 | Ximenes |  |
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ACT V.
SCENE I.
The Cave of the Hermit Alvarez: a beautiful, and romantick prospect: in it's interiour Part, the Hermit's Cave. A Rock, verdure, Wood; a Stream. The Hermit, and Zaigri, advancing from the Cave.Hermit.
And have I, then, my noble prince, completed
our god-like regent's work of thy conversion?
Great is the pleasure, to me; great the honour.
Zaigri.
Thou hast, indeed, Alvarez; and I feel
The happiest hour that e'er inspired my life;
It strews my path of time with richest flowers;
And spreads before my eye those distant objects,
Approximated by the power of fancy,
Which, with their glowing tints, their forms expressive,
Adorn, diversity, and animate
The golden regions of eternal day.
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Permit me, then, to aid thy memory,
For thy important use;—more to collect,
Compress, concenter, in a moral focus,
Those topicks which we have discussed, at large.
Zaigri.
I'll hear thee with a fixed, a warm attention.
Alvarez.
The mysteries of our faith, as they're enounced
In holy writ, be sure, were never meant,
By the pure Source of reason, peace, and love,
For objects of perplexed, fatiguing study;
Yet less for hot, and rancorous disputation.
In intellect, compared with higher scales
Of being, we're but pygmies;—there are truths
Of so abstruse, or so sublime a nature,
That they admit not sounds for mortal ears,
Nor the conceptions of embodied minds.
Yet are these mysteries not expressed, in vain.
Before the empyreal throne of God,
When we imbibe his presence; when we quaff
Knowledge, and immortality; to learn
Those hidden truths completely; and to trace,
With easy penetration, their allusions,
Reciprocated from the different parts
Of both the sacred codes; their harmony,
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May be our glorious privilege!
Zaigri.
Alvarez!
While I persue thy reason, and thy fancy,
I own thy force, and I adopt thy flame!
Alvarez.
Meanwhile, my son, these mysteries are inserted,
Though their extent, their substance, be not known,
With striking emphasis, in our religion;
They give a grandeur to the solemn fabrick;
And to a pious temper mould the spirit.
Perhaps we should not worship even the First
Of Beings, with such humble adoration,
And fervour, were he not, the Great Unknown!
The mind, for every noble enterprize;
For all it's noble tones, and energies,
Requires the grand, the vast, the infinite.
Hence, the brown horrours of the deepening shade,
Impervious to the eye, delight the soul,
Intent on strains of matchless eloquence,
Enforcing publick virtue. Hence, a forest,
Lofty in height, thick with umbrageous honours,
Was the true nymph Egeria, to sage Numa,
While he, with civil, and with sacred laws,
Improved the majesty of ancient Rome.
And, hence, the poet, in his walks retired,
At calm, and dusky eve (an ivied ruin,
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With active magick raising the fine sprites)
Sees, through the eye of fancy, airy forms,
Gleam, and evolve, and sport athwart the glade,
O'ershadowed with the night's approaching awe.
But Zaigri, I forget what I proposed;
I promised to contract, and I expand.
Zaigri.
Thou art concise, to my engaged attention!
Charming analogist! what pity 'tis,
That your religion, breathing love, and formed,
To spread it's genial empire o'er the world,
Should not be, ever, thus pourtrayed in smiles,
And ne'er distorted to unnatural frowns!
Alvarez.
'Tis, that I'm independent of mankind,
Have, long been freed from all connexion with them;
Contagious, ever, to our peace, and virtue!
That I've acquired this beautiful religion.
I owe those truths ethereal, which my spirit
Attract, more, and more strongly, to the Father
Of spirits, to my reason's full exertion;
My reason uncorrupted, undisturbed;
I owe them to that humble roof of nature;
That grove, that river; that profound retirement.
Zaigri.
Father, it grieves me, that our intercourse
With our own kind, essential, to produce
The polished arts, and every great atchievement,
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With innocence, tranquility, and virtue.
Alvarez.
Just, the complaint, and just is thy regret.
