 | Love After Death |  |
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ACT III.
SCENE I.
—OUTSIDE THE WALLS OF GALERA.—TIME: NIGHT.Enter TUZANÍ alone. ALCUZCUZ seen sleeping at one side.
TUZANÍ.
O chilly night, so pale and starry-eyed,
Into whose silent care my dearest hopes confide
The glad result of an attempt like this,—
My soul its triumph, and my love its bliss—
Since though your stars are beautiful and bright,
Maleca fair will give a nobler light,
When in the clasp of my enfolding arms
The dearest prize earth holds shall fly with all her charms;
On wings of blended love and fear
Have I with rapid flight across the land come here
Unto Galera—here unto this part,
Where Nature works, without the aid of art,
Leafy labyrinths secure,
Neither too plainly open, nor obscure,
Which for my steed may be
A nightly shelter; and as no eyes see,
I may attach him to this trunk of a tree,
Where, by his reins alone, shall he
Be more secure, than when on yesternight
I gave the charge to a man.....
[He trips against ALCUZCUZ.
How everything doth fright
A loving breast! An augury
Of some impending sad event
Even my firm heart must feel this accident,
Since the first moment that I quit my horse,
My foot must strike against some wretched corse.
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Fills me with terror, horror and dismay;
O wretch, that here hast met thy doom!
O thou that hast a mountain for thy tomb!
The troubles of thy state are o'er—
While I must struggle with a thousand more!
ALCUZCUZ,
awaking.
Who is that that's walking on me?
TUZANÍ.
Can I believe my sight—my hearing?
Who art thou?—speak!—
ALCUZCUZ.
Why, Alcuzcuz,
Whom you ordered to remain here
With the mare, and so I have,
Unobserved by anybody;—
If you meant unto Gabia
To go back, why stay so late?
But I know that lovers always
Are so tardy taking leave.
TUZANÍ.
Alcuzcuz, what brings you hither?
ALCUZCUZ.
Well! to ask me such a question!—
Have I not been waiting for you
Since the moment that you entered
By the wall to see the lady?
TUZANÍ.
Who ere saw the like of this?—
From last night, you mean to tell me
You have waited here?
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Who's speaking
Of last night? I've been a moment
Dozing from narcotic poison
Which I lately took from fear,
As my master said he'd kill me
For permitting his good mare
To go gadding through these by-ways:—
But the mare has now returned,
And the poison is not deadly,
Praise to Allah for the same!—
Therefore let us go.
TUZANÍ.
What fooling!
You were drunk the whole night through.
ALCUZCUZ.
Then it must have been on poison:
Yes 'tis easy to believe it,
For my mouth is like a furnace,
And my lips and eyes are dry,
And as hard as flints—my palate
Like to tinder—yes, the potion
Must have been all—vinegar.
TUZANÍ.
Leave me, for it were not well
That again you should deprive me
Of my joy, since through your fault
I, last night, a great occasion
Lost, and I would not repeat it
Now this second night through thee.
ALCUZCUZ.
No, not mine, the fault was Zara's,
Since she told me it was poison,
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Was to be dead—(drunk).
[A noise is heard within.
TUZANÍ.
A crowd
Comes this way; beneath these branches
Let us hide until they pass.
[They conceal themselves at the side.
Enter a number of soldiers headed by GARCES.
GARCES.
This is the entrance of the mine
Which beneath the walls extendeth;
Forward, forward, but in silence,
That we may be heard by none;
When I apply the fire, some moments
Let us wait, until the mountain
Bursts asunder, and its ashes
Rise like clouds amid the air;
When the mine explodes, let no one
Wait an instant, but advance
And upon the exposed intrenchments
Seize at once, and so maintain
Till the arrival of the other
Troops, who there in ambush lie
In that dusky thicket yonder.
[Exeunt.
TUZANÍ.
Did you hear him?
ALCUZCUZ.
I heard nothing.
TUZANÍ.
Doubtless 'tis the night-patrol
Circling in its rounds the mountain;
It was well that I retired:
Are they gone?
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What, can't you see?
TUZANÍ.
I must now approach still nearer.
[A report of a cannon is heard within.
What means this?
ALCUZCUZ.
There's not a mouth
That more clearly tells its meaning
Than the wide mouth of a cannon
Speaking the dead languages.
[The mine explodes with tremendous noise.
VOICES,
within.
Aid us, Heaven!
ALCUZCUZ.
Mahomet aid me!
And may Allah guard you, master!
TUZANÍ.
It would seem as if were shaken
On their everlasting axes,
All the mighty sphere of crystal,
All the huge round rocky globe.
DON LOPE DE FIGUEROA,
within.
Now the mine is sprung, brave soldiers,
Forward, forward to the breach.
TUZANÍ.
Oh! what Etnas, Mongibellos,
What volcano, what Vesuvius,
Must these mountains have conceived,
That they bring forth such an offspring!
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Who are you calling mangy fellows,
And the rest of those hard names?—
It is all but fire and smoke.
TUZANÍ.
O unequalled burst of terror!
Since in sudden wild confusion
Now the startled city burns;
And, to shorten all the horrors,
Snakes of liquid pitch, and serpents
Of explosive powder eat
Through and through its very entrails;
'Tis the ruin of our Spain!—
It were neither like a lover,
Nor a brave man, if to succour
My belovéd, 'mid the blazing
City I did throw me not,
Climbing up its walls and dashing
All its glittering turrets down,
That I may in my embraces
Bear the fair Maleca forth;
Then Galera—then the mighty
World itself may burn to dust.
[Exit.
ALCUZCUZ.
Neither lover-like nor noble
Were it now, in this confusion,
Zara to desert; what matter?
Being neither lord nor lover,
And I've had enough of both;
If I only save my bacon,
(Allah, pardon me!) Galera,
Zara, too, may burn for me.
[Exit.
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SCENE II.
Enter DON JUAN DE MENDOZA, DON LOPE DE FIGUEROA, GARCES, and Soldiers.LOPE.
Give no quarter, fire the city,
Give it o'er to flames and blood.
GARCES.
