University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

—THE WESTERN TOWER.
VELORA, PANEEA.
VELORA.
Faithful Paneea! thy afflictive tidings
Have pierced my heart: alas! unhappy father.
Robbed of thy child, whose fondness should have watched
Thy parting spirit in its latest struggle,
And closed those eyes, that never, never cast
A look upon me, but of tenderest love!

PANEEA.
My gentle mistress, yield not to thy grief.
Think it was happy for his helpless age
To lay the burden of its misery down;

VELORA.
Yet have I reason for severest sorrow:
The wretched daughter, bound by dearest duty
To smooth the bed of death, there planted thorns
To pierce her dying father—'twas my zeal
To save Sylveyra's life; it was thy child,
Thou injured parent, whose misguided aim
So blindly sharpened thy expiring pangs.
O! were they not most terrible to look on?

PANEEA.
Let not such visionary fears alarm
Your troubled heart! in a short agony
Your injured father begged of Heaven to blast
The Viceroy's base designs: opprest he fainted;
But soon recovering, with more tranquil thought
Commended to his God your innocence;
Then death, as if in pity of his woes,
Approaching in the form of softest slumber
Released his spirit from this tainted sphere,
To gain the happier heights of purer being.

VELORA.
My good Paneea, thou dost vainly try
To soothe my anguish; e'en the happier child,
Who, blest with peace, yields, in her native land
An aged parent to the hand of Heaven,
By nature's dictates sheds the frequent tear
Of unrestrained affliction: what must I,
A captive orphan, robbed of that fond father,
Whose love, whose virtues were my kind support?

PANEEA.
May lenient time relieve thy wounded bosom!

VELORA.
Long will my filial heart lament his loss,
And conscious of its treasure torn away,
Ache at this cruel void.—But go, I pray thee,
Prepare the hallowed bale-tree to receive
His dear remains, and let thy faithful hand
Pour richest incense on the blazing pile,
Since bondage keeps me from that sacred duty!

PANEEA.
I will obey thee, dear, and gentle mistress,
Farewell! and all pure spirits be thy guard.

(Exit.

SCENE II.

VELORA,
(alone.)
O! my Sylveyra, thou alone on earth
Art now the guardian of forlorn Velora;
And thou art doomed to bonds: perchance to fall
In the dark dungeon by the secret stab
Of base assassination: what is left
For me, disconsolate and wretched captive,
But in this solitude to sit and weep
My unexampled wrongs, and fatal love?

SCENE III.

While VELORA remains in a pensive attitude, THE VICEROY enters unperceived.
THE VICEROY.
She sees me not, absorbed in pensive sorrow;
Anxiety is painted in her eye;
And fear sits panting on her lovely bosom,
Like agitation on the aspin leaf
Trembling at every breeze: I dare not speak—
How may I find a favorable minute
To soothe her angry grief, and melt its rage
To pity and forgiveness?

VELORA,
(starting up.)
Mercy, Heaven!
Thou base assassin! has thy soul the power
To look on the sad orphan, thou hast made?
Dar'st thou approach me? can thy heart so soon
Insult the sanctity of filial sorrow?

THE VICEROY.
Hear me, thou injured fair! by Heaven I vow
My heart is guiltless of thy father's death!
I would not have deprived his honored age
Of one short hour, one moment of existence,
To make my days immortal. Could my blood
Redeem his life, and give him to thy prayers,
I now would pour it freely at thy feet.

VELORA.
Vain penitence! did not thy cruel hand
Tear from his bleeding heart his darling child?

THE VICEROY.
'Twas the wild fear of seeing thee enrich
A rival's arms, 'twas that distracting image,
That drove my maddening soul to cruel force,
Unconscious of the horrors, that have followed:
I feel them now—joined to thy just reproach,
They make me execrate my own existence.
Thou injured orphan! in this wretched bosom
Plunge thy avenging dagger! it will end
Variety of pangs, more keen than all,
My fatal passion has e'er heaped on thee—
Remorse and anguish harrow up my mind;
Yet, while I gaze upon thee, fiercer love
Burns in my frantic heart: all milder thoughts,
Which penitence and pity can suggest,
He drowns; and leaves triumphant in my soul
The mighty madness of his raging fire.

VELORA.
Canst thou pretend to sorrow, to remorse,
And still insult me with licentious passion
In this afflictive hour?

THE VICEROY.
O! my Velora,
There is a tempest in my soul, that robs
My tongue of language, and my thoughts of reason;
But 'tis excess, 'tis agony of love,
Which claims thy pardon, which deserves thy pity.

