The Conflict ; or Love, Honour and Pride :: :: University of Virginia Library

Accept our joint congratulations, Madam!
That Heaven restores a Son you mourn'd as dead.
For though a Throne and Queen, in beauty's bloom,
Were never yielded, but with strong regret;
Although, to one of us, they both are promis'd,
We, seeing a King competitor, resign them;
Before the States revoke their choice of us.

The Prince, your Son, back to your arms restor'd,
Shall find us faithful Subjects. Till he claims
These his high rights, accept for him our homage.

D. LOPEZ.
We mourn as Lovers, but rejoice as patriots;
Our faithful hearts are to the State devoted;
Therefore we ardent wish Castile with Arragon,
To be united firm by this Alliance:
That their leagu'd forces may the Moors subdue.
Unblushing we resign this glorious fortune;
Which, whilst it honour'd us, our Queen degraded.
Let Isabella and Don Sancho reign.

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D. LEONORA.
My Lords! this gen'rous resignation flatters
Too soon my new rais'd hopes—Alas! what hopes?
My princely Son in infancy expir'd:
And this report, excites my grief, and wonder,
Opens the sources of my woes afresh,
Renews my sorrow for my first-born hope,
With all the yearning anguish mothers know,
Who mourn an only Son's untimely death.
Oh! did he live! now might his arm protect
His own, his Sister's and his Mother's cause.

D. LOPEZ.
Doubtless for this Heaven has preserv'd your Son.

D. LEONORA.

Alas! my Lord! He has not been preserv'd.—
Nineteen long years I o'er his tomb have wept.
He cannot be alive—unless some miracle,
From Heaven's high hand, compels the yawning grave
To yield its prey.—All that concerns my Son,
I will relate: then judge, if this report
Have aught, on which a Mother's hope may build.—

I will not trace my troubles to their source:
For Arragon's revolt, and Garcia's usurpation,
From my long biding here, must be well known.

D. MANRIQUE.
Oft from our Fathers have we heard your woes;
How Ferdinand was from his Kingdom driven;
And you, ere eighteen summers' suns had grac'd
Your brow, were forc'd to seek for shelter here,

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Before the fair Elvira saw the light.
Thus much we know; in what remains instruct us.

D. LEONORA.
Just as Don Ferdinand beheld the Rebel Garcia
Ready to mount his Throne, my Son was born:
Don Sancho was my hapless infant nam'd.
From barbarous Garcia's fury to protect him,
My royal Husband urg'd me to consent
To his conveyance to a safe retreat.
The place where Ferdinand conceal'd my Child,
I never knew.

D. MANRIQUE.
Had you no clew to trace him,
That so one Day you might reclaim your Son?

D. LEONORA.
My husband with our Infant tokens sent:
Mine and his Portrait, with a braid of hair,
Pledge of my love, ere yet my bridal day;
And a deed, written by Ferdinand himself,
That own'd and that identify'd our Son.
These in an iron Casket were inclos'd;
Its secret spring known but to him, and me.—
Ah! these precautions prov'd but useless care.
Twelve Moons had scarcely wan'd when my Child dy'd;
Ere I again had clasp'd him to my breast.

D. LOPEZ.
Perhaps some false report might then deceive you;
We came expecting you could solve our doubts,
And realize the hope and wish of all,

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To find your Son in a most valiant hero.
Fain would I hope this rumour may prove true;
And that your Son still lives to glad your eyes.

D. LEONORA.
Oh! 't is impossible! His Father, he himself,
Told the dire tale. He saw my babe expire,—
Catch'd his last breath,—and clos'd his beamless eyes.

D. MANRIQUE.
Would we could doubt the truth of his report!

D. LEONORA.

A Year of woe, and bloody contest pass'd,
Then Ferdinand rejoin'd his son in death.
Within my arms he died. His last words were,—
“Don Raymond has in charge, when time shall be,
“A most important secret for thy ear;
“Fly to Castile, live for our unborn Infant.—”

Long did I hope this secret was my Son:
But Raymond never gave me hope it was.
Raymond is lost, and I shall never know it;
Five years are pass'd since he was prisoner made,
By Garcia's spies. I fear they murder'd him;
Too faithful to my cause, brave Raymond perish'd.