 | Alzira |  |
ACT V.
Alzira, guarded.Al.
Am I to die? Answer, ye dumb destroyers!
Ye wretches, who provoke, yet mock at Heaven;
And when you mean to murder, say you judge!
Why does your brutal silence leave my soul
Flutt'ring, 'twixt hope and fear, in torturing doubt?
Why am I not inform'd of Zamor's fate?
They will not speak—No matter—She who hopes
To hear no good, why should she hear at all?
The conduct of these watchful mutes is strange.
They seize me, guard me, and confine me here;
Yet answer nothing, but with looks of hate.
Chancing, but now, to sigh my Zamor's name,
E'en these low monsters, struck with Spanish envy,
Started, turn'd pale, and trembled at the sound.
Enter Ezmont.
Alas!—my father, too!
Ez.
To what dark depth
Of sad despair, hast thou reduc'd us all?
See now, the fruits of thy unlist'ning love!
Even in the instant, while, with growing hope,
We pleaded earnest for the life of Zamor;
While we yet hung on the half-granted prayer;
An ent'ring soldier drew our notice tow'rd him.
14
At once he hurl'd his furious eyes amongst us,
And his more furious person. Scarce I saw,
So rapid was his motion, that his hand
Held a drawn sword. To enter, reach our seats,
And, lion-like, spring to the breast of Carlos;
Th'assault, the wound, the death, was all one moment.
Out gush'd your husband's blood, to stain your father,
As if 'twould lend me blushes for a daughter.
Zamor, meanwhile, the dreadful action done,
Soft'ning to sudden calmness, at the feet
Of sad Alvarez fell, and to his hand
Resign'd the sword, which his son's blood made horrid.
The father started into back'ning terror!
The murd'rer dash'd his bosom to the ground;
I but reveng'd (he cry'd) my wrongs and shame;
I but my duty knew—know you your own.
Nature your motive, and oppression mine.
He said no more; but, prostrate, hop'd his doom.
Th'afflicted father sunk upon my bosom;
The silent night grew frightful with our cries.
From ev'ry side at once in broke the swarms;
A flow of fruitless help surrounded Carlos,
To stop th'out-welling blood, and hold back life.
But what most shakes me, tho' 'tis told thee last,
Is, that they think thee guilty of his death;
And, insolently loud, demand thy own.
Al.
Ah!—can you—
Ez.
No. Impossible. I cannot.
I know thy heart too well to wrong thee so.
I know thee too, too capable of weakness;
But not of purpos'd blood. I saw this danger;
But thy own eyes, even on the brink of fate,
Were blinded by thy love, and thou art fall'n.
Thy husband murder'd by thy lover's hand;
The council that accuses, will condemn thee,
And ignominious death becomes thy doom.
I came to warn thee, and prepare thy spirit.
Now, hast'ning back, try every hope for pardon;
Or, failing to redeem thee, share thy death.
Al.
My pardon!—Pardon at these wretches hands!
The prince my father stoop his prayers to them!
Death, if it hides me from that thought, is rapture.
Ah, Sir, live on! hope still some happier day,
To pay back all these pangs, and bless Peru;
Wait that due day, and love the lost Alzira.
'Tis all the prayer she makes, and all she wishes.
I pity dying Carlos; for I find
His fate too cruel; and I mourn it deeper,
Thro' fear he has deserv'd it. As for Zamor,
Whose rashness has reveng'd a country's wrongs,
Urg'd by too keen remembrance of his own,
I neither censure nor excuse his deed.
I would have staid him, but he rush'd to die;
And 'tis not in my choice to live without him.
Ez.
Shed thy wish'd mercy here, all-powerful Heaven!
[Exit.
Al.
My weeping father call'd on Heav'n to save me.
I will not task the grace of Heav'n so far.
Let me no longer be, and I'm not wretched.
The Almighty christian Power, that knows me innocent,
Exacts (they say) long life, in fix'd distress;
And suffers not the brave to shorten woe.
If so, the gods, once mine, were less severe.
Why should the wretch, who hopes not, struggle on,
Thro' viewless lengths of circling miseries,
And dread the hand of death, that points to refuge?
Sure christians, in this tale, belye their God.
