University of Virginia Library

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;
“Ease, and a calm attention to the souls
“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!
Now long beatified! Fair, great, and good!
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!

Duke.
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,
Accept the sorrow of two friendly bosoms,
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.
And take my benediction.—Health, peace, virtue,
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?

Gatinara.
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;
Important offices, for publick weal,
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!

Zaigri.
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.