 | Alzira |  |
3
ACT I.
Don Alvarez and Don Carlos.Alv.
At length the council, partial to my prayer,
Has to a son I love transferr'd my power.
Carlos, rule happy; be a viceroy long;
Long for thy prince, and for thy God, maintain
This younger, richer, lovelier, half the globe;
Too fruitful, heretofore, in wrongs and blood;
Crimes the lamented growths of powerful gold!
Safe to thy abler hand devolve, resign'd,
Those sovereign honours which oppress'd my years,
And dimm'd the feeble lamp of wasted age.
Yet had it long, and not unuseful, flam'd.
I first o'er wond'ring Mexico in arms
March'd the new horrors of a world unknown!
I steer'd the floating towers of fearless Spain
Through the plow'd bosom of an untried sea:
Too happy, had my labours been so bless'd,
To change my brave associate's rugged souls,
And soften stubborn heroes into men.
Their cruelties, my son, eclips'd their glory:
And I have wept a conqu'ror's splendid shame,
Whom heaven not better made, and yet made great.
Wearied at length, I reach my life's last verge;
Where I shall peaceful veil my eyes in rest;
If ere they close, they but behold my Carlos
Ruling Potosi's realm by christian laws,
And making gold more rich by gifts from Heav'n.
D. Car.
Taught and supported by your great example,
I learnt beneath your eye to conquer realms,
Which by your counsels I may learn to govern;
Giving those laws I first receive from you.
Alv.
Not so.—Divided power is power disarm'd.
Outworn by labour, and decay'd by time,
Pomp is no more my wish. Enough for me
That heard in council age may temper rashness.
Trust me, mankind but ill rewards the pains
Of over-prompt ambition.—'Tis now time
To give my long neglected God those hours
Which close the languid period of my days.
One only gift I ask, refuse not that;
As friend I ask it, and as father claim.
Pardon those poor Americans, condemn'd
For wand'ring hither, and this morning seiz'd.
To my disposal give 'em kindly up,
That liberty, unhop'd, may charm the more:
A day like this should merit smiles from all;
And mercy, soft'ning justice, mark it bless'd.
D. Car.
Sir, all that fathers ask, they must command.
Yet condescend to recollect how far
This pity, undeserv'd, might hazard all.
In infant towns, like ours, methinks 'twere safe
Not to familiarize these savage spies.
If we accustom foes to look too near,
We teach 'em, at our cost, to slight those swords
They once flew trembling from, whene'er they saw.
Frowning revenge, and awe of distant dread,
Not smiling friendship, tames these sullen souls.
The sow'r American, unbroke, and wild,
Spurns with indignant rage, and bites his chain:
Humble when punish'd; if regarded, fierce.
Power sickens by forbearance: rigid men,
Who feel not pity's pangs, are best obey'd.
Spaniards, 'tis true, are rul'd by honour's law,
Submit unmurm'ring, and unforc'd go right:
But other nations are impell'd by fear,
And must be rein'd, and spurr'd, with hard controul.
The gods themselves, in this ferocious clime,
Till they look grim with blood, excite no dread.
Alv.
Away, my son, with these detested schemes!
Perish such politic reproach of rule!
Are we made captains in our Maker's cause,
O'er these new christians call'd to stretch his name,
His peaceful name! and shall we, unprovok'd,
Bear murders, which our holy cheats presume
To mispronounce his injur'd altar's due!
Shall we dispeople realms, and kill to save!
Such if the fruits of Spain's religious care,
I, from the distant bounds of our old world,
Have to this new one stretch'd a Saviour's name,
To make it hateful to one half the globe,
Because no mercy grac'd the other's zeal.
No, my misguided Carlos, the broad eye
Of one Creator takes in all mankind:
His laws expand the heart; and we, who thus
Wou'd by destruction propagate relief,
And mix with blood and gold religion's growth,
Stamp in these Indians honest breasts a scorn
Of all we teach, from what they see we do.
D. Car.
Yet the learn'd props of our unerring church,
Whom zeal for saving souls deprives of rest,
Taught my late youth, committed to their care,
That ignorance, averse, must be compell'd.
