 | Alzira |  |
ACT II.
Zamor, and Four Indian Captains, in Chains.Za.
Friends, who have dar'd beyond the strength of mortals;
Whose courage scorn'd restraint, and grew in danger;
Associates in my hopes and my misfortunes!
Since we have lost our vengeance, let death find us!
Why should we longer be condemn'd to life,
Defenceless to our country and Alzira?
Yet why should Spanish Carlos 'scape our swords?
Why thrive beneath a weight of uncheck'd crimes?
And why has Heaven forsaken us and virtue?
Ye strengthless powers! whose altars smok'd in vain?
Gods of a faithful, yet a cheated people!
Why have you thus betray'd us to the foe?
Why had six hundred Spanish vagrants power
To crush my throne, your temples, rites, and you?
Where are your altars? where my glories now?
Where is Alzira? more herself a god,
Than your collected queens of fancied heaven!
Helpless once more thou seest me—lost Peru!
O'er shifting sands, through desarts, cross'd in vain,
From forest wilds, impervious to the sun;
From the world's wastes, beneath the burning zone,
I brought thee unhop'd aid! the wond'ring stars
Beheld me gath'ring from remotest wilds,
New strength, new prospects, and new means to die!
Your arms, your furtherance, your vast support,
New-furnish'd my desires, and wing'd my hope.
Vengeance and love once more had mann'd my heart.
But, ah, how vain that hope! how lost that vengeance!
The slaves of avarice are honour's masters!
6
Why left we in the neighb'ring woods our forces?
Why dar'd we pass too bold their guarded gates,
Alone, and unsupported—rash discoverers?
Za.
Seiz'd but this morning from our dungeon's depth,
Th'infernal murderers have hither brought us,
Unknowing to what death, though sure to die.
Yet it o'erjoys me, we have met once more.
But where? what place is this? Has none yet heard
Who governs here? what fate Alzira found?
Whether her father is, like us, their slave?
Dear, wretched friends, who share a death, my due,
Can none instruct me what I wish to know?
In. Capt.
From sep'rate prisons hither led, like you,
Through diff'rent streets we came, the cause not known:
All uninform'd of what you seek to learn.
Great, but unhappy prince! deserving long
A nobler fate! our silent souls lament
Our want of power to save so lov'd a leader.
Now to die with you is our noblest claim,
Since to die for you was a choice denied us.
Za.
Next the wish'd glory of success in war,
The greatest is to die, and die renown'd.
But to die noteless, in the shameful dark,
To die, and leave in chains our suff'ring country!
To fall, undignified, by villains' hands,
The sacrifice of Europe's outcast bloodhounds!
Horrid with others wounds, and poorly rich,
With others plunder'd treasure; die by butchers!
Blood-stain'd insulters of a yielded world!
Riflers, who gave me up to tire their tortures,
But for discovery of the gold I scorn'd,
As dross, less valued, and less wish'd than they!
To be in death the cause of my friend's dying!
To die, and leave Alzira to my murderers!
This is a death of horror, not of fame!
This is the body's death—but shakes the soul!
Enter Alvarez, with a Guard of Spaniards.
Alv.
Live, and be free.
[Spanish Soldiers unfetter the Indians.
Za.
Ye gods of lost Peru!
What do I hear!—said he, Be free, and live?
What vast mysterious accident of virtue?
Some power divine, in sport, deceives my wonder!
Thou seem'st a Spaniard!—and—but thou forgivest,
I cou'd have sworn thee christian!—Who? what art thou?
Art thou some god? or this new city's king?
Alv.
Christian I am; and Spaniard: but no king.
Yet serves my power to save the weak, distress'd.
Za.
What thy distinction then? thou gen'rous wonder!
Alv.
The love of pity, when the wretched want it.
Za.
Pity! and christian!—what inspir'd thy greatness?
Alv.
My memory, my duty, and my God.
Za.
Thy God?—Perhaps, then, these insatiate wasters,
These human seemers, with but forms of men;
These thirsters after only gold and blood;
From some coarse, lawless part of Europe came,
And serve some bloodier god that wars with thine?
Alv.
Their faith the same with mine, but not their nature:
Christians by birth, by error made unchristian,
In power grown giddy, they disgrace command.
Thou know'st their faults too well: now, know my duty.
Twice has the sun's broad traverse girt the globe,
Twice wheel'd the summer round your world and ours,
Since a brave Indian, native of your land,
To whom surprize in ambush made me captive,
Gave me the forfeit life his sword had won.
The unexpected mercy forc'd my blushes:
For, I perceiv'd, compassion of your woes,
Was but a duty, when I thought 'twas virtue.
