University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

The Gardens of Manuel's Castle—a clouded Moon— a part of the Castle seen on one side of the Garden. Torrismond enters much agitated, after an unsuccessful search.
Tor.
Hopeless and desperate—no trace, no sound!—
The forest hath no voice—the giant trees
Stand in mute loneliness—and, when the wind
Sweeps their dark branches, 'tis like mockery
Of the long loud cries that vainly pierced their darkness.
The storm hath ceased—a deep unnatural stillness
Sits brooding on the night, like a stern soul
Jealous of its foul secret—
Break (in thy troubled beauty) forth, O Moon!
And shed thy cold light on my throbbing brow.
Thy wan and sunken gleam, that with the clouds
Holds dubious conflict, to my fancy pictures
Hope striving with Despair!—

Victoria enters.
Vic.
Who wanders there at this late hour?
Oh Torrismond, canst thou not speak of hope?
All are return'd, and all brought back despair!
'Twas desolate to hear the heavy steps
That on the echoing draw-bridge rung the knell
Of list'ning Hope, that turn'd, and met Despair.
Their footsteps had a voice, and in mine ear
Told what voice could not utter—but still thou camest not—
My last hope clung to thee—

Tor.
—All hope hath fail'd—

Vic.
Was there no sound amid the forest's darkness?
Was there no trace along the river's verge?
Oh God! had I been there, and a sad sister,
Like me, had sought in anguish for a brother,
I would have dug earth's core, scoop'd rivers' beds,
Till I could say, He's here!—

Tor.
There is no hope—

Vic.
Oh! Hope will long abide, and hardly part
When that its mansion is a sister's bosom.
There have been those who in their infant years
Were lost, and parents in their agony
Would have giv'n worlds to weep upon their graves
The tears they shed on air!—Yet such were found;
And must not he—a youth in manhood's prime?
Ten thousand thoughts, that, but an hour o'erpast,
Would have struck daggers through a soul at ease,
Seem to its mis'ry like a blessing now.
He might have wander'd in the forest's maze—
He might in some lone mansion have found shelter:
Speak not to me, unless thou think'st like me!

Tor.
I think—I dare not think—Where is thy father?

Vic.
He hath just sunk into a fearful slumber—

Tor.
Oh that such slumber, fearful as it is—
Broke by dark dreams and horrible imagery—
Would steep my senses too!—

Vic.
See where morning dawns!
And morning ever to the eyes of wretches
Smiles as it brought good tidings in its smile.

Tor.
Hope for us both, Victoria! cling to it,
For I have none.

Vic.
Dost thou speak darkly too?
Thy look is like thy father's!—Torrismond,
Terror and doubt are on me—

Tor.
Stop, Victoria!
If the free wind did dare to whisper that,
I'd tell it, in the face of Heav'n, it lied.
Art thou so wretched in thy soul, Victoria,
And canst not feel for one more wretched still?
Guilt's conscious smile might envy Misery's tear.

Vic.
Oh, Misery feels no suffering but its own,
Or I had marked thy pale brow, and the drops
That weariness wrung from it.

Tor.
'Twas not weariness—
—No matter what—my soul seems changed within me.
Is this the spot where last we met, Victoria?
Is this the light by which I last beheld thee?
Love with that beautiful light held harmony:
The very beam that shows thee sadly now
Glow'd on the paradise of meeting lovers.
We wander'd through these faint and flecker'd shades,
Like spirits in Elysium!—Was it a dream?

Vic.
Oh, talk not thus; all lighter feelings seem
A crime at this stern hour.
Despair and darkness are around us! We must part;
Like those whose parting hath no hope—hark! hark!
(Horn within.)
Perchance some tidings—hark! my father's summons,
And I have nought to bring him but—despair!

[Exit.
Tor.
(in gloomy meditation.)
Can I not follow her?—I'm innocent:
Why should I shun the old man's fixed eye?
Thou serpent thought, whose damned sting is here,
I'll rend thee forth, or with thee rend my heart.

[Exit.