His conqu'ring favourites, whom he arms with thunder,
Can they have right, from him, to waste the world,
To drive whole millions into death's cold arms?
And shall not I, for safety, claim that power
Which he permits to them for martial rage?
Ah, Zamor comes! They lead him out to die.
Enter Zamor in Chains, guarded by Spaniards.
Za.
Kind in their purpos'd insult, they have brought me
Where my expiring soul shall mix with thine.
Yes, my Alzira, we are doom'd together.
Their black tribunal has condemn'd us both.
But Carlos is not dead—that wounds me deepest.
Carlos survives, to boast short triumph o'er us;
And dies so slowly, that our fate comes first.
Yet, he must die; my hand not err'd so far,
But he must die: and when he does, my soul
Shall snatch th'expected moment, hovering, watchful,
And hunt him, in revenge, from star to star.
Pious Alvarez, mournful comes behind,
Charg'd with our bloody sentence, sign'd in council,
That murder may he sanctified by form.
My only grief is, that thou diest for me.
Al.
That, that should leave thy grief without a cause.
Since I am thus belov'd, to die with Zamor,
Is happiness unhop'd. Bless, bless my fate,
For this sole blow, that could have broke my chain.
Think that this period of suppos'd distress,
This moment, that unites us, tho' in death,
Is the first time my love was free from woe.
The smiling fate restores me to myself;
And I can give a heart, now all my own.
If there's a cause for tears, Alvarez claims 'em.
I, while he speaks our doom, shall feel but his.
Za.
See, where the mourner comes, and weeps his errand!
Enter Alvarez.
Alv.
Which of us three does fortune most distress?
What an assemblage ours, of mingled woes!
Za.
Since Heaven will have it so, that, from thy tongue,
I should receive death's summons, let it come:
'Twill have one power to please—for I shall hear thee.
Do not then pity, but condemn me boldly;
And, if thy heart, tho' Spanish, bends beneath it,
Think thou but doom'st an unsubmitting savage,
Who kill'd thy son, because unlike his father.
But what has poor Alzira done against thee?
Why must she die in whom a people lives;
In whom alone glows that collected soul,
That, in past ages, brighten'd all Peru?
Is innocence a crime where Spaniards judge?
Known, and assum'd by us, for all thy virtues,
The jealous envy of thy land reclaims thee,
And crops thy Indian growth, to creep like Spain.
Al.
Wond'rous old virtue! obstinately kind!
Thou, singly just, amidst a race of thieves!
'Twere to be base as they are, could I stoop
To deprecate a vengeance duly thine.
For thy son's blood be mine the willing sacrifice.
All I require is but escape from slander;
From poor suspicion of a guilt I scorn.
Carlos, tho' hated, was a hated husband;
Whence, even my hatred ow'd his life defence.
He was Alvarez' son too; and, as such,
Call'd for that rev'rence which himself deserv'd not.
As for thy nation, let them praise or blame me;
Thy witness only can be worth my claim.
As for my death, 'tis joy to die with Zamor:
And all the pain I suffer—is for thee.
Alv.
Words will have way; or grief, suppress'd in vain,
Would burst it's passage with th'out-rushing soul,
Whose sorrows ever match'd this mingled scene
15
Is Zamor: he who guarded me from murder,
Is also Zamor. Hold that image fast,
Afflicted nature. Life, unwish'd by me
Is due to Zamor. Young, belov'd, untry'd
In hope's false failings, life might make him happy.
My taste of time is gone; and life, to me,
Is but an evening's walk in rain and darkness.
Father I am (at least I was a father;)
But every father first was form'd a man:
And, spite of nature's call, that cries for vengeance,
The voice of gratitude must still be heard.
Oh, thou, so late my daughter! thou, whom yet,
Spite of these tears, I call by that lov'd name!
Mistake not my pursuit. I cannot taste
Those horrible reliefs that rise from blood.
It shocks me thro' a soul that feels for three.
Hard stroke or justice! thus to lose at once,
My daughter, my deliverer, and my son.
The council, with misguided view to sooth me,
Ill chose my tongue to tell their dreadful will.
True, I receiv'd the charge; for I had weigh'd it.
