University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE I.

The Plain before the Walls of the City.
Spaniards in great numbers are driven back by the Aben-Zurrah knights. After the skirmish, two straggling Spaniards meet on the stage.
FIRST SPANIARD.
What is our veteran band o'erthrown alike?
This is most strange and fearful!

SECOND SPANIARD.
Dost thou wonder?
Roused from their slumbers ere the dawn of day!
Sore from late hard-earn'd victory, our soldiers
Marshall'd in haste, scarce arm'd—

FIRST SPANIARD.
Good Heaven befriend us!
A band of madmen sure this Moorish troop.
I never saw such desperation rage.
Didst mark their headlong leader?—One would say
He, in youth's proud conceit, had ta'en the burthen
Of the long war that wastes alike both states
On his gay shoulders—confident to end
The strife at once!—But mark!—with eagle flight
He stoops this way.—I'll not encounter him.

[Exeunt.
[Routed Spaniards again cross the stage. Hamad remains with the Moorish knights and the sacred standard.
HAMAD.
Is the day ours, completely ours, my friends?
And am I blest beyond all mortal thought?

FIRST MOORISH KNIGHT.
We have not met Don Juan in the field;
The sun is not yet high; although dispersed,
The foe may rally. Juan not o'ercome,
I cannot hold the victory ours.
[To Hamad.
Hast thou
Encounter'd him?

HAMAD.
Not I! the Gods be praised!

SECOND MOORISH KNIGHT.
Were it not Hamad's voice, those tones, methinks,
Might argue fear.

HAMAD.
Ha! fear?—Hadst thou not wrought
Such wonders for my sake—

SECOND MOORISH KNIGHT.
Nay, thou wast moved.

HAMAD
(recollecting himself).
I was, good kinsman; and if that be fear,
It was with fear—to do a deed of baseness
Would darken this bright day.

SECOND MOORISH KNIGHT
(aside to the first).
What mean his words?
And mark his alter'd brow!

THIRD MOORISH KNIGHT.
Look yonder, friends!
A troop in gallant cheer advancing!

FIRST MOORISH KNIGHT.
They come!
The flower of Spain!—Don Juan at their head!
Now, Hamad, will the day indeed be ours!

SECOND MOORISH KNIGHT.
In firm array the sacred standard circle!
Nay, Albin Hamad, 'tis no time for thought.

HAMAD
(with effort).
True, true, brave knights, my kinsmen, and my fellows!
Victory or death!—since it must needs be so!

SECOND MOORISH KNIGHT.
Sure his voice dies away!—Is he o'erspent?

FIRST MOORISH KNIGHT.
It were no wonder:—he, like us, is human,
And has done more than squares with human powers.
See, they approach.

HAMAD
(with great effort).
Charge—charge! “for love and glory!”

Enter Juan and his troop.
JUAN.
Stand, Moor! who as the ravening wolf hast leapt
The fold, concealed by thievish night!

HAMAD.
Don Juan!

JUAN
(astonished).
Husband of Xarifa!

HAMAD
(with desperation).
Nay, come on—come on!

JUAN.
Why dost thou seek thy fate?

HAMAD.
I am victorious!
A victor, or a corse, must I return!

JUAN.
Neither—neither, youth. (To his soldiers).
My friends, forbear,
And stand apart.

[Soldiers retire.
HAMAD
(aside).
Delay not!—lest I think—

JUAN.
Hamad, Don Juan would not take thy life.

HAMAD
(with passion).
Would thou hadst ta'en it when I knelt before thee!
Then had my soul escaped Hell's foulest stain,
Ingratitude!—for now in mortal fight
'Tis mine to meet thee:—thee!—my benefactor!
Yes, noble Juan!—lift the godlike hand
That raised me from the earth!—Defend thyself!

JUAN.
Nay, turn aside.

HAMAD.
That would incur dishonour!
No—I must on!—Xarifa's hand the prize!

JUAN.
Vain were the thought again beneath yon standard
To seek your homes—Spain claims it of our swords!
The price were great were Hamad's life the forfeit.