Alv.
Our priests are all for vengeance, force, and fire;
And only in his thunder act their God.
Hence we seem thieves; and what we seem we are.
Spain has robb'd every growth of this new world,
Even to it's savage nature!—Vain, unjust,
Proud, cruel, covetous, we, we alone,
Are the barbarians here!—An Indian heart
Equals, in courage, the most prompt of ours,
But in simplicity of artless truth,
And every honest native warmth, excels us.
Had they, like us, been bloody; had they not
By pity's power been mov'd, and virtue's love,
No son of mine had heard a father, now,
Reprove his erring rashness.—You forget,
That when a pris'ner in these people's hands,
Gall'd and provok'd by cruelty and wrongs,
While my brave followers fell on every side,
Till I alone surviv'd; some Indians knew me,
Knew me, and suddenly pronounc'd my name.
At once they threw their weapons to the ground.
4
Graceful approach'd, and, kneeling, press'd my knees.
Alvarez, is it you! he cry'd—Live long!
Ours be your virtue, but not ours your blood!
Live, and instruct oppressors to be lov'd.—
Bless'd be those tears, my son—I think you weep.
Joy to your soft'ning soul! Humanity
Has power, in nature's right, beyond a father.
But from what motive sprung this late decline
From clemency of heart to new-born rigour?
Had you been always cruel, with what brow
Cou'd you have hop'd to charm the lov'd Alzira,
Heiress to realms dispeopled by your sword!
And though your captive, yet your conqu'ror too.
Trust me—with women worth the being won,
The softest lover ever best succeeds.
D. Car.
Sir, I obey: your pleasure breaks their chains;
Yet 'tis their duty to embrace our faith:
So runs the king's command.—To merit life,
Quit they their idol worship, and be free.
So thrives religion, and compels the blind;
So draws our holy altar souls by force,
Till opposition dies, and sleeps in peace;
So links a govern'd world in faith's strong chain;
And but one monarch serves, and but one God.
Alv.
Hear me, my son.—That crown'd in this new world,
Religion may erect her holy throne,
Is what, with ardent zeal, my soul desires;
Let Heaven and Spain find here no future foe!
Yet ne'er did persecution's offspring thrive:
For the forc'd heart, submitting, still resists.
Reason gains all men, by compelling none.
Mercy was always Heaven's distinguish'd mark;
And he who bears it not, has no friend there.
D. Car.
Your reasons, like your arms, are sure to conquer.
I am instructed and ennobled by them!
Indulgent virtue dwells in all you say,
And softens, while you speak, the list'ning soul!
Since Heaven has bless'd you with this powerful gift,
To breathe persuasion, and uncharm resolves,
Pronounce me favour'd, and you make me so.
Warm my Alzira's coldness: dry her tears;
And teach her to be mine.—I love that maid,
Spite of my pride! blush at it—but still love her!
Yet will I ne'er, to sooth unyielding scorn,
Unman the soldier in the lover's cause.
I cannot stoop to fan a hopeless flame,
And be in vain her slave.—You, Sir, might aid me:
You can do all things with Alzira's father.
Bid him command his daughter to be kind:
Bid him—But whither would my love mislead me!
Forgive the blind presumption of a hope,
That to my int'rest stoops my father's rank;
And sends him beggar to an Indian's door!
Alv.
'Tis done already. I have urg'd it to him.
Ezmont has mov'd his daughter in your cause.
Wait the prepar'd event. Heaven has been kind;
Since these illustrious captives both are christians;
Ezmont my convert, and his daughter his.
Alzira governs a whole people's minds;
Each watchful Indian reads her studied eye,
And to her silent heart conforms his own.
Your marriage shall unite two distant worlds:
For when the stern repiner at our law
Sees in your arms the daughter of his king,
With humbler spirit, and with heart less fierce,
His willing neck shall court the yoke he scorn'd.—
But look, where Ezmont comes!—Retire, my son;
And leave me to compleat the task begun.
[Exit Car.
Enter Ezmont.
—Welcome, my friend; your council, or command,
Has left, I hope, Alzira well resolv'd.