'Twere not impossible, perhaps, to save you:
Zamor might make it easy.
Za.
Can I do it?
Can Zamor save Alzira? Quickly tell me
How, by what length of torments, and 'tis done?
Alv.
Cast off thy idol gods, and be a christian:
That single change reverses all our fates.
Kind to the courted souls of Pagan converts,
We have a law remits their body's doom.
This latent law, by Heaven's peculiar mercy,
Points out a road, and gives a right to pardon.
Religion can disarm a christian's anger.
Thy blood becomes a brother's, so converted,
And with a living son repays a dead.
Prevented vengeance, seiz'd in her descent,
So rests suspended, and forgets to fall.
From thy new faith, Alzira draws new life;
And both are happy here, and sav'd hereafter.
Why art thou silent? Is the task so hard,
To add eternal life, to life below?
Speak—from thy choice, determine my relief,
Fain wou'd I owe thee yet a second being.
Yes—to restore the life thou robb'st me of,
A childless father wishes thee to live.
Alzira is a christian; be thou so.
'Tis all the recompence my wrongs will urge.
Za.
[To Alzira.]
Shall we, thou fairest, noblest boast of beauty!
Shall we so far indulge our fear to die?
Shall the soul's baseness bid the body live?
Shall Zamor's gods bow to the gods of Carlos?
Why wou'd Alvarez bend me down to shame?
Why wou'd he thus become the spirit's tyrant?
Into how strange a snare am I impell'd!
Either Alzira dies, or lives to scorn me!
Tell me—When fortune gave thee to my power,
Had I, at such a purchase, held thy life,
Tell me, with honest truth—wou'd thou have bought it?
Alv.
I shou'd have pray'd the Power, I now implore,
To widen, for his truth, a heart like thine:
Dark as it is, yet worthy to be christian.
Za.
[To Alzira.]
Death has no pain, but what I feel for thee.
Life has no power to charm, but what thou giv'st it.
Thou, then, art my soul, vouchsafe to guide it.
But, think!—remember, ere thou bid'st me chuse!
'Tis on a matter of more weight than life;
'Tis on a subject that concerns my gods:
And all those gods in one—my dear Alzira!
I trust it to thy honour—Speak—and fix me.
If thou conceiv'st it shame, thou wilt disdain it.
Al.
Then, hear me, Zamor.—My unhappy father
Dispos'd my willing heart, 'twixt Heaven and thee:
The god, he chose, was mine—thou may'st, perhaps,
Accuse it, as the weakness of my youth:
But, 'twas not so. My soul, enlarg'd, and clear,
Took in the solemn light of christian truth.
I saw—at least, I thought I saw, conviction.
And, when my lips abjur'd my country's gods,
My secret heart confirm'd the change within.
But had I wanted that directive zeal,
Had I renounc'd my gods, yet still believ'd 'em;
That—had not been an error, but a crime:
That had been mocking Heaven's whole host, at once;
The powers I quitted, and the power I chose.
A change like that, had err'd, beyond the tongue:
And taught the silent, servile soul, to lye.
I cou'd have wish'd, that Heaven had lent thee light,
But since it did not—let thy virtue guide thee.
Za.
I knew thy gen'rous choice, before I heard it.
Who, that can die with thee, wou'd shun such death,
And live to his own infamy?—Not Zamor.
Alv.
Inhuman slighters of yourselves and me!
Whom honour renders blind, and virtue cruel!
[A dead march,
Hark!—the time presses.—These are sounds of sorrow.
Enter Don Alonzo, followed by a mixed Crowd of Spaniards and Americans; mournful.
Alon.
We bring, obedient to his last command,
Our dying captain, your unhappy son,
Who lives no longer, than to reach your bosom.
A furious crowd of his lamenting friends
Press, to attend him, and revenge his blood.
Enter Don Carlos, brought in by Spanish Soldiers, surrounded by a Number of Followers, some of whom advance to seize Alzira.
Za.
[Interposing].
Wretches! keep distance.—Let Alzira live;
Mine was the single guilt—be mine the vengeance.
Al.
Be feasted, ye officious hounds of blood:
Guiltless or guilty, 'tis my choice to die.
Alv.