Thenceforth, your countrymen became my brothers;
And I have now but one complaint against them;
—That I must never know his name who sav'd me.
Za.
He has Alvarez' voice! He has his features!
His age the same too; and the same his story!
'Tis he!—there is no other honest christian.
Look on us all; and recollect his face,
Who wisely spar'd thy life to spread thy virtues.
Alv.
Come nearer, noble youth.—By Heaven, 'tis he!
Now, my dim eyes, you teach me my decay,
That cou'd not let me see my wish indulg'd,
But clouded e'en my gratitude!—My son!
My benefactor! Saviour of my age!
What can I do! Instruct me to deserve thee.
Dwell in my sight; and I will be thy father.
Thou wilt have lost the merit of thy gift,
If, from the power it gave, thou claim'st no payment.
Za.
Trust me, my father, had thy Spanish sons
Shewn but a glimm'ring of thy awful virtue,
Grateful Peru, now desolately theirs,
Had been a peopled world of willing slaves.
But cruelty, and pride, and plunder, claim them.
Rather than live among that felon race,
Hide, hide me, silent death; and screen my soul
From the reliefless rage of unfelt curses.
All I wou'd ask, all I will take from Spain,
Is but to be inform'd, if Ezmont lives?
Or, has his blood new-stain'd their hands with murder?
Ezmont?—perhaps you knew him not?—That Ezmont,
Who was Alzira's father?—I must stop,
And weep—before I dare go on, to ask—
Whether—that father—and that daughter—live?
Alv.
Hide not thy tears: weep boldly—and be proud
To give the flowing virtue manly way;
'Tis nature's mark to know an honest heart by.
Shame on those breasts of stone, that cannot melt,
In soft adoption of another's sorrow.
But be thou comforted; for both thy friends
Live, and are happy here.
Za.
And shall I see 'em?
Alv.
Ezmont, within this hour, shall teach his friend
To live, and hope—and be as bless'd as he.
Za.
Alzira's Ezmont?—
Alv.
From his mouth, not mine,
Thou shalt, this moment, learn whate'er thou seek'st.
He shall instruct thee in a smiling charge,
That has united Spain with sav'd Peru.
I have a son to bless with this new joy:
He will partake my happiness, and love thee.
—I quit thee—but will instantly return
To charm thee with this union's happy story,
That nothing now on earth has power to sever—
Yet, which once clos'd, shall quiet warring worlds.
[Exit, with Guards.
Za.
At length, th'awak'ning gods remember Zamor,
And to atone my wrongs, by working wonders,
Have made a Spaniard honest to reward me!
Alvarez is himself the christians' god;
Who long provok'd, and blushing at their crimes,
In his own right descends, to veil their shame.
He says, he has a son; that son shall be
My brother, if, at least, he does but prove
Worthy (cou'd man be so) of such a father!
Oh, day! Oh, dawn of hope, on my sad heart!
Ezmont, now, after three long years of woe,
Ezmont, Alzira's father, is restor'd me!
Alzira too, the dear, the gen'rous maid,
She, whom my sighing soul has been at work for!
She, who has made me brave, and left me wretched!
Alzira too is here! and lives to thank me.
Enter Ezmont.
—Oh, ye profuse rewarders of my pain:
7
Thou father of my lab'ring mind's inspirer!
Hard let me press thee to a heart that loves thee.
Escap'd from death, behold returning Zamor.
He will not, cannot die, while there is hope,
That he may live to serve a suff'ring friend.
Speak, speak; and be thy first soft word Alzira!
Say, she is here; and bless'd, as Heaven can make her.
Ez.
Unhappy prince!—She lives; nor lives remote.
Words cannot reach description of her grief,
Since first the news of thy sad death was brought her.
Long dwelt she, sorrowing, o'er an empty tomb,
Which, for thy fancied form, she rais'd to weep on.
But thou still liv'st!—amazing chance!—thou liv'st
Heav'n grant some doubtful means to bless thee long,
And make thy life as happy—as 'tis strange!
—What brought thee hither, Zamor?
Za.
Cruel question!
Colder than all the deaths I have escap'd from!
Why dost thou ask? Where else cou'd I have hop'd
To find, and to redeem thyself and daughter?
Ez.
Say that no more—'tis misery to hear thee.
Za.
Bethink thee of the black, the direful day,
When that vile Spaniard, Carlos, curse the name!
Invulnerable, or to sword or shame,
O'erturn'd those walls, which time, when young, saw built,
By earth attracted, children of the sun.