Ez.
Great father of the friendless!—Pardon yet,
If one, whose sword seem'd fatal to her race,
Keeps her heart cold, with some remains of horror!
We move with ling'ring steps to those we fear.
But prejudice will fly before your voice,
Whose winning manners consecrate your laws.
To you who gave us heaven, our earth is due.
Yours our new being, our enlighten'd souls;
Spain may hold realms by purchase of her sword;
And worlds may yield to power—but we to virtue.
Your bloody nation's unsucceeding pride
Had made their God disgustful as their crimes!
We saw him hateful in their murd'rous zeal;
But lov'd him in your mercy.—From your heart
His influence stream'd accepted; and my crown
My daughter, and my soul, became your slaves.
Father alike of Carlos and of me,
I give him my Alzira for your sake;
And with her all Potosi and Peru.
Summon the reverend choir; prepare the rites;
And trust my promise for my daughter's will.
Alv.
Bless'd be the long-wish'd sound!—This great work past,
I shall go down in peace, and hail my grave.
Oh, thou Great Leader! whose almighty hand
Drew the dark veil aside that hid new worlds;
Smile on this union, which, confirmed by thee,
Shall in one empire grasp the circled globe,
And task the sun's whole round to measure Spain!
Ezmont, farewel—I go to greet my son,
With welcome news, how much he owes my friend.
[Exit.
Ez.
[Alone.]
Thou, nameless Power, unequall'd and alone!
Whose dreadful vengeance overwhelm'd, at once,
My country, and her gods, too weak to save!
Protect my failing years from new distress.
Robb'd of my all; but this one daughter left me;
Oh, guard her heart, and guide her to be bless'd!—
Enter Alzira.
Daughter, be happy, while good-fortune courts thee;
And in thy blessing chear thy country's hope.
Protect the vanquish'd: rule the victor's will;
Seize the bent thunder in his lifted hand;
And from despair's low seat, remount a throne.
Lend the lov'd public thy reluctant heart;
And in the joy of millions find thy own.
Nay, do not weep, Alzira! tears will now
Seem insults, and reproach thy father's care.
Al.
Sir, my whole soul, devoted, soul, devoted, feels your power:
Yet, if Alzira's peace was ever dear,
Shut not your ear to my despairing grief;
But, in my nuptials, read my certain doom.
Ez.
Urge it no more: it is an ill-tim'd sorrow.
Away! I had thy kind consent before.
Al.
No—you compell'd the frightful sacrifice:
And, ah, remorseless Heaven!—at what a time!
When the rais'd sword of this all-murd'ring lover
Hangs o'er my people's heads with threat'ning sway,
To strike the trembling remnant from my sight,
And mark my nuptial day a day of death!
Omens on omens have pronounc'd it curs'd.
Ez.
Quit these vain fears, these superstitious dreams
Of unconfiding ignorance! What day?
What omens?—We ourselves, who chuse our acts,
Make our own days, or happy, or accurs'd.
Al.
'Twas on this day, the pride of all our state,
Zamor the great, the warlike Zamor fell;
Zamor, my lover, and your purpos'd son.
Ez.
Zamor was brave; and I have mourn'd his fall.
But the cold grave dissolves e'en lovers' vows.
Bear to the altar, then, a heart resolv'd:
And let thy summon'd virtue check thy weakness.
Was not thy soul enroll'd a christian lately?
5
Speaks in my voice; commands thee to be won.
Hear him; and learn obedience to his will.
Al.
Alas, my father! spare this dreadful zeal.
Has not the parent spoke? Why speaks the God?
I know, and I confess, a father's power;
At his command to sacrifice the life
He gave me, is a duty nature taught.
But my obedience passes nature's bounds;
Whate'er I see, is with my father's eyes;
Whate'er I love, is for my father's sake;
I chang'd my very gods, and took my father's;
Yet has this father, piously severe,
Wrong'd my believing weakness, and undone me.
He told me to compose my troubled heart,
Peace held her dwelling at the altar's foot.
He told me, that religion cur'd despair,
And soften'd every pang that pierc'd the soul:
But, ah, 'twas all deceit! all dear delusion!