Yes, Zaigri; had I been a selfish artist,
And figured in the drama of the world;
Perhaps, I, now, had been a feverish prelate,
Fired with ambition, and malignant zeal;
Had turned eternal order to confusion;
Mangled, with rash, and sacrilegious hand,
The word of life; made mysteries more mysterious;
Promulged some empty, doating, jingling creed,
And arrogated, with imperial frown,
The blind assent of nations. Rebel Reason,
Perhaps, had spurned, with glorious contumacy:
Then I had poured my deadly, priestly poison,
Through some weak monarch's superstitious ear;
Listed him in the devil's cause, and told him
That it was God's!—The martial trump had sounded;
And from the banners, while the cross of Peace,
Emblem of universal charity,
Had streamed, and floated, with dire solecism,
Over our fell crusaders, I had deluged
Whole realms with blood!
Zaigri.
Benign, humane Alvarez!
Methinks, the ghosts of my great ancestors,
Of many gallant, slaughtered Moors, are, now,
Impending o'er us, to give evidence
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Hapless, illustrious, venerated shades!
Heaven has avenged, or will avenge, your cause!
Alvarez.
You leave a cause, involving human kind,
With him, whose equity is pure, whose power
Omnipotent.—The ceremonies, rites,
The pomp of our religion, we agreed,
On fair examination, were not themes
For thy severe objection. Long experience
Clearly demonstrates, that the major part,
The vulgar of mankind; our general species,
Must to their pious duty be allured,
And fixed, by solemn, or by splendid objects,
That charm, or awe, their minds, in common life.
Therefore, as he, who pays his publick homage
To these appendages of piety,
Which need not check the vitals of religion,
Her salutary, her sublime exertions,
Acts, the good citizen, the friend of man;
They ne'er will find a caviller in Zaigri.
Zaigri.
Alvarez, I'm completely satisfied.
All Spain shall know that I'm a proselyte,
Ere many days elapse. Farewell, thou teacher
Of perfect righteousness; if I should fail
Thee to revisit soon, I should reproach
This honest heart with base ingratitude.
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Farewell! may Heaven's good Providence preside
O'er all thy thoughts, and all thy actions!
[He turns, and goes towards his Cave; he returns, and says to Zaigri;—
Stay;
One warm remembrance more, my son;—observe it,
Above all faith, all zeal; all other practice;
Itself is all.—Be actively humane;
For true humanity is proved by deeds:
As nought but feeling for another's woe
Can wound the bliss of virtue, the good man
(As our grim priests will compass sea, and land,
To stab the soul, to make one proselyte!)
Will travel patiently, from pole to pole,
To see the cruel grief that he can soothe!
He will not only cheer the hoary widow,
Who shivers at his door, and bid her smile;
But he will traverse all Arabia's sands,
If he can but substract a single unit
From the dread aggregate of human ills.
He'll plunge into a dangerous sea of sorrow;
He'll dive into the dank, and noisome dungeon;
And there, to poverty, and crimes, by culprits
Of greater guilt, in elevated office,
To the worst fate condemned, this god-like man
Will blooming health restore, and purer air,
And, in their breasts, the rays of hope relumine!
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A glorious doctrine! and my soul assures me,
It is not difficult!—Farewell, Alvarez!
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Alonzo, and Gatinara.Alonzo.
My worthy Gatinara, many years
Have now elapsed, since we enjoyed together
Our lively hours of youth, that made time rapid!
I, from two causes, am o'erjoyed to meet thee!
The pleasing sight of a sincere, old friend,
Gives back our past, and, oft, our best existence;
And, sure, thy message, at this crisis, brings
Grateful intelligence to Ximenes.
But Gatinara, what peculiar object
Is agitated at the court of Brussels?
I'm not presuming to inquire too far.
Gatinara.
What much employs our minds, must actuate yours;
Our sovereign's voyage to his realms of Spain;
The preparations for this great event
Are all compleated; many hearts, Alonzo,
Now burn with loyal prayers; but more with anxious
Wishes of private interest, and ambition.
A letter to your venerable regent,
Which only to himself I must deliver,
With the most expeditious use of time,
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Then wilt thou, soon, Alonzo, for thy friend,
Procure an audience of the cardinal?
Alonzo.
Dispatch has been, with me, a golden rule;
And sure it's practice I'll exert for thee.
Two objects of important magnitude
Will mark this sad, yet this auspicious æra;
The long-desired arrival of our prince;
And, much I fear, the death of Ximenes.
Age, complicated cares of government,
And deadly poison, press him to the grave.
