 | Gonzalvo of Cordova |  |
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ACT III.
SCENE I.
The Spanish Camp. Royal Tents.Ferdinand and Isabella in full Council. Garcia, Alvarez, Spanish Nobles, &c.
FERDINAND.
Princes and nobles, join'd in holy league
Against the infidels, we have convened you,
For that we have accepted the defiance
Of proud Almanzor, in Gonzalvo's name,
Who, as ye know, from Africa returns.
Each moment we expect to welcome him.
ISABELLA.
And hark, my friends, the joyous sounds that ring,
In gratulation wild, through all the air!
He comes! 'tis he! the champion of Castile!
Flourish of trumpets. Gonzalvo, attended by Lara, with great demonstrations of joy. He advances, and kneels at Isabella's feet.
GONZALVO.
Receive, my queen, the long expected treaty,
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The forces destined to Granada's aid.
ISABELLA.
Welcome, Gonzalvo, welcome to our presence!
Prince, we know all thou hast endured for us
And our great cause. The thanks of Ferdinand
And Isabel keep pace with thy deserts.
FERDINAND.
Prince, we have miss'd you in th'embattled field.
Capricious victory but plays the wanton,
Half granting, half withdrawing, the fair guerdon
Of our hard service, since her favour'd chief
No longer seeks her grace.
(Aside to Lara).
Haste, valiant Lara,
Spread wide the joyful tidings through the camp,
And rouse each spirit to the work of death,
That must to-morrow make Granada ours.
[Exit Lara.
ISABELLA.
The god who leads the armies of Castile
Brings thee, brave prince, in an auspicious hour;
Yes, brings thee, by a single feat in arms,
To stamp eternal glory on thy name:
The Moorish Chief, Almanzor, gives his life
To thy unerring blade. Granada falls
When proud Almanzor dies!
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How may that be?
The armed Moors defend their native land,
Their heritage, their homes, their wives, their children.
In such a cause a people rests not, Queen,
Its every hope upon a single arm:
Almanzor fallen, each Moor that has a heart
Will an Almanzor rise to meet his foe.
ISABELLA.
It was not so they met thy sword, my friend.
Mark me!—Almanzor slain, ere shrouding night
Close on their consternation, we invest
Granada on all sides. Abdoulah, sunk
In luxury's soft lap, nor danger's voice,
Nor glory's will awake. Without a chief,
The infidels dispersed, an easy prey,
Fall to our swords. The impious city rased,
Fair peace shall smile o'er all this happy land!
GONZALVO
(with enthusiasm).
Oh why, my queen! oh why may not fair peace
Smile on this land ere it be drench'd in blood?
Does peace delight in mangled carcasses,
In dying groans, and agonizing shrieks?
You will give peace to those who now would kiss
The royal hand that dealt the precious boon,
But who will then lie stretch'd upon the plain,
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To deal its bounteous gifts!
FERDINAND
(sarcastically).
Venusa's prince
Returns from Afric other than he went.
GONZALVO.
Oh, yes, my sovereigns: Since I parted hence,
I have beheld misfortune face to face,
Have mark'd the ills of desolating war
In all the sad details kings never see.
The sun that rises on the peasant's toil
In happy lands not visited by war,
And gilds their waving harvests with his beams,
With barren splendour glares on desert fields
Depopulated by the sword. The gale
Sweeps sullen o'er them, loaded with the cries
Of frantic widows and of orphan babes,
That else had borne upon its gladsome wing
The careless carol of the husbandman,
Tilling in peace and liberty his field.
FERDINAND.
Is it Gonzalvo? He of Cordova?
He on whose sword attended victory,
Binding each day his brow with fresher laurels?
He who was wont to lead Spain's gallant knights
Gaily to battle as 'twere to a feast?
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True, king, I led them on as to a feast—
A feast of blood! Such laurels may beseem
O'erbuoyant youth, maddening in glory's field!
Reckless that every leaf of such a wreath
Is, for the pearly dew-drop heaven had hung,
Gemm'd with a drop of blood!
[A general expression of discontent in the assembly.
GARCIA.
A shepherd swain,
But not a soldier and a Spaniard, speaks.