To begin the conflagration
I shall enter.
[Exit.
FIRST SOLDIER.
I shall follow.
[Exit.
Enter MALEC and some Moors fighting with the Christians.
MALEC.
I shall place my body here
As a bastion to the ramparts
To defend them.
MENDOZA.
This, my Lord,
Is old Malec the Alcaide.
LOPE.
Yield thee.
MALEC.
Yield! what does it mean?
MALECA,
within.
Malec! O my lord, and father!
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'Tis Maleca; Oh, my daughter,
That I could divide in twain!
MALECA,
within.
Ah! a Christian's hand doth slay me.
MALEC.
Then shall these too kill me here
Unopposed, that in one moment
Both our lives may end at once.
LOPE.
Die, thou dog, and bear Mahomet
These my compliments from me.
[After a severe struggle the Moors are defeated, and driven off the stage; the conquerors re-enter with GARCES.
FIRST SOLDIER.
There was never such a plunder
Both of jewels and of diamonds.
SECOND SOLDIER.
This time I am rich at least.
GARCES.
Not a life to-day was sacred
From my sword—nor youth, nor beauty—
Nor old feeble age escaped me;
All I failed in was to meet with
That deceitful Moorish scoundrel,
To be thoroughly avenged.
LOPE.
Now that all Galera burneth,
It is best drawn off our people,
Ere the flames being seen afar
Bring help hither:—
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Pass the signal
To retreat:—
ALL.
Pass round the word.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
—INSIDE THE WALLS OF GALERA.Enter TUZANÍ.
TUZANÍ.
Through the flames that rose like mountains,
Through the sea of blood advancing,
Treading upon prostrate corses:
Fondest love has led me hither
To the house of my Maleca.
Ah! I find it torn and shatter'd,
Victim of a double ruin—
Fire and sword have fallen upon it!
But my bride, my bride, where art thou?
If thou'rt lost, let sorrow make me
Quick to die, as slow to aid thee;
Where art thou my loved Maleca?
Ah! my eyes discover nothing!—
MALECA,
within.
Oh! alas!
TUZANÍ.
These mournful accents,
Which the wind around me scatters—
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Bitter sighs, too well repeated,
Pierce my breast like lightning flashes.
Ah! was ever such affliction?
By the glimmering light arising
From the half-expiring embers,
I behold a woman lying
With her blood the fire allaying,
Ah! it is—it is Maleca—
Sacred Heavens, bestow in pity
Life on her, or death on me:—
[He enters, and returns with MALECA in his arms. Her hair hangs loosely about her, the blood flows from her wound, and she is but half-dressed.
MALECA.
Spanish soldier, in whose bosom
Cruelty nor pity dwelleth—
Pity, since thy hand has struck me.—
Cruelty, since death still tarries—
Plunge again thy murderous weapon
In my breast—'twill be less cruel
Than to leave me thus suspended
'Twixt your cruelty and pity.
TUZANÍ.
Fair but most unhappy being!
Thou, a goddess in thy beauty,
Thou, a mortal in thy griefs,
Since divinest natures ever
Taste of earthly pangs as well—
He who in his arms doth hold thee,
Does not seek to take thy life.
Ah, to save that life he'd rather
Lose his own a thousand times.
MALECA.
By these accents I discover
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If my sex, my sorrow move thee
With a double power to pity—
Grant one favour for the two.
In Gabia is Alcaide,
Tuzaní, my dearest husband:
Thither hasten thou to seek him—
And this last embrace I give thee,
Bear him faithfully from me;
Tell him that his bride, Maleca,
Bathed and weltering in her blood,
By a Spaniard's hand outpoured,—
By a Spaniard, more ambitious
Of her jewels than of honour,
Died this day in lost Galera.
TUZANÍ.
The embrace which thou hast given me,
It is needless that I carry
To your husband; for, alas!
End of all his dreams and rapture!
He himself is here to take it.
MALECA.
Ah! this voice so well remembered—
Voice of one so dearly loved—
Sends new breath into my bosom,
Makes my death supremely happy.
Let me once again embrace thee—
Let me die within thy arms.
[Dies.
TUZANÍ.
Oh, how much that man betrayed his
Ignorance of human nature;
He who said that love doth ever
Blend two separate lives in one!
If such miracles were real,
Neither I would now be living,
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Since, indeed, this very moment,
Thou by living, I by dying,
Were our destinies alike!
Heavens, that witness my affliction,
Mountains, that behold my anguish,
Birds, that hear my sad complainings,
Flames, that see my bosom's sorrow,
Why, oh! why have ye permitted
That the brightest light is darkened,
That the fairest flower has perished,
That the sweetest breath has failed?
Men, who've known love's sacred feeling,
Aid me in this deep affliction,
Tell me, in this hour of woe,
What is he to do, the lover,
Who, the night he comes to visit
His adored, espouséd lady,
Hoping to receive the guerdon
Of his long and faithful love,
Finds her in her young blood lying?
Sweetest lily ever pictured
On a perilous enamel!—
Purest gold that ever brightened
In the crucible of grief!—
What ought he to do, the mourner,
Who his bridal bed beholdeth
Changed into a mournful tomb,
And the goddess he expected
Lying there a pallid corse?
But—no, no—you will not answer;
Aid nor counsel will you give.
If my grief, in such misfortune,
Will not prompt my mind aright,
Vain is all advice or counsel.
Mountain of the Alpujarra!—
Theatre of coward slaughter!—
Scene of the most vile transaction!—
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And the most degraded glory—
Never, never have your mountains—
Never, never have your valleys,
Seen, amid your pointed summits—
Seen, along your flowery margins—
One so fair and so unhappy!
But of what avails complaining,
What avails my lamentation,
If 'tis lost in idle air?
[Enter ABENHUMEYA, LIDORA, and Moors.
ABENHUMEYA.
Though, with tongues of fire, Galera
Called us from afar to aid her,
We have come too late.
LIDORA.
In ashes
See her squares, and streets, and buildings,
And the red flames pyramidal
Seem to rise unto the stars.
TUZANÍ.
Do not wonder—do not tremble
That your steps have been too tardy—
I myself have come too late!
