University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

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

Alfonso (without).
Alfon.
That—that, or nought on earth
Shall force it from me.

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

Enter Alfonso and Confessor.
Prov.
Alfonso!
In me behold a father in your judge.
I come not arm'd with harsh authority
To wound th' afflicted spirit,
And from the bleeding breast untimely pluck
Th' unripe confession: rather mine to praise
Thy matchless deeds, and here, before the brethren,
Proclaim thy high desert.

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

Prov.
Alfonso! If thy conscience inly goad thee,
Bow not beneath despair. Whate'er thy crime,
Know, that unceasing, at the gates of mercy,
A beck'ning spirit calls aloud to earth,
“Thou! that hast sinn'd, repent, and sin no more:
“Kneel here, and enter in.”

Alfon.
Yes—I have sinn'd.

Prov.
So have we all.

Alfon.
But mine are deadly sins.

Prov.
The mere avowal of unwitness'd guilt
Brings solace in the utterance: and the spirit,
Confession made, springs loosen'd from a load
That sorely gall'd. Know, too, our holy church
Has pray'rs and penances of power to cleanse
The soul from all infection.
Art thou one
Who once knew better days: one, whom fair fortune
Lur'd forth to summer seas, then left at once
A lonely wreck?

Alfon.
I have known better days.
(To himself)
No other terms shall force the secret from me.

Prov.
Discourse not with thyself—to me give answer.
Hast thou, by stern necessity compell'd
To deeds against thy nature, linkt 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
Has touch'd Alfonso.

Alfon.
Answerest thou for me?
You know me not, nor e'er shall hear my crime (To the Provost)

Till you have promis'd, nay, by oath confirm'd,
That whatsoe'er the guilt which I reveal,
You will not drive me hence. Thus far be known;
That of such deeds as now you question me,
Wealth gain'd by rapine, and deliberate murder
To silence the accuser, I am guiltless.
Vow this, or I am mute.

Prov.
Hear, man of guilt!
And when I speak with Heaven's authority,
Bow to the dust.

Alfon.
Guilt, 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. 'Twas this, this 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.

Prov.
Sinner, I come,
Such as thou art, 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.

Alfon.
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.

Prov.
I grant thy pray'r.—Here rest in peace,
If peace here visit thee.

Alfon.
Thanks, gracious father!

(kneels to him)
Prov.
Disclose thy name, thy rank, what urg'd thee hither,
And what mysterious motive still enchains thee
To such dread hazards that the oath-bound monk
Shrinks from the yoke.

Alfon.
Father! my name is Julian,
Tortona's Count.—

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

Alfon.
Nay, if you disbelieve—
You'll hear strange things.

Prov.
(to the Prior.)
Be silent:—one rash word
Confuses all.

Alfon.
(confusedly.)
About my twentieth year—
Ten years now past: 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—
Oh had I ere that time,
But tasted at the brim, but sip'd one drop
Of that sad cup whose bitter dregs I drain,
Haply had I not been the man I am.
I am a man of guilt: but guilt I loath'd:
Virtue had charms for me—but oh! it sprung not
From its sole source, the will of him in Heaven—
'Twas but the sunshine of life's golden day
Unclouded by temptation—pray your pardon—
Where left I off?—

Prov.
You said your twentieth year—

Alfon.
That was the time when brave Novara's lord,
Stricken in years, but still in heart a warrior,
Bad hold a tournament; his daughter's hand
The envy'd prize: if he, that foil'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
Driv'n by ambitious France.

Prov.
We know those wars.

Alfon.
I went, and 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 by
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 rescu'd me—him—him—I,—murder'd.

Prov.
Oh Heaven!
Him! who had sav'd thy life? What demon urg'd thee? (highly agitated.)


Alfon.
Here, here he smote me—the wide world, the world
Has rung with my disgrace—a soldier's blood
Boils in these veins!—
He should have plung'd his dagger in my heart,
As mine was sheath'd in his:
That had been noble vengeance!—but a blow!

Prov.
Vengeance! for what?

Alfon.
His sister!—Oh! his sister!—
Ah, miserable Ellen! her I wedded.

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

Alfon.
Yet, yet—I wedded Ellen—did'st thou think
One of her purity, not angels purer,
Had deign'd to meet my love, but that she deem'd
A husband's rightful arms were link'd in her's?

Prov.
But where is Ellen?

Alfon.
O, O, O!—

Prior.
Forbear, forbear.

Prov.
His tears gush forth—Oh, may it soothe his soul!

Prior.
Oh, cease to torture him.

Alphon.
A little while—
Kind men—I will be brief—Ye must not leave me.
It weighs less heavy here.

Prov.
Another time,—

Alphon.
Heav'n may not grant again an hour like this—
In the last battle at Novara's siege,
When 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.

Prov.
You said you slew him.

Alphon.
You shall hear all.
Sforza 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
Crost with his flock in summer, found the orphan.
Oh, at the sight of her the peasant girl!—
—Spare the recital—
I woo'd, I won, I wedded her.—

Prov.
How!—wedded?—

Alphon.
Aye, and time flew by
On wings of rapture, 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, no harsh question ask'd,
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, as our wont, gay 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—
“Traitor! receive from him who sav'd thy life,
“Fit meed for guilt like thine”—He spoke, and smote me,
Smote me, Novara's daughter by my side.
Then my swift steel—

Prov.
I thought—

Alfon.
'Twas there he fell—
But died in Ellen's arms:—and his last breath
Bound her to break the tie that lockt 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.—

Prov.
At our hearth
We, too, have heard, confus'dly told, the tale.
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
Heaven's mercy on thy soul.

Alfon.
The loud report
Had struck on Ellen's ear—for now she knew
Her base seducer was Tortona's Count.

Prov.
How!

Alfon.
The Banneret
(Escap'd from chains, where ruthless foes had doom'd him)
Found on her neck my picture—but no voice
E'er 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 prayers avail'd not,
The scanty meal that fed her. None e'er told
That oft, to soothe her woe, o'er pathless crags,
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 form,
That I, forgetful, gaz'd too fondly on her,
And all the truth flash'd forth.

Prov.
Unhappy man!—

Alfon.
She, methought, started from my arms, while tears
Gush'd down her glowing cheek—
Then turning suddenly to one I saw not,
“Rest! Shade! be thou obey'd!”—And thus addrest me:—
“Kneel on this tomb, and swear by him in Heaven,
“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 grave upon her?
Weeps she, or raves, lone, reft of every friend,
While scorn casts curses on her?

Prov.
Restrain him—he is frantic—soothe him Heaven!

Alfon.
(After violently struggling, breaks from them.)
Ye shall not hold me here, unseen by 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
This hand shall fix a dagger. At my bidding
The breast, that glow'd beneath his touch, shall bleed.
She, too, shall deem the blow (hear! 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 Heaven—Mine, never more.

(bursts away.)
Prov.
Haste! haste! O'ertake him—Bring him back, my brothers!

(Exeunt.)