Elvira A Tragedy |
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 | Elvira |  |
SCENE V.
ALONZO, the QUEEN, ELVIRA.ALONZO.
Yes, madam, your lov'd daughter soon shall see
This happy union fix her future fate.
QUEEN.
I could have wish'd the same propitious morn,
That join'd our hands, had seen compleated too
Their plighted vows.
ALONZO.
It was my fondest aim.
But could a father's love to such a son
Deny what his impatient courage urg'd?
Some short delay, some respite, till his arm
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The blessing he aspir'd to.
QUEEN.
Yet, my lord—
ALONZO.
I plac'd myself the sword within his hand,
And whetted his young spirit. Fortune oft
Companions youth most willingly, and leads
The nearest road to fame. I then foresaw,
He would be all that I had been before.
I thenceforth ceas'd to conquer, but by him:
And, thanks to heaven! his actions have outgone
A parent's warmest hope.
QUEEN.
To this my heart
Gives unrestrain'd assent.
ALONZO.
The Moors, you see,
Reduc'd to sue for mercy. Part, in chains,
His conquering arm confess, and grace his triumph:
The rest, subdu'd by his victorious name,
Lie trembling in the depth of distant desarts.
To him what glory! what true joy to me!
I now dare hope, he may deserve to wed
The beauty he desires.
QUEEN.
Forgive me, Sir—
Have you no doubt, no foresight of resistance,
Nay of refusal, on the prince's part?
For me, in spite of all my partial hopes,
I dread some bar, some obstacle unknown
Betwixt us and our wishes.
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Whence can rise
Suspicions so unlikely?
QUEEN.
I have mark'd,
With all a mother's watchfulness of fear,
His strange demeanor. Gloomy, lost in thought,
He sees his bride, as if he saw her not.
No beam of kindness brightens in his eye;
No word of tenderness melts from his lip;
As if nor bloom, nor grace, nor gentle spirit
Grew with her opening years.
ALONZO.
Th'alarm is vain.
Grant some indulgence to the pride of youth,
An early hero's ardor, with the blaze
Of his first conquest dazzled and engag'd.
A softer passion, doubt it not, will soon
Dispel that gaudy dream, and leave his breast
All-open to the better bliss that waits him.
QUEEN.
And yet, my busy fears still whisper to me,
Why was he absent this distinguish'd day?
Why, with his presence, deign'd he not to grace
My Ferdinand, your brother and ally,
Here in the person of his minister?
Should he resist, my Lord?
ALONZO.
Resist? Just heaven!
I shudder at the thought. In such resistance
The rebel would at once efface the son.
Ha! should he push his pride to that extreme,
More guilty as the more with glory bright,
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That even the bonds of nature, cannot free
A subject from the laws; that all are light
As the blown bubble, weigh'd with a king's honor
QUEEN.
Sir, I would yet advise—
ALONZO.
No: a first subject,
From whose example each descending rank
Should learn obedience, is himself most bound.
In him resistance would be deepest treason.
It cannot be, my queen: turn we our thoughts
From such forebodings of imagin'd guilt.
I will, this coming moment, to the princess
Disclose what I have fix'd. That done, the prince
Shall know my last resolve.
QUEEN.
Ah! in what words?
How will a father speak it?
ALONZO.
As his king!
| Elvira | |