ABENHUMEYA.
Oh! what words of mournful boding.
LIDORA.
Oh! what terror is impending?
ABENHUMEYA.
What is this?
TUZANÍ.
It is the greatest
Pain, it is the deepest sorrow.
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The misfortune most profound.
'Tis to see expire before you,
In a way so sad and mournful,
Her you love. Ah! this in truth
Is all sorrows in one sorrow—
Is the summit of misfortune—
Is the grief of every grief.
My Maleca (ah! my sorrow,
How canst thou proclaim the tidings?)—
My Maleca, my betrothed,
Is the corse so pale and bloody,
Coldly lying at thy feet!
A treacherous hand, a burning brand,
Plunged within her glowing bosom,
And the flame of life extinguished!
Who will not behold with wonder
Fire extinguished thus by fire,
And the precious gem of life
By the sharp steel cleft asunder?
You can every one bear witness
Of this sacrilegious outrage;
Of this cruel wrong—this horror—
This most costly, bitter trial
Of fatality and love.
Be ye witnesses, henceforward,
Of my deep, undying vengeance,
The most dreadful, the most noble,
That the world has ever entered
In her chronicles of jaspar—
In her monuments of bronze.
Here, before this lifeless beauty—
This weak flower—this fragile rose—
Who at length doth die a wonder,
As a wonder she was born—
Here with unavailing homage,
Bending at her feet, I vow
For her death eternal vengeance!
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Well it meriteth the name!)
Founders in this purple sea,
And, 'mid flames that rise around it,
Threatens to sink headlong downward
From this peak to yonder vales—
Since the Spaniards have departed,
So that the faint, distant beating
Of their drums now reach us not—
I shall follow in their footsteps,
Till I find, amid their army,
Him, the wretch, that slew my bride—
At the least his life shall answer
My revenge, if not her death!
That the fire that saw the murder—
That the world which knew 'twas done—
That the trembling wind that listened—
That the fortune that allowed it—
That the Heavens which this permitted—
Men, and beasts, and birds, and fishes—
Sun, and moon, and flowers, and stars—
Fire, and air, and earth, and water—
Thus may learn, may know, may publish,
See, observe, and comprehend,
That within a Moorish heart,
That within a Moorish bosom,
Love surviveth after Death!
Thus that cruel god shall never
Boast that he had power to tear
Two such hearts from one another!
[Exit.
ABENHUMEYA.
Stay! detain thee.
LIDORA.
You would sooner
Make the lightning's flash obey.
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Take away the lifeless body
Of this fair unfortunate;
Be not, valiant friends, disheartened
At beholding this rude Troy
Falling thus in rustic homage
On the horror-feeling earth,
Or in ashes heavenward rising;
Since, ye Moors of the Alpujarra,
To avenge such wrongs as these—
Has your king Abénhuméya
Bound this sword around his loins.
[Exit.
LIDORA.
Would to Heaven that these mountains—
That these proud Atlantic hills—
With the fire that now consumes them—
With the wind that beats their sides,
Saw themselves now toppling over—
Saw themselves with age decay—
That at length a termination
Might be reached of all these woes.
[Exit.
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SCENE IV.
—THE CHRISTIAN CAMP.Enter DON JOHN OF AUSTRIA, DON LOPE DE FIGUEROA, DON JUAN DE MENDOZA, and soldiers.
DON JOHN.
Since that this proud city here,
This Galera lies in ruin—
And awaiting its renewing,
One vast phenix doth appear—
And of all that burning sphere
Which eternal vengeance woke—
Seems a burning fragment broke
From the region of God's ire,—
A very minotaur of fire—
A very labyrinth of smoke—
We no longer should remain,—
But before the morning peeps
Over the hills, and smiling weeps
Those tears which in the foaming main
Turn into glistening pearls again,
We from Galera should retreat
And to Berja fly as fleet;
Since at rest I ne'er shall be,
Till this Moorish king I see
Dead or conquered at my feet.
LOPE.
If you wish, my lord, that we
Do, at Berja, what we've done
At Galera—ere the sun
Sinks again, it so shall be;
But, as it appears to me,
The king our gracious ruler meant
Not to destroy the malcontent
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To chastise them—true, severely—
But blending grace with punishment.
MENDOZA.
I with Don Lope must agree;
Cruel yet merciful, they should
Behold you in your milder mood,
Since they have seen thy cruelty:—
Yes, permit them now to be
Spectators of the heartfelt joy,
With which by mercy's mild alloy
Thou temperest vengeance, and so give
A proof that valour can forgive—
Since 'tis not valour to destroy.
DON JOHN.
My brother sent me, it is true,
To pacify this rebel land,
But without my sword in hand
My anger knows not how to sue;
Still as he permits me too,
To pass or punish crimes like theirs—
The world shall know from these affairs,
That, as the occasion needs,
With arms I punish rebel deeds—
With pardon welcome humble prayers—
Don Juan.
MENDOZA.
Please your grace?
DON JOHN.
Away
To Berja, where Valór, I know
Has raised his standard; that I go
To Berja, upon my part, say;
There publicly in the face of day
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Good and evil equally blent:
Say, if he doth yield to me
At discretion, I, by thee
A general amnesty have sent
To all the rebels—that they may
Return and live with us once more,
Resume the rank they held before
This foul rebellion's fatal day.
For all their crimes now past away,
As things of a forgotten era—
I shall ask no more severe a
Punishment: if he says—no—
Then on Berja I shall blow
The burning ashes of Galera.
MENDOZA.
I go thy servant.
[Exit.
LOPE.
Never did
The sack of any town I have known
Turn out so well; each soldier's grown
Rich with the wealth he found amid
The walls.
DON JOHN.
And was such treasure hid
Galera's narrow walls between?
LOPE.
Let the joy that can be seen
In every soldier's face reply.
DON JOHN.
I would wish to give by-and-by
Unto my sister and my queen,
Some gift to which she could refer
As trophy of this victory,—
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Some offering worthy sending her.
LOPE.
