University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

SCENE I.

A Hall in the Castle, of Moorish architecture, with windows of painted glass, in the recesses of the arches low sofas are placed with cushion piled, on one of these Victoria slumbers, while Ramirez walks in the Hall making notes in his tablets; bright fleecy clouds rise behind the painted glass representing the dawn of day.
Ramirez.
Remove those lights—the day once more returns,
And nature springs into renew'd existence!
Collects the fragrance breathing o'er her bosom,
And offers up the incense to the morn!
Slow o'er the mazes of the Guadalquiver
Curl the soft mists, that quicken ev'ry odour.
—All animated beings gladly rise
To their diurnal task.—Man, only man,
That froward fav'rite of indulgent heav'n,
Drops from his weary eye the ungrateful tear,
To blight the coming blessing!—dear Victoria!
Thy watching hath o'erpower'd thee!—soft, my child,
Like this, be all thy slumbers!

Victoria.
Have I slept?
I pray you pardon the unconscious fault
And bless to me the morn,

(half kneeling.
Ramirez.
May each to come
Breathe only peace upon thee; and restore
Those roses with'ring on the shrine of friendship!

Victoria.
Alas! my father, bless too my Almeyda!
That solitary sov'reign! born to weep
The greatness thousands covet! thro' the night,
Sleepless, and tearful, she has still entreated
That I would win you ever to retain her.
A Moor in name alone, Granada's throne
Charms not her heart—possess'd, and alienate.

Ramirez.
I cannot chuse but blame ev'n thee, my child,
If thou hast sought to win her from her duty.

Victoria.
Nay, rather blame the parents who resign'd her.

Ramirez.
Forbear these rash conclusions—Monarchs oft
Must sacrifice each feeling to their duty.

Victoria.
Alas! that aught should break the tie of nature!
The ductile heart, as reason dawns, still takes
A soft impression of the nearest object—
Thus did Almeyda's—yet an infant hostage,
She wak'd to knowledge on a foe's kind bosom.
Her lips first falter'd our Castilian tongue,
And, with becoming gratitude she found
In those who sondly train'd her up to honor,
Each dear, each sacred tie, of love, and nature:
Nor did she mourn her sires, or brother's death,
As she does now to leave us.

Ramirez.
Nor have I,
My daughter, ill-deserv'd this gen'rous fondness,
Since with my children she has shar'd my heart,
—No, tho' to death I hate the Moorish race,
Vindictive, and insatiate—tho' my sword
Ev'n yet could flame amid my country's foes
With energy unbroken, never knew I
To view a tender babe with abhorrence.
—Ah! sweet Almeyda! in this very hall
Thy cries, unconscious of thy sate, assail'd
A heart alive to nature and humanity!
When with the error of soft innocence
Thy little arms clung round thy father's foe.

Victoria.
Was this the castle, where Almanzor chose
To lodge his queen for safety?

Ramirez.
Ay—and wise
Had prov'd his choice, if Heav'n their arms had prosper'd.
—Thou seest—'tis solid as the rock that bears it;
Its proud tow'rs shadow our Castilian plains,
Tho' sever'd from them by the Guadalquiver.
—They since have aw'd their owner.—For that day
Heaven blest the holy valour it inspir'd!
That memorable day gave to our arms,
An host almost unnumber'd, but by slain.
—Flush'd with our conquest, we assail'd this castle,
Which the intimidated queen threw open,
And as an hostage gave us up her daughter.

Victoria.
Oh! mother ill-deserving my Almeyda!

Ramirez.
Erroneous youth still takes the first impression,
Nor looks beyond the surface! Be more wise;
Learn to pierce through the veil of policy,
Undazzled by its colours.—So thy friend
Shall better meet the future.

Victoria.
I attend,
With reverence so profound, each other sense
Is lost in hearing—

Ramirez.
Know the queen thy censure
Condemns unheard, should rather claim thy pity.
Match'd to a monarch weak, vain, cold of heart,
Yet restless tho' inactive—her short life
Pass'd in disquiet; from the hour that call'd her.
Almanzor's crafty brother gain'd the pow'r,
And in the king's name shelter'd every baseness.
Two rising princes scorn'd their uncle's sway,
Alas! perhaps too boldly!—heav'n alone
Can judge the malady that nipp'd their bloom.
—Certain it is, Abdallah never offer'd
A due equiv'lent for our royal hostage
Until she heir'd Granada.

