University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

SCENE I.

Scene among the Rocks, with a distant View of the Valley.
Alphonso and Houaco.
ALPHONSO.
Yes, all is well. Now seek we Amazilia,
Where late we left her with the mountain band?

HOUACO.
No, she is more secure in that retreat
With those who followed on my youthful steps.
The mountain lama could not footing hold
On yon steep crags: the spoiler cannot find
The well conceal'd and only access thither.
My treasure's safe. We are not yet assured
Whence was the clamour, as of hostile tongues,
That broke, by fits, the stillness of the night.

ALPHONSO.
We have discovered nought that may confirm
Thy fears, Houaco. Trust me, all is well.
The sounds thou heard'st were, sure, imprison'd winds:
They, in deep caverns pent, will chafe in tone,
That, by each rock repeated, much resemble
The brawling of rude tongues. Away with doubt!
And from this cliff, as from the eagle's nest,
Behold the wished for valley spread below.
Within an hour thou wilt embrace thy father.—
Give all thy soul to gladness!

HOUACO.
Oh! Alphonso,
In this long-saddened heart joy cannot harbour
But as the flash that o'er the stormy sky
Darts amid rolling thunders, and again
'Tis darkness all! Alas! with sad forebodings
Shuddering, I seek the vale.
[He looks anxiously about. Distant cries are heard.
And hark! Those sounds
Are not the busy stir of peaceful life:
No—nor the voice of gratulation. Hah!
The din of war rings thus upon the ear,
Or shouts of fierce pursuit.

ALPHONSO.
Forbid it, heaven!
And yet thy terror has infected me.
(Listening)
Now all is still again. It were impossible!
Thou know'st the dreadful thought—I dare not speak it.
But say—oh say—it is impossible!

HOUACO.
And hark, again! Heard'st thou that hideous yell?
It grows upon the ear. It must be so!

ALPHONSO.
If it be so, I by thy side will fall,
And dearly sell each drop of my heart's blood
For India's injured sons. No—save his father's,—
No Spaniard's breast is sacred to Alphonso.

[Drawing his sword.
HOUACO.
Yes, that same dagger shall redeem its guilt.
Oh, give it me, and thou shalt see how strong
Against an iron host, a single arm,
Nerved as Houaco's, by a cause so dear—
My father! and my people! and my wife!
Give—give the dagger!

ALPHONSO.
Take it; but first swear
Thou wilt not aim it at Pedrarias' breast.

HOUACO.
Nay, take it back again, if such the terms.

ALPHONSO
(baring his breast).
Then once more point it here! I will remove
Capana's cherished pledge, and give it way!
Or plunge it here, or say my father's sacred.

HOUACO.
And wherefore, think'st thou, I have suffer'd life?
For two long years have dragged th'invader's chains?
Born to command, protect, and lead a people,
Have bowed this body to the servile oar?
Wherefore did I reject thy fellowship,
Till driven from his presence, cursed by him,
My heart forgot thou wert Pedrarias' son?
Wherefore all this?—but that I hoped to quaff
The cup of sweet revenge! E'en now 'tis mine,
The luscious draught! and shall my lips refuse it?

ALPHONSO.
[Nearer cries are heard.
The foe is on us! I will trust in friendship!
Take thou the dagger to defend thy father:
This sword must guard the author of my days
E'en against thee! for not to parricide,
Although to treason doom'd by holiest ties,
Each crimson drop that swells within these veins
Must flow for good Capana and his people!

Indians pass across the stage pursued by Spaniards Alphonso and Houaco rush upon the Spaniards, and presently drive them back. The Indians gather round Alphonso and Houaco, full of joy and wonder.
ALPHONSO.
Yes, Indians, yes—ye see Capana's son!
Restored by Heaven to save you from your foe!
Behold in me the Spaniard your cacique
Released from death! both to your service vowed:
By nature he!—and I by gratitude!
On! follow us to liberty and vengeance!
But mark me, friends; dismiss the well-aim'd shaft,
Then instant turn, nor grapple with th'invader.
Keep still aloof—surround him—harass him;
Be swift—be indefatigable.—On!—

[Exeunt with expressions of ardour and joy.