GARCIA,
(behind the scenes.)
Where is the Viceroy?—slave!—he must be found,
And I will pass thee—

THE VICEROY.
Ha! whose fury dares
Insult our guard?

SCENE IV.

THE VICEROY, VELORA; GARCIA enters with an Officer.
THE VICEROY.
O! Garcia, what inspires
This bold contempt?

GARCIA.
Thy danger, with a sense
Of honor, and attachment still remaining
To one, who little has deserved my friendship;
Whose fatal passions have at length produced
The dire effects proportioned to their guilt—
But 'tis no time to parley; thro' the city
All is confusion, anger, and revenge:
The swarming Indians, with religious fury,
Call on their murdered Bramin: all our troops,
With spirits ripe for mutiny, demand
Sylveyra's freedom. O! unhappy Castro,
If justice, glory, and our country's welfare
Are names yet dear to thee, appear! come forth!
Haste! re-assume thy better self, and rush
To quell these tumults, ere they rise to crush thee.

THE VICEROY.
By hell's dark powers the tidings, thou hast brought,
Suit the wild tempest in my tortured brain:
Lead to the fiercest terrors of the storm!
I'll gladly meet them; for my soul's prepared
To rush upon the lightning's keenest flash,
And bless the thunders, that are launched against me.

GARCIA.
Come! my brave friend, let me but soothe thy spirit,
And lead thy virtue to a just atonement,
We yet may stop the ruin, that impends.

THE VICEROY
turning back, as he and GARCIA are quitting the stage.
But my Velora!—mark me Officer!
Let her be treated with most humble duty!
Nor be her steps confined, except within
The utmost limits of our castle wall!
But place a double guard at every gate!
Farewell! thou matchless, dear, destructive beauty!

(Exit with Garcia.
VELORA.
(alone.
Ye generous men! who strive to terminate
The base enthralment of our dear Sylveyra,
Still may the sense of all his bright perfections,
His great achievements, and his galling wrongs
Feed the just anger of your noble minds!

SCENE V.

VELORA, CARASCO.
CARSACO,
(entering hastily.)
Come dear Velora, I at length have gained
The moment for thy freedom; haste we now
To seize it, while this din of arms engages
The watchful goaler of thy captive beauty!

VELORA.
Away! away! thy fatal schemes have plunged
My soul in anguish, and destroyed my father—

CARASCO.
Oh! blame me not! it was the treacherous priest—
Curse on his abject, avaricious soul!
Whose sordid hopes betrayed us to the Viceroy:
But let us lose all thought of evils past
In haste to seize this golden, glorious minute,
That calls thee now from bondage: I have bribed
Sylveyra's guard; will lead you to his prison,
And shew ye both a subterraneous door:
By this we gain the City; sure protection
Awaits us there: Sylveyra's ready friends
Will rise in arms, the moment they behold him.

VELORA.
Thou generous friend! I will embrace thy kindness,
And bless thee for it: lead me to my lord!
To save Sylveyra's precious life is now
My only hope, my only end of being.

CARASCO.
Come on! my lovely ward! now, Castro, mourn
Thy baffled fondness! I have foiled thee now;
And my past wrongs are happily repaid,
While with triumphant joy, I bear away
This beauteous treasure from thy tyrant grasp.

(Exeunt.

SCENE VI.

GUARDS,
(behind the scene.)
You must not pass us; 'tis the Viceroy's order.

CONSTANTIA,
(behind the scene.)
Ye cruel guards! ye shall not force me back:
Affliction has a sacred claim to enter
The residence of power.
Entering with an Officer.
Thanks! gallant soldier!
Who hast compassion for a woman's woes!
Now guide me to the Viceroy!

OFFICER.
Lovely mourner
Believe me, he is absent from the castle!

CONSTANTIA.
Then by thy duty, wheresoe'er he is,
Conduct me to him! I have things to utter
Of higher moment than his life itself.

OFFICER.
Necessity constrains me to refuse
Thy eager prayer: the Viceroy is engaged
In scenes of tumult, which thy tender frame
Would tremble to encounter.

CONSTANTIA.
Prove my spirit!
I have a heart, that in the embattled field
Would cross the thunder of the bursting cannon
To reach the Viceroy: I conjure thee guide me!
I have an awful mystery to tell,
That yet may save him from impending crimes.

OFFICER.
Thy words amaze me, and enforce my service.

CONSTANTIA.
Lead on! and fear not! for the saints of Heaven
Will clear our way, and with their sacred power
Assist the parent to preserve her child.

(Exeunt.

SCENE VII.