Victoria.
Sweet Almeyda!
Is this the savage trusted with thy welfare?
—Thou too, perhaps, art doom'd by his ambition.

Ramirez.
Not so my daughter.—Politicians ever
Present a puppet to the public eye,
While they, unseen, delight to guide its motions.
—Almeyda thus is needful to her uncle,
Who hopes to find in her a weak, vain woman.

Victoria.
Heav'n, for his punishment, then form'd an angel!
—Who, like Almeyda ever knew to blend
Th'eccentric, noble wildness of the Moor,
With ev'ry polish'd grace of our Castile?

Ramirez.
She is too frank, incautious, and ungovern'd.
More rude than cataracts her passions rage.

Victoria.
Yet still like those, profusely pour upon us
Rich ore, for ever else beyond our reach!

Ramirez.
She must conceal those passions to be great,
Subdue them to be happy. In the mind
All sov'reignty begins, and ends.—Who rules
Impartially the frailties of his nature
Rises almost beyond it, and extends,
Far as his name is known, a willing empire.
Teach thy fair friend, my child, this useful lesson,
And next thy brother—

Victoria.
Ah! alike he needs it!
—I dread the wild concussion of his passions,
When he shall learn you choose the very hour,
In which he bravely fights his country's battles,
To yield the fair, who gives his life a value.

Ramirez.
I therefore choose it. Well I know, his temper
Is, like Almeyda's own, warm and ungovern'd.
Misjudging boy! to fix thy idle heart
On her, forever placed beyond thy reach!
Why saw I not, in childhood, this fond love,
Which, like a blight, clings to my life's best blossom?
—Yet could my son ere hope to wed Almeyda?

Victoria.
Alas, my father, when their love commenc'd,
Almeyda had two brothers; and my mother
Still fondly fancied, by this union, peace
Might one day bless the long contesting nations.

Ramirez.
Romantic dream of youth, and idle passion!
What pow'r can reconcile the cross and crescent?

Victoria.
Frown not, my father, if I further add,
Endear'd to christian laws, and christian manners,
Almeyda were to both an easy convert.

Ramirez
(sternly.)
Victoria, if thou would'st atone thy fault
In cherishing this weakness, join to soothe
Thy brother's disappointment.—Tell Alonzo,
My love for him—my justice—nay, my prudence
Constrain me to resign his heart's sole object.
—Knows he not hardly we maintain our ground
Against these treach'rous neighbours, and must still,
Whate'er the sacrifice, defend our country?
—No news from Murcia yet?—Oh! how I long
To hear the issue of the impending battle!
—The rising sun gleams on the Moorish helms,
And gives a trembling lustre to yon fields!
—Th'appointed moment comes to sign the treaty.
I see Almeyda too, but dare not meet her;
Far be it from me to offend her feelings,
Or sacrifice my own—bid her adieu!
(Exit Ramirez.

Almeyda
(entering on the other side.)
During this trying interval, Victoria,
I had prepar'd myself to meet the King,
And now with breathless fear impatient sought him.
Ah, wherefore flies he then? Still he relents not?
—Thou, or I greatly err, hast sued in vain—
Hast sued a Sov'reign might remain in bonds,
And yield dominion for implicit duty
—Well then I bow disdainful to my fate—
Yet have a care, Ramirez, thy proud heart
May one day feel the pang that pierces mine.

Victoria.
What means my dear Almeyda?

Almeyda.
Ah! Alonzo!
Thou wilt not thus resign—thou wilt not scorn me,
—Amid the rage of arms—the din of battle
Almeyda's sighs shall still be heard, still felt,
And counteract all policy—alas!
I there alike may err, and ev'n Alonzo
May bid the eagle glory chace the dove,
And see the victim flutter to the ground.
—Alonzo leads the war, and quite forgets me!

Victoria.
Gentle Almeyda—govern these wild transports,
Which ever warp your judgment—

Almeyda.
Do not hope it—
Nor venture to decide a lover's conduct—
Thy tranquil blood flows equal thro' thy veins,
Like the clear riv'let thro' the grassy vale,
While mine, impetuous as the bounding billows,
Swells to my heart, thence rapidly returns
And in the tumult swallows up wreck'd reason!
—Hadst thou, like me, been bosom'd among strangers,
And giv'n thy soul in recompence for love,
Then found thyself torn from this happy home,
To waste a gaudy life in cold indifference,
Like mine thy aching sense would swell to anguish,
Like mine in tears would drown thee.