I have been a purchaser
With the very same intent—
This necklace which I bought to-day
From one to whom it fell at play—
I would fain, my lord, present—
A jewelled trophy of the event.
DON JOHN.
'Tis fair, and I must not refuse,
That you may not yourself excuse,
Señor, hereafter from receiving
As readily as now thou'rt giving;—
Then to take, as now you choose
To teach me how to give.
LOPE,
giving the necklace.
I see
Its value, since you condescend
To make some use of it and me.
Enter DON ALVARO TUZANÍ, and ALCUZCUZ, dressed as Spanish soldiers; they converse apart.
TUZANÍ.
Alcuzcuz, I have chosen thee
For the exploit I intend,
As my companion and my friend.
ALCUZCUZ.
You did well to trust to me:—
Although you keep as in a sheath
Your valorous project—now this shyness ...
But hush! for yonder is his Highness.
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Is this Don John?
ALCUZCUZ.
It is in faith:—
TUZANÍ.
A man about whom rumour saith
Such deeds, is worthy of mine eyes.
DON JOHN.
How equal are these pearls in size?
TUZANÍ.
And if the reason that I mention,
Would not account for my attention,
Now one more potent doth arise.
That pearly necklace (woe is me!)
Which in his hands (O heavens!) I see,
Is that which once, when Fate was kind,
Around Maleca's neck I twined!
DON JOHN.
Let us, Don Lope, go: how he
That soldier yonder seems enchained,
Looking at me with eyeballs strained!
LOPE.
Who would not look so, please your grace,
When he beholds you face to face?
[Exeunt.
TUZANÍ.
Amazed and mute I have remained.
ALCUZCUZ.
Now tell me, since we are alone,
Why from the Alpujarra near
Have you descended and come here?
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Soon shall the cause be clearly shown.
ALCUZCUZ.
Yes, but the cause may not be known
Until a greater cause have I
To repent that I followed thee.
TUZANÍ.
And why?
ALCUZCUZ.
Listen and I will tell the cause:
Lately, my lord, you know I was
Taken a prisoner as a spy
By a Christian soldier, now if he
See me, he'll kill me.
TUZANÍ.
That can't be,
Since no eye could now know you
In this disguise; and so, we two
May, without the slightest suspicion,
Go through the camp upon our mission;
Christians we will seem to their view,
Since naught betrays that we are Moors.
ALCUZCUZ.
You, because with that tongue of yours
You speak their language, and never were
At any time their prisoner—
And seem a Spaniard—this secures
To you the safety you announce,
But I, who know not how to pronounce—
I who know badly how to express—
I a captive—and unused to this dress,
How am I my fears to renounce?
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By your only speaking to me:
Besides, a servant will not be
Noticed by every passer-by.
ALCUZCUZ.
If they ask me a question?
TUZANÍ.
Don't reply.
ALCUZCUZ.
That will be rather a difficulty.
TUZANÍ.
Not if you wish to avoid pursuit.
ALCUZCUZ.
Mahomet alone could make me mute,
Being from the moment of my birth
The greatest babbler on the earth.
TUZANÍ.
O wild, wild love's insensate fruit!
I doubt not, oh! I do not doubt
That men will say, that thou dost err,
The fond—the vain idolater
Of a bright sun that has gone out,
Vainly thus to roam about,
To try 'mid thirty thousand men
One single soldier here to find,
Whom I follow like the wind
Swift-sweeping over mount and glen,
Without one mark to guide my ken;
But deeper darkness clouding o'er;
Still what is one new wonder more,
When we can naught but wonders see?
Well do I know, it scarce can be,
That I, the vengeance that I swore,
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But what will I have done, if I
Only attempt the possible?—
Still though 'tis nigh infallible,
The first clear trace I've seen in vain—
Because to me the thing is plain—
Whoe'er he be—the fiend of hell—
He can't be noble, he who could
Have dyed his hands in woman's blood—
It neither argues bravery,
Nor does it prove nobility—
Not to view with admiration—
Not to feel with adoration—
What in its very self should be
Woman's best guard—her loveliness—
O love, in vain these signs express
'Twas he that did that cruelty—
Thy proofs are false, it was not he,
It was another's vile address—
Some traitor—monster—struck the blow!
ALCUZCUZ.
Did you come here this fact to know?
TUZANÍ.
Yes.
ALCUZCUZ.
Then let us face about,
For how expect to find him out—
A man you never saw?
TUZANÍ.
Although
Not sanguine, I may find his track.
ALCUZCUZ.
'Tis like the letter, that some one
Sent superscribed, “To my son John
Who lives near the court and dresses in black.”
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Be sure address not old or young.
ALCUZCUZ.
Then my thoughts I must express
By signs, to all I meet with?
TUZANÍ.
Yes.
ALCUZCUZ.
Tie up, O Allah! tie my tongue!
Enter some SOLDIERS.
FIRST SOLDIER.
In this way I think the winnings
Are divided very fairly,
Since the man who plays for two
Should have choice of his own portion.
SECOND SOLDIER.
Why should not the gain be equal,
When the loss would have been so?
THIRD SOLDIER.
Yes, that seems but common justice.
FIRST SOLDIER.
Look now, I have got no fancy
To have quarrels with my comrades
Through an interested motive.
Find me out a man, a stranger,
Who will say that you have reason
On your side, and I am mute.
SECOND SOLDIER.
Any one we meet will say it.
Ho! friend soldier.
[To Alcuzcuz.
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aside.
Me he speaks to!—
And I cannot answer—Patience!—
THIRD SOLDIER.
Will you not answer?
ALCUZCUZ.
Ha! ha! ha!
FIRST SOLDIER.
Oh! he is dumb:—
ALCUZCUZ,
aside.
How well they know it!
TUZANÍ,
aside.
He will certainly destroy me
If I do not extricate him
From the dilemma: brave hidalgoes,
Pardon through your great indulgence
This my servant—who cannot
Understand you, from his being
Deaf and dumb.
ALCUZCUZ,
aside.
I am not dumb,
But it seems on this occasion
Must be pique, repique, and capot,
Trick'd as it were of every word.
FIRST SOLDIER.