FERDINAND.
Gonzalvo, sure, has sigh'd away his hours
In Seïd's haram, where some soft sultana
Has held this silken language.
GARCIA.
Can it be
The fame obtain'd of late by brave Almanzor—
GONZALVO
(laying his hand on his sword).
If any here believe my arm unbraced,
Him do I challenge—let him feel its force.
ISABELLA
(haughtily).
Prince of Venusa! you forget yourself.
This language in our presence?
GONZALVO.
Pardon, queen!
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(graciously).
'Tis past. We know your valour, and the more
Stand in astonishment at this your speech.
GONZALVO.
And can thy gracious nature, Isabel,
Marvel that one who has so late received
From Moors each right of hospitality,
Should lay aside the rancorous despite
Of an ungenerous foe? Granada's realm
For centuries has been the native land
Of its possessors. They who were usurpers
Have long been dust—Oh! then let vengeance sleep.
When Moorish fathers, husbands, brothers, sons,
Fall by our swords, as many bosoms ache
As among us when they fall whom we love.
Have we not wasted the best blood of Spain
Before these walls, firm rooted in the fealty
Each thing that lives bears to its native place?
Then spare alike the Spaniards and the Moors;
'Tis now th'auspicious moment when blest peace—
FERDINAND
(interrupting him).
Forbear, Gonzalvo! lest thy recreant tongue
Infect the warlike spirit of these chiefs.
After a contest of so long a date,
When Europe's eye and Africa's are fix'd
Upon the issue of this glorious strife,
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Shall we, brave knights, with sickly thoughts like these,
And dainty hands that cannot dip in blood,
Disdain to grasp her?—But if so it be
Gonzalvo choose the rural joys he paints,
Castile and Aragon have many heroes
Ready to answer the proud Moor's defiance.
[Several grasp their swords.
GONZALVO.
On your lives, sirs! 'tis mine exclusively!
He that would meet Almanzor in the lists
Must bear Gonzalvo's life upon his sword.
FERDINAND.
My noble friends! we much amiss interpret
The brave Gonzalvo's words. See with what ardour
He claims the glorious combat! none but he
Shall win the deathless laurel victory wreathes
To bind his honour'd brow. Behold, brave prince,
The sword that graced the famed Rodrigo's side,
The valiant Cid! th'avenger of his father!
Who won Valencia's realm, and fair Ximena!
[Ferdinand gives him the sword, which he accepts with apparent confusion.
ISABELLA.
Prince! you have need of rest: few hours remain
Ere, summon'd by the warlike trumpet's voice,
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To single fight th'invincible Gonzalvo!
[Exeunt with ceremony, as the Scene closes.
SCENE II.
Before Lara's Tent.Enter Lara and Pedro.
LARA.
My faithful Pedro, this thy wondrous tale
Confounds all reason. Oh! he is undone!
Unhappy, lost Gonzalvo! that a girl,
A Moorish girl, should by her wiles ensnare thee!
PEDRO.
Nay, sir, the princess is a gracious creature;
My lord had died but for her tender care.
Oh! she is innocent as nature's self,
Fair as her fairest works, and yet withal
She wears a native simple dignity,
Commanding most when most her sweetness wins.
LARA
(smiling).
Why, Pedro, thou hast caught thy master's frenzy.
PEDRO.
Oh! 'tis no time to jest. My lord has sworn
His sword shall never take Almanzor's life.
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Blasted his fame! For ever wrapt in night,
If he so bear himself as he has sworn!
Gonzalvo throw his country's cause away!
Impossible!
Enter Gonzalvo.
GONZALVO.
Is it Lara speaks my name
As 'twere in anger? Pity, sure, my friend,
Had better suited thy Gonzalvo's sorrows.
LARA.
Oh, my Gonzalvo! I do pity thee;
I pity thee, but I must blame thee too.
GONZALVO.
Speak, Lara, show me any way to escape
The brand of treason or of perjury.
LARA.
We are our country's ere we are our own;
This tie is prior to all other claims.
GONZALVO.
And know'st thou, Lara, all my country asks?
LARA.
