University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

SCENE I.

Pizarro's Camp beneath Cuzco.
Pizarro.
Piz.
Perish the Indian who resists Pizarro!
Perish, Zamorin! not to rouse defiance
I lur'd that chieftain hither. Had my threats
Or proffer'd realms avail'd, not Cuzco's tow'rs
And fruitful empire, but the western world
Had own'd me sovereign. In that Inca's soul,
Tho' mild and merciful, a firmness reigns
That knows not fear: but sooner at my bidding
Would Andes' rock on its eternal base
Than his calm spirit yield—

Juan
enters.
My brother! Juan—
Hast thou succeeded? but—another day!—
And on that captur'd fort our chiefs shall grasp
Wealth boundless as their wish.

Juan.
Some I have gain'd,
Leaders of note: others, Almagro's gold
Heapt from far Chili, and rich realms between,
Has brib'd to quit thy standard: Chaves, Fernandez,
Haro, and dauntless Lerma.

Piz.
Dark-brow'd Lerma!
Almagro's golden ingots outweigh mine.

Juan.
No. His stern spirit broods o'er fancied wrongs,
He has not smil'd since Cassamarca's fight.
I met him mid his squadron, near him stood
A herald from Almagro: at my offers
Th'indignant chieftain smil'd, and loud exclaim'd
That all might hear, “Base souls by gold are brib'd,
“Brave men by glory: from wrong'd Lerma's lip,
“Ere I depart, this day, your chief shall learn
“What gifts must gain a warrior.”

Piz.
Haughty spirit!

Juan.
Your force is much diminish'd. Sixty horsemen:
Of pikes and cross-bows full an hundred gone.
Had not the flood, in which we saw him plung'd,
O'er young Almagro clos'd, and yonder signal
That sweeps the rocks confirm'd Gulaxa's word,
Despair had bow'd my spirit.

Piz.
On that Inca
My trust is fixt: and, if his art prevail,
This day, ere night-fall, yon rock-structur'd fort
By strength of mortal arm impregnable,
Shall at my summon's yield: and Cuzco's tow'rs,
Proud palaces, and mansions of delight,
Rich fanes, and gold-roof'd temples, pav'd with gems,
Wait my disposal. Then—the rebel chiefs
Who swell Almagro's numbers, at my feet
Shall prostrate fall, and shout Pizarro's name,
While from yon battlements I view beneath me,
Day after day, Almagro's vaunted host
Perish without a blow.

Herald enters.
Her.
[to Pizarro.]
My lord! the chiefs
Who faithful to your banner yet remain,
Now claim your presence.

Piz.
Claim it! [after deliberation.]
—Bring Zamorin,
Th'unyielding Inca, where my chiefs in council
Shall mark his dreadful doom. [Herald goes.]
This will, methinks,
Sooth them awhile, ere conquest on yon walls
Waves my proud banner. Juan—thou attend.

[Exeunt.
Scene changes to the Tent of the Chiefs in Council.
Alvarados, Benalcazar, Spanish Chiefs.
Alv.
Comrades! be firm. Brave Benalcazar, hear me.
I grant our loss is heavy, Chaves, Fernandez,
Haro, and valiant Lerma: chiefs of proof:
Men of wise voice in council, and whose arm
Chain'd victory to their standard. They are gone:
And we have cause for grief, none for despair,
If we who yet are left, view not each other
With that cold eye of timorous distrust,
That ill befits a soldier.

[Towards the conclusion of this speech, Pizarro enters, and takes his seat as Chief of the Council. After long silence, Pizarro rises.]
Piz.
Why thus silent?
Let none despair. Time was, fame-honour'd chiefs!
When by pale fear, and woe, and want encircled,
On a lone island near this coast I drew
Thus, with my sword, a line: “Behold (I said)
“On this side, danger and immortal glory:
“There, safety and dishonour.” Blush, Castile!
All, all but thirteen warriors, left Pizarro.
There, the heav'n-destin'd conquerors of Peru
Month after month obscurely lay conceal'd,
And glory knew us not: but, when our foot
Once trod upon this coast, our second step
Tow'r'd on the neck of monarchs.

Alv.
On this sword
I laid, in pledge of faith, a soldier's hand,
Ere victory blazing round Pizarro's brow
Had lur'd the fickle noon-swarm. The bright sun
Allur'd not me, nor shall the storm appal.
Pizarro's cause is mine: and may this arm
Wither in battle, when I turn my lance
Against his helm.

Piz.
Brave chief, behold this gem:
'Twas king Ataliba's: he died, and left us
Heir to his wealth. Take, and transmit this jewel
To thy son's sons, to late posterity,
As a memorial that Pizarro knew
Thy worth, nor lightly honour'd it.

Herald enters.
Her.
My lord,
The hostage waits thy will.

