University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

SCENE I.

A Cave.
To the High Priest Montezuma enters.
Mont.
Hail, holy pontiff!—It is not the fate
Of doubtful war, the froward turns of fortune,
The fall of kingdoms, or the change of states,
I would alone explore—I seek to know,
What haply scarce the gods can tell, the springs,
The secret turns and movements of the soul,
A woman's soul!—O, give me to unfold
The mystic volume of Almeria's mind,
And let me read my fate!

H. Priest.
My powerful charms not dæmons shall withstand,
And gods shall answer to my king's command.

INCANTATION.

A Terrestrial Spirit ascends.
Spir.
Prince, mourn your search—your gods are all controul'd;
Silent, and bow'd before superior power!
I dare no more.

[Descends.
H. Priest.
Hence, dark and dastard spright!—
Calib, my ever smiling friend!
Circled with radiant light, descend;
Our bosoms with thy wonted tidings cheer,
Speak comfort to our heart, and music to our ear!

Calib descends in white, and sings.
Calib.
[Ascends.

Mont.
Thanks, shining monitor!—If I reject
Thy counsel, let me perish!
Empire is now assured: but what of love,
What of Almeria?

H. Priest.
Ye spirits, o'er subtlest effluvia refined,
Who feed upon thought, and reside within mind;
Who mark, with a pleased unevadable eye,
The swiftness of feminine whims, as they fly—
Be your Almeria's purpose shewn,
Altho' to reason, rule, and right, and to herself unknown!

The Indian Queen rises with a Dagger in her Breast.
H. Priest.
Ha!—we call'd not for thee—
Hence, bloody spectre, visionary victim,
Avaunt!—She will not; and a sudden winter
Freezes my blood!

Mont.
The gods, amidst the living and the dead,
Could not have found another form, like that,
To shake my soul!

Ind. Queen.
Ungrateful prince, your empty hopes resign;
Almeria's charms will soon be cold as mine.
Your course of empire, fame, and life, is run;
And all shall set, before a second sun—
I wait you on the ghastly brink of death,
To catch your spirit, and to drink your breath.
For your dear love, I did my life forego;
And thence I claim you in the realms below.
The morning dawns—I sicken at the view:
A sudden meeting fits a short adieu!

[Descends.
Mont.
Give me a narrower date!—ye adverse powers,
Finish your purposes! Why this dread knowledge
Of what we cannot shun?—worse, than the worst
That death can threaten, are the living pangs
Of curs'd anticipation!—

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

A Grove between Mexico and the Spanish Army.
Cyderia and Alibech.
Cyder.
Think you he'll come?

Alib.
Come, child?—how young you are!
How deep you under-rate your own perfections!
You know not what a strength of pinion wings
The lover to his love. Your message is
As sure as fate had summon'd him—as happy
As he were call'd to Heaven!

Cyder.
I would to Heaven
It may be so—His stay is wondrous long.

Alib.
Thou hasty innocent! although he rode
The corner'd winds, they could not post him sooner.
But, mark—upon that rubied lip, Cyderia,
The fate of Mexico depends! Do thou,
Persuasive orator, with firmness plead
Thy country's cause; and love shall soon subscribe
The terms that beauty dictates.—Soft, he comes.

SCENE III.

To them Cortez and Vasquez attended.
Cort.
Cyderia here, dread powers! upon the brink
Of danger and of death?—Haste, precious maid,
Back to thy father's palace!—Soon this spot
Shall all be cover'd, or be closed about
With clashing armies, and with gasping squadrons,
The dying and the dead!—Haste, royal maid!
When kites and ravening hawks are on the wing,
The white dove takes to cover!

[Vasquez addresses Alibech in dumb shew.
Cyder.
Cortez, I think, they call thee.

Cort.
True, my mistress.

Cyder.
I love thee, man—I shame not to confess it;
For I do think that thou art brave and honourable.

Cort.
Celestial purity!—where no spot is,
No veil is wanting.—Goddess of my vows,
Thus let me offer up a grateful heart,
[Kisses her hand.
Even on this holy altar!—Come, my love,
I will myself convey thee to some place
Of more assured protection.

Cyder.
Tell me, Spaniard,
Is it, indeed, for me that thou art alarm'd?—
Is it my danger that thou fearest?

Cort.
Heavens!—
Is that a question?—Take this signet, soldier,
Haste, bear my order through the ranks, that not
A Spaniard, or Traxallan, move to action,
Till this dear trust shall be disposed in safety!

Cyder.
Cortez, think not I bear these feathered shafts,
And ebon bow, for ornament.—'Tis true,
That when ambition, when the fire of blood,
And martial ardour lead the soldier forth
Upon some desperate enterprize; war, then,
Is man's peculiar province.—Learn, however,
That when we are assail'd, when hostile force
Knocks at our gates, and overlooks our ramparts;
Weakness gets strength, and cowards catch at valour—
Women and infants cluster to defend
Our household fires, and guard our common country!

Cort.
Immortal powers! would my Cyderia soil
Those virgin shafts with human blood?