SCENE II.

The Valley, with the Altar, Throne, &c.
Pedrarias and Spaniards pursued by Houaco and Indians. Pedrarias recognises Houaco, and turns.
PEDRARIAS.
Is it the slave Zamori's daring hand
Against Pedrarias raised? Stand! Indian, stand!
[They for a moment contemplate each other.
This blade shall give thee back thy forfeit life,
So thou declare where thou hast left Alphonso!

HOUACO.
Tyrant, come on! nor parley with thy foe!
See, in Zamori, great Capana's son!
The chains that have disgraced these free-born limbs,
My father's wrongs, my country's desolation,
Render this little weapon swift, and sure,
And terrible as the avenger's thunder!
Thousands of slaughter'd Indians hovering breathe
Their spirits in my soul, and guide my hand!
[They close and struggle. Houaco disarms Pedrarias, and drops the dagger in the conflict; casts Pedrarias on the ground, and setting his foot on his breast, points his own sword at it.
Lie there, thou fell destroyer of my people!
Where are thy conquests now? thy power, thy greatness?
I met thee man to man, and there thou liest!
Beneath my foot I might crush out thy spirit,
And rid my groaning country of its tyrant!
One motion of this hand and thou art nothing—
A name!—a sound!—to future ages hateful,
E'en of its terrors stript! But to Alphonso!
The son thy rage has cursed—I give thy life!

[He rushes out with Pedrarias's sword, leaving his dagger on the ground.
PEDRARIAS.
Am I a Spaniard?—he a savage Indian?
Oh for swift lightnings, earthquakes, hurricanes,
To raze this new found world from out existence,
And thus from record blot the conqueror's shame!
Thousands on thousands withering curses blast thee,
Insolent slave! Curst be this arm! and curst
My dotard weakness! for not Pedrarias—no—
The father 'twas, whose edgeless sword dropt, palsied
By the base slave's evasion, when I asked
Of my lost son. But hold! Alphonso lives!
Let me but find him, from the Indians tear him,
Then ruin—slaughter—utter devastation
Rage on, and feed insatiable revenge!
But who are these? shall they behold me thus?
Ha! the slave's dagger!—it may do me service.

[Takes up the dagger, and conceals it in his breast.
Enter Gusman and Spaniards with Capana and Indians captives.
GUSMAN.
My lord, behold the proud cacique, Capana!
Thus victory is ours, although Alphonso,
(Whom, were he not thy son, I might term traitor),
Has raised his sword against his countrymen,
Mowing them down with wild resistless rage,
To rescue from our hands this savage chief.

PEDRARIAS
(with great anxiety).
And did my people turn their arms against him?
Who followed him?—Where is he?—say, how was it?

GUSMAN.
The frantic natives thronging on his steps,
With hurtling arrows darken all the air,
That even our veterans, appalled, shrink back,
Or fall, ere they have marked the coming death!
In firm array, if we advance, behold,
As formless spirits of the night, they vanish!
And on the right, or left, or in the rear,
Gathering again, they deal their dole of death,
And quick disperse as soon. Doubtful, astonished,
Where'er thy son appeared our soldiers fled!
Nor had I held my prisoner from the rescue,
But that I pointed at his breast my sword!

PEDRARIAS.
Haste, Gusman, haste! Command that they respect
The viceroy's son, nor harm him, on their lives!
But, if it may be done, secure Alphonso,
And bring him to my presence strongly guarded.
[Exit Gusman.
(To Capana).
And do I then behold the proud cacique,
Whose vain resistance has destroyed his people?

CAPANA.
Thou see'st a chief who for his people lived:
A man who fought for native liberty.

PEDRARIAS
(with the utmost bitterness).
Thou hoary savage! skilled in hellish arts!
Thou who hast wrought upon a noble Spaniard
To mock at filial piety, and fall
From due allegiance to his sovereign lord!

CAPANA.
Tyrant, I gave thy son his forfeit life,
Because I pitied thee!—and for this weakness
Our Gods have justly now deserted me.
But answer thou.—Was it thy treacherous son
Who led thee hither? For the damned act
But ill accords with these his deeds in arms.
Say, must my latest breath, or curse, or bless him?