What indeed we wished to ask him
Is a matter that can better
Be decided by yourself.
TUZANÍ.
Oh! I shall be proud to do so.
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I, in playing for us both,
Won a certain sum of money
And this Cupid....
TUZANÍ,
aside.
Oh! my sorrow!
FIRST SOLDIER.
Formed of diamonds:—
TUZANÍ,
aside.
Ah! Maleca,
The very jewels of thy marriage
Are relics of thy obsequies:
How, oh! how shall I avenge thee—
If from one extreme to the other,
From the prince to the common soldier,
Fly the proofs of thy foul murder?
FIRST SOLDIER.
Coming to divide the winnings,
I have offered him the Cupid
As his share of what we won—
But he says he wants not trinkets:
Look now, having gained the stakes,
If I should not get a preference
In the dividing.
TUZANÍ.
With your leave
I may reconcile the difference,
Having come so opportunely—
Giving for this gem the sum
That you won, as you have mentioned:
But with only this condition
That you point me out the man
Who first owned it—to secure me
In my purchase.
113
All that's played for
Is to-day a safe investment,—
As it forms the booty won,
In the sacking of Galera,
From these dogs.
TUZANÍ,
aside.
O heavens! that I
Thus should listen to this outrage!
ALCUZCUZ,
aside.
Oh! that I can neither kill him
Nor even answer what he says.
FIRST SOLDIER.
I will show you the first owner,
Who, as a token, told me how
He with other jewels took it
From a fair young Moorish maiden
Whom he killed.
TUZANÍ,
aside.
Ah! woe is me!
FIRST SOLDIER.
Come my friend, and you will hear it
From himself:—
TUZANÍ,
aside.
I shall not hear it,
For the first word that he utters
He beneath my dagger dies.—
Let us go.
[Aloud.
VOICES
within.
Stand back!
114
within.
Away!
A SOLDIER,
within.
I shall kill him on the instant,
Though the whole world should defend!
ANOTHER SOLDIER,
within.
He has sided now against us.
ANOTHER,
within.
Then my comrade, kill him, kill!—
GARCES,
within.
That you all should be opposed?
Enter GARCES and SOLDIERS, fighting.
TUZANÍ.
Though I am alone, what matter
So many against one! O soldiers,
This is infamous; 'tis baseness;
Back! or by the heavens above me
I will force you to retire!
[They fight.
ALCUZCUZ,
aside.
Matters are progressing bravely,
Here's a row without my speaking.
A SOLDIER.
I am slain!
Enter DON LOPE DE FIGUEROA, with a guard.
LOPE.
What's this?
A SOLDIER,
to the others.
He's killed!
Fly, that we may not be taken.
[Exit.
115
Soldier, thou hast saved my life,
And the debt I shall repay thee.
[Exit with the rest of the soldiers.
LOPE.
Hold there! soldier!
TUZANÍ.
I obey thee.
LOPE.
From the two their arms remove—
Take his sword.
TUZANÍ,
aside.
And this, O Heaven!—
Let your lordship be advised
[Aloud.
That I drew it but for peace-sake,
Since the quarrel was not mine.
LOPE.
All I know is, at the guard-room
That I found you with it naked
In your hand, beside a corse.
TUZANÍ,
aside.
Ah! I see defence is useless:—
Has it happened till this moment
He who came (as I) to kill—
Finds himself in greater danger
For the saving of a life.
LOPE
to ALCUZCUZ.
You your sword have not surrendered,—
Good! you only speak by signs,
But as well as I remember
You had a tongue another time,—
In the guard-house place these prisoners—
116
Until I o'ertake the others.
ALCUZCUZ,
aside.
Two things lately gave me trouble—
Silence and the quarrel; now
If I can tot up correctly
One, two, three, yes, three there are—
Silence, quarrel, and a prison.
[They are led out.
Enter DON JOHN OF AUSTRIA.
DON JOHN.
What has now occurred, Don Lope?
LOPE.
There has been, my lord, a quarrel,
And a soldier has been slain.
DON JOHN.
If we did not sometimes punish
Matters of this kind, each day
Would produce a thousand murders.
But we must, with discipline
Temper mercy.
Enter DON JUAN MENDOZA.
MENDOZA,
kneeling.
At your Highness'
Feet I kneel.
DON JOHN.
What news, Mendoza—
How replies Abenhumeya?
MENDOZA.
A peaceful trumpet loud I blew
As I reached the walls of Berja—
117
Quickly answered to the trumpet,
Then securely I passed onward
To the canopy, or rather
Heaven of proud Abenhumeya,
Since beside him there was seated
Doña Isabel his queen—
She whose name is now Lidora—
(Love! how vainly you awaken
Slumbering seeds of former fires!)
They as is the Moorish custom
Led me to a cushioned hassock,
Giving as ambassador,
Unto me the same precedence
That to monarchs doth belong,
I my embassy then opened,
And the tidings scarce were heard,
That you gave a general pardon,
When through all the streets and plazas
Festal joy and gladness ran—
But the proud Abenhumeya,
Son of valour and of pride,
Burning with his rage at seeing
How at promise of the pardon
Thus the fickle people changed,
Gave to me this haughty answer:—
I am king of the Alpujarra—
And although the realm is small,
Soon will Spain, a larger empire,
Lay submissive at my feet—
If you do not wish to see him
Lying dead, go tell Don John
To retire with all his forces,
And if any base Morisco
Wishes for this amnesty,
Take the wretched recreant with thee—
Let him aid in Philip's war
Against his kinsmen—we shall only
118
With this answer he dismissed me,
And I left the Alpujarra
Arming now in hostile bands,
Some of them “Spain!” “Spain!” proclaiming,
Some proclaiming “Africa”—
So that now a greater ruin—
Now a greater gulf for them
Opens wide—since feuds intestine
Rage unchecked within their gates.
DON JOHN.
Never doth a rebel king
Hold his power with long duration,
Or increase; because even those
Who at first came flocking round him,
Are, at last, the first to leave him
Bathed perchance in his own blood:
In this state is the Alpujarra;
So, before these human vipers
Bite, with poisoned teeth, each other,
Let us move the camp to Berja;
Let us rather conquer them
Ere they've time themselves to conquer—
That they may not share the glory
Which must solely be our own.