Curse on the iron heart that first suggested,
The head that plotted, and the hand that laid
This baleful ambush for my honoured master;
Of Spain the glory, to the human race
A friend, and an illustrious ornament!
Although his pulse of life it's usual office
Performs with feeble, and reluctant motion,
His loyal heart still pants to meet his sovereign;
And, with that view, forthwith he purposes
A journey to Aranda! Ximenes,
Like all great souls, on fire for arduous deeds,
Is, to the last, consistent; of himself
Is emulous; and even with death contends.
King never owed so deep a debt to subject,
As stands betwixt our monarch, and his regent.
Excuse me Gatinara; honest zeal
Makes me forget my promise; let us go;
You shall not be detained by my delay.
[Exeunt.
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SCENE III.
Duke of Medina Sidonia—Zaigri.Zaigri.
You say, you're satisfied, my lord;—I'm happy:
Then wound me not with your apologies.
Even active malice I forgive, with ease,
When it's hostilities no more can hurt me.
But should I have a heart inexorable
To honest prejudices; nor, with candour,
Meet their conciliating, benignant smile,
How grossly would myself be prejudiced!
Environed, from our birth, with favourite objects,
Of ease, love, pleasure, friendship, veneration,
Which model, and attach, with strong controul,
The willing senses, the resisting mind;
Should we boast freedom from all prepossession,
The mortal man would arrogate the angel.
I have my prejudices; 'tis my study,
To soften, to subdue them.
Duke.
Royal Zaigri!
In soul a king! These noble sentiments
Reproach my opposition to thy wishes.
Zaigri.
'Tis an unmeant reproach. Besides, those wishes
No longer thou opposest; hence, my Lord,
Each thought, here entertained, is, now, thy friend.
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And can I feel resentment against thee!
Strange, most unnatural animosity!
The fortunate in love, were never captious.
'Tis a conciliating, refining passion;—
Absorbs all other cares; represses, foils,
Annihilates each mean propensity!
'Tis our internal sun; without it's power,
Souls of fine temper feel existence dreary;
From it's full influence, life yields true fruition;
And all is animation; all is joy!
—My Lord, I've told you my determination;
'Tis, to renounce the worship of my fathers,
On the next Sabbath, and to be baptised
Into the Christian faith. You'll, then, excuse
Impatience in a lover; ardently
I wish, that Leonora heard these tidings;
You, now, completely may contrast her pain.
Duke.
I will not lose a moment to oblige you.
[He rings.
Though while this obligation is conferred,
I but perform the duty of a father.
[Enters a Servant.
You'll tell my daughter, that I wish to see her.
[Exit Servant.
[Leonora enters, pays her compliments, with confusion, to both.
Zaigri,
advancing, and bowing to her.
At length, my virtuous love of Leonora
Obtains the sacred sanction of her father.
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Where am I? do I wake? or do I dream?
And yet, my dreams were ever more portentous!
Sure, Zaigri cannot mock me; sure, my father
Can never taunt the miseries of his daughter!
Duke.
Thy lover, Leonora, is a Christian!
Leonora.
The news, you'll think, my Lord, should give me rapture!
As yet, it but produces agitation,
That wildly flutters 'twixt the two extremes
Of joyful, and of mortifying thoughts!
I know, he has not changed his faith, from fear;
I hope, he has not changed his faith, from love.
Zaigri.
The Moors, fair Leonora, are as truthful
As your Castilians;—know that I'm a Christian,
A proselyte, from rational conviction;
From the result of calm, and close inquiry;
From the free choice of an impartial mind.
He, who, for truth, shrunk not from racks, or flames,
Would, but, alone, for that celestial object,
With equal firmness, quit the joys of love.
My counsellours, in this important change,
Were, an Alvarez, and a Ximenes;
Judge of their knowledge, their integrity.
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Then, is this hour most prodigal of bliss
Of all that ever crowned my day with pleasure.
Good Heaven! I thank thee for my sufferings past!
They give a double zest to present joy!
As April's tears augment the flush of spring!
Thou surely canst not think I entertain
[To Zaigri.
A moment's doubt of thy sincerity.
Each eye, my Lord, with common visual ray,
[To the Duke.
