 | Pedrarias |  |
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SCENE III.
Alphonso lying on the bank where he had thrown himself in despair—Laila behind him scattering weeds around his head, unobserved by him. He sinks to sleep, and she comes gently forward.LAILA.
At length a dull, and drowsy torpor steals
O'er his torn bosom: such the lulling virtue
Of this pale weed, whose chilly blossom shrinks
From the fierce glare of day, expanding wide
To the moist moon, that nightly brims its cup
With vapours dank, of power to lock each sense,
And lap the limbs in motionless repose.—
Soft—soft!—methought he moved.
[She scatters more weeds.
Deep sleep be on thee!
Thou creature of another world, beyond
The vast, and terrible ocean!—Thou, so noble!
And yet, so fatal!—Slumbers deep be on thee!
While I (so prosper Heaven my true affection!)
Seek the deluded, desperate Amazilia,
Win back her faith to him, her destined husband,
And to our peaceful valley lure her steps.
[Exit.
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HOUACO.
Yes, yes,—I will avenge my country's wrongs!
Appease the Gods of India! claim my wife!
And, more than all, pierce fell Pedrarias' breast!
Wring from him, pang by pang, and groan by groan,
Th'atonement of each several broken heart,
That drags out life upon this ruin'd land!
The thought awakes a dark, and sullen joy,
Worthy of him who was Capana's son—
Blasted by slavery, and to glory lost.
[Turning to go, sees Alphonso.
Thanks, ye immortal powers! who thus present
The sacrifice to th'injured Godhead due!
[He contemplates him.
How still his slumbers! And can treachery sleep?
How calm and open is his brow! Has guile
So fair a habitation? It has—it has—
And shall not lurk beneath a form so gracious,
To lure th'unwary to destruction. Thus—
[Going to strike.
Why shakes my coward hand? It is a deed
Of highest virtue!—pleasing to our Gods!—
I will not shrink—
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The pledge of amity
My father gave him, shields the very spot
Where I would strike!
[Returning with assumed resolution.
I must remove it.—No—
I dare not!—no—
[Trembles, and drops the dagger.
Capana guards thy life!
ALPHONSO
(starting up).
Is it a joyous vision? or, indeed,
Do I again behold my lost Houaco?
HOUACO.
Alphonso, thou behold'st thy murderer!
But that this hand has fail'd.—That sacred pledge
Stood between thee and death!
ALPHONSO
(affectionately).
Thou rav'st, Houaco.
Come to my bosom!—Art thou not my friend?
HOUACO.
Stand off, false Spaniard!—Bind these limbs with chains!
Give to the rack (if thou would'st live secure)
Th'assassin of the tyrant's guiltier son!
But I will brave thy rage, and scorn thee still!
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(seeing the dagger on the ground).
Too true;—this fatal weapon proves thy words.
This have I not deserved of thee, Houaco!
And thou shalt feel it, if thou hast a heart!
Did I not swear to thee a brother's love?
[Extending his arms affectionately towards him.
The brother's part is ever to forgive.
Oh then forget with me that thou hast wrong'd me.
[Taking his hand.
HOUACO
(confounded, turning away).
What powerful magic in his words o'ercomes me?
Can he, unmoved, thus grasp his murderer's hand,
Nor aught of anger, aught of fear betray?
What hinders that I seize again yon weapon,
And plunge it in his bold, unguarded bosom?
What hinders?—but that it were easier far
To bury it, and my confusion—here!
[Striking his breast.
ALPHONSO.
Combat no longer with thy better feelings!
Let thy heart speak, and, ere I clear myself,
'Twill bid thee rest thy head upon this bosom!
[Houaco, overcome, throws himself on Alphonso's bosom.
I am content.—Thy honour trusts in mine!
Be cheer'd;—brush off that tear, and meet with smiles
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Shall prove my truth.—Houaco, I can suffer,
E'en as thyself, unmoved!
HOUACO.
Canst thou, Alphonso,
Canst thou forgive the headlong rage that arm'd
This hand against thy life?
ALPHONSO.
'Tis not remember'd.
Blot from thy mind alike—But see—she comes—
Be blest in her thou lov'st—'tis all I ask.
Let me conceal this weapon from her eyes.
[Conceals the dagger in his bosom.
Now all is well.—Resume thy tranquil mind.
Enter Amazilia in great agitation, breaking from Laila.
AMAZILIA.
Refuse me not to speak one last farewell!—
Houaco here!—in friendly conference!
Then am I lost indeed!—Their bond of union
Too well, too well I know—my wretchedness!—
Instruct me, Laila, to pronounce my doom!
And oh! Alphonso's God! support my courage!
[She advances with great effort, and throws herself at Houaco's feet.
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Thou, pardon the involuntary error
Of one, restored to duty—and to thee!
HOUACO
(raising her, and pressing her to his bosom).
Oh! spare me, Amazilia! lest my brain
Support not all the joy that breaks upon me!
(To Alphonso).
Thou, before whom I bend with soul subdued,
Disdain not the full triumph of thy goodness.
The virtues I have prized are savage Nature's—
Thine are from Heaven!
ALPHONSO.
Oh! no more—no more—
'Tis time that good Capana share our joy.
Thelasco and Indians approach in joyous procession. They stop suddenly with astonishment and terror on seeing Alphonso. Thelasco fixes his eyes on him with a menacing expression. The Indians seize their bows, and wait the signal to shoot.
HOUACO
(placing himself between Alphonso and the Indians.)
My friends! my countrymen! replace your arrows.
This is the godlike youth Capana spared!
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[Pointing to the pledge. They drop their bows, and replace their arrows.
To him I owe my liberty!—to him—
That I again thus clasp, my bosom's treasure!
(To Thelasco).
I was deceived, Thelasco,—thou shalt learn
How much I, to the generous Spaniard, owe!
THELASCO
(aside, after an expression of cold assent).
What magic drugs, what herbs of potent juice
Yield the strong spells that guard this wily Spaniard?
At his approach the God of Vengeance flies!
Th'uplifted weapon slackens in the grasp,
And every heart, with strange unwonted softness,
Gives its full confidence!
HOUACO.
Lead on, my friends.
Within your deep retreat a little space
We will repose:—this tender frame, o'ertoil'd,
Requires short respite.—Amazilia, say,
Shall it be so?
AMAZILIA.
Thy will, henceforth, is mine.
[Houaco, Thelasco, and Indians, move off in triumph, among the rocks at the back of the stage, Amazilia looking mournfully at Alphonso as
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ALPHONSO.
Repose!—delay!—And must I, drop by drop,
Dwell on the deadly draught myself prepared?
Oh, that Time wore the driving Tempest's wing,
Whose headlong sweep might leave no pause for thought,
Till to Capana I restore his son,
And in his happiness find peace—or die!
[Exit, following.
The Scene closes on them.
| Pedrarias | |