd?
And proof against the wounds, they seek to give?
D. Car.
Surround him.
Al.
Spare him, save him!
Alv.
Son, be cool;
And still remember what your father owes him.
D. Car.
Sir, I remember, 'tis a soldier's duty
To bear down opposition: so you taught me.
[Alonzo, and Spanish Soldiers, surround and seize Zamor.
Your pardon, Sir—I go, where honour calls me.
[Exit, with Zamor, and all the Spanish Soldiers.
Al.
Low, at your feet, I fall; your virtue's claim.
[To Alvarez.
'Tis the first homage fortune yet has taught me.
Grant me the wish'd release of death's kind hand,
From miseries I cannot live to see.
But, dying, let me leave this witness with you,
That, true to my first vows, I change not lightly.
Two different claimers cannot both possess
One faithful heart, that can but once be given.
Zamor is mine; and I am only Zamor's.
Zamor is virtuous, as a fancied angel.
'Twas Zamor gave his life, to good Alvarez!
Alv.
I feel the pity of a father for thee.
I mourn afflicted Zamor: I will guard him:
I will protect you both, unhappy lovers!
Yet, ah! be mindful of the marriage tie,
That, but this morning, bound thy days to Carlos.
Thou art no longer thine, my mournful daughter.
Carlos has been too cruel; but repents it:
And this once-cruel Carlos is thy husband.
He is my son too; and he loves us both.
Pity soon softens hearts, where love has enter'd.
Al.
Ah, why did Heav'n not make you Zamor's father!
Greatness with sweetness join'd, like fire with light,
Each aiding other, mingle warm with bright.
What the kind wants, th'associate strong supplies,
And from the gentle, peace and calmness rise.
| Alzira | |