HAMAD.
Yet, noble Juan, while life's current warms
This guilty breast, thou shalt not grasp yon standard.
[Lifting his sword, then dropping his arm, and turning away.
Oh! every way undone! If by my sabre
My benefactor fall, I live the victim
Of dark remorse! a terror to myself!
But fame, and fair Xarifa, both are mine!
Nor shall Abdallah tear her from my arms.
(With renewed desperation).
Come on! for in this thought a demon rages
Would raise my hand against a brother's breast.

JUAN.
Ha! would Abdallah tear your loves asunder?
Live, Hamad, live! to rescue thy Xarifa
From splendid wretchedness!—Avoid my sword!

HAMAD.
Let me fall rather by thy generous hand,
And scape such guilt! such ills! in glorious death.
Come on, nor fear to strike.

JUAN.
I will not, Hamad.
This is thy first assay!—Methinks it were
As one should heave the pond'rous axe to crop
The flowers of spring, were I to lift my sword
(Temper'd by a long course of hardihood)
Against thy youth's fair promise.

HAMAD.
Haughty Spaniard!
Disdains thy pride to meet my youth in fight,
And shall I live thus shamed?—Insulted honour!
Stifle all weak regards, and nerve this arm,
This arm he scorns, to reach his vaunting soul!
Thou, who to Xarifa gav'st her father—
Whose galling pity (it should seem) refused
To bind these limbs, their every swelling sinew
Is braced to thy destruction!

JUAN.
Think what thou dost!
Think of Xarifa!

HAMAD.
Yes!—'tis she I lose,
And am dishonour'd!—by thyself despised
If I but think of what I do!—Come on!
This to thy heart!
[They fight—Hamad with wild desperation, Juan on the defensive, with skill and caution.
Thou mock'st me still, proud Spaniard!
Thou ward'st off my point!—Nay, take my life,
Or yield the day.

JUAN.
Don Juan never yielded:
That is thy part.

HAMAD.
And lose Xarifa!—Hell!

[They fight again; Juan disarms Hamad. In the mean time the Moors are overpowered, and the standard taken.
JUAN.
Thanks! thanks! kind Heaven!
(He raises Hamad).
Hamad, take thy sword,
And deem it not disgrace, that one grown grey
Beneath war's iron harness—valiant youth!
Though not more brave than thou, should prove more practised
In the cool swordsman's skill.

HAMAD.
Too noble foe!
Ah! guilty thus!—thus lost to happiness!
The life thou didst disdain to take—this hand—

(Attempts to fall on his sword).
JUAN.
Hold, frantic boy!—Ye noble Moors, his friends,
Watch o'er him, save him from his rash despair.
(To Hamad).
Recall thy better thoughts. Be free—return—
Xarifa's husband—rescue her thou lov'st!
[To the Moors, gazing on Hamad with admiration as he goes off.
He is a gem in knighthood's coronal!
To King Abdallah say, if many such
His walls pour forth, our sturdiest knights must gird
Their blades of proof to the encounter. Yes,
This Moor would honour the best blood of Spain!
His foe thus speaks his worth! Sirs, lead him hence.

[Exeunt severally.

SCENE II.

Xarifa's Apartments in the Alhambra.
Abdalla, Xarifa avoiding him.
KING.
Why dost thou fly me? stay, beloved Xarifa!
Have greatness, honours, power, no charm for thee?

XARIFA.
My thoughts are humble, and in lowliness
Content to dwell with him my father chose.
Hamad, my liege, will prove invincible!
He fights for his Xarifa!

KING
(fixing her with significant looks).
Should he fail?

XARIFA.
'Twas confidence in Heaven's mercy led me
To seek my father at the victor's feet!
'Twere impious then to doubt that Heaven's mercy
Protects my innocence, and Hamad's virtues.
E'en now my husband—my victorious husband,
Is haply at the gates!

[Going, he interrupts her.
KING.
Patience, sweet maid:
Ere long we shall have tidings.
(Aside).
Her resistance
Provokes the fire that rages in my bosom.
My senses palled by slaves who woo my smiles,
What keen delight to tame this graceful pride!
To banish from that radiant brow those frowns!

XARIFA.
Hark! hark! what sounds are those?—My trembling heart,
Is this thy confidence? One comes, and bears
My fate.

Enter a Messenger breathless with haste, introduced by Esperanza.
MESSENGER.
My liege, the noblest victory!