My son! my dying son!—This silent paleness,
This look, speaks for thee, and forbids all hope.
Za.
[To Don Car.]
Even to the last then, thou maintain'st thy hate?
Come—see me suffer; mark my eye; and scorn me,
If my expiring soul confesses fear.
Look—and be taught, at least, to die—by Zamor.
D. Car.
[To Zamor.]
I have no time to copy out thy virtues:
But, there are some of mine, I come to teach thee,
I shou'd, in life, have given thy pride example:
Take it, too late, in death; and mark it well.
—Sir, my departing spirit staid it's journey,
[To Alvarez.
First, till my eyes might leave their beams in yours;
And their dim lights expire, amidst your blessing.
Next, what you taught me, 'tis my task to show,
And die the son of your paternal virtue.
—Eager in life's warm race, I never stopp'd
To look behind me, and review my way.
But, at the goal, before I judg'd it near,
I start—and recollect forgotten slidings.
On the grave's serious verge, I turn—and see
Humanity oppress'd, to cherish pride;
Heaven has reveng'd the earth—and Heav'n is just!
Cou'd my own blood but expiate what I shed,
16
I shou'd lie down in dust—and rest in peace.
Cheated by prosp'rous fortune, death deals plainly;
But—I have learnt to live, when life forsakes me.
Safe and forgiven, be the hand I fall by.
Power is yet mine; and it absolves my murder.
Live, my proud enemy; and live in freedom.
Live—and observe, tho' christians oft act ill,
They must forgive ill actions in another.
—Ezmont, my friend! and you, ye friendless Indians!
Subjects, not slaves! be rul'd henceforth by law.
Be grateful to my pity, though 'twas late;
And teach your country's kings to fear no longer.
—Rival, learn hence the diff'rence 'twixt our gods:
Thine have inspir'd thee to pursue revenge;
But mine, when that revenge had reach'd my life,
Command me to esteem, and give thee pardon.
Alv.
Virtues like these, my son, secure thy peace:
But double the distress of us who lose thee.
Al.
Of all the painful wonders thou hast caus'd me,
This change, this language, will afflict me most!
Za.
Die soon, or live for ever.—If thou thus
Go'st on, to charm my anger into envy,
I shall repent, I was not born a christian,
And hate the justice that compell'd my blow!
D. Car.
I will go farther yet—I will not leave thee,
Till I have soften'd envy into friendship.
Mournful Alzira has been too unhappy:
Lov'd to distress, and married to misfortune!
I wou'd do something to atone her wrongs;
And with a softer sense, imprint her pity.
Take her—and owe her to the hand she hates.
Live—and remember me without a curse.
Resume lost empire o'er your conquer'd states:
Be friends to Spain—nor enemies to me.
—Vouchsafe my claim, Sir, to this son, this daughter:
[To Alvarez.
And be both father and protector too.
May Heaven and you be kind! and they be christians!
Za.
I stand immoveable—confus'd—astonish'd!
If these are christian virtues, I am christian.
The faith that can inspire this gen'rous change,
Must be divine—and glows with all it's God!
—Friendship, and constancy, and right, and pity,
All these were lessons I had learnt before.
But this unnatural grandeur of the soul
Is more than mortal; and out reaches virtue.
It draws—it charms—it binds me to be christian.
It bids me blush at my remember'd rashness:
Curse my revenge—and pay thee all my love.
[Throws himself at his feet.
Al.
A widow'd wife, blushing to be thus late,
In her acknowledgment of tender pity;
Low, at your injur'd feet, with prostrate heart,
[Kneels with Zamor.
Weeps your untimely death; and thanks your goodness.
—Torn by contending passions, I want power
To speak a thousand truths, I see you merit:
But honour and confess your greatness wrong'd.
D. Car.
Weep not, Alzira—I forgive again.
—For the last time, my father, lend your bosom.
Live to be bless'd!—and make Alzira so!
Remember, Zamor—that a christian—Oh!
[Dies.
Alv.
I see the hand of Heaven in our misfortune.
[To Ezmont.
But justice strikes; and suff'rers must submit.
Woes are good counsellors; and kindly show,
What prosp'rous error never lets us know.
| Alzira | |