 | The Siege of Cuzco |  |
68
ACT IV.
SCENE I.
Pizarro's Camp.Zamorin.
Zam.
The stir and shout of the tumultuous camp
Loud rings from tent to tent. Ere long yon fort,
Impregnable by power of mortal arm,
Shall, at the touch of treason, ope its gates
At stern Pizarro's voice.—Oh! heav'n-born babe!
Sole relic of the race sent down to earth
To bless this realm, no more my arm shall guard thee.
Villoma! Zama!—hold! my madd'ning brain!
Not that—not that—no, the fixt earth shall first
Fall from its shatter'd base: and thou, Oh Sun!
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Her pure and sinless bosom.
(Juan's voice heard without.)
Juan.
When the trumpet
Summons the warriors, to Pizarro lead them.
Now, strictly guard the tent. Let none approach.
(Zama entering.)
Zama.
Zamorin—
Zam.
'Tis her voice. It cannot be.
Once, once again, charm'd fancy! breathe that sound.
Zama.
(enters, and embraces him.)
Zamorin.
Zam.
'Tis herself. Angel of light!
Zama.
Yet, yet thou liv'st, and these fond arms enfold thee.
Oh I had fear that never, never more
This eye had gazed on thine!
Zam.
Yes, I will clasp thee:
And, ere we part, in thy celestial look
Taste the pure transports of a world, where love
'Mid spirits of the blest, links soul to soul
In everlasting union.—Yet—my Zama!—
I would we had not met.
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Oh say not that!
Zam.
Why gaze thus on me with unsated eye?
Zama.
Oh thou art strangely alter'd since we parted.
A few, few days. Keen grief has wrung thy soul.
Each woe-worn feature, as I gaze on thee,
Wounds me with mute reproach. Had I been here,
Thou had'st less keenly suffer'd!
Zam.
That alone—
I had but that alone to sooth my woes.
Thou knew'st them not.
Zama.
Yet sure had I been here,
Thy soul, tho' pierced with anguish, had found peace,
While pillow'd on my breast thy brow reposed.
And I had watch'd thy sleep: and if my tears,
Shed in mute wretchedness, had chanced to stray
Down thy pale cheek, my lip had kiss'd them off,
And met thee with a smile.
Zam.
'Tis not the past
That wakes a pang.—Oh! wert thou now away!
Zama.
Never, Zamorin, will I leave thee more.
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Yet was it kindly meant; but never more
Force me to quit thee; nor dissolve the dream
So sweet, of hope, that whispers to my soul,
Like nightly spirits visitant from heav'n,
That I may sooth thy grief. Alas! Zamorin!
You hid from me the woe that man endures,
But left me to the shapings of wild fear,
That starts at what fiends suffer. Yet—my husband—
Zam.
Why that dread silence? Speak thy inmost wish.
Zama.
There is a quality in female minds,
That when they love the sufferer, seems to feed
On voluntary woe, and turns each tear
To purest pleasure.—Yet—my lord—
Zam.
Speak, Zama.
Zama.
The fond indulgence of a woman's weakness
Must not unman thee. Ruthless are thy foes;
And if thou deem that death's unpitied pangs
Will less severely wound thee, if thy Zama
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Farewell—no other word shall 'scape my lip;
And yet 'mid these rude men, whose brutal rage
Ends not with life—
Zam.
Cease, cease; you wring my heart.
Zama.
To leave thy untomb'd corse exposed to scorn,
And insults that the tongue wants strength to utter!—
—Oh! by that love! which made this earth a heav'n,
By the blest vow that made us one, refuse not
My last request!
Zam.
I was prepared for death.
Thou hast unman'd me. 'Tis for thee I fear.
Zama.
Thou weep'st, nor longer can'st deny my prayer.
Thus let me drink each tear that flows for me.
Speak peace to me.
Zam.
Whate'er thy wish, 'tis granted.
Zama.
'Tis what religion prompts, and these bad men,
Unhallow'd as they are, will not refuse it.
