University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

The Spanish Camp.
Don Juan, Diego, and Spanish troops. Moraizel and Moorish prisoners.
JUAN.
How fare our wounded friends?

DIEGO.
Their gashes bound,
In eager thought, already, noble Juan,
Beneath thy banners they renew the fight.

JUAN.
Lead on the prisoners.
[The prisoners pass in review.
So! prepare an escort
To guide them to th'interior of Castile.
Come hither, Diego.
[Takes Diego apart.
He, the Moorish chief,
Our noble captive, let his reverend age
Claim due observance. Said'st thou not, he is
Of Aben-zurrah lineage?

DIEGO.
True, my lord.
But why thus moved?

JUAN.
The very name, good Diego,
Awakens recollections twice ten years
Have not yet lull'd. My loved, my lost Daraxa!
It was her boast the Aben-zurrah's blood
Enrich'd her veins!

DIEGO.
Daraxa!—So you call'd
A Moorish maid, the choicest spoil you bore
From sack'd Cardela's walls.

JUAN.
We loved, Diego,
And seal'd by holy ties our mutual vows.
Spain's sovereign claim'd my service on the sudden.
My cruel father, in my absence, wrought
To annul the bond with one of Moslem faith.
She could not brook dishonour!—fled, and, dying,
Consign'd the pledge of our unhappy loves
To one—'twas all I e'er could learn—who swore
To rear the boy in my Daraxa's faith:
Or who, or where, nor if he live, I know not.
Ha! who are these? and this low bending train
Veil'd from my view?

Hamad, Xarifa, and a train of Moorish damsels, enter from the back of the stage while he is speaking, and throw themselves at Juan's feet.
HAMAD AND XARIFA.
Mercy, victorious Juan! Mercy, Christian!

XARIFA
(on seeing her father, starts up and runs to him).
My father! my dear father!

MORAIZEL.
Xarifa! Oh, my child! Why art thou here
In hostile camps? Why from thy peaceful home?

XARIFA.
The daughter's home is by her parent's side.
[Throwing herself on his bosom.
Now—now, my father, is thy child at home!

MORAIZEL.
Quit the defenceless bosom of a captive!
Why would'st thou rob me of a soldier's firmness?
Return—return!

XARIFA.
Never without my father!

MORAIZEL.
Nay, loose thy tender grasp!
(To Juan).
As thou art brave,
Give her safe convoy to the city's walls.
I am prepared to meet my fate. The arm
That could no longer guard this aged head,
Is justly doom'd to wield no more the sabre.
Farewell, my child!—Lead on.

XARIFA
(at JUAN'S feet).
Victorious chief!
Never was valour link'd with cruelty:
The generous foe conquers to spare; for victory,
Not slaughter, thirsts his spirit; and sweet mercy,
The glorious labour o'er, claims all his soul!

JUAN.
Yet victory may bear foul slaughter's name,
If wisdom fail to profit by her gifts.

XARIFA.
Wisdom and Mercy still go hand in hand.
Wisdom is not so stern to bar thy ear
Against the orphan's prayer; and Mercy ever
Showers her own gifts on those whom she has school'd:
Then give a father to a daughter's tears!

JUAN.
Trust me, fair Moor, I pity thy distress;
But shall the leader of the Christians, leagued
To war against the infidels, release
The captured chief who led th'embattled foe?
Thou mock'st me, lovely maid;—it must not be.

XARIFA.
Oh then, deny me not to follow him!
Bold as he is, and dreadful in the fight,
See, he is bent with years—his locks are silver'd!
Sickness not yet impairs his veteran strength,
But now, methinks, will find the access easy
To one heart-stricken. Then let me be near!
These hands can best prepare the cooling draught,
Or bind the aching brow.
[Juan turns away.
Turn, noble Juan!
Hast thou no little ones, whose lisped love
Has taught thy heart how dear the tie that binds
The father and his child?

JUAN.
Sweet pleader, no;
To all domestic ties—long—long a stranger.

XARIFA.
Owns not thy bosom one dear bond of nature
May wake thy sympathy for private sorrow?

JUAN
(with a heavy sigh).
Not one. I am but a soldier.
[As she presses towards him, observing his emotion, he turns from her.
Nay, fair maid!

XARIFA.
No, not the unbending brow, the haughty carriage
Stern war must needs assume, can still the voice
Of nature in thy breast. Thou hast a heart!
Oh yes! it beats in secret for my pain!
I have no other parent, noble Juan,
And twice am orphan'd if thou tear him from me.

