University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE I.

The Hall of the Convent. Monks in Council.
Provost, Prior, Infirmier, Steward.
Prior.
I hear their steps.

Alf.
[without.]
That, that, or nought on earth
Shall force it force me—

Prior.
Hark! it is his voice.
We pray thee, kindly question him.

Alfonso and Confessor enter.
Pro.
Alfonso,
I come not arm'd with harsh authority
To wound th'afflicted soul: not mine the office
From the reluctant bosom, ere the time,
To pluck th'unripe confession: rather mine
To praise thy deeds, and here, before the brethren
Proclaim thy high desert.

Alf.
It is the motive
Alone that sanctions all. I claim no praise.

Pro.
Bow not beneath despair. Whate'er thy crime,
Know that, unceasing at the gates of mercy,
A beckoning spirit calls aloud to earth,
“Thou, who hast sinn'd, repent, and sin no more:
“Kneel here, and enter in.”

Alf.
Yes, I have sinn'd—

Pro.
So have we all.

Alf.
But mine are deadly sins.

Pro.
Great is heaven's mercy; and our holy church
Has pray'rs and pennances of pow'r to cleanse
The soul from all pollution.

Alf.
Not from mine.
Penance to me! who, watchful of the sound,
Heard the night tempest call, and walk'd abroad
When nought but heaven's avenging ministers
The lightning and wing'd whirlwind mov'd on earth!
Talk not to me of pennance.

Pro.
Art thou one
Who once knew better days: one, whom fair fortune
Allur'd to summer seas, then left at once
A lonely wreck?

Alf.
I have known better days.
No other terms shall force the secret from me.

[to himself.
Pro.
Discourse not with thyself; to me give answer.
Hast thou by stern necessity compell'd,
To deeds against thy nature, link'd with men
Of lawless life, and stain'd thy soul with blood,
To silence the accuser?

Prior.
Holy Provost!
We, we will answer this: no stain of blood
Rests on Alfonso.

Alf.
Answer'st thou for me?
Ye know me not, nor e'er shall hear my crime,
Till thou hast promis'd, nay by oath confirm'd,
That whatsoe'er the guilt which I reveal,
Thou will't not drive me hence. Thus far be known:
That of such deeds as now you question me,
Wealth gain'd by force, and cool deliberate murder
To silence the accuser, I am guiltless.
Grant this, or I am mute.

Pro.
Hear, man of guilt!
And when I speak with Heav'n's authority:
Bow to the dust.

Alf.
Deep guilt doth weigh me down.
But I'll not speak: nor shall ye force me hence.
Look here: behold this scar; no battle wound,
Tho' I have bled in war. This impious hand
Struck at my life: and, if ye force me hence,
Think on his guilt, the slayer of himself!—
Beware! beware! ye know not what it is:—
But I have fought the demon of despair,
And sunk beneath the strife.

Pro.
Sinner, I come
Such as thyself, the heir of frailty,
Shackled and gall'd with man's infirmities,
To weep with thee, to bend my knee with thine,
Teach thee, like me, to raise thy hands in pray'r,
And meekly shed the penitential tear
That drops down healing. Speak to me, my son!
He, who conjures thee, spreads a father's arms
To fold thee to his bosom.

Alf.
Kind, kind man!
Thou shalt hear all: I will obey thy voice,
But—oh—in pity—force me not, I pray thee,
To that strange world below: here let me labour
What yet remains of life: not long the term.
Vigils and painful service soon must end me:
Look on this wasted frame.

Pro.
Here rest in peace!
If peace here visit thee.

Alf.
[kneels to him.]
Thanks, gracious father!

Pro.
Disclose thy name, thy rank, what urg'd thee hither,
And what mysterious motive here enchains thee
To such dread hazards, that the oath-bound monk
Shrinks from the toil.

Alf.
All shall be fully told.
Julian my name. Wealth and fair heritage
Of lands and castled towns, amid the Peers
Of ducal Milan, rank'd me first in pow'r:
My palace tow'r'd on proud Tortona's brow,
And I—its lord.

Prior.
Thou—thou, Tortona's Count!
'Twas but this morn—

Alf.
[interrupting him.]
Nay—if you disbelieve,
You'll hear strange things.

Pro.
[to the Prior.]
Be silent—one rash word
May all confuse.