May, to the bottom see, of Zaigri's soul:
It is a pure, a clear, ambrosial fountain,
Reflecting every object it contains,
In it's true magnitude, and form, and colour.
Sordid hypocrisy, and noble Zaigri,
Are, ever, farther than the poles, asunder:
Such men as he, are images of God!
Duke.
Daughter, I love thee for thy honest ardour;
But let it know it's bounds, nor blaze to rapture.
Leonora.
Oh! pardon me, my venerated father!
My mind must, now, take it's unbounded range!
This rapture let me offer, now, to Zaigri,
An incense far inferiour to his merit.
Long hath he toiled, and often courted danger,
To earn the hero's laurel, in the field;
Then, for this bridegroom's brow, 'tis mine, to form
A wreath of chaste, and ever-blooming myrtle.
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The intimate recesses of my soul?
No!—let the venal, and ambitious fair,
Dupes to life's idle pageants, wealth, and grandeur,
Who, with bold perjuries, at Heaven's dread altar,
Astonish trembling saints, and listening angels,
Observers vigilant of human actions;—
Let them, with specious manners, specious words,
Varnish their guilt, and act a laboured part;
The artless mind has nothing to conceal.
Duke.
Proceed, without reserve; I'll not be wounded
By thy integrity; thy father taught thee,
Even from thy infancy, to be sincere.
Leonora.
I now evince my reverence to his precepts;
And such a proof, I trust, will ne'er offend.
Although with pious, and observant heart,
The hallowed faith I worship, of my fathers,
Yet should I live, in some retreat, with Zaigri,
Remote from the communion of the church,
And of the world; and should we, there, converse,
As we were used, in sacred dialogue,
On virtue, on eternity, on God;
I should, nor with temerity, conclude,
We practised, then, the Catholick religion;
I should forget it's engines, in it's essence:
And with the rising, and descending sun,
With holy warmth, if we should kneel, together,
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Which undulated to the breath of Zephyr,
And bowed Heaven's acquiescence to our prayer;
I should be satisfied, that our devotions
Were offered in a consecrated temple;
Nor painfully be anxious to frequent
The churches of Madrid, or Saragossa.
Our mansion in the humble vale of life;
Zaigri's fair fame; his animating converse;
My emulation of his great example,
And Heaven's paternal eye, would prove, to me,
All wealth, all power, all grandeur, all religion!
Zaigri.
Oh! Leonora! if, to eloquence,
Thy lover had been trained, instead of arms,
The noble tribute of thy generous praise
The orator could never have repayed!
No words are adequate; it must be thanked
By my endeavours to deserve it more!
Duke.
Love, and romance, I find, are still connected.
We must allow their union. Thy excess
[To Leonora.
Is beauteous; for it flows from ardent virtue!
Zaigri.
We fixed the time, my Lord, when my conversion
Should, in your church, be fully ratified.
Let me request, on that auspicious day,
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Meet your acceptance.
Duke.
Never was proposal
More grateful to my ear.
Leonora.
And if it drew my frown,
After a life thus far to truth devoted,
A moment would have taught me to dissemble.
Zaigri,
embracing her.
Thanks inexpressible my soul returns thee,
For this last proof of thy sincerity!
But let us, without loss of time, my friends,
With this eventful, and propitious scene,
A little strength impart, and steddier flame,
To our good regent's quivering lamp of life.
His feeble age is, like his vigorous youth,
Employed; he still promotes the good of man.
Then, you may judge, with what a lively sense,
He feels the happiness of those he loves.
My lord, I'll follow you.—My Leonora!
Our fortune shows that we should ne'er despond.
Let fell despair, at length, assail the breast
Long obstinate in crimes; 'twas never meant
By Heaven, that the wild fiend should seize on virtue!
[Exeunt.
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SCENE IV.
Ximenes, Alonzo, and Gatinara.Ximenes,
supported by Alonzo.
Nature, I, now, feel quite exhausted in me;
But he, who dies, in the discharge of duty,
Provides himself, for his departing soul,
A good viaticum: well, Gatinara,
Pray, what is your commission? from my king,
A message, even before 'tis known, revives me.
[He seats himself on a sofa.
Gatinara.
I have a letter for your Excellence,
Which to deliver only to yourself,
I strictly was enjoined.
[He gives to Ximenes the letter.