Victoria.
Yet believe
Alonzo's love unblemished as his honor,
And rather praise than blame his sense of duty.

Almeyda.
Why wilt thou shame my cheek?—Alas! Victoria,
Had I rememb'red mine, ne'er had I shed
These burning drops—ev'n at this awful hour
When from the grave my ancestors demand me,
To all the pride, and pow'r of purple empire,
My heart flies back to hover near my love,
And envies ev'ry slave, who daily sees him.

Victoria.
This is alike erroneous—darling friend,
With steadier eye survey the past and future—
So shall your mind extract repose from reason.

Almeyda.
Away with Reason! melancholy hermit!
Who idle eyes the storm, then, vainly active,
Collects, and treasures, ev'ry wreck of passion!
—I shall have hopeless years enough for reason,
And give this hour to love.—Oh! say Victoria,
—And yet I dread to hear—is the King fixed
To ratify the peace?

Victoria.
He has no choice—
The rights of nations and his country's welfare,
Oblige him to restore you.—

Almeyda.
Rather say,
He has no heart—nor feels for my affliction—
—Ah! if the rights of nations were his rule,
Why did he subjugate a Monarch's daughter?
Why win her easy heart by gracious treatment?
Until secure of silent, anxious, duty,
He gave the Moors a Queen—himself a slave.—

Victoria.
Wherefore reproach my father with his virtues?
He conquer'd for his country—that loved cause
Induc'd him first to keep, and now to yield you.
—Rather admire th'impartiality
Which ranked you with his children in his heart.
—Perhaps ev'n deeper motives sway'd his conduct;
—Perhaps he stood between you and an uncle,
Who views with jealous eyes your right of empire.

Almeyda.
Nay, now Ramirez speaks from prejudice.
Whom should I trust if not my father's brother?

Victoria.
In Heav'n, and your integrity; but never
In this vindictive, subtle, savage Moor.
—Without he is as specious as the mountain,
Whose rich fertility delights each gazer,
But, oh! volcanos rage within! and gath'ring
Each noisome vapour of the o'ercharg'd earth,
Forth unsuspected bursts the flaming deluge,
Felt soon as seen—ev'n to annihilation!

Almeyda.
Alas! and is it thus? To such a wretch
Must I be render'd up, in ignorance,
To learn the science of hypocrisy—
With worldly art to arrange each little sentence,
And preconcert each action?—Never more
Shall I enjoy the sweets of confidence,
Or find in love a pleasure.—Never more
Shall thy harmonious voice, Alonzo, charm me;
Or thine, dear rigid friend, reproving, soothe.

Victoria
—(taking her hand.)
Yet shall the vows that bound our youthful hearts
Remain inviolate.

Almeyda.
And shall Alonzo's?
Ah, no! for nature here makes a distinction;
Forms man's large heart for many a various duty,
And blends his passion into a republic—
While woman, born for love and softness only,
Delights to feel love's absolute dominion!
—Then tell thy brother—

(Confused shouts heard.
Victoria.
Look up, dear Almeyda!
Revive, and speak thy purpose.

Almeyda
—(leaning on her and fluttered.)
Tell thy brother,
Almeyda will not bind him by one vow;
Nor claim one sacrifice.—Pleas'd to have lov'd,
Pleas'd to have been belov'd—to that remembrance
She consecrates each future throb of passion;
And if she dares imagine yet a joy,
'Twould be to know him blest, she might have made so.

Victoria.
My father comes.—Oh! now, my best Almeyda!
Now be yourself, and dignify the moment.

Almeyda
(faintly.)
'Tis not in dying we must shew our courage;
Ah, no! 'tis in the fearful preparation—
Enter Ramirez, attended.
Health to my benefactor! glorious title,
More dear than that of father!—He but gives
A vulgar being, while the man who rears
Our virtues to existence, is next Heav'n,
The worshipp'd of our reason.

Ramirez.
Rise, Almeyda
Queen of Granada, rise! we gladly hail thee.
Thy kinsman comes to invest thee with dominion,
And give thee to an eager nation's eyes.—
I glory, thus accomplish'd, to return thee.

Almeyda.
Ah! reconcile me to my fate by coldness.
—Know all the danger of this tender flatt'ry!

Ramirez.
In the poor word adieu, I sum each wish
Affection ever form'd, in blessing virtue.
Farewel, at once—I yield thee to thy duty!
—Call into action ev'ry latent pow'r,
Reign o'er thyself—so shalt thou bless thy people.