[Exeunt.
119
SCENE V.
—THE INTERIOR OF THE GUARDHOUSE.Enter DON ALVARO TUZANÍ and ALCUZCUZ, with their hands tied behind their backs.
ALCUZCUZ.
The first moment now that we
Are alone, and I can speak
A word or two, I wish to seek,
Señor Tuzaní, from thee,
Why from the Alpujarra hill
Came we here, both you and I,—
Was it to kill, or was it to die?
TUZANÍ.
To die, but not before I kill.
ALCUZCUZ.
You ought to keep at a civil distance
When people quarrel and loosely aim.
TUZANÍ.
Knowing I was not to blame,
I did offer no resistance;
If this heart, so yielding then,
Wished it, nothing could restrain me—
A thousand men would not detain me.
ALCUZCUZ.
I'd trust it to the thousand men.
TUZANÍ.
Shall I miss then that inhuman
Monster—shall he 'scape mine eyes—
Who could boast he gained a prize
By the murder of a woman?
120
That in my mind is a lesser
Evil, than be made confess:
For they have ordered this—no less—
What will we do with a confessor,
Being no Christians, I or you?
TUZANÍ.
Now that every hope is lost,
My life a fearful sum will cost.
ALCUZCUZ.
Why no, what do you mean to do?
TUZANÍ.
To kill the sentinel on the spot.
ALCUZCUZ.
With what hands?
TUZANÍ.
I will not lack
Your teeths' sure help behind my back,
To untie this cord's strong knot—
I have my dagger, which concealed
Lies in the girdle round my waist—
And which the tunic round it placed
Prevented being then revealed.
ALCUZCUZ.
Teeth and behind!—well, well, the affair
Is not the nicest—good, my lord.
TUZANÍ.
Quickly break or loose the cord.
ALCUZCUZ.
So I am doing.
121
Have no care,
No one shall see you.
[ALCUZCUZ. unties the cord.
ALCUZCUZ.
It has wrung
My teeth out—now my turn.
TUZANÍ.
'Tis vain
Now to attempt it.
ALCUZCUZ.
I remain
Tied up at once both hands and tongue.
Enter the SENTINEL, and GARCES, in chains.
SENTINEL.
Your comrade, who you say, did come
So opportunely to your aid
So bravely with his fearless blade,
And his servant who is dumb,
Are both here.
GARCES.
Though I regret
To be arrested for this feud—
Such a crowd my steps pursued,
Still if it permits the debt
Of gratitude to be repaid
To him, to whom my life I owe—
I shall rejoice that it is so,—
And turn the evil to his aid—
Go to Don Juan, go from me,
And to my lord Mendoza say,
How I a prisoner in this way
122
Should come to see me in this place,
Since from Don John I wish that he
Would ask my life, my liberty,
For what I've done to serve his Grace.
SENTINEL.
I will tell him what you have said
When off duty by-and-by.
TUZANÍ
to ALCUZCUZ.
You can look round carelessly
And see what stranger now is led
Into the prison.
ALCUZCUZ.
I will look:
Good Heavens:
[Recognises GARCES.
TUZANÍ.
How now?
ALCUZCUZ.
That I were dumb
Or dead, for he who now has come......
TUZANÍ.
Proceed.
ALCUZCUZ.
The blood my cheek forsook.
TUZANÍ.
Speak on.
ALCUZCUZ.
I cannot live, through fear......
123
Explain.
ALCUZCUZ.
My captor is—the man
With whose food away I ran;
Doubtless he has heard I'm here,
And has followed to this place;
Whether yes, or whether no,
I shall hide myself, that so
He may not behold my face.
[He covers his head and lies down as if to sleep.
GARCES.
Since indeed, although a stranger
Never serving thee in aught—
Thou hast still beside me fought,
And snatched me from the midst of danger—
Soon I hope (let this elate thee)
By my aid to liberate thee—
'Tis my only consolation.
TUZANÍ.
God preserve thee!
ALCUZCUZ,
aside.
Ah! I see
'Tis for the riot he is here,
Like ourselves a prisoner—
Perchance he did not notice me
In the heat of the fight.
GARCES.
In fine,
Do not thou, Hidalgo, mind
Being here a while confined;
For the fault being only mine,
124
A hair of thine, my life shall pay
The debt I have incurred to-day.
TUZANÍ.
Indeed I did expect as much;
But know, I do not waste a thought
Upon my being prisoned here,
I grieve, because I've lost, I fear
The only object that I sought.
SENTINEL.
Do not fear you both shall die—
For I've heard old people tell—
As yourselves know just as well—
When a man, by chance, comes by
His death, if it be perpetrated
By several persons, and 'tis found
That he received but a single wound,
Which was not premeditated,
For the offence but one doth pay—
Namely the man in such a case
Who has the most forbidding face.
ALCUZCUZ,
aside.
May he be burnt who so doth say!
SENTINEL.
And so I think of all you three,
It is the dumb man that must die:—
[Exit.
ALCUZCUZ,
aside.
Truly obliged indeed am I,
Just as if my face must be
The ugliest:—
GARCES.
I cannot rest
Until from out this place I draw
You forth to freedom.
125
aside.
Is it law
To put to death the ugliest?
GARCES.
May I at least the name repeat
Of him who saved my life?
TUZANÍ.
Oh! I
Am but a soldier, come to try
And find a man I seek to meet.
GARCES.
Your friendly courage well deserves
That I should tell you where to go—
What is his name?
TUZANÍ.
I do not know.
GARCES.
What is the corps with which he serves?
TUZANÍ.
I do not know it.
GARCES.
His appearance?
TUZANÍ.
I do not know.
GARCES.
To find him, then,
Among so many thousand men,
Methinks will need some perseverance.
TUZANÍ.
And yet, an hour ago, without
126
Or the corps with which he came,
I had almost found him out.
GARCES.