Ximenes.
Read it, Alonzo;
I know that Gatinara may be trusted.
Alonzo,
reads.
“We have your services in good remembrance;
“But our arrival on the Spanish coast,
“Whither we mean, without delay, to sail,
“Think not, with your infirmities, to welcome,
“In person; therefore, when you've read this letter,
“Strait, to your holy see, and peace, retire.
“You've led a life of spirit, and of action;
“But gentler, better scenes, your age demands;
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“Committed to your care, and to your own.
“Farewell, good Cardinal; may Heaven protect you.
Charles, Rex.”
[While Alonzo reads the letter, the action of Ximenes expresses grief, and horrour; at the close of it, he faints.
Alonzo.
I fear, this letter was the dart of death;
It must pierce all who know the worth it wounds.
Gatinara.
At a most inauspicious time it reached him;
I dread the consequence!—But he recovers!
Ximenes.
Alonzo; did mine ear inform me rightly?
Although this royal mandate was inhuman,
I felt it far too deeply;—slagging nature
Deserts, betrays, the vigour of my mind!
Is this my aged loyalty's reward?
—Yes, feeble as I am, my zealous heart
Proposed to meet it's prince!—Ungenerous letter!
It is a snake, not half-concealed in flowers!
Am I disgraced, when, surely, I deserved
A civick wreath!—But, haply, I forgot,
Lost in the business, and the pomp of state,
The sacred page that warns us not to trust
In princes! I have now, for fifty years,
Been anxious, been industrious to augment
The Spanish glory!—Shade of Isabella!
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How would thy soul have shuddered, thus to treat
An old, and faithful servant!—Who disturbs me?
[A rap without; Alonzo advances towards the door.
A Messenger,
says,
The Moorish prince, Medina's duke, his daughter,
Desire to speak with Ximenes.
Alonzo.
He cannot
Admit them now.
Ximenes.
Receive them, good Alonzo;
I still can give attention to my friends:
My life is short; once more I'll see, and hear them.
Let me expire, myself; and to this letter,
Which looks a dæmon, give an angel's office;
Yes;—let it break the feeble ligaments,
Which hold me yet to earth.
[Enter Duke, Zaigri, Leonora.
Ximenes.
Welcome, my friends!
Read, here, a living, yet, a dying lesson;
'Tis useful; and (farewell reserve!) 'tis big
With the deformity of human nature!
My noble Duke; though you, and I, have differed,
I know your heart so well, and my own conscience,
That, I'm persuaded, you'll regret my fall!
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Even when thy power, with vigour, was directed
Against my family; trust me, this heart
Breathed an involuntary kiss of homage
Toward thy threatening hand! my soul is wounded,
To see thy discomposure!—But explain
A word of mystery;—what means, thy fall?
Ximenes.
It seems, the sight of me, would hurt our sovereign!
He even anticipates a friend's disgrace;
And to perpetual exile from his presence,
Condemns me, ere himself arrives in Spain.
This cruel thought disarms my resolution;
And stimulates, again, my pungent feelings!
'Twas an unkind return, for all the plans,
Formed, for his greatness, in this aged head,
Whiter, perhaps, by ardent cares for him,
Than by the frost of time!—My God, forgive me,
Who seest our inmost springs of thought, and action;
Seest, how this blow must shock my languid mind,
In natural sympathy with a weak body!—
Forgive me, after I aspired to Heaven,
For this relapse to earth!—I'll change my objects.
Zaigri, to you, and to fair Leonora,
I sooner should have payed a friend's attention.
Speak;—tell me all you wish that I should know,
While I have power to hear it!
Zaigri.
First, my Lord,
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That share the conflict of thy noble mind!
Leonora.
Heaven is my witness, were my earthly bliss
Whatever love, and virtue can imagine,
My knowledge of thy wrongs, oh! Ximenes!
And of thy sufferings, would obscure it's lustre!
Ximenes.
Old as I am, I credit what you say.
Zaigri.
Fool that I was, inured to disappointments,
I fondly hoped, with pleasure unallayed,
To tell thee, that, from conscience, I abjure
The sensual paradise of Mahomet,
And am a convert to the Christian law.
The frankness of thy honest proselyte
Forthwith receives an ample retribution;
Paternal sanction to a lover's wishes;
The nuptial hand, and heart of Leonora.