Almeyda
—(flying towards them).
Tear out this heart! but do not, do not quit me!
Oh! do not snap at once each link in life,
And leave me solitary in creation!

Ramirez.
Afflict us not with such a vain request.
Ev'n now our troops evacuate the castle,
And thine assume each post.—Abdallah waits
To pass one gate until I quit the other.
—Farewel, Almeyda! grace thy glorious fortune.

[Almeyda sinks under the regal Canopy, in tears.—The Moorish Music sounds, and a long train entering do her homage, and arrange on each side; last comes Abdallah, with the Diadem borne before him.
Abdallah
—(doing homage).
Fair daughter of Almanzor! thus his brother
Hails thy return to freedom and dominion—
Thus tenders thee thy rich inheritance!
And thus, the formal task of duty ended,
Clasps thee with kindred, sympathising love:
Bids those bright eyes shake off the lucid drops,
And beam with all their own unequall'd lustre.

Almeyda.
Alas! already he begins to flatter.
(aside.
—I were not worthy of your tender'd love,
My princely uncle, could I thus forget
At once the friends who rear'd me—

Abdallah
—(with a fierce irony).
Friends do you call them?
You are too young thus nicely to distinguish.
Give not the crafty foe such undue honour.
Call those, indeed, your friends, who now surround you;
Call the fierce soldiers too your friends, who spread
In proud array o'er yonder pleasant plain;—
Nor think him less your friend, whose policy
Fomented the rebellion, which oblig'd
Ramirez to restore you

Almeyda.
Oh! my heart!
Alonzo's absence then I owe to you!—
(aside.
Noble Abdallah! be but gentle with me,
And I will meekly bear ev'n reprehension.
—All are my friends, who only wish to serve me;
Yet, let me add, I hardly owe those more
Who give my crown, than he who form'd me for it.

Abdallah.
Curse on his polish'd arts! they've made thee subtle;
And I must deeply probe thy nature's weakness,
Ere yet thou charm'st each hearer.— (aside.)
Fair Almeyda!
Emancipate thy soul from this fond bondage:
Live to Granada, and forget Castile!
—No more repeat, with cherish'd latent love,
Names we were born to hate; but seek to win,
By partial kindness, those, who ever dread
The empire of a woman.

Almeyda.
Have I empire?
Ah! no; for in the hour that ought to give it,
I first experience bondage. Stay, Ramirez,
King of Castile! Oh! hear me, and return!
Again receive—protect me! Bind these hands,
But give my heart its freedom! Dear Victoria
Fix not thy tearful eyes upon these walls,
Lest I renounce all duties, and all ties,
To dwell with thee and friendship! Noble lords.
Pardon, I pray, frank nature's ebullition,
And see ev'n virtue in the eager transport.
—The love, I thus avow, was fairly won,
By equal love, and ever-lib'ral treatment.
Be like Castile indulgent, and this heart
Alike will glow with gratitude to you;
Will proudly cherish ev'ry regal virtue,
Shut out regret for all which it resigns,
Nor own, ev'n to itself, it wants a joy,
While yet a duty claims it.

Abdallah.
This is reason—
There spoke the royal heiress of Almanzor,
And no Castilian slave.

Almeyda.
Still must I struggle— (aside.


Abdallah.
Why do those beauteous eyes still seek the ground?
Oh! raise them, and survey the golden future.
Thou know'st not yet the pleasures of dominion!
—Be willing to be happy, and each means,
Indulgent Heav'n, in plenitude of pow'r,
E'er gave humanity, is thine—For thee,
Rich nature crowns this land with varying beauty;
And lab'ring art here fixes his perfection.
The sea wafts hither every foreign treasure,
And pale-eyed science waits to tell their value.
—For thee, the poet's light hand sweeps the lyre,
With melody unequall'd. Happy thousands
But wait to view thee, and to want a wish;
While those inur'd to mis'ry, in thy coming,
Find an uncertain hope that soothes each pain.
—Oh! new to life; accept, enjoy its blessings!
Come forth, and be ador'd! My son awaits thee:
Thy father's vet'rans, under his command,
Impatiently require their blooming queen.

Almeyda.
—(giving him her hand.)
Conduct me wheresoe'er my duty calls.
And, oh! may no unbidden pang intrude,
To dim with tears these gildings of my fortune!

[Exeunt, the Music sounding.