—THE CITY.
A TUMULT OF INDIANS.
FIRST INDIAN.
Revenge! revenge, for Brama's sacred blood!
For age and wisdom, murdered by the hand
Of impious tyranny!

SECOND INDIAN.
Let's to the castle!
And from that den of sacrilegious lust
Drag this proud Viceroy, while his angry guards
Yield him our easy prey.

SCENE VIII.

THE VICEROY, GARCIA and INDIANS.
THE VICEROY.
Spare your vain search,
Ye madding croud! behold that Viceroy here,
Whose power ye question, and whose blood ye thirst for!
Ungrateful people! can ye thus forget
From what dark depths of ruinous abasement
I raised your plundered race? there was a time,
When cruel rapine, with unbridled rage,
Preyed on your wasted wealth; when every voice,
That rose from India to unpitying Heaven,
Poured wild complaint, and bitter execration,
Against the insatiate sons of sordid Europe:
Those scenes of wretchedness our cares have changed
To the mild blessings of protected commerce,
And equal justice; yet your mutinous spirits
Insult the power, that saves you from perdition.

GARCIA.
Behold, my lord, how their misguided fury,
With just contrition, sinks to silent shame!

AN AGED INDIAN.
Hear! mighty Castro, hear the suppliant voice
Of age! forgive, and soothe thy troubled people!
They own thy mild dominion; they revere
Thy princely virtues: yet in wildest terror
Dread, lest insidious passion should betray thee
To trample on those laws, in whose defence
Thy steady virtue has so long upheld
The sword of justice, and the shield of mercy.
O! be their guardian still! in generous pity
Give, to the humblest prayers of duty, give
The captive child of that unhappy Bramin,
Whose terrors for his daughter torn away,
Piercing his soul, abridged his virtuous days!

THE VICEROY.
Thou good old man! thy mildness has more power
To move the heart of Castro, than the threats
Of fiercest war, when, in his wildest fury,
His loud voice sounds defiance and destruction.
My troubled subjects! just and gentle spirits!
I have obtained an empire in your hearts;
'Twas my ambition:—'tis my noblest pride;
Nor shall base passions tempt me now to forfeit
This best dominion: let the coward tyrant
Enshroud in falsehood's veil his crimes, his fears!
My heart shall own its errors, and retrieve them.

INDIAN.
Ye sons of India, hear your gracious lord!
He has no thought of impious violation.

THE VICEROY.
My fatal passion—I retain it still—
But deeply conscious, this afflictive love,
This cruel source of horrors unforeseen,
Must wound your dearest rights: those hallowed laws
Which I am bound to cherish, not invade,
Know that my soul has vowed to see no more
That lovely maid! whose fascinating charms
Tempt justice from its throne: ye now have heard
Our serious purpose; to confirm it farther
To you, my people! that unshaken honor
May be the guard of feebler continence,
I give this sacred pledge, your Sovereign's truth:
If now ye think us worthy of your trust,
Dismiss your every fear, disperse, and leave us!

INDIANS.
May Heaven long guard the just, the generous Castro!
He may command our treasures, and our blood.

THE VICEROY and GARCIA come forward, and the Scene closes behind them.

SCENE IX.

THE VICEROY, GARCIA.
GARCIA.
Blest be thy virtues! I regain my friend:
My heart could almost worship thee for this,
For well I know how dearly it has cost
Thy feeling soul; but honor shall repay thee,
And fame immortal be thy rich reward.

THE VICEROY.
Garcia my word is past: I mean to keep it—
My heart was formed to merit, and engage
The blessings of my people, not their curse:
But thou must be my feeble virtue's guard;
For should I look on that enchanting form,
The very firmest of these bright resolves
Would prove a lucid bubble, lost in air
The moment it is blown.

GARCIA.
Release your captives,
And time will make thro' every hour of life
This best of triumphs dearer to your heart!

THE VICEROY.
Go thou, dear Garcia, to the western tower!
I will not hazard e'en the slightest chance
To meet the eyes of that bewitching beauty:
Go, send her to Constantia! then my friend
Haste to rejoin me in Sylveyra's prison!
He is again the child of my adoption;
It shall be now my constant aim to banish
All trace of passion, and the name of rival.

GARCIA.
Blest be thy words! they give my age new life;
And I shall meet thee with the speed of youth.

(Exeunt.

SCENE X.

—A PRISON.
CARASCO,
entering with VELORA.
Curse on that busy and officious fool,
Who thus detained our steps!—we've lost an age:
Sylveyra should be here: what ho! my friend!

VELORA.
Good Heaven! he hears us not—they have destroyed him.