Mix'd with the image of an awful God,
A human image struggles in my heart,
And checks my willing virtue in it's rising.
Zamor, though dead to nature, lives to love.
Zamor still triumphs in Alzira's breast,
Lord of her soul, and holds back all her wishes.
You frown.—Alas, you blame a guilt you caus'd.
Quench then this flame, too hard for death and time;
And force me to be his whom most I hate.
If my lov'd country bids, I must obey;
Yet, while by force you join unsocial hands,
Tremble whene'er you drag me to the altar,
Tremble to hear my tongue deceive my God:
To hear me to this hated tyrant vow
A heart, that beats, unchang'd, another's due.
Ez.
Alas, my child, what unweigh'd words are these!
Pity my age, unfit for length'ning woes:
Nature asks rest: pity these falling tears.
By all our fates, that all depend on thee,
Let me conjure thee to be bless'd thyself,
Nor close in misery my life's last scene.
Why do I live, but to redeem thy hopes?
For thy own sake, not mine, assist my care.
Blast not the ripening prospect of thy peace,
Hard, and with labour'd patience, slowly grown.
Now, on thy instant choice, depends thy fate!
Nor only thine, but a whole people's fate!
Wilt thou betray them? Have they other help?
Have they a hope, but thee!—Think, think, Alzira:
And nobly lose thyself to save a state.
[Exit.
Al.
Cruel accomplishment! sublime defect!
So feign we virtues to become a throne,
Till public duty drowns our private youth.
Enter Don Carlos.
D. Car.
Princess, you give a lover cause to doubt,
That this long labour of your slow consent
Springs from a heart too cold to feel his flame.
While, for your sake, suspended law forbears
To punish rebels, whom you wish to save,
Ungrateful, you compel a nation's freedom,
And bind, in recompence, my chains more close!
Yet misconceive me not.—I would not owe
A softened sentiment to having serv'd you;
That were to bribe a heart my pride wou'd win.
I shou'd with mingled joy and blushes gain you,
If, as my perquisite of power you fell.
Let me attract, not force you.—I would owe you,
All to yourself; nor could I taste a joy,
That, in your giving it, might cost you pain.
Al.
Join, Sir, my fruitless prayers to angry Heav'n!
This dreadful day comes charg'd with pains for both.
—No wonder you detect my troubled soul:
It bursts unveil'd from my disclosing eyes,
And glows on every feature's honest air.
Such is the plainness of an Indian heart,
That it disdains to sculk behind the tongue;
But throws out all it's wrongs, and all it's rage.
She who can hide her purpose, can betray;
And that's a christian virtue I've not learnt.
D. Car.
I love your frankness, but reproach it's cause.
Zamor, remember'd Zamor, speaks in this,
With hatred stretch'd beyond th'extent of life,
He crosses from the tomb, his conq'ror's will;
And felt through death revenge's rival love.
Cease to complain, and you may learn to bear.
My fame, your duty, both require a change;
And I most wish it were from tears to joy.
Al.
A rival's grave should bury jealousy.
But whence your right to censure sorrow for him?
I lov'd him; I proclaim it. Had I not,
I had been blind to sense, and lost to reason.
Zamor was all the prop of our fallen world:
And, but he lov'd me much, confess'd no weakness!
Had I not mourn'd a fate he not deserv'd,
I had deserv'd the sate he felt unjustly.
For you—be proud no more; but dare be honest.
Far from presuming to reproach my tears,
Honour my constancy, and praise my virtue:
Cease to regret the dues I pay the dead;
And merit, if you can, a heart thus faithful.
[Exit.
D. Car.
[Alone.]
Spite of my fruitless passion, I confess,
Her pride, thus starting it's sincere disdain,
Astonishes my thought, and charms my anger.
—What then shall I resolve?—Must it cost more
To tame one female heart than all Peru!
Nature, adapting her to suit her climate,
Left her all savage, yet all shining too!
But 'tis my duty to be master here;
Where, she alone excepted, all obey.
Since then too faintly I her heart incline,
I'll force her stubborn hand, and fix her mine.
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