Perish his name! and, oh! be curs'd my fate,
Who yet no nearer brought him than to thought,
In horror of his murders! 'Twas the wretch,
Who bears that name of Carlos, blasted all.
'Twas in that name, pillage and slaughter spread!
'Twas in that name, they dragg'd Alzira from me;
Buried in dust the temples of our gods;
And stain'd with the surrounding off'rer's blood
Their violated altars! The shock'd pow'r,
That smil'd expectant on our marriage-vow,
Rush'd back, and press'd in vain his brother gods,
To vindicate their empire.—Spain's dark power
Prevail'd; and I was captive led to Carlos.
I will not terrify thy pitying breast,
I will not tell thee, to what tort'ring pain,
That villain Spaniard's avarice condemn'd me.
Condemn'd me, Ezmont, for the sake of gold!
Gold, the divinity of beggar Spain,
And our neglected refuse!—'Tis enough,
To tell thee, that amidst their tortures left,
And seeming dead, they, tir'd, not satisfied,
Forbore, because I felt not.—I reviv'd,
To feel, once more, but never to forget,
The grindings of their insult. Three long years
Have lent me friends, and hopes, and arms, for vengeance.
Close ambush'd in the neighb'ring woods they lie,
Sworn the revengers of their bleeding country.
Ez.
Alas! my heart compassionates thy wrongs:
But do not seek a ruin that wou'd shun thee.
What can thy flint-arm'd Indians courage do?
What their weak arrows, spoils of fishes bones?
How can thy naked, untrain'd warriors, conquer?
Unequally oppos'd to iron-men:
To woundless bosoms coated o'er with safety!
And arm'd with missive thunders in their hand,
That stream deaths on us swifter than the winds!
No—since the world, they say, has yielded to 'em,
Yield Zamor and Peru, and let 'em reign.
Za.
Let the world yield—Zamor will always find
Some gen'rous corner in it, fit for freedom.
Had I been born to serve, obedience claims
Returns of benefit and due protection:
Outrage and wrongs require correction only.
These lightnings and these thunders; these safe shells,
Cases for fear, which guard their iron war;
These fiery steeds, that tear the trampled earth,
And hurl their headlong riders on the foe;
These outward forms of death, that fright the world,
I can look stedfast on; and dare despise.
The novelty once lost, the force will fail.
Curse on our feeble gold! it calls in foes,
Yet helps not to repel the wrongs it draws!
Oh, had but steel been ours!—but partial Heaven
Has, with that manly wealth, enrich'd our foe!
Yet, not to leave our vengeance quite disarm'd,
Depriving us of steel, it gave us virtue.
Ez.
Virtue was bless'd of old—but—times are chang'd.
Za.
No matter—let us keep our hearts the same.
Alzira cannot change—Alzira's just.
Alzira's faithful to her vows and me.—
Save me, ye gods! from a friend's downcast eye!
Whence are those sighs and tears?
Ez.
Too wretched Zamor!
Za.
I thought myself Alzira's father's son;
But find these tyrants have unking'd thy soul;
And taught thee, on the grave's last edge, to wrong me.
Ez.
They cannot. 'Tis an art I will not learn.
Nor are our conqu'rors all unjust—for, know,
'Twas Heaven induc'd these christians to our clime,
Less to subdue, and rule us, than instruct.
Know, they brought with them virtues, here unfound:
Secrets immortal, that preserve the soul!
The science of salvation by belief!
The art of living bless'd, and dying safe!
Za.
Or I am deaf; or, wou'd to Heaven, I were!
But, if I heard thee right, thou seem'st to praise
These pilfering zealots, who usurp thy throne,
And wou'd convert thy daughter to a slave!
Ez.
Alzira is no slave.
Za.
Ah!—Royal Ezmont!
Pardon some transport, which despair inflam'd;
And, to great woes, indulge a little warmth.
Remember, she was mine by solemn vow:
By thy own oath, before our altar sworn;
Honour and perjury can never meet.
Ez.
What are our altars? what our idol gods!
Phantoms of human coinage, fear'd no more!
I would not wish to hear thee cite their name.
Za.
What! was our fathers altars vain deceit?
Ez.
It was; and I have happily disclaim'd it.
May the great single Power, that rules whole heaven
Lend thy dark heart one ray of truth divine!
May'st thou, unhappy Zamor, learn to know,
And, knowing, to confess, in Europe's right,
Her god should be ador'd, her sons obey'd!
Za.
Obey'd! Hell blast 'em!—What! these sons of rapine?
They have not robb'd thee of thy faith alone,
But pilfer'd even thy reason!—Yet, 'twas wise,
When thou would'st keep no vows, to own no gods.
