 | Ximenes |  |
SCENE V.
Granada.Duke of Medina Sidonia—Leonora.
Duke.
Who would have thought that ever Leonora,
For filial love, for piety renowned,
Would, when her virtues were matured, have turned
A rebel to her father, and her God!
Leonora.
Surely, my father, Heaven inspired our reason,
To light us to all truth; and, oft, my conduct
I've tried with reason freed from prejudice;
But I could never find that it deserved
These harsh, opprobrious epithets.
Duke.
Thy passion
Gives a wrong biass to thy reason. Canst thou
Oppose thy trivial knowledge to the doctrines
Which our unerring church hath ratified?
Has not a heretick seduced thy love?
An everlasting reprobate of Heaven?
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If thou hast formed my mind, with ease, to honour,
Let it provoke thee not, that I'm sincere,
And too reflecting for implicit faith.
In Zaigri, I admire a heart humane,
And valiant; intellectual faculties
Sublime, and consecrated by the love
Of truth. And is the Deity the foe
Of this essential piety, from causes
External, and contingent? Were our country
Only ten leagues from Europe, Mahomet
Would have prescribed our faith; without our choice,
We should have vowed obedience to the Koran,
From reverence to our fathers. Would the Judge
Of heaven, and earth, have marked with his displeasure,
That amiable, that necessary errour?
We should have been condemned, as soon, by him,
For any other mode; for dress; for language.
Duke.
Thou prating infidel! are we to know
The moral system of the Deity?
And rashly to pronounce on his decrees?
Is not thy boldness checked, when he declares
In his own oracles—“I will have mercy
“On whom I will have mercy?”—Leonora,
I have not patience for a vain debate;
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Or to the grave I shall descend with sorrow!
Leonora.
Oh! I will rather droop, and die, grief's victim!
Name any arduous task within my power;
And I'll perform it, to preserve my father!
Duke.
Determine, then, to think no more of Zaigri.
Leonora.
Alas! my lord; I fear that you require
Impossibility! Even reason's thoughts,
With colder, slower march, will oft invade
The breast, in lonely hours! But to arrest
The fleet, and glowing pictures of warm fancy,
Rising in sighs, and darting to their object,
When the soul works, in fertile solitude,
Would be, to check the lightning's fiery wing,
In transit through a still, and lowering sky.
But though the varied motions of my mind
May prove too quick, and subtle for controul,
'Tis virtue's privilege to govern action;
And I'll be watchful, never, in my conduct,
To wound my conscience, or afflict my father.
Duke.
If thou art now sincere; if with thy words
Thou art resolved to correspond in action,
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If thou observest this injunction, peace,
Serenity, and happiness, are mine.
But should it be contemned, thy disobedience
With melancholy will oppress my age.
Leonora.
Than thy distress, the worst of ills;—pain, death,
Would be less evils to me!—I'll obey thee!
Duke.
Now am I blest! I ever did repose
On thy affection, on thy truth. I'll leave thee,
In calm retirement, and thy own reflexions,
To taste the sweets of filial piety;
How purer, more sublime, are our enjoyments,
Resulting from a firm discharge of duty,
Than all the fancied bliss of youthful passion!
[Exit.
Leonora,
alone.
I could not make a greater sacrifice
Than what I've offered to a father's claim!
Oh! Zaigri, in thy generous mind, the motive
Will plead thy pardon of my dread resolve!
I know, 'twill wound thy heart; but be assured,
That all it's pangs will be returned by mine.
With what acuteness ('tis presumed) we argue
Against a force, or weakness, not residing
In our own breast!—My father's prejudices
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A zeal intemperate for our holy faith!
These are the foes to Zaigri, and to me!
But is not, oft, the groveling lust of gold,
That putrid fever of the soul, in age,
The tyrant of a fine, a noble flame?
Doth it not fancy, in it's wild delirium,
That avarice is a virtue, love, a crime?—
—But what are cool, and sage remarks, to me?
—Were not our souls, in sight of Heaven, united!—
And am not I now torne, divorced from Zaigri?
—Oh! what a pathless desart is the world!
[Exit Leonora.
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