KING
(betraying his disappointment).
Ha! victory?

XARIFA
(exultingly).
Yes, victory! Victory to Hamad!

MESSENGER.
The noblest victory that human valour
Ere yet achieved! but in a moment snatch'd
From Hamad's brow! The sacred standard taken—

KING
(eagerly).
And Hamad slain?

MESSENGER.
Don Juan's self, my liege,
After fierce conflict, man to man, disarm'd him.

KING.
Lives Hamad then?

MESSENGER.
He does:—but were he not
By friends surrounded, who restrain his hand,
A thousand times he had the dagger plunged
Deep in his desperate heart.

KING.
Enough!—retire.
(Aside).
'Tis well—'tis well—the sacred standard lost.
[Xarifa faints.
Look to the lovely maid!—The female train,
Where linger they?
[Her attendants rush in.
Support her head—she sinks—
Soft—lead her in!—Nay, give her to my arms!
[He supports and contemplates her.
She on my bosom rests!—Reclining thus,
Thus unresisting clasp'd, unconsciousness
A moment wears the semblance of consent.
Her fluttering heart beats faster—half unclosed
Her eyelids seek the light. That heavy sigh!
'Twas Heaven's own breath!—but was it not for Hamad?

XARIFA
(reviving).
Hamad!—my husband!

KING.
Thou art with one who loves thee!
Loves thee with ardour such as subjects know not.
Who at thy feet would lay an empire's crown!
Beauties from every clime—thy rivals once—
Low bending in thy train!

XARIFA
(struggling, and getting from him to ESPERANZA).
The king!—Oh horror!
Save me!—save me!

KING.
Save thee from whom?—Abdallah
Were thy best friend, would'st thou but have him so.

XARIFA.
Thou! thou my friend! who sent my Hamad forth?

KING.
Nay, Hamad sued for danger as a boon,
Mock'd the slight task that asked but human powers.
Th'aspiring youth has highest aims!—would snatch
With one bold grasp all Fame can give!—His meed,
All that the prophet promises of bliss
To long-tried warrior saints!—Am I to blame
That Hamad was presumptuous?

XARIFA.
Thankless king!
Thou should'st have slaves, that to the dust abased
Shrink from thy banners while they kiss thy feet—
Not noble knights thy subjects!—loyal, true,
Of matchless valour!

KING.
Ha! Moraizel's daughter!
Fair as thou art, presume not thou too far!
It had been deem'd forbearance in a king
To let one live, so long, who barr'd the way
To what his soul desired; but I, more generous,
Bade Hamad win thee by fair deeds of arms.
'Tis this same “matchless valour,” as thou call'st it,
More justly term'd presumption!—arrogance!
Blots from the roll of chivalry his name!
Forfeits his monarch's favour—and thy love!

XARIFA.
Oh never, never, king! In lowest fortunes
Dear to this heart as though the proudest throne
Of all the world were his!—Nay, dearer far!
For now 'tis mine alone to make him blest.
Then let us go for ever from thy sight
In poverty—disgrace—with all thy hate!
So we but go together, pathless wilds
Shall nothing lack of home! of home's best joys!
The breath of Fame is worthless to the brave
If it but wait on Fortune!—Scornful king!
I will so honour him, he shall not miss
Or thine! or the applause of multitudes!
Love has a thousand shifts thou little think'st
To steal away each care!

KING.
Dost thou insult me
With bold avowal of thy shameless passion?
Know Hamad's life is forfeit to the law,
The sacred standard taken!—Dost thou tremble?
[She sinks at his feet.
Ha! haughty fair one! dost thou sink abash'd?
Who shall resist the law?

XARIFA.
Thou, king!—thyself!
'Tis thine to pardon!—Heaven's own privilege!

KING.
Not even kings may, on each slight pretence,
Sport with the laws.

XARIFA.
Is there no hope of mercy?

KING.
Hamad must die!

XARIFA
(rising).
Say too Xarifa—tyrant!

KING.
No, thou must live!—live honour'd, fear'd, and loved!