But, tell me—is Alzira too forsworn?
True to her father's weakness has she fallen?
Serves she the gods of christians?
Ez.
Hapless youth!
Though bless'd in my own change, I weep for thine.
Za.
He who betrays his friend, has cause for weeping.
Yet tears, they say, shew pity—if they do,
Pity this torment, which thy shame has cost me.
Pity my heart, at once alarm'd, for heaven,
For heav'n betray'd, like me; and torn at once,
By love, and zeal, and vengeance—Take me, Carlos;
Drag me to die at my Alzira's feet;
And I will sigh away a soul, she saves not.
But have a care—be cautious, ere I fall,
Of urging me, too rashly, to despair.
Resume a human heart! and feel some virtue.
8
Alon.
My lord, the ceremonies wait your presence.
Ez.
Farewel—I follow thee.
Za.
No, by my wrongs!
I will not quit this hold, till I have learnt,
What ceremony, what black purpose, waits thee?
Ez.
Away—be counsell'd—fly this fatal city.
Za.
Not though the christian power that blasts my love,
Shou'd rain down lightnings on my destin'd head,
And my own gods cry'd, Stay, I still would follow thee.
Ez.
Forgive the force of an unwish'd refusal.—
Guards, to your care I must commit this madman.
Restrain him—He wou'd violate our altar.
These Pagans, obstinate in idol zeal,
Malign our holy myst'ries, and profane
The church's solemn service.—Guard the doors.
'Tis not in right of my own power I speak;
But, Carlos, in my voice, commands your care.
[Exit, with Guards, after they have freed him from Zamor.
Za.
Did I not hear him, friends?—or am I mad?
Did I not hear him use the name of Carlos?
Oh, treachery! Oh, baseness! Oh, my wrongs!
Oh, last, uncredited, reproach of nature!
Ezmont commands for Carlos?—'Twas not Ezmont:
'Twas that black devil, that scares the christian cowards,
Lyed in his shape, to scandalize Peru!
Oh, virtue! thou art banish'd from mankind:
E'en from Alzira's heart, thou now art fled.
—These villain bart'rers rob us not of gold,
They pay it's fatal price, in morals ruin'd.
Detested Carlos, then is here!—Oh, friends!
What council? what resource? to stop despair.
In. Capt.
Let not my prince condemn the faithful zeal,
That wou'd advise his sorrows.—Old Alvarez
Will straight return, and bring, perhaps, that son,
With whom to share his joy the good man hasten'd.
Urge him to see you safe without their gates:
Then suddenly rejoin your ambush'd friends,
And march, more equal, to your purpos'd vengeance.
Let us not spare a life, but good Alvarez,
And this lov'd son! I, near the wall, remark'd
Their arts, and modes of structure: mark'd their angles,
Deep ditch, broad bulwarks, and their sleeping thunders.
I saw, and weigh'd it all: and found hope strongest
Our groaning fathers, brothers, sons, and friends,
In fetter'd labour toil, to house their spoilers.
These, when we march to their unhop'd relief,
Will rise, within the town, behind their masters:
While you, meanwhile, without, advance against them:
And, o'er our dying bodies, proudly heap'd,
Bridge a bold entrance o'er their bloody rampart.
There, may we turn, against their tyrant heads,
Those fiery mouths of death, those storms of murder,
Those forms, that frightning honest, artless bravery,
Build, on our ignorance, a throne for wrongs.
Za.
Illustrious wretchedness! by Heaven, it charms me,
To see those soaring souls out-tower their fortune.
Shall we—yes, still we shall!—recover empire;
Carlos shall feel Peru, despis'd Peru,
Knock'd at his trembling heart, and claim atonement.
Come, dire revenge! thou melancholy god!
That comfort'st the distress'd with shadowy hopings
Strengthen our willing hands: let Carlos die!
Let but that Spanish murderer, Carlos, die,
And I am half repaid my kingdom's losses!
But we are wretches, indolently brave:
We talk of vengeance; and we sleep in chains!
Alvarez has forgot me; Ezmont slights me;
And she I love is theirs whom most I hate.
All the poor comfort of my heart is doubting.
Hark! what surprising noise! [Shout.]
It rises louder,
And sudden fires, high-flaming, double day!
Hark!—from their iron throats, [Guns.]
yon roaring mischiefs
Pour their triumphant insult. [Trumpets, &c.]
What new feast,
Or what new crime, demands this swell of joy?
Now, in their heedless mirth, descend some god;
And teach us to be free; or, failing, die.
'Tis liberty alone, that makes life dear:
He does not live at all, who lives to fear.
| Alzira | |