PEDRARIAS.
How may it aught import Pedrarias' son,
The idle words a dying savage breathes?

CAPANA.
If right I judge, the youth whose life I spared,
Capana's dying curse may much import him.

PEDRARIAS.
Nay, curse him not, old man! Thou hast no cause—
He bears a curse this heart would fain recall.

CAPANA.
Ha! is it so? Then will Capana bless him!

PEDRARIAS.
Dost thou insult a conqueror, whose nod
May doom thee to such tortures as appal
Humanity?

CAPANA.
No tortures can appal
Capana's spirit! In this time-worn frame
Kind Nature has, with gentle hand, unravelled
Her own work, till there is little left for thee
To mar with violence. Few strokes are needed
To level with the dust the leafless trunk;
While the majestic palm, in youth's full honours,
Wearies the woodman.

Alphonso rushes wildly in, followed by Houaco, and throws himself at Capana's feet.
ALPHONSO.
Oh my benefactor!
Thus let me expiate, at thy feet, my folly!
That I am guiltless, thy Houaco knows.

[Presenting Houaco to him, who throws himself into his father's arms, and they remain engrossed with each other.
PEDRARIAS.
Confusion! Is it at Capana's feet
Pedrarias' son should kneel, when in the presence
Of an offended father? Turn, rash boy!
“A father's anger may not last for ever,”
If meek remorse, and duteous thoughts, succeed
Thy fatal dereliction!

ALPHONSO.
Duteous thoughts
This breast has ever own'd! Remorse, my father,
Alphonso knows not! He has not betray'd
His noble benefactor, and his friend;
But, ruin'd with them, will partake their doom.

PEDRARIAS.
The flames are kindling will reduce thy friends
To idle air, and dust that I may trample.

ALPHONSO
(to CAPANA).
Disdain not thou my fellowship in death,
My more than father!

[Embracing his knees.
PEDRADIAS
(aside).
Oh! impotence of rage!

CAPANA
(making a group with ALPHONSO, and HOUACO).
Unhappy tyrant! object of my scorn!
I mock the power thou boastest o'er my life!
For what import a few convulsive throbs,
That set at large a spirit fraught with joy,
With love, with triumph, thou canst never know!
See, I embrace my noble, long-lost son,—
Nay, more—the captive youth my heart adopted,
With filial tenderness, would die with me;
While thou, who doom'st me to devouring flames,
Enviest thy victim!—I could pity thee,
But that to pity thee offends our Gods.
[Embracing them both.
My children dear alike!

PEDRARIAS
(frantic with rage).
Has hell worse pains?
By him adopted—to his bosom prest—
A savage, by the right of war my slave!—
I cannot wait the slow consuming flame,
My sword—

[Grasping the empty scabbard.
HOUACO
(haughtily).
Thy sword no longer, but thy conqueror's!
Has wash'd away its guilt in Spanish blood.

PEDRARIAS.
Zamori too?—Worse hell!
[Recollecting the dagger in his bosom.
Hah! thoughtless slave,
Thyself didst furnish to my rage the serpent
Shall sting thee home!—Die, hoary villain,—die!

[Rushes to stab Capana, when Alphonso interposes his breast, receives the stroke, and falls on his father's neck.
ALPHONSO
(after a pause).
My father! Oh my father,—yes, I thank thee.
This stroke is merciful,—is kind.—It gives
The only good that now thy son could know—
To die for him, my benefactor!—Oh!
If ever I was dear to thee, my father,
Let not thy son lay down his life in vain.
This blood, that flows thus freely—gladly flows—
At the strong call of gratitude—is thine!
See—on thy breast it falls!—Oh! let it not
There stagnate!—rather swell, as kindly dews,
The latent germ of mercy!

PEDRARIAS.
My Alphonso!
Curse on my frantic rage!—It cannot be
The blow was mortal?
(With tenderness).
Look up, and smile, my son!

[Watches Alphonso with trembling anxiety and hope.
CAPANA.
Noble, but rash and ill-advised Alphonso!
Why didst thou snatch me from the death I courted?
I should have fallen in all my full-blown joys;
Now, if I live, it is to sorrow.