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The hand that weighs it down, and smooth the brow
Insensate to the touch that presses it.
Nor will they envy me a little spot
Where I may hide thee in the grave, and pour
O'er thy cold corse a pray'r in life's last breath.
(Trumpet sounds.)
Zam.
Hark! 'tis the signal. They to victory go,
And we to death.
Zama.
On thee alone I dwelt,
All, all but thou forgotten. They go forth,
But not to victory. Gulaxa's art
Has fail'd, and righteous heav'n disclosed his guilt.
Juan.
(entering)
Guard! bring the Indians forth.
Zam.
Yes, fell Pizzaro!
Disgrace, and taunting shame shall bow thee down.
Art thou prepared—my Zama?
Zama.
(embracing him)
Thus to perish,
And bless the stroke that shall in death unite us.
[Exeunt.
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Pizarro, Alvarados, Benalcazar, Pedro de Candia, Zamorin, Zama, Soldiers arrayed, &c.
Piz.
Comrades in arms!
Who here have watch'd, while thro' each labouring change
The cold moon slowly toil'd; and, at the base
Of these vast rocks, seen the red balls ye launch'd
Fall from the unscathed fortress! ye, whom war,
By irksome trials in the lingering siege,
Has gradual train'd to bear the iron yoke
That galls proud valour! ye, heroic men!
For ye are more than brave! I will not praise you
For action in the field,—that ye ne'er ask'd
The number of the host, nor felt a wound
While the foe lived who smote you—
Alv.
Praise for these,
To soldiers adds no glory.
Piz.
No;—I praise you
For fortitude of soul, that gives to valour
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And by the brute possess'd. Friends! I have found you
Submissive, while your spirit glow'd within you,
Like the train'd war-horse curb'd in mid career,
And balancing his pace, while his wild eye
Shot flames of living fire. Lo! there your spoils!
(Pointing to the fort.)
Drag from unfathom'd caves gold and rare gems
That pale the noon-beam. Careless on yon height
Repose, and one by one tell o'er your scars:
And piece your batter'd mail with plates of gold
Thrice coated. And where once the weapon pierced
Severing the steel, stud the proud spot with jewels,
To strike the eye of wonder.
Can.
Give the signal:
Thy troops demand the spoil.
Piz.
O'er yon high peak,
When victory waves my banner, brave Alvarez!
Fix on the battlement this Inca's head.
So shall they perish all, who stood before us,
Barring our way to conquest—
Zama.
Man of blood!
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Thou hope for mercy, now that mercy show.
All— (going to the different chiefs)
—are ye all alike?—Thou, aged man! (to Alvarados)
Whose silver beard shows like my father's! spare him!
Zam.
Zama! submit in silence.
Piz.
(to the Herald)
Sound the trumpet.
Summon the fortress!
Alv.
First, Pizarro! hear me.
This corselet bears the dint of many a wound
That bought thee conquest:—now, I crave a boon.
Slay not that hostage. Alvarados asks it.
And, in exchange for gold, and glittering gems,
I claim his freedom.
Zama.
Thou wert born of woman,
And drops of pity mingled in the breast
That gave thee milk.
Alv.
(to Zama)
Hang not around me thus:
Mine is no heart of flint. Since she who bore me
Wept o'er the farewell blessing, this old cheek
Has never felt a tear. The drops would scald
My eye unwonted to them.
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Hear, Pizarro!
Alv.
(to Candia)
When Alvarados speaks, he will be heard.
In the last action, when his army fled,
I found this Inca, with the fight o'erdone,
Stretch'd on a heap, Indians and Spaniards slain.
I bad him yield: he answer'd not, but swiftly
As one just fresh in onset, wrench'd my lance
From its firm rest: and, as I grasp'd my sword,
With my own weapon, thro' this iron gauntlet
Thus pierced me:—and may venom lurk in the wound,
If Alvarados see him basely slain,
As he had ne'er known valour.
Zama.
(kisses his hand)
Zama's lip
Shall heal the wound.