Ximenes.
You've always, in essentials, been a Christian:
Hence, your transition to our form is easy.
I'm pleased that you renounce pernicious tenets,
Enforcing bloodshed, and licentious rapine.
Zaigri's example will produce effects
Powerful, and salutary.—Both approach;
[They approach and kneel.
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And her best retributions in this world,
Be ever yours, through a precarious life!
And to your future wishes, may Heaven's mercy
Open the gates of everlasting day!
—A heavy vapour swims before my sight!
A deathful chillness, too, creeps through my heart!
Alonzo!
Alonzo.
My good lord!
Ximenes.
Look well, and tell me,
What secretary wrote that cruel letter?
Alonzo;
—after having examined the Letter.
I'm certain of the hand, my lord; 'tis Mota's.
Ximenes.
And did not shame check his ingratitude?
Then our young king, and his amanuensis,
Hold forth two dire examples of mankind.
I trained the rising talents of this Mota,
With my expence, and care; nor did I quit
My close attention to him, till I fixed him
In opulence, and power episcopal!
Is this the merit that deserves a mitre!
Can consecration lock the human heart
With selfishness, and flint!—Farewell, for ever,
To these detested objects!—Gatinara!
Is Gatinara there?
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My lord, I'm with you.
Ximenes.
Mark what I say;—one favour of your prince,
And only one I beg; Giraldo's life.
He stabbed a traitor, and a murderer;
Some, not responsible to this world's justice,
Give an assassin's blow to their best friends.
—May Fame forgive me, if, while I'm contending
With the keen wounds of black ingratitude,
And with my last mortal infirmities,
My history closes with defective glory.
I, who have often struck the base, the mean,
With trembling fear, humiliate, now, myself.
But with a farewell effort, I'll collect
My parting soul; that it may wing it's flight,
With all it's native, it's habitual vigour.
For I am going to the king of kings,
The final sentence of whose dread tribunal
No petty monarch of our earth escapes;
And where the worthy find their due reward:
No Austrian cabinet can wrong me, there.
My God; my Father! If, through a long life,
I've worshipped thee, in spirit, and in truth;
If, justice, in proportion to my power,
I still have executed; if distress,
Whene'er its woes I knew, still found, in me,
An ardent, indefatigable friend;
Accept thy servant with paternal mercy!
And, if, to crush the proud, the insolent;
To baffle malice, and to humble tyrants;
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Sometimes, my consequence, in my own eyes,
The individual's pride, was too much pleased;
Forgive my frailty, for the general good,
Which even the narrow love of self effected!
—Sure nature stagnates, now, through all my frame!
How cold, and dark it feels!—This faithless world
Recedes!—It flies before me!—Honest Zaigri!
Thy image, too, I lose!—But we shall meet
In realms of purer life!—In light eternal!
[He dies.
Leonora.
Ne'er will his voice again instruct his friends!
Our just, our generous regent is no more!
Duke.
He's dead!—And Spain hath lost her brightest glory!
Why need we wonder, that his thread of life,
A long, and shining thread, already worne
Extremely fine, by this last stroke was severed?
Keen was the fatal stroke, and unexpected!
Alonzo.
Mysterious Heaven! Thou, only, canst atone
For the hard fate of my illustrious master!
Poison had, more than age, wasted his body;
A poisoned shaft hath, now, transfixed his mind!
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As great a soul, this instant, hath expired,
As e'er departed, with it's mortal breath.
If genius, of resistless energy,
Splendid, at once, and useful; and if virtue,
Of finest temperature, sublimest ardour,
Both, long exerted in distinguished station,
Can make man's memory august, his fame
Will last, and flourish, to the end of time!
His life repeats a document to mortals,
Of the first moral import. Let the gay,
The thoughtless, and licentious, think, awhile,
What future miseries, even, here, await them;
Since he, though temperate, sage; though just, and good,
Experienced insults, disappointments, pains.
And if to Ximenes, for princely favours,
Ingratitude most barbarous was returned,
Let vice, appalled with melancholy fear,
Let virtue, kindled with hope's golden rays,
Expect the justice of their God, hereafter,
Compleated, in the equitable world!
[Exeunt omnes.
FINIS.
| Ximenes | |