SYLVEYRA,
(entering.)
It was an angel, or Velora's voice:
What joy! 'tis she herself—my life! my love!
What blessed chance—

CARASCO.
We have no time for words;
Each moment's of inestimable price:
I come to save ye both!—follow my steps,
And I will guide ye thro' a path unknown!

SYLVEYRA.
My true Carasco! faithful, generous friend!
Watch o'er this dearer portion of my life,
And haste to guide my loved Velora hence!
But for myself, a Soldier's tender fame
Forbids this secret flight: it wears too much
The cast of conscious guilt, and coward fear.

CARASCO.
These ill-timed scruples of mistaken honor
Are ruin to our hopes—

VELORA.
My own Sylveyra,
Thou seest Velora fatherless before thee,
Enabled only to sustain her being
By her fond hopes in thy protecting love;
Thou art her sole supporter, can thy heart
Desert so dear a duty, to obey
The fancied dictates of delusive honor?

SYLVEYRA.
Never! no never! all this heart is thine:
The tender accents of thy plaintive voice
Wake every fond emotion in my soul,
And teach me 'tis the glory of my life
To guard thy innocence thro' every peril—
Away! I will attend you:—yet my friend
A moment's pause! to shield us from pursuit
I'll bar yon avenue—do thou, Carasco,
Watch at the other grate, lest any noise
Awake suspicion in the court below!

CARASCO.
Be swift—delay's inevitable death—

SYLVEYRA, withdraws at the end of the stage, and CARASCO remains attentive on the opposite side.
VELORA.
How slow, how awful are these trying minutes
Of doubtful fate, that on their shadowy wings
In dread concealment bear the uncertain form
Of safety or perdition? Hear me Heaven!—

SCENE XI.

SYLVEYRA, and CARASCO on opposite sides of the stage, while VELORA is absorbed in devotion.
THE VICEROY,
(entering.)
This resolution ne'er to see her more
Is medicine to my mind—ha! what art thou,
Bewitching form? art thou a mere illusion,
Or the fair sorceress herself, whose power
Seeks my perdition? let me clasp, and prove thee!
Thou dear delicious poison! O! thy touch
Drives hot delirium thro' my every vein.

VELORA.
Help me! Carasco, help!

CARASCO.
Turn, tyrant! turn
Base ravisher! and meet thy punishment!

THE VICEROY.
Audacious villain! it is mine to punish;
And thus I prove my power.

They fight.
CARASCO.
I spurn it thus—
Thank my kind stars I touch thee—'tis enough.

THE VICEROY.
Vile traitor! I despise thy nerveless arm,
And thus repay thy feeble wound with death.

(While they are engaged VELORA flies.)
CARASCO.
Curse thy strong arm! it has—it has destroyed me.

SYLVEYRA,
(rushing towards them.)
I am too late! he falls! unhappy friend!

SCENE XII.

THE VICEROY, SYLVEYRA, CARASCO, GARCIA, and GUARDS.
In the moment CARASCO is falling, GARCIA enters with GUARDS, and seizes the sword of SYLVEYRA.
GARCIA.
What treachery is here? Castro, thou'rt wounded!

THE VICEROY.
My hurt is trifling: I have killed this traitor:
Guards bear Sylveyra to more close confinement!

SYLVEYRA.
Off! I will take a soldier's last farewell
Of this brave man, who dying thus pours forth
His generous blood in friendship's fatal cause.

THE VICEROY.
Away! they shall not interchange a word—

GUARDS force off SYLVEYRA.
CARASCO.
Insulting tyrant! thou mayst triumph now,
Thy triumph will be short.—It joys me yet
To see the lion circled in my toils,
Unconscious of his danger.—Sudden fate,
Invisible to thee, hangs o'er thy head:
This prospect of revenge, enough for me,
Gilds all the horrors of impending death,
E'en in these moments, while I feel his hand
Pressing most heavy—O! my life is past—
But thine, thine cannot last beyond—O Heaven!

(Dies.
GARCIA.
What mean these vile mysterious threats? I fear
Some dark, and deep conspiracy is formed
By those, who murmured at Sylveyra's fate:
My honored friend! haste! to thy bleeding wound
Get timely succour! while I search if aught
Of secret treason lurk within the walls.

THE VICEROY.
No, my kind Garcia, I will first go forth,
And make provision for the public safety.
Come then, my generous friend, dismiss thy fears!
Luxuriant case, and beauty are alone
The bane of Castro: in the hour of danger
Thy piercing eye shall never find his soul
False to the hopes of animated friendship,
And idly distant from the goal of honor.