XARIFA.
And hast thou power to bid the wretched live?
Canst thou allay the pang that gnaws the heart?
Or blot out memory's strong and faithful transcript?
Herbs, by the peasant's thrifty hand distill'd,
Can slack the fever's rage—but not thy frown
Arrest one pulse-throb hurrying life away.
Despair will mock thee from her hollow eye,
And with her last sad feeble laugh, elude thee
In Death's kind arms!—The godlike power thou hast
Thou wilt not use,—and that thou would'st assume,
Heaven gives not even to kings!

KING
(with passion).
But thou, fair maid!
Thou hast each power thou nam'st.—Oh yes! 'tis thine
To rescue from the law its victim!—thine
To bid the wretched live!—to still each pang!
Arrest the fever warring here with life!
And teach Despair to lose herself in joy!

XARIFA
(shuddering).
How may this be? What mean thy eager looks?

KING.
Adored Xarifa! Yes, brave Hamad's chains
Fall at thy bidding!—Pardon, royal favour
Await him at thy word! Say—shall he live?

XARIFA.
I tremble while I say—he shall!—for there—
There—in thy eyes—I read—I know not what
Of cruel triumph—of strange—horrible joy!
Yet—will I say—he shall!—if with me rest
The power to save:—for can ingenious malice
Inflict, or dream the torments and the racks
I would not welcome, and esteem delights?—

KING.
Talk not of racks and torments. Force shall never
Oppose in aught thy will!—save Love's soft force,
That would constrain thy sweetness to be blest,
In blessing him who cannot live without thee!
Away with idle tales of constancy
To vows extorted from simplicity,
Unknowing of its worth!

[Seizing her hand.
XARIFA.
Loose me, Abdallah!
'Twas Death I welcomed, though beneath the rack,
Not life—with thee to live!—and bought by perfidy
To Hamad! Nay, by perfidy alike
To thee thyself!—were I to vow thee love,
And hate thee while I swore!

KING.
Hate!—said'st thou hate?
Beware, ungrateful woman! lest thou rouse
The hand of power—of sov'reign power—to vengeance!
Yes, there are deaths more frightful than thou dreamest!
They wait upon my nod!—To which of these
Think'st thou that nod shall doom thy minion—Hamad?

XARIFA
(frantic with terror).
His life!—his life!—'tis all I ask—Be mine
Death in each frightful form—

KING.
Thou hold'st his fate!
For him on thy next word hang lingering tortures,
Multiplied, various, keeping death at bay!
One moment yet is given thee to relent.
Say, wilt thou be my wife?

XARIFA
(after a pause of agony).
Impossible!

KING.
Xarifa has doom'd Hamad's death!—Ho! guards,
To instant execution—

[Guards enter.
XARIFA
(clinging to him).
Tyrant—hold!
Or let me die with him.

KING.
No, thou shouldst live,
If 'twere but to revenge me of thy slights.
[She embraces his knees in speechless agony. He contemplates her in her abject posture with savage joy, then relenting,
Yet such my weakness still—I blush to own it—
I, for thy beauty's sake, could pardon him,
So thou would'st be more kind!

XARIFA.
Oh let him live!
Let Hamad live!—Heaven will dispose the rest.

KING.
Thou know'st the terms!

XARIFA.
Let Hamad live!—Xarifa
Will be—will be—
(Aside, turning from him.
Oh yes! will soon be—nothing!

KING.
Will be Abdallah's wife! Granada's queen!

XARIFA
(aside).
Death cannot tarry long! within my bosom
I feel his icy grasp.

KING.
Turn, fair Xarifa!
Turn thy averted eyes, that I may gaze,
And take in draughts of bliss too heavenly sweet
For the weak sense!—Thy willing hand in pledge!

XARIFA
(trembling and faltering, gives her hand).
Swear—swear Hamad shall live!

KING.
He shall!—he shall!
The vow that makes thee mine once seal'd, I swear,
Hamad is free!—thyself with royal favour
Shalt grace his worth! Then clear thy brow! let smiles
Play round those lips again, as sportive beams
Dance on the dimpling ripple of the shore,
That all my soul may yield to thy soft sway,
And snatch a foretaste of the prophet's heaven!
[To the guards.
Let every minaret throughout Granada,
By the muezzin's voice, proclaim my bliss!
Prepare the nuptial rites! adorn the mosque!
[Taking her hand and leading her off in a state of insensibility.
Come on, my fair! my love! my wife! my queen!