Piz.
Bring him before us.
[Herald goes.
Your well-weigh'd voice—I am but one among you—
Shall fix his doom.

Alv.
Fain would I, front to front
Behold him. Since that hard-contested battle
When singly he assail'd me, as I slew
His routed host, I ne'er have seen that warrior.
You still refus'd me.

Piz.
I had ever hope
So to have sway'd him, that his soul had bow'd
Submissive to your will: my threats avail'd not.
Yet—I have witness'd men who boldly brav'd
A single front, turn pale and quake at sight
Of chiefs in council.

Herald enters with Zamorin.
Alv.
In his air and form
Reigns simple grandeur, and on that calm front
I trace the visible impress of a mind
That yields not to base fear.

[Zamorin regardless of the Council, unclasps a bracelet, and crushes it, link after link.
Zam.
[to himself.]
Oh sacred charge!
Pledge of a monarch's love, a nation's trust,
Farewell for ever.

[Kisses it.
Alv.
Why, Peruvian, thus
Unclasp that bracelet from thy arm, why rend it
Link after link?

Zam.
[to himself.]
Not their unhallow'd hands:
Their touch shall not pollute thee. So, [crushing it.]
escape
Their sacrilegious avarice—nor—perhaps—
Attest Zamorin's frailty.

Alv.
Peruvian!
We are not by your spoils so lur'd, so slav'd
By every glittering toy, that we had stript thee
Of that poor ornament. Brave Inca, say,
Why dost thou tread that bauble under foot?

Zam.
I'll answer thee, when it is crush'd to atoms.
Say. [To Pizarro.]
Have I leave to speak?

Piz.
We Spaniards, Inca,
Do not condemn our prisoners unheard.

Zam.
Man, man, thou mock'st me. Look, where thou art thron'd,
Look, where I stand. And hast thou heart to mock me?

Alv.
Thou shalt have patient hearing.

Piz.
We attend.

Zam.
It ever hath been custom with our kings,
From great Huana Capac, our first monarch,
The offspring of the sun, when they select
A leader of their forces, round his arm
To bind the chain which in the hour of peace
Circles their neck: that bracelet, linkt by hands
Celestial, all Peru so sacred deems,
That Cuzco's chiefs beholding it would yield
The city, and the temple of their god.
Who bears that bracelet, speaks, and is obey'd
Like one from heav'n. No eye shall see it more;
'Tis crush'd to atoms.

Alv.
Wherefore?

Zam.
I receiv'd it
From good Huascar, on the very night
He perish'd, by the fell usurper slain,
Sent by Ataliba, whom you did murder.

[The Council murmurs enraged.
Ben.
To torture with him.

Zam.
Whence this sudden rage?

Ben.
Away with him.

Zam.
In what have I offended?
Or can you not in patience hear the deed
That you had heart to act?

Alv.
Hear, hear him, comrades!
The language of plain truth, howe'er it gall me,
Is not unwelcome to a soldier's ear.
On with your speech. You shall not interrupt him.

Zam.
When I came forth your hostage, not your prisoner,
I charg'd Villoma to refuse all terms
If by that chain unvouch'd; for I had heard
That ye had instruments of hellish pow'r
To force the tongue to utterance: now to feign
What the soul knew was false, and now deny
The truth that is our birthright from above.
I never shrunk, as these deep scars may witness,
From wounds in war, but what ye might inflict
When cool the blood, I knew not. This I know,
That man is frail: and doubts, yea—fears came o'er me,
Lest in the heart here bosom'd, human frailty
Might underneath the agony of torture,
Betray its weakness.

Ben.
Then bid yonder fort
Instantly yield, or the keen rack shall goad
Your quivering limbs.

Zam.
I now can stand the trial:
For what the tongue may rave when nature groans
In madd'ning torture, now has no avail.
The chain is crush'd.

Gulaxa enters in haste.
Piz.
Gulaxa!

Gul.
Brave Pizarro,
Art thou prepar'd to lead thy host in arms,
When I advance the signal?

Piz.
Yes. Go forth—
And reign at Cuzco.

Zam.
Reign! no—base usurper.

Piz.
Pizarro crowns him.

Zam.
On his brow your hand
May fix a crown: but you are strangers to us.
'Tis not the diadem that awes our souls,
Peru reveres her father in her king:
Our's is the heart's pure homage.

Gul.
Hear, Zamorin.
Cuzco obeys my signal: yet—I know
There are within yon fort who still resist.
Alone thy influence sways them: bid them yield:
Enough of blood has stream'd. They who oppose me,
Shall surely die.

Zam.
I pity whom thou spar'st.

Gul.
Think that thou view'st Villoma prone on earth,
His grey hairs stain'd with gore: think on thy Zama,
When ruthless war unchains his triple fiends,
Rapine, and Lust, and Murder.