These enigmas are too great
For me to guess: but be not sad,
For his Highness will be glad
To serve and aid you, when I state
The service that to me you rendered;
He owes me much, since, but for me
It ne'er had been his lot to see
Galera's bastioned walls surrendered.
This search between us we'll divide,
For, forced by gratitude's strong power,
In good and evil, from this hour
My chosen place is at thy side.
TUZANÍ.
And were you then, indeed, the first
Within Galera's walls to go?
GARCES.
Ah! would to God it were not so!
TUZANÍ.
Why does the memory seem accurst?
GARCES.
Because from that unlucky hour
That first I placed my foot therein,
I know not for what deadly sin,
Misfortune, with malignant power,
Or Fate, or some stern star malign,
Or Retribution's wrath, has shed
Its baneful influence o'er my head,
And all goes wrong with me and mine.
127
Why art thou thus so much dismayed?
GARCES.
I know not, if 'twas not that day
On which it was my fate to slay
A young and beauteous Moorish maid.
Indeed, just Heaven can do no less
Than strike me for a deed so base,
For heaven was copied in her face.
TUZANÍ.
Was she so beautiful?
GARCES.
Oh, yes.
TUZANÍ.
Alas! unhappy spouse! But say,
[Aside.
How did this chance?
GARCES.
'Twas in this way:
On a certain day being stationed
Sentinel within a forest,
'Neath the thick o'erhanging branches
Which diffused the gloom of midnight
Down along the sloping mountains,
There I seized a Moorish prisoner.
It were tedious to discover
How he managed to deceive me;
'Tis enough to say, he led me
Far away 'mid precipices,
Where his shouts soon called together
All the troops of Alpujarra.
Flying, then, I sought for shelter
In a deep and darksome grotto,
128
Through the hollow rock soon after—
Dreadful monster, which conceiveth
So much fire within its entrails!
It was I who first revealed it
To my lord, Don John of Austria;
It was I who, through the night-time,
Guarded it from all surprises;
It was I who held the entrance
Till my comrades took possession;
It was I, in fine, who entered
First amid the flaming city,
Like a human salamander.
Till, at length, I reached, by passing
Globes of fire, a strong-built mansion,
Which was, without doubt, the fortress
Of the place, for there the people
Were assembled in great numbers.—
But, perchance, you have grown weary
Of my story, 'twill fatigue you
To pay any more attention.
TUZANÍ.
Pray excuse me, I was thinking
Of my own affairs—continue.
GARCES.
In effect, I hurried onward,
Full of anger, full of fury,
Till I reached the house of Malec,
(It the cause of all my anguish.)
'Twas the time that round the palace,
Or the mansion, or the fortress,
Don Lope de Figueroa—
Light and honour of his country—
Had drawn up his valiant forces,
And the flames were bursting redly
From the walls, and the Alcaide
129
Seek for prizes as for plaudits—
Though, indeed, rewards and honours
Seldom can be found together—
Daringly ambitious, onward
Through the halls and rooms I wandered,
Till I reached a little chamber,
Last retreat of the most lovely
Moorish maid my eyes e'er gazed on.
Ah! my words were vain to paint her,
Were it even the time for painting!
Startled—frightened—sorely troubled,
When she saw me, she concealed her
Down behind her bed's white curtains,
As if they, indeed, that moment
Were the curtain of a rampart.—
But what mean these tears that trickle
Down your face so pale and haggard?
TUZANÍ.
They, indeed, are but mementos
Of a similar misfortune.
GARCES.
Do not heed the lost occasion.
Him you wish to find, believe me,
You will meet without your seeking.
TUZANÍ.
You speak truly. Pray continue.
GARCES.
I pursued her; she was covered
With so many sparkling jewels,
With a dress so rich and splendid,
That she seemed a bride expecting
Her belovéd—not a victim
Waiting for the coming death-stroke.
130
Wished to save her life, provided
She would give her heart as ransom.
Scarcely had I dared to touch her
Snow-white hand, when thus she prayed me:
“Christian, if you are desirous
More of plunder than of glory—
Since a woman's blood doth ever
Stain the sword, man's blood doth brighten—
Let your thirst be satiated
By these jewels that I carry;
Leave untouched my faith, my honour;
Touch not this poor breast that carries
Many mysteries within it,
Which itself doth comprehend not.”
In my arms I seized—
TUZANÍ.
Oh! torture!
Pause a moment!—stay!—detain thee!—
But what words are these? My fancy
Makes me use these exclamations.
Pray continue your narration,
Though to me 'tis not of moment—
Ah! I feel even more his daring
[Aside.
Thus to touch her, than to kill her!
GARCES.
Piercing cries aloud she uttered
In defence of life and honour.
I being now aware that others
Were approaching the apartment,
And that one of two rich conquests
Which I sought, must be abandoned,
Fearing that they both should fail me,
Or that one should be divided
With the soldiers who might enter,
Changing, in a little moment,
131
(Easily doth passion change from
One extreme unto another),
Hurried by some unknown fury,
Frenzied by some sudden madness,
Which impelled my arm—(I know not
How to tell so base an action)—
I, removing first a necklace
Made of pearls, and many a diamond—
Leaving after them a heaven
All of purest snow, rose-tinted—
Plunged my sword within her bosom.
TUZANÍ.
Was the stroke like this? assassin!—
[Draws out his dagger and stabs him.
GARCES.
Oh! heavens!
ALCUZCUZ.
Well done!
TUZANÍ.
Thou traitor, die!
GARCES.
Is it by your hand I perish?
TUZANÍ.
Yes, for this poor murdered beauty,
This sweet rose whose leaves are scattered,
Soul of my life was she when living,
Life of my soul is she this moment,
You are he whom I was seeking!
This the cause that drew me thither—
To revenge her outraged beauty!
132
Ah! without my arms to strike me,
And with treachery!
TUZANÍ.
Vengeance never
Stoppeth for such calculations,—
'Tis her husband, Don Alvaro
Tuzaní, whose hand has slain thee.
ALCUZCUZ.
And 'tis I, thou dog of a Christian,
Alcuzcuz, who in the mountains
Carried off thy saddle bags.
