University of Virginia Library

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.