[Hiding his face, overcome.
PEDRARIAS
(with a forced smile and faltering voice).
Nay,
Thou would'st but terrify thy wretched father,
Who in all nature loves but thee alone.
Thou know'st it, and would'st work upon my fondness.
But live, my boy! and it shall be henceforth
E'en as thou wilt.—Yes, I will heap each blessing
On these, thy friends.

[Alphonso makes an effort to express his joy, and falls back into his father's arms.
PEDRARIAS
(with extreme terror).
He bleeds apace!—Help! help!

ALPHONSO.
Oh!—no—I feel I cannot live, my father!
'Twas Heaven unnerved, erewhile, thy arm, and now
Directed with unerring might the stroke—
Heaven's pity spares me—without her to live!—
Heaven's justice guides thy hand—to execute
The curse—thy lips—but bless me now, my father!
Oh! bless thy dying child!

PEDRARIAS.
Distraction! Horror!
Wretched old man! Despair is mine, and madness!
(To Houaco).
In pity, slave, take thou this hated life.

ALPHONSO.
Be calm, my father, nor thus doubly point
The sting of death!—Oh say,—my friends are free!

PEDRARIAS.
They, and their people shall be free and happy.
I swear it by the trembling hope I feel
Thy parting soul forgives thy murderer.

ALPHONSO.
Now on thy dear, and honour'd breast, I sink—
In sleep as calm as weighs down infant lids.
[Looking affectionately at his father.
'Tis sweet to rest upon a parent's bosom!
[Reaching his hand to Houaco.
Give me thy hand, Houaco! Amazilia—
Will grieve for me.—Oh soothe her sorrow gently!—
I thought thee dead, when first I saw the maid.

HOUACO.
And loved her, and did yield her to thy friend!
And must I lose thee? Oh, thou gracious pattern
Of virtues thou hast taught me first to know!

[A moment of speechless grief, when Amazilia breaks her way through the attendants, who try to stop her.
AMAZILIA.
Nay!—Give me way! Not thousand, thousand weapons,
All pointed at this breast, could stay my steps!
[Stands gazing at the group, transfixed with horror. Then in the wildest manner.
Ha! What have I to do—if it be so?

PEDRARIAS.
Away with her!—Her sacrilegious cries
Disturb the awful horrors of despair
Within a father's and a murderer's breast!

HOUACO
(going to her from ALPHONSO).
My Amazilia! thus high Heaven reclaims
Its own! and as a god, henceforth Alphonso
Will watch o'er those he loved, and guide them still.

AMAZILIA.
Away!—I know thee not—nor heed thy words!
See there—see there!—His spirit takes its flight!
I must away!

ALPHONSO.
My Amazilia!—Oh!—

[Dies.
AMAZILIA.
He calls on me!—He bids me follow—See!
With lifeless hand he beckons me away!
I come! I come!

[Seizes the dagger which lay on the ground, and stabs herself.
HOUACO.
Oh, stay thy frantic hand!

AMAZILIA
(supported by HOUACO).
Alphonso! Oh, one moment hovering stay!
Thou didst refuse my fellowship on earth,
But wilt thou now reject the attendant spirit,
That through immeasurable space, with thee,
Would soar to worlds—of Love—and Liberty?

[Breaks from Houaco, and throws herself on Alphonso's body.
PEDRARIAS.
Have ye not hatchets? arrows dipp'd in poison?
Ye injured natives! though to vengeance vow'd,
One—one devote to pity!—

AMAZILIA
(raising herself from the body, and looking wildly around her).
Who are these?
Oh! help,—and loose the bonds that bind me down
To earth!—How heavily—Oh! how heavily
They weigh upon my bosom!—I would spurn
The abject soil, and spring into the skies!
But—Oh! I sink—I sink—Wilt thou not stay?
Where art thou now?
[Struggling violently.
Oh where? I see thee not!
[She stares wildly on Pedrarias.
It is thy murderer!—It is thy father!—
His eyes glare on me!—Save me from him—Oh!

[Gives a shriek, and dies.