[As Juan strives to get from her, Hamad rushes forward.
HAMAD.
Behold, hard Spaniard, one in youth's full prime,
The promised husband of this maid! These limbs,
These suppler limbs, in all their pith and strength,
Shall wear her father's chains—But give Moraizel,
Oh give him to her tears!

JUAN.
Shall I be baited?
Though knighthood doff the helm to suppliant beauty,
To thee, bold youth, I am the Spanish chief!

XARIFA
(hanging on HAMAD'S arm, while he and JUAN fix each other).
And would'st thou leave me, Hamad? this thy love?

HAMAD.
Proud victor, yes!—to thee, the Spanish chief,
Boldly I say, accept my hardier youth.

JUAN
(aside).
He has a look that powerfully pleads.

XARIFA
(to JUAN).
Oh! spare my husband! Say, shall I be widow'd
Ere yet the vow be breathed that makes me his?
Brave Juan, hadst thou known the tie that binds
Two faithful hearts, thou would'st not sever us.

JUAN
(aside).
Oh memory! I thought the chords were snapt
That vibrate here to agony!

MORAIZEL
(interposing).
No more!
Return, my children, with a father's blessing.

XARIFA.
No, no, my father, never will I quit thee.

MORAIZEL.
And wilt thou, faithless, rather leave thy husband?

XARIFA.
Faithless to Hamad?—No, may Heaven's bolt
Fall on my perjured head, if e'er in thought,
In word, or deed, I wrong my chosen lord,
The husband thou, my father, bad'st me love!

MORAIZEL
(joining their hands).
Hamad, lead hence thy wife.

HAMAD.
Moraizel, thou
Lead hence thy daughter.

JUAN
(who has watched HAMAD during this debate).
It should seem, methinks,
That I have met his ardent eye ere now.
But where?—'tis as a dream.

HAMAD
(earnestly to JUAN).
See, at thy feet
I ask Moraizel's chains.

XARIFA
(in the same supplicating attitude by his side).
The faithful wife
Follows her husband's fortunes. So the father
His daughter's duty points.

MORAIZEL.
And would my children on my white head heap
Such wretchedness? bereft of all I love,
To drain the dregs of age's tasteless cup!
Such foul dishonour, as to hold these days,
So few, so sad,—I will not say of life,—
At such a price!—am I so poor of soul?
To nature recreant? the shame of knighthood?
I blush, brave Juan, at this idle strife:
Lead on—lead on.

JUAN
(aside, after a conflict).
No, not for worlds by me
Shall their young loves be torn asunder.
(To Xarifa).
Rise!
Rise, lovely maid! I am not, as ye think,
Of stuff impenetrable, noble Moors!
Used but to scenes of blood, this gentler war
Of loving hearts makes Victory dash the wreath
From her vain brow, and deem her honours poor.
(Presenting Moraizel to Xarifa).
Lady, receive thy father. Still a captive,
Be thou his only jailer. Thou forbid
That he against us lead Granada's troops.

XARIFA.
How poor are words to speak my bursting soul!

MORAIZEL.
Oh generous! great!—believe an old man's tears!

JUAN
(to HAMAD).
Thou, noble youth, art free. We claim no slaves
Save those in battle taken. No restraint
Can I impose, with justice, on thy valour:
Yet let me pray thee, husband of Xarifa,
Avoid Don Juan in the bloody strife.
The time may come when war, as 'twere a beast
Of prey o'ergorged, may sleep, and then I would
That we might meet as friends.

HAMAD.
Thus bound to thee,
Heaven's swiftest lightning sure would blast this arm,
Were it upraised against thy godlike breast!
Xarifa's benefactor! mine! and his,
My more than father! his, who rear'd my youth
From orphan'd infancy!

JUAN
(starting).
An orphan!
(Aside, mastering his emotion).
Sure
'Tis weak compassion moves me thus—no more.
(Resuming tranquillity).
Depart, brave veteran. Lovely maid, farewell!
(To the attendants).
Give them safe convoy to the city's walls.
[Moraizel, Hamad, Xarifa, and train move off in procession. Juan follows Hamad with his eyes.
Why of his fortunes did I not inquire?
Oh! thou tormentor, Hope! must I still listen
To thy suggestions, idle, vain, delusive?

[Exeunt Spaniards on the other side, Juan thoughtful. Scene closes.