Piz.
(to Alvarados)
Pizarro is thy debtor.
When the proud fortress yields, release the hostage.
Summon the place.
Zam.
Pizarro! stay. That fort
Hangs on my word. Be warn'd, and now release me.
Or rage will prompt strange deeds, which shall outlast
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Once more in arms demands her chief. Release him;
Him, whom you cannot fear. And if it sooth
Thy sternness, and give glory to these chiefs
That I confess you conquerors! So hear it.
Piz.
(in deep amaze)
On him that fort depends!
Can.
We want not, captive!
Thy praise—our scanty band scatters your myriads,
Like dust before the blast.
Zam.
Boast not, proud warrior!
We are not cased in mail: we forge not swords
Edged to cut steel: we launch not hidden fires,
That flash, and man is dead: nor mount on steeds
That crush the foe beneath their iron hoof.
We fight, as nature dictates. Ye are train'd
To slaughter, as an art: and in mid fight
Ye speak, and are obey'd, and turn the tide
Of battle with a word. But, with our shields,
Twined rushes of the brook, arrows, and spears
Unbarb'd with iron, and for high-plumed casque
A wreath of flowers pluckt from our native soil,
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Front you without a fear.
Can.
(to Pizarro)
These valiant men
Have earn'd rewards beyond a monarch's ransom,
And claim the promised spoil. We came not hither
Thus to be mockt by slaves.
Piz.
Lift high the standards!
Draw your proud swords. Peal the loud trump. Now, herald,
Advance, and shout the summons to the fort.
Herald.
Yield to Pizarro's power.
Orc.
(on the battlements)
Where is the chief
Who thrones, and unthrones kings?
Piz.
Behold Pizarro.
Orc.
(to the guard within the fort)
Now cast the traitor forth, and close the gates.
(Gulaxa is cast forth, and falls at Pizarro's feet.)
Can.
This is no harbinger of victory.
Alv.
Why dost thou clasp his knees? Why prone on earth,
Thus shrouded close from view, as if thou fear'dst
That the abhorrent eye should turn from thee
As from a sight unblest?
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It is the murderer;
The man whom thou didst crown.
Piz.
Ye mountains! crush me.
Gape, earth! that I have drench'd with blood, and hide me
In central night.
Can.
(maliciously to Pizarro)
Where are the promised spoils?
Piz.
(confusedly to his army)
This is not as it seems. It moves your wonder.
Be not alarm'd, my friends. Art, oft beneath
The semblance of repulse—Oh heav'n! and earth!
By all my former fame, and the proud hope
Of greater glory, now for ever gone,
Thou shalt not live.
Gul.
Stay thy impetuous hand!
I was myself betray'd. Send back your troops—
Yet, yet thou shalt succeed.
Piz.
Comrades! retire—
A little while—here soon we meet again—
I pray you to the camp— (Aside)
Drive, drive them off,
Good Juan.
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Trust no more these smooth-tongued traitors.
On this (his sword)
the warrior rests, and never fails.
Can.
Look, when you want poor Candia's aid, Pizarro!
From yonder fortress beckon him—farewell—
(All go but Pizarro, Juan, and Gulaxa.)
Piz.
That fortress, nor the empire of the world
Would bribe me, once again to stand the taunts
Of galling scorn.
Gul.
Grant me but life, Pizarro,
Villoma shall obey thee.
Piz.
Mark me, traitor!
Oh! if false hope deceive me, thou shalt die
In lingering agonies. There, fix my banners,
Now, in short time, ere proud Almagro's host
Pluck conquest from my grasp, and I will crown thee
This day on Cuzco's throne. Disclose the mode.
Gul.
It is within thy power, if thou dare use it.
Piz.
No trifle turns Pizarro from his course.
Gul.
This is no common crime.
Piz.
Delay not—speak—
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You need but feign the act.
Piz.
Be brief. Reveal it, slave. Your life's at hazard.
Gul.
You markt that woman, whom they led away.
Piz.