Alf.
About my twentieth year,
Ten years now past; [gradually becomes more and more confused.]
nay—wonder not. These locks
Once dark as jet, on sudden chang'd to grey,
That night I stabb'd myself: and, whence this cheek
With more than time's deep traces sadly furrow'd,
Your haunts can witness. At my twentieth year—
Till then, each wish indulg'd, that Fancy form'd.
Oh had I, ere that time, by Heav'n's kind chast'ning,
But tasted at the brim, but sipp'd one drop
Of that sad cup whose bitter dregs I drain,
Haply I had not been the man I am!
Virtue had charms for me. No—no. It sprung not
From Heav'n's eternal root: 'twas the frail flow'r
That gaily blossoms in life's sunshine day.
I pray your pardon.—
Where left I off?

Pro.
You said your twentieth year.

Alf.
That was the time, when brave Novara's lord,
Stricken by age, but still in heart a warrior,
Proclaim'd a tournament: his daughter's hand
The envied prize: if he who gain'd the field
Made oath, when wedded, at his own free charge
To arm five hundred knights, all cas'd in steel,
In right of Sforza's heir, from Milan's throne
Driven by ambitious France.

Pro.
We know those wars.

Alf.
I went, I won the prize; a beauteous bride,
One whose rare mind, high-character'd, o'erpast
All that the eye-presag'd of inward worth.
Ill fated Agnes! breath'd a man on earth
Who slightingly had nam'd thee, on his head
My sword had thy pre-eminence maintain'd,
Peerless above thy sex. Yet—her I left—
Not then—not then. Five years first glided on,
Five peaceful years—and—happiness was—her's.
Then came the wars, and all the accidents
Of doubtful conflict. With our forces march'd
The Banneret that led the hardy Swiss:
One for his skill in arms call'd from his flock:
A swain, but proud of soul.
What needs his name? that time I sav'd his life,
And he too rescued mine—him—him—I murder'd.

Pro.
Oh heav'n!
Him who had sav'd thy life! what demon urg'd thee?

Alf.
[highly agitated.]
Here, here the peasant smote me. The wide world
Has rung with my disgrace—a soldier's blood
Boils in these veins: but seek not out the cause.
He should have plung'd his dagger in my heart,
As mine was sheath'd in his: deep in the heart.
That had been noble vengeance—but—a blow!

Pro.
Vengeance! for what?

Alf.
His sister—oh! his sister!
Oh, miserable Ellen!—
Her, her I wedded.

Pro.
You said Novara's daughter was your wife.

Alf.
[much agitated.]
Yet, yet I wedded Ellen—didst thou think
One of such purity, not angels purer,
Had deign'd to meet my love, save that she deem'd
A husband's rightful arms were linkt in hers.

Pro.
But where is Ellen?

Alf.
Ha!

Pro.
Tortona's Countess
Erewhile—

Alf.
[half frantic]
Where, where is Ellen?
Would that I saw that angel stretch'd before me
In any form of death: her pale cheek cold;
And the mild languor of her azure eye
Fixt as I gaz'd upon it! would to heav'n
That on your barbarous rocks I found her corse,
Transfixt with light'ning! so she were but dead.
Then, ere th'avenger call'd, I should once more
Know what it is to weep. Oh! Ellen, Ellen!

[He weeps.
Pro.
His tears gush forth. May it relieve his anguish!

Prior.
Oh! cease to torture him.

Pro.
He looks more calm.
Each tear, that trickles down his cheek, allays
His troubled spirit.

Alf.
Yet—a little while,
Kind men! I will be brief—ye must not leave me,
It weighs less heavy here.

Pro.
Another time!

Alf.
Heav'n may not grant again an hour like this.
In the last battle at Novara's siege,
When Tremouille and Trevulci led the foe,
And, from their steeds dismounted, Gaul's brave knights
Stood with portended spears, in firm array
Immoveable. When fear had seiz'd our host,
The Banneret and I, in arms sworn brothers,
Rush'd emulous on, and in our breasts receiv'd
Th'opposing points. Our men, the opening made,
Follow'd and conquer'd. As we bleeding lay,
“Be thou, (he said) a brother to an orphan,
“Who has but me.” I vow'd, and swoon'd upon him.
When next I woke, 'twas in Novara's walls:
Of him no more was known.

Pro.
You said you slew him.