Cyder.
Yes, Spaniard!
In such a cause, even with thy blood—then, think not,
I fear to shed my own!—By yonder Sun,
My radiant sire, I swear, if thou, this day,
Shalt dare to offer battle, I will front thee;
Nor cease to point my quiver at thy breast,
Till some blest dart find entrance!

Cort.
You distract me!
Are there no means, by which I may preserve
Your precious life from danger, and myself
From terrors worse than death?

Cyder.
Yes, generous Cortez!
Bid thy bold troops draw off—then, as a friend,
Enter the gates of Mexico; and, next,
Enter the heart and arms of thy Cyderia!

Cort.
Consummate virgin, most divine Cyderia!
Daughter of truth and order, brighter far
Than yonder Sun, whom you have deign'd to stile
The father of your race!—would you, indeed,
Would you disgrace the leader whom you stoop
To honour with your favour?

Cyder.
No, my soldier!
Thou shalt be worship'd as a guardian god,
Throughout our Indian world.

Cort.
Ah no, Cyderia—
Did I stop here, I should alike be spurn'd,
On either part, by Mexicans and Spaniards,
For shrinking from the bright and kindling course
Of never dying glory!

Cyder.
Glory? Spaniard—
What is this glory, which you would prefer
To the salvation of a grateful world,
And your Cyderia's love?

Cort.
Glory, my princess,
Is that which kindles souls to great atchievments.
It is the price of danger, toil, and bloodshed;
It warms the winter's camp, and turns the flint
To a down pillow for a soldier's head.
It is a being in the breast of others—
'Tis the high prize, for which we die with pleasure;
Since glory gives us to survive our fate,
And rise to immortality!

Cyder.
Is glory then and immortality
The price of evil actions—the reward
Of rapes and massacres, of blood and burnings?—
O glorious famine, glorious pestilence!
You, like the Spaniard, can make grass to grow
In cities, and give wasted kingdoms up
To birds and beasts of prey!

Cort.
O, you have conquer'd—blasted be the laurels,
That ever shall be planted on the woes
And waste of humankind!—Yet, think, my mistress;
I act but by commission from my prince,
And, though the deed should prove a crime in him,
In me 'tis duty.

Cyder.
Duty, to do wrong!
Who has a right to give it?—No, my Cortez,
Then, when you dropt like a descending god,
And saved the royal house of Montezuma,
Then you were truely glorious.—O, be still
Our guardian deity!—My grateful father
Has regions of unknown extent; fair realms,
Where you, my soldier, with your blest Cyderia,
May reign in your own right.

Cort.
Resistless tempter!
The cause is yours—Retire, but for this day;
Retire, my love!—To-morrow, I do swear it,
And all the morrows of my future life,
Shall rise at your disposal.

Cyder.
Spaniard, no.
This day—I swear it too—shall end my life,
Or free my country!

Cort.
Vasquez, go; our wars
Are ended!—bid our men draw off.

SCENE IV.

Pizarro enters.
Pizar.
Haste, general!
Our troops call out, impatient for their leader,
And claim the inspiring presence of their Cortez.
Already is the fight begun.—Orbellan,
Follow'd by hosts of shouting Mexicans,
Falls like a tempest on our ranks, and all
Is blood and uproar.

Cort.
Now, divine Cyderia,
Would you now wish me to stand idle?

Cyder.
No.
Thus charged, and by a rival, I resign
This day to honour—but, remember, Spaniard,
Your future life belongs to love.

Cort.
To love,
And to Cyderia, be all my days devoted,
Till time can count no more

[Exeunt Cortez and Vasquez, &c. one way, Cyderia another.

SCENE V.

To Alibech enter Odmar and Guyomar.
Odm.
Now fairest daughter of the day, bright Alibech,
Now, ere I rush into the thickest battle,
Give me to know my doom!—Those lips can speak it,
Surer than all yon armed host.

Guy.
I also,
Trembling attend my sentence; as the criminal,
At some tribunal, waits the doubtful word
That shall decide on life or death.

Alib.
Brave princes!
One of you is much dearer to his Alibech,
Than light to some benighted traveller;
Or life to him, who shivers on the brink
Of mortal dissolution. Who he is,
The dear one, that sits scepter'd at my heart,
And lords it o'er my wishes—neither looks
Nor words, that I am mistress of, shall utter!
For once it shall be said, that worth alone
Controul'd a woman's fancy—The fond love
Of one of ye, by all due right, is mine;
Your country, by a dearer claim, demands
The life of both—who serves that country best,
Becomes my master—Princes, ye are summon'd!

[Trumpets.
Guy.
My merit, death or conquest shall approve.
Fall on!

Odm.
Fall on!

Guy.
For liberty!

Odm.
For love!

[Exeunt Odmar and Guyomar one way, Alibech another.

SCENE VI.

Alarm to the Battle. Montezuma, Orbellan, and Mexicans enter.
Mont.
They fly, the apostate rebels, the Traxallans;
Bold in base ambush, but, in open fight,
Fearful as dear that scud along the lawn
Before their hunter!—Charge, charge home, my friends;
Confirm your conquest, Mexicans! I ask
The bravest and the youngest but to follow,
Where your old King shall lead!

