 | Pedrarias |  |
SCENE I.
Indian Scenery.Groups of Indians pass over the stage with garlands, &c. as if busily employed in preparations for a rustic sacrifice. Thelasco enters alone from the opposite side, and Kali comes forward from the other Indians to meet him.
KALI.
Welcome, Thelasco, welcome! Thou return'st
In happy hour. Our good cacique, Capana,
Wills that the feast of vengeance be completed
This very day. The rites are all prepared.
THELASCO.
What mean'st thou, Kali? Ere the last moon waned,
Nine of the fell invaders, by our warriors
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One breathed alone, when with my chosen band
Again I sought the foe.
KALI.
True, brave Thelasco;
For nine successive days our people feasted,
Pouring forth songs before the God of Vengeance,
While on his altars flow'd a Spaniard's blood;
But nought of joy stole on the settled sorrow
Of good Capana. On the tenth, the sun
Frown'd on our rites; the angry thunders roar'd;
The ominous tear rolled down Capana's cheek;
The rites were stopp'd.
THELASCO.
But sure the sun has smiled
With ray benignant many a day since then?
KALI.
And yet the sacrifice has still been stay'd.
Our great cacique best reads portentous skies,
Nor till this day has deem'd the signs propitious.
With sadden'd brow e'en now—
THELASCO.
Alas! what sadness
Can thus hang heavy on Capana's breast?
Has he not saved the remnant of his people
By his sole godlike wisdom, and his valour?
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O'er mountains, inaccessible to all
But those who follow such a leader? One,
Whose bleeding wounds mark, drop by drop, the course
He cheers his bands to follow: whose parch'd lips,
Smiling, refuse the cooling draught we scoop
In the cleft rock—bidding his follower drink!
Till in this valley, by these heights hemm'd in,
(Committing us, as 'twere, to Nature's bosom),
He bids us live secure—beyond the reach
Of fierce Pedrarias, and his lawless rout.
Can he retrace these deeds and taste of sadness?
KALI.
Valiant Thelasco!—thou art not a father,
Or had'st not ask'd that question.
THELASCO.
True:—Houaco
Was on the fatal field or slain, or lost;
But two long summers, since gone by, might blunt
Remembrance:—and the bloody day that reft
Capana of a people, and a son,
Closed that son's course in glory! Mark'd you not
How many his unerring hatchet laid in dust?
I saw them writhe in death! I heard them groan!
That is a music never shall be poured
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We laugh amidst the tortures they inflict,
And sing our death song—while these sons o'th' sea,
(Cast by distemper'd ocean on our shores),
If chance the feather'd shaft, or missile bone,
Invade their blanch'd and delicate limbs, forget,
And shame, their manhood thus.
KALI.
Yet by their arts
Of fatal magic, that compel the cloud
To yield reluctant from its wreathing folds
The smouldering bolt—by their bright arms that flash
Forged lightnings, bickering, impious, to the sun,
And by their iron coats that mock our shafts,
They are invincible.
THELASCO.
Invincible!
No, Kali, no. Hast thou not seen the deep
With hideous swell, wave over wave, bear on,
As it would swallow, in its might, our shores?
And do not still our green and laughing shores
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Resistance firm, unalterable—thus mock
Their glittering terrors, and their coward mail.
KALI.
Such reckless valour, what has it avail'd us?
THELASCO.
And dost thou call that valour reckless valour
Which saved thee, Kali, and thy trembling fellows,
When conquer'd by these idle fears ye fled,
Or fell unhurt? Eternal shame!—No more—
We loiter. I to Capana must report
How undisturb'd I and my band have roam'd
The unpeopled wastes, nor found a straggler more
Of this fell race, to thee so terrible!
[Exeunt severally.
Amazilia and Laila come forward from among the woody scenery.
LAILA
following AMAZILIA, who seems to avoid her).
All is prepared. The troops of damsels hymn
The song of sacrifice. Fair Amazilia,
Here is a wreath of flowers to deck thy brow:
Here is thy flowing veil: thou heed'st me not—
Thou dost not smile.
AMAZILIA.
Why should I smile, my Laila?
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Is not death sad?
LAILA.
When 'tis our foe that dies,
We Indians hold it is a joyous sight.
AMAZILIA.
“Our foe?”—Methinks this poor, ill-fated youth,
Has not the semblance of a foe to any.
LAILA.
Is he not of the band of fell destroyers?
Dost thou not hate him?
AMAZILIA.
Yes—I hope I hate him.
LAILA.
Why dies the word upon thy faltering lip?
AMAZILIA
(taking her hand affectionately).
Thou wast my friend. Am I still dear to thee?
LAILA.
Indeed, indeed, thou art! I never thought
But as thy nobler nature swayed my mind,
And am in all devoted to thy will.
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A month has pass'd, and ever as this youth
Has been led forth to bleed before our gods,
Thou know'st Capana has been moved to pity;
And canst thou blame a woman's gentler nature,
If, touch'd with soft compassion, I relented?
I would not see him die.
LAILA.
The God of Vengeance
Demands his blood.
AMAZILIA
(with energy).
Oh! but the God of Mercy
Bids the poor captive live!
LAILA.
Alas! the Indians
Know not of such a God—and how shouldst thou?
AMAZILIA.
The captive Christian bade me serve him, Laila!
LAILA.
Thy words and gestures fill my soul with terror.
How couldst thou learn aught of the captive's worship?
AMAZILIA.
Each night, when all, within this happy valley,
Lay hush'd in sleep, compassion led my steps
To the young captive's cave; and near the entrance,
Unseen by him, I oft would chant the lays
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To cheat the hideous phantom of his terrors.
But while I sang of nature's sweet repose,
Lapt in the bosom of the parent earth,
My heart disown'd the fraud—and form'd the wish
That he might live, whom thus I woo'd to die!
He too address'd me in such accents, Laila,
I could not choose but listen. His heav'n-taught words,
Awful yet sweet, waked in me a new soul.
In lowly ignorance, and abject fear,
Erewhile I trembled when the thunders roll'd;
And in each element a mighty power,
Angry and vengeful, sought t'appease. But now,
Oh now! a father's warning voice I hear
In solemn thunders!—see his gracious smile
In the sun's beams—his hand beneficent
In the earth's fruits—nor fear might infinite,
With goodness infinite!—Infinite mercy,
Wisdom, and love—as in Alphonso's God!
LAILA.
And did a God so bounteous send them forth
To ravage India?
AMAZILIA.
No;—he bade them spare.
More have I learnt, my Laila. These destroyers,
These cruel men who drench our land with blood,
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But they are few, and o'erborne by the many.
LAILA.
Oft, Amazilia, have I mark'd of late
Thy alter'd mien, and the high views that fill'd
Thy labouring mind: still thou wert ever kind,
Nor didst disdain thy Laila's humble love.
Give me then all thy thoughts.
AMAZILIA.
They are all—all,
To save the youth! Dear Laila, come with me,
And we will pray Alphonso's God to aid us:
He will inspire my dark, untutor'd mind
In his own holy cause—the cause of mercy!
[Exeunt.
Speaking of the natives on the coast of those provinces known by the names of Paria and Cumana, Robertson says, “They seemed to possess a better understanding, and greater courage, than the inhabitants of the islands.” History of America, Book II.
“Even after the error which gave rise to this opinion (that the new world was part of India) was detected, and the true position of the new world was ascertained, the name has remained; and the appellation of West Indies is given by all the people of Europe to the country, and that of Indians to its inhabitants.” —Robertson's History of America, Book II.
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