Most beautiful. In form, and face, and air
Peerless, and rarely graced.
Gul.
You know her rank.
Piz.
Zamorin's wife.
Gul.
Know you nought else?
Piz.
No more.
Gul.
She is a daughter of the Sun. A Coya.
Piz.
Well, well—
Gul.
You heed me not.
Pure in her veins, from our first monarch, flows
Her blood, by mortal mixture unprofaned.
Her father, in yon rock-built temple, serves
The Sun, his sire and god.—Her life is sacred.
You understand me. Let me speak no more.
Piz.
Her life is sacred!—I have heard such tales:
But these vain dreams, and visions of weak fancies,
Past with the hearing.
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Oh you misconceive it.
So sacred are their lives, that he who wounds them
Unknowingly; nay, though devoid of sense,
Idiot or lunatic, no longer dwells
With man: but from the social tie cut off,
Strays lone on earth, amid the beasts of the wild.
Who wilful slays them, is entomb'd alive:
His race swept from the land, and e'en the ground
That fed him, hid with stones, which he who passes,
Casts with a curse upon it.
Piz.
Then you mean
That I should slay this daughter of the Sun,
If her stern sire refuse to yield the fort.
Gul.
You need but threaten it.
Piz.
(after deliberation)
It will not fail.
Oh! were but young Almagro a cold corse—
Or in yon walls held captive; I, ere long,
Would sway his sire at will—
Juan.
Declare thy purpose.
Piz.
Go, free the hostage. Say, not life alone
And liberty I grant, but the western world
Shall own his empire, if Almagro's corse
Be found beneath these rocks.
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Thy zeal transports thee.
He will not slay Almagro.
Piz.
Nay then, Juan,
Be this the sole condition. All I ask
Is that Almagro in yon walls remain
Some days, a captive. Thou attend the Inca.
Pledge of his word, fair Zama be our hostage.
And if Zamorin should forget his wife:
Urge, urge by every tie the priest and father.
Say that a daughter's life, the sun's pure blood,
Depends on him. Delay not.
(Juan goes.)
Gul.
(to Pizarro as he is going out)
Stay, Pizarro.
Are then thy promised gifts no more remember'd?
Piz.
What nameless agonies shall rack that slave,
Who pluckt bright conquest from Pizarro's brow,
And held him up to public gaze, the mark
Of base derision? Guards! this traitor seize,
And underneath yon rocks that view'd our shame
In torturing pangs inflict his doom of death.
[Exeunt.
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Zamorin, Zama.
Zama.
They cannot long resist, sore famine bows them.
Zam.
Oh hapless country! by thy native race
Betray'd to merciless men!
Zama.
Yet some remain
Unshaken. From the rest, when thou went'st forth,
Hope fled. From thee the general spirit flow'd,
As light from heav'n. Thy influence reign'd in all.
Thou wert their voice in counsel, strength in war,
In woe sole prop. Thou went'st, and dark despair
Fell on the brave: while strange extravagant tales
That made the Spaniards gods, found sure belief
In the base fear that forged them.
Zam.
Lost Peru!
Oh could they hear my voice! e'en now, ere night,
Spaniards 'gainst Spaniards, arm'd by demons, rush
In unforgiving contest! Knew they this,
Hope would revive, and with reviving hope
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The fierce invader.
Zama.
Say, what mean thy words?
Shall we again be free?
Zam.
Oh never, never.
It is decreed above. Peru must fall.
Zama.
Look, look not thus.
Zam.
How gladly would I pour
My willing blood upon my native earth,
If my blest voice, in death, might warn Peru
Of fate to come.
(Juan enters.)
Juan.
Zamorin, thou art free,
Lead on thy host: and, as becomes the brave,
Defend thy country.
Zam.
Gracious Heaven! I thank thee.
Yet, much I fear, thou mock'st me.
Juan.
Thou art free.
Yet, hear the terms.
Zam.
I knew that thou didst mock me.
You need not name them.
Juan.
Had thy will consented
To young Almagro's death, the western world
Had own'd thy rule.