[Exeunt.

SCENE VII.

Cortez, Vasquez, Pizarro, and Spaniards enter.
Cort.
May curses catch them in their flight.—May death,
And wounds of foul dishonour, from behind,
O'ertake the servile herd, these vile Traxallans!
Is this their vaunted prowess, this the fruit
Of their confederacy, their hate of Mexico,
And promised efforts for atchieving freedom?
Let them all perish!—Breathe awhile, my friends,
My firm, tho' little band of faithful followers—
Thank Heaven, we are yet entire!

Vas.
See where, wide scatter'd o'er yon distant hill,
The panting dastards run.

Pizar.
Great Montezuma,
Active as youth, and eager as the hound
That bears and breathes upon his prey, pursues
And mixes with their flight.

Cort.
Haste, Vasquez, seize
The fair occasion—take our generous horse,
Few as they are, and, while our numerous foes
Are in confusion, charge them in the rear—
Pursue the fierce pursuers!
[Exit Vasquez.
Pizarro, let us range our little band
Of brave Castilians in yon copse; and thence,
While these triumphant Mexicans return
Assured of fickle victory, we'll flank
And pour our thunder on them!—

[Exeunt.

SCENE VIII.

Odmar and Guyomar, from different sides.
Guyomar and his few followers bleeding.
Odm.
Where hast thou been, young dastard?—In a day
Of such wide triumph, wherefore has my eye
In vain sought Guyomar, amid our host
Of conquering Mexicans?

Guy.
Forbear, my brother,
Forbear to load a man already burden'd,
With heavier imputation.—We confess
Our powers inferior to these men, or dæmons,
With whom we dared the contest.—These wounds shew
The few that, of my generous friends, yet live,
Were not quite idle.—Say, where is the King,
Where is our father, Odmar?

Odm.
Flush'd with conquest,
He drives the routed host of the Traxallans
Over the plains of Mexico.

Guy.
Traxallans!
Why spend his bootless fury on Traxallans?
Our braver women were enough to quell
Two armies of Traxallans.

SCENE IX.

Guns go off within. Montezuma, Orbellan, and Mexicans enter as retreating.
Mont.
All, all is lost—the gods have arm'd our foes
With their own thunders!—What the utmost force
Of man can do, we fear not—but when earth
And Heaven combine against us—to retire,
Is due submission!

Orbel.
We but hear a sound,
And sink in death, for ever!

Guy.
Hark, they come!—
Haste sir, and gain the town, while I remain
To guard your rear, and chearfully return
That life you gave me.

[All retreat, except Guyomar.

SCENE X.

Enter Cortez, Vasquez, Pizarro, and Spaniards.
Cort.
Press forward, fellow soldiers, take advantage
Of their new panic! Spare, yet spare the blood
Of Montezuma's royal house!—Success
And glory crown our arms—Come on!

[Exeunt.
As Cortez is going out, Guyomar advances and meets him.
Guy.
Hold, sir—you pass no further—I propose
To win a feather from you; or to grace
My fall, ennobled by your hand.

[Strikes at the helmet of Cortez, his sword breaks.
Cort.
Thou art my prisoner, Indian!—Had thy sword
Been equal to thine arm, I had not lived
To tell thee so—Ha!—let me look again—
Art thou not he, that desperate Mexican,
Who singly dared, this day, to press upon us,
Even in the face of thunder?

Guy.
Cortez, as I hope—
Art thou?

Cort.
Yes, valiant youth.

Guy.
Bring me my chains—from any other hand
I should have blush'd beneath them.

Cort.
Whoe'er thou art, my soul claims kindred with thee!—
May'st thou ne'er put ignobler fetters on,
Than those that bind thee now!—

[Embrace.
Guy.
My heart's great master!—
Your bounty, generous leader, must not rob you
Of the large ransom which you ought to claim
Know, that the captive of your arms is son
Of Montezuma.

Cort.
What, Cyderia's brother?

Guy.
Cyderia's second brother.

Cort.
Blest event!
My dear, dear brother!—may I dare to tell you
I am the captive of your sister's beauties?
Never, again, O, never may my Guyomar
Come thus exposed to battle!—Be this helm
The guardian of that precious head—this corselet,
[Dresses Guyomar in his Armour.
Be it henceforth a fence of triple steel
Before thy valiant heart—and may this sword,
In that strong hand, be still assured of conquest!—

Guy.
More estimable are your gifts, my conqueror,
Than all things, save the giver!—Ease my heart,
And teach me how to thank you!

Cort.
With your friendship!
Let that o'erpay me.—Go, my Guyomar;
Thus glorious in the spoils of Spain, return,
And spare the many tears, that now, in Mexico,
Bewail your death or bondage.

Guy.
O, my friend,
My best loved brother, till we meet again,
My heart is still your captive.—

Cort.
O, farewell!

[Embrace, and go out severally.