Zam.
Lord of Nature!
Who in yon orb of living light, to earth,
Faint shadowest forth thy glory: pow'r supreme!
Who for high ends to man unsearchable,
Send'st forth thy dreadful ministers of vengeance,
Tempest and spotted plague, and flame-wing'd bolts;
And now, along the violated deep
Hast sent, more fell than tempest, plague, and fire,
From other worlds, the outcast of mankind
To waste this realm: to thee, oh Sun! I call:
And join my voice to that which mute to man,
Pleads audibly in heav'n and in each drop
Of innocent blood, spilt upon earth, draws down
Dire retribution on the murderer's brow.
Hence—murderer!

[Gulaxa departs. As he goes loud shouts are heard.
Voices
without.]
Almagro. Hail—Almagro.

Herald enters.
Her.
[to Pizarro.]
My lord—Almagro's son, on foaming steed,
Speeds thro' your camp: with him his far-fam'd leaders,
Herrada, Garcias, and renown'd Orgognez.
And—from your squadrons, many a fickle soldier
Gathers around them. Hark! [shouts heard.]
the air resounds
With shouts of young Almagro.

Piz.
Chiefs, be firm—
On you Pizarro rests: and plunder'd Cuzco
Shall all your toils o'erpay—
Amid shouts of Almagro—Young Almagro, Herrada, Garcias, and Orgognez, enter.
Ha! who art thou?
Art thou a spirit risen from the dead,
To haunt me at mid-day?

Alm.
None from the dead.
Herrada! stay with me: go, trusty Garcias,
Haste to my sire: relate what here has past.
Orgognez, ere three hours have wing'd their flight,
Be it thy charge to lead my chosen squadrons
To storm this camp, if yet Pizarro brave us.
[Orgognez and Garcias depart.
[To Pizarro's Council.]
Are these the chiefs whom terror chain'd to earth,
When o'er the fosse I sprung, and scal'd the rock?
And slept your swords when one of Spanish blood
Sunk in your sight?

Alv.
The sword and lance were pow'rless
Gainst that proud fort where our good cannon fail'd.
But—when I saw thee mid surrounding foes
Rush singly unappall'd, old Alvarados
Heard on his back war's iron harness ring.
Methought in each old scar the whizzing shaft
Sunk, as when first it pierc'd me.

Alm.
Hear, Pizarro—
Dismiss thy chiefs: let us confer in secret.

Piz.
Retire awhile, my friends.

[The Chiefs depart.
Alm.
[staying Zamorin.]
Is this the hostage?

Zam.
You see Zamorin.

Alm.
Go not hence, brave man.
Thro' me thy Zama greets thee.

Zam.
Name her not:
The very sound unmans me. Zama, Zama,
Oh may'st thou never hear what I have suffer'd!

Alm.
[to Pizarro.]
Tho' thou resist my sire's just claim, and mock
The Emperor's sacred signet—

Piz.
[interrupting him.]
Heav'n forefend!

Alm.
Yet we may meet on terms: and, in that hope,
Before thy warriors I reproach'd thee not,
But face to face here breathe my just rebuke.
Yet know I to forgive, and once aton'd,
Remember not th'offense.

Piz.
Then—we are friends.
Declare the terms.

Alm.
First, free this hostage.

Zam.
Me?
Spaniard! art thou aware of thy demand?

Piz.
Why free this man, alike thy foe and mine?

Alm.
Their fortress I assail'd, they spar'd my life;
The sire of this brave man unclasp'd my chains,
The wife of this brave man spake comfort to me,
And when I seem'd in sorrow, look'd on me
As one who views a brother.

Zam.
Zama saw
Distress, nor ask'd when misery pierc'd her soul,
Whether a friend or foe requir'd relief:
'Twas human nature suffer'd, Zama pitied.
Spaniard, beneath our roof, in Cuzco's walls,
The life of man is sacred.

Piz.
[to Almagro.]
You did promise
To free this chief.

Alm.
My life for his is pledg'd.

Piz.
Say, we release him, you require no more.

Alm.
Nought, but our right, the Emperor's grant.

Juan enters.
Juan.
Pizarro,
The beck'ning signal waves from yonder fort.
Shall I array the troops?

Piz.
Haste, quickly arm them.
I, I will lead them.

[Juan goes.
Alm.
Trust not to that signal.

Piz.
You plead the Emperor's grant! behold my title,
Not penn'd in characters that man can forge,
Make and unmake at will. [Takes his helmet off.]
'Tis charter'd here,
Imprinted by the iron hand of war,
On this time-furrow'd front: and till thy sword
Has raz'd it out, look not to rule at Cuzco.
Each dent, and honour'd scar that seams this head,
Will yawn afresh, wide as when first the blood
Gush'd from the wound, whene'er Pizarro yields
What conquest gave him on the well-fought field.
Here ends our conference. Guard! confine this Indian.