GARCES.
Since it was thy fate to give me
Death, why first have given me life?
Ho! within there, guard! O heavens!
[Dies.
DON JUAN MENDOZA,
within.
What can mean these cries? Quick, open
Bolt and bar—'tis Garces calleth,
Whom I hither come to seek:—
Enter DON JUAN MENDOZA and SOLDIERS.
MENDOZA.
What means this?
TUZANÍ,
snatching a sword from one of the soldiers.
This sword surrender:—
Señor Don Juan de Mendoza,
If my daring thus appals thee,
Know that I am Tuzaní,
The thunderbolt of the Alpujarra,
Who has hither come to avenge him
For the death of a peerless beauty,
Since he knows not how to love
133
In another cell I sought you,
Where we measured equal arms,
Face to face, and body to body.
If you seek me here in turn,
You should have approached this prison
Singly, for being who you are,
You alone had been sufficient;
If by chance you have come hither,
(Noble minds are ever prompt
Nobly to prevent misfortunes)
Grant me a free exit hence.
MENDOZA.
Tuzaní, I would be happy
That in such a strange conjuncture,
If with honour, I could give
Thee protection, in thy going:—
But you see that that were failing
In my duty to the king,
And that duty bids me slay thee
When thou'rt in his army found.
TUZANÍ.
'Tis to me of little moment
That you ope the door or no,
Since my sword a way will open.
[He attacks the soldiers.
A SOLDIER.
Oh! I'm slain!
ANOTHER SOLDIER.
He is a fury
Loosened from the abyss of hell.
TUZANÍ.
Now you will see, if I am truly
134
Will amid his other triumphs
Call the Avenger of his Love.
MENDOZA.
Die before your vengeance cometh.
ALCUZCUZ,
aside.
Is it not the ugliest,
That the law declares must die first?
Enter DON JOHN OF AUSTRIA, DON LOPE DE FIGUEROA, and SOLDIERS.
LOPE.
What occasions all this outcry?
DON JOHN.
Don Juan, what is this?
MENDOZA.
My lord,
It is a singular occurrence:
A Moor has hither come alone
Down from the heights of Alpujarra
To kill a man who killed his mistress
In the storming of Galera,
And he has stabbed him to the heart.
LOPE.
Did he kill your mistress?
TUZANÍ.
Yes:—
LOPE.
You did well:—my lord, give orders
For his freedom; his offence
135
Than for punishment; yourself
Would so act to him who'd outrage
The lady that you love, or you
Were not then Don John of Austria.
MENDOZA.
Remember this is Tuzaní,
And that it is of great importance
To secure him.
DON JOHN.
Yield thee prisoner.
TUZANÍ.
Though thy valour doth command it,
I, my lord, cannot obey.
But on thy account, shall only
Go when I designed to strike.
[Exit.
DON JOHN.
Follow, soldiers! all pursue him!
[They enter following TUZANÍ.
136
SCENE VI.
—BEFORE THE WALLS OF BERJA.Enter DOÑA ISABEL (LIDORA), and Moorish soldiers on the walls.
LIDORA.
With this white flag make a signal
To the approaching Christian camp.
Enter DON ALVARO TUZANÍ.
TUZANÍ.
Between angry pikes and halberds
Have I forced my way, until
I have reached the foot of the mountain.
A voice
within.
Ere he gets within the outworks
Strike him with a musket-ball.
Enter soldiers pursuing him.
TUZANÍ.
You are far too few; surround me!
A SOLDIER.
To the entrenchment!
LIDORA.
Tuzaní,
My lord, my brother, stay!
TUZANÍ.
Lidora,
All these soldiers, arm'd and breathless,
Follow me.
137
Thou need'st not fear them.
DON JOHN OF AUSTRIA,
within.
Tree by tree, and bough by bough,
Waste the country till you find him.
Enter DON JOHN OF AUSTRIA, Soldiers, and ALCUZCUZ.
LIDORA.
Generous Don John of Austria,
Son of that renowned eagle
Who, the sun sees face to face—
For this mountain so rebellious—
So opposed to your desire—
Now a woman, if thou'lt hear her,
Comes a suppliant to thy feet.
I am Doña Isabel
Tuzaní, by force detained here
Like a Moor in outward seeming
But a Catholic in my heart;—
Widow of Abenhumeya—
Whose unhappy death has crimsoned
By their arms his regal crown—
For the Moors upon the tidings
Of the amnesty you offered,
Wished to gain it, (since the crowd,
Ever fickle and inconstant—
What they wish for most to-day
Will abandon on the morrow)—
Seeing that Abenhumeya
Wished to shame their cowardice,
His own body-guard one day
Entering the royal chamber,
Even where the throne was placed,
And the door being curtained over,
They addressed the monarch, saying,—
138
I to yield! he said in answer,
And his sword would then have drawn,
But a soldier struck him swiftly
On the head with a partisan—
That illustrious head, whose fortunes
Seemed as if co-equal emblems
Both of honour and dishonour:—
He fell dead, and with him fell
All those hopes that hung suspended
On his life: the doubtful issue
Making Spain to tremble more
At the long-impending evil
Than if it occurred;—the people
All took up the cry and shouted,
Live the sacred Austrian name!—
If, my lord, to see the Moorish
Diadem of fair Granada
Fallen from the royal forehead
Of the brave Abenhumeya
Merits favour, let it be
That you grant free grace and pardon
To the noble Tuzaní;—
At thy gracious feet, thus kneeling
I feel prouder as thy servant
Than when here I reigned a queen.
DON JOHN.
Ah! too small a boon you ask me;
Beauteous Isabel, arise!—
Live, brave Tuzaní: and ever
Let thy story—the most strange
Deed that love has ever acted
In the world's admiring sight—
Let it ever live engraven
Deep in memory's lasting bronze.
TUZANÍ.
I kiss thy feet.
139
Am I too pardon'd?
DON JOHN.
Yes.
TUZANÍ.
And thus is ended now
“Love that liveth after Death”
And the Siege of the Alpujarra.
END OF LOVE AFTER DEATH.
| Love After Death | |