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He came a willing victim,
Pledged for thy life. By his kind aid I stand
Here at thy side.
Zam.
You may depart.
Juan.
Yet hear me.
Nor price of blood, nor aught unjust I claim.
This only, to detain him in yon fort
Few days, a prisoner. Hostage for thy word
Zama remains with us. (A long pause)
You answer not.
Zama.
Yes, he consents. Oh linger not, Zamorin.
Farewell!
Zam.
Oh man! thou hadst not hope to move me.
Juan.
I understand thee not.
Zam.
Then briefly this.
We love our wives, and in that name comprise
All that earth holds most sacred. Thou art answer'd.
Zama.
Good Spaniard! I may move him. Pray retire.
A little patience—
Juan.
(as he goes)
Yield, or both shall perish.
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(after a long silence)
You will consent.
Zam.
Never.
Zama.
You love me not.
Zam.
Far beyond life.
Zama.
More than thy country's freedom,
Than virtue, self-esteem, vows fixt in heav'n:
That vow, which when Huascar's spirit fled
Left on his corse a smile. Thee I have loved
With that pure ardour, which, to rightly name it,
Seems likest adoration. For in thee
Virtue, in human shape, gave me on earth
The foretaste of hereafter. I have lived
In that persuasion blest. So let me die.
Oh say you will consent.
Zam.
Art thou aware
Of their intent?
Zama.
I think I shall not live.
Zam.
'Tis plain as if Pizarro's self had spoke it.
Thee, they will drag thee underneath the fort:
And, in a father's sight—
Zama.
Oh name it not—
Zam.
Slay thee, he looking on—the fiend will slay thee,
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Can ne'er endure that sight.
Zama.
Thou wilt be with him.
Control him—and then—sooth him, that he feel not
That he has lost a child.
Zam.
How shall I stand
Unshaken, while a father's heart drops blood?
Zama.
Thou art the column that supports Peru.
Zam.
It is thy voice: but thou hast changed thy nature.
Thy eye, that gazes on me, sheds no tear,
While mine—
Zama.
Spare—pity me—consent—farewell.
Zam.
Is it a trivial thing to part with life?
That we no more shall meet, as once, in bliss.
Zama.
Husband! clasp, clasp me in thy arms, then ask
That question; and my heart shall answer thee.
Thus (embraces him)
we will die together. Yet—I fear,
Peru's deep curse will load our parting breath.
Zam.
Thou! more than woman!
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No, a weak frail woman,
That has not changed her nature: one, from love
Who borrows strength beyond her pow'r, to utter
What breaks her heart. Say, that we live, Zamorin,
And yield the fort; the earth will groan beneath us;
The sun withdraw his light, that we have hymn'd,
Both when it rose and set; for still it blest
Our love, whose bond was virtue. We may shun
A scornful world:—how shall we shun ourselves
The worse despisers? Say, we die together;
My father to redeem our corse from insult
Would yield the fort: but, as he tomb'd our bones,
Shame would suspend his blessing. Fix our doom.
My soul, high strain'd beyond its nature, leans
On thee for aid. Oh, by thy virtue, husband!
Give strength to mine—Oh! let me die in peace,
And make my memory blest!
Zam.
Farewell! be blest— (rushes out, but returns slowly.)
Yet—yet—I have a fear.
How shall I speak it? These are bad, bad men.
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When most his aid is wanted—
Zama.
'Spoused in heav'n,
Let not a fear for me disturb thee more!
I have ta'en care of this—depart in peace!
Zam.
What may this mean?
Zama.
Ere the good Spaniard went
Who brought me hither, I entreated him
One favour for Almagro's sake. He gave it—
Uncertain as I was what doom might wait me
I begg'd this steel. I will not rashly use it.
But when all else shall fail, 'twill be no crime
To rescue a pure daughter of the Sup,
Thy wife, from touch unblest.
Zam.
(embraces her)
We meet in heav'n—
[Exeunt.
| The Siege of Cuzco | |