Alf.
You shall hear all.
The Duke restor'd, when war had ceas'd to rage,
My name and rank disguis'd, I went as one
Dear to her brother: and within a dell,
Lock'd in by heights which scarce the neighb'ring swain
Cross'd with his flock at summer, found the orphan.
Oh! at the sight of her, the peasant girl,
My soul at once discover'd why I sigh'd,
Clasp'd in Novara's arms. Spare the recital.
I wooed, I won, and wedded her.

Pro.
How! wedded!

Alf.
I wedded Ellen, aye, and time flew by
In bliss not earthly, while remembrance slept:
But when the fiend was rous'd, fang'd scorpions stung me.
At times, false cause pretended, I withdrew,
Short absence, to Tortona: there the smile
That ever met me,
Arm'd with new sting the viper at my heart.
I had less keenly suffer'd, had reproof
Scowl'd at my entrance: it was never so.
But oh! the curse! while Agnes clasp'd my neck
My thought was of another! on a day,
When annual feast and revels rous'd Tortona,
In honour of our nuptials: as the pomp
Mov'd on, the Countess radiant at my side,
Forth rush'd the Banneret; yet, yet, I hear him.
“Traitor! receive from him who sav'd thy life
“Fit meed for guilt like thine:” he spoke and struck me,
Struck me, Novara's daughter by my side.
Then my swift steel—

Pro.
I thought—

Alf.
[interrupting him.]
'Twas there he fell,
But died in Ellen's arms: and his last breath
Bound her to break the tie that link'd her soul
To perjury and murder. I return'd:
At sight of me, for still our hearts were one,
Her woe to frenzy rose. That time this hand
Aim'd at my life: heav'n will'd not so my death:
Tho' rumour widely spread it.

Pro.
At our hearth
We too have heard, confusedly told, thy death:
And the hous'd pilgrim still describes the tomb
Rais'd by thy Countess; where each day and night,
All hours, unwearied orisons call down
Heav'n's mercy on thy soul.

Alf.
The loud report
Had struck on Ellen's ear: for now she knew
Her base seducer.

Pro.
How!

Alf.
The Banneret
(Escap'd from chains,) returning to his home,
Found on her neck my picture; but no voice
Ere told, till now, that I, Tortona's lord,
Garb'd like a peasant of the northern Alps,
Watch'd at craz'd Ellen's side, where'er she stray'd,
Begg'd from poor hinds, and forc'd, where pray'rs avail'd not,
The scanty meal that fed her. None e'er told
That oft, to sooth her woe, o'er unknown rocks
I toil'd, and smooth'd her way to Milan's vale:
And clasp'd her in these arms when on my tomb
She sunk in tearless swoon. 'Twas never known
When months had thus gone by, and lenient time
Had still'd her groans: that while with heav'n-rais'd eye,
She breath'd my name, and kiss'd my pictur'd semblance,
That I forgetful, gaz'd too fondly on her,
And all the truth flash'd forth.

Pro.
I dread th'event.

Alf.
She started from my arms, while tears, methought,
Gush'd down her glowing cheek.
Then turning suddenly to one I saw not,
“Be thou obey'd! (she cried) and, thus address'd me.
“Kneel on this tomb, and swear by him in heav'n,
“Thou ne'er wilt trace my wanderings, ne'er enquire
“If weal or woe betide: ne'er look on Ellen
“Till dead, or dying—swear, that so my blessing
“May rest on thee hereafter.” I obey'd,
Nor ever saw her more. Where is she now?
Is the deep slumber of the dead upon her? [frantic.]

Weeps she, or raves, lone, reft of every friend?
Hark! hark! on me she calls—I come.

Pro.
Restrain him.
Oh hold his struggling limbs. Soothe, soothe him heav'n!

Alf.
[after violently struggling, breaks from them.]
Ye shall not hold me here, unseen of men:
No, I will stalk commission'd o'er the world
Like Heav'n's enquiring spirit. Guilt shall shake
At my approach, and youth turn grey before me.
Look, when I view the boy in lustihood
Of health and beauty, as he reels along
To the deluded virgin, in his grasp
I will infix this dagger. At my bidding
The breast, that glow'd beneath his touch, shall bleed.
She too, shall deem the blow. Oh! Ellen! answer.—
Far kinder than the kiss that fir'd her soul.
There end her woes: and while she rests in peace
His eye may look on heav'n: mine never more.

[bursts away.
Pro.
Haste, haste! restrain him! bring him back, my brothers!