 | Gonzalvo of Cordova |  |
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.
| Gonzalvo of Cordova | |