University of Virginia Library

Scene II.

—The Terrace in Padilla's garden, as in 1st Act.—Shouts heard at intervals, growing nearer.
Enter Donna Maria.
MARIA.
Shout on! Roar on! My spirit drinks the crash
Of furious discords blent in one great hope,
As I have listen'd to the mighty cataract,
From which the sounds of jagged channels join
In one majestic thunder that descends
With the same single music on the ear
As at the river's conquest o'er its rocks
When first it made its passage. Roar, and speak
The strong outbursting of a nation's soul
At its true master's call! Is none awake
In whom the lonely rapture of my night
May find an echo? I will call my son—
Alphonso! Can he sleep?

Enter Lopez.
MARIA.
Where's your young master?

LOPEZ.
Alas! I know not; as, last night, with me
He paced our loftiest crags, a wilder cry
Than any which our earnest ears had caught,
Rose from the city;—when, without a word,
He sprang from the sharp margin of the rock
Like bird in air; scarce touch'd the points that aid
The painful climber; swam the stream which gave
A gurgle's notice of his buoyant course;
Leap'd to the meadow; waved his plume and flew
Into the darkness.

MARIA.
Bravely done; his place
Is at his father's side. The shouts draw nearer;
Can you not catch one name above them all?

Enter Alphonso.
MARIA.
Where have you left Padilla?

ALPHONSO.
Left him! mother,
I have sought him through the night, and cried in vain
To crowds that circled him to give me way,
Though I was near him often; now they rush,
Led by the noblest in Toledo, hither,
And, as I think, to crown him.

MARIA.
Heaven assuage
The transports of my soul, that I may meet
This fortune as befits his wife! I'll sit
And study to be marble.

[Sits.
Enter Don Velasco, Prefect of Toledo, with Soldiers and Citizens.
VELASCO.
Noble lady,
We seek Padilla.

MARIA.
Here! Then danger's past,
Else ye would not expect him in a home
Which only knows its thunders.

VELASCO.
It is past;
Toledo's free; and her delighted citizens
Would hail you as a queen.

MARIA.
Me! Do not waste
A moment of this time in wreathing honors
For a frail woman, who has only grace
As she adores the mighty. My sole claim
Is, that I have loved Padilla from his bloom
Of glorious youth, not as a love-sick maid
Entranced to watch the shadow of a curl
On man's bright forehead, in the swimming depths
Of hazel eyes with fondness downward bent
Reads her own charms reflected; 'twas his soul,
His kingly nature, that I honor'd then
And worship now; if ye shall crown Padilla,
Ye will do wisely. But my brother comes—
And, after him, my husband.

Enter Mondeiar—after him Padilla.
MARIA.
My dear lord,
You have return'd in happiest time to give
Your gracious answer to Toledo's prayers,
Which claim you for a sovereign, whom Castile
Will soon confirm her own.

PADILLA.
Me?

VELASCO.
Our shouts sent up
From our full hearts shall answer. He whose name,
As by enchantment, shook our fetters from us,
Alone shall rule us.

PADILLA.
Do you speak the wish
Of all the citizens?

VELASCO.
All—save some base ones
Who seek their own advancement.

PADILLA.
Is it so?
Is what I welcomed as a noble voice,
Sent from a people's spirit to its King's
To wake his justice, treason? Do I stand here
A chief of rebels? No, my countrymen,
Your error's but a moment's extasy,
Which Heaven will pardon.

MONDEIAR.
But will Charles forgive?
Does loyalty deceive you with the hope
That he whose nature when it verged on manhood
Was old in craftiest policy's success
Will pardon this revolt—start not—such name
Our acts must carry—or forgive the love
With which the people urge you to protect
Yourself with them?

PADILLA.
It may be true, I am blasted;
It may be, that in rising to redress
Great wrongs, we have snapp'd the holy bond of subjects;
But I will bear all shames before the spoil
Of such disaster sink with meaner guilt
The rebel to the robber.

MARIA.
Husband! lord!
Before you fling the proffer'd sceptre from you
Think of the strifes its sway alone can charm,
The blessings which its touch would waken!

PADILLA.
No—
The course of right is single. Such a flaw
As is created by a chief, whose place
Or circumstance leads men to fix their thoughts
Upon him with affection, when he swerves
From duty, works more mischief to earth's faith
Than the victorious recreant can atone
By years of wisest policy.

MONDEIAR.
Then perish—
He who has burst a nation's chains, must be
Its master or its victim.

PADILLA.
I am doom'd then;
My choice is made.

MARIA.
If not for these—or me—
You think in this great moment, look on him,
Sole offspring of our love whom earth retains!
Plead for yourself, Alphonso!

VELASCO.
Noble youth,
Plead for us all!

PADILLA.
Speak your desire, my son,
As freely as to God.

ALPHONSO.
Mother, forgive me;
My heart is in my father's, and his words
Should have been mine if I had power to shape them.

PADILLA.
You hear him—through the unsullied lips of youth
Heaven's answer breathes. Well said, my noble son!
Look up, Maria!

[Donna Maria places her hands on Padilla's shoulders, and looks intently on his face.
MARIA.
I can read the future,
Writ in the furrows of this steadfast face;
The desperate struggle—the ungrateful herd—
Sharp death and mangled story. Think again!

PADILLA.
I have thought all my life for such an hour—
I must act now. Assure me that your courage
Will quell this anguish.

MARIA.
I shall conquer it.

PADILLA.
And smile?

MARIA.
Yes; if you will it you shall find
A smile on this poor face, till death shall fix
Its last in wax.

PADILLA.
That's brave! The Council waits—
Thither, my countrymen, I bear this life
For you, which had been worthless if enwreath'd
With treason's circlet; Mondeiar, come with me.
[To Maria.
Bid me farewell.

MARIA.
Farewell.

PADILLA.
Alphonso, wait
Upon your mother; she will be prouder of you
Than when she clasp'd you first.

[Exeunt Padilla and Mondeiar.
MARIA.
My friends, for all
The mighty good you proffer'd, take my thanks:
Forgive me; I am faint.

[Velasco offers to support her; she takes her son's arm.
MARIA.
Alphonso's arm
Is strong enough to prop me; Heaven preserve you!

[Exeunt severally.