To rid her of the proud insulting foe
Who checks her arms.
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Nay, more than that, my friend:
To be ungrateful as the venomous serpent,
That stung the bosom which had foster'd it;
To mock the laws of hospitality,
Sacred to all who bear the form of man:
The very savage, in the deadly strife
By life's first wants provoked, will slack the bow,
Or drop th'uplifted club, if he but mark
In th'adverse band his sometime host, whose hut
Had housed him from the night storm.
LARA.
Why, Gonzalvo,
Then why receive the sword of famed Rodrigo?
Confirming thus th'acceptance of the challenge.
GONZALVO.
That none other might.
LARA.
Think'st thou no other arm
Has power to wield?
GONZALVO.
Think'st thou the Spaniard lives
Shall claim the challenge to Gonzalvo offer'd?
LARA.
Then wilt thou meet the Moor, and by thy arm
Almanzor dies!—Thou art thyself again.
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(shuddering).
“Almanzor dies!”—Is this to be myself?
Oh horror! horror! which way soe'er I turn,
Dishonour meets my view. Or I betray
My country's sacred trust, or break the faith
I swore to her I love! Shall a Castilian
Not shudder at the charge of perjury?
LARA.
The time has been when we two, side by side,
Like two young lions rush'd into the fight.
The turban'd infidels, disparting wide,
Shrank from the lightning of our swords. Thy soul
Then knew not of these nice distinctions; no,
Thy country, and her cause, and love of fame,
Led thee resistless on.
GONZALVO.
I had not loved!
LARA.
The soldier has no leisure for soft love,
Save when, his iron harness all unbraced,
He gives his toil-worn limbs to careless ease,
Or looser revelry; till braying trumpets
Rouse to the war, and scare the baby god
Far, far away, with all his idle toys.
GONZALVO.
Thou hast not loved if thou hast loved but so;
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Of virtuous attachment. He whose soul
Owns with true loyalty his king and country,
Alike is loyal to the maid he loves.
For oh! what traitor, Lara, is more base
Than he who steals a maid's first thoughts from peace,
And leaves her desolate?
LARA.
I am not skill'd
In Love's quaint rhetoric:—the subject's loyalty,
The soldier's glory mine!
GONZALVO.
Alas, my friend!
My thoughts of glory are not what they were.
To stay the fury of wide-wasting war,
And give fair peace to this distracted land;
This was th'ambition that fill'd all my soul.
How dear I hold my country, witness Heaven!
But I would fold in my expanded love
All—all her children, natives of her soil,
And commoners to breathe her balmy gales.
My friend, the vision's past! war still must rage.
'Tis doom'd!—To-morrow's sun must set in blood!
Thousands must sleep in death!—But not Almanzor.
I fly to tell her this.
[Going.
LARA.
What would'st thou do?
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Pedro! my steed, my steed!—Thou only, Lara,
Couldst thus have held me from her.
LARA
(holding him).
My Gonzalvo!
GONZALVO.
Off, Lara! stay me not.—Peace may not be!
My Zelima must learn it from myself,
Must know Almanzor's life to me is sacred;
My own, thus lost to her, not worth my care.
[Exit.
LARA.
Follow him, Pedro—Nay, a moment stay—
This passion robs him of his better judgment.
Mark me!—
[After anxious thought.
Remind him not how fly the hours,
And lead him if thou canst through devious paths,—
And still of Zelima thy converse be,—
Devise delays as best thou canst, old man:
His life, his fame, hang on thy skill in this,
Nay more, the weal of Spain!
PEDRO.
I will, my lord;
But how may this delay avert the ill?
LARA.
Gain but a day.—Let pass this fever'd dream,
Then Glory's voice and Lara's will be heard.
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And trust to friendship;—yes, there yet are means
To save his fame!—His well-known casque, his shield,
Now lie within my tent.—My soul beats high—
Yes, either host shall deem Gonzalvo's arm
Deals the unerring stroke!—His proudest courser
Shall think he yields but to Gonzalvo's mastery!—
Follow him, Pedro,—soothe him, and be secret.
[Exeunt severally.
| Gonzalvo of Cordova | |