The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Complete Poetical Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge (2 of 2), by Samuel Taylor Coleridge.

Monviedro. Peace and the truth be with you! Good my Lord, 105
My present need is with your son.
We have hit the time. Here comes he! Yes, 'tis he.
[Enter from the opposite side Don Ordonio.
My Lord Ordonio, this Moresco woman
(Alhadra is her name) asks audience of you.

Ordonio. Hail, reverend father! what may be the business? 110

Monviedro. My lord, on strong suspicion of relapse
[827] To his false creed, so recently abjured,
The secret servants of the Inquisition
Have seized her husband, and at my command
To the supreme tribunal would have led him, 115
But that he made appeal to you, my lord,
As surety for his soundness in the faith.
Though lessoned by experience what small trust
The asseverations of these Moors deserve,
Yet still the deference to Ordonio's name, 120
Nor less the wish to prove, with what high honour
The Holy Church regards her faithful soldiers,
Thus far prevailed with me that——

Ordonio. Reverend father,
I am much beholden to your high opinion,
Which so o'erprizes my light services. [Then to Alhadra. 125
I would that I could serve you; but in truth
Your face is new to me.

Monviedro. My mind foretold me
That such would be the event. In truth, Lord Valdez,
'Twas little probable, that Don Ordonio,
That your illustrious son, who fought so bravely 130
Some four years since to quell these rebel Moors,
Should prove the patron of this infidel!
The warranter of a Moresco's faith!
Now I return.

Alhadra. My Lord, my husband's name 135
Is Isidore. (Ordonio starts.) You may remember it:
Three years ago, three years this very week,
You left him at Almeria.

Monviedro. Palpably false!
This very week, three years ago, my lord,
(You needs must recollect it by your wound) 140
You were at sea, and there engaged the pirates,
The murderers doubtless of your brother Alvar!
What, is he ill, my Lord? how strange he looks!

Valdez. You pressed upon him too abruptly, father!
[828] The fate of one, on whom, you know, he doted. 145

Ordonio. O Heavens! I?—I doted?
Yes! I doted on him. [Ordonio walks to the end of the stage, Valdez follows.

Teresa. I do not, can not, love him. Is my heart hard?
Is my heart hard? that even now the thought
Should force itself upon me?—Yet I feel it! 150

Monviedro. The drops did start and stand upon his forehead!
I will return. In very truth, I grieve
To have been the occasion. Ho! attend me, woman!

Alhadra (to Teresa). O gentle lady! make the father stay,
Until my lord recover. I am sure, 155
That he will say he is my husband's friend.

Teresa. Stay, father! stay! my lord will soon recover.

Ordonio (as they return, to Valdez). Strange, that this Monviedro
Should have the power so to distemper me!

Valdez. Nay, 'twas an amiable weakness, son! 160

Monviedro. My lord, I truly grieve——

Ordonio. Tut! name it not.
A sudden seizure, father! think not of it.
As to this woman's husband, I do know him.
I know him well, and that he is a Christian.

Monviedro. I hope, my lord, your merely human pity 165
Doth not prevail——

Ordonio. 'Tis certain that he was a catholic;
What changes may have happened in three years,
I can not say; but grant me this, good father:
Myself I'll sift him: if I find him sound, 170
You'll grant me your authority and name
To liberate his house.

Monviedro. Your zeal, my lord,
And your late merits in this holy warfare
Would authorize an ampler trust—you have it.

Ordonio. I will attend you home within an hour. 175

Valdez. Meantime return with us and take refreshment.

Alhadra. Not till my husband's free! I may not do it.
I will stay here.

Teresa (aside). Who is this Isidore?

Valdez. Daughter!

Teresa. With your permission, my dear lord, 180
I'll loiter yet awhile t' enjoy the sea breeze.

Alhadra. Hah! there he goes! a bitter curse go with him,
A scathing curse!
You hate him, don't you, lady?

Teresa. Oh fear not me! my heart is sad for you. 185

Alhadra. These fell inquisitors! these sons of blood!
As I came on, his face so maddened me,
That ever and anon I clutched my dagger
And half unsheathed it——

Teresa. Be more calm, I pray you.

Alhadra. And as he walked along the narrow path 190
Close by the mountain's edge, my soul grew eager;
'Twas with hard toil I made myself remember
That his Familiars held my babes and husband.
To have leapt upon him with a tiger's plunge,
And hurl'd him down the rugged precipice, 195
O, it had been most sweet!

Teresa. Hush! hush for shame!
Where is your woman's heart?

Alhadra. O gentle lady!
You have no skill to guess my many wrongs,
Many and strange! Besides, I am a Christian,
And Christians never pardon—'tis their faith! 200

Teresa. Shame fall on those who so have shewn it to thee!

Alhadra. I know that man; 'tis well he knows not me.
Five years ago (and he was the prime agent),
Five years ago the holy brethren seized me.

Teresa. What might your crime be?

Alhadra. I was a Moresco! 205
They cast me, then a young and nursing mother,
Into a dungeon of their prison house,
Where was no bed, no fire, no ray of light,
No touch, no sound of comfort! The black air,
It was a toil to breathe it! when the door, 210
[830] Slow opening at the appointed hour, disclosed
One human countenance, the lamp's red flame
Cowered as it entered, and at once sank down.
Oh miserable! by that lamp to see
My infant quarrelling with the coarse hard bread 215
Brought daily; for the little wretch was sickly—
My rage had dried away its natural food.[830:1]
In darkness I remained—the dull bell counting,
Which haply told me, that the all-cheering sun
Was rising on our garden. When I dozed, 220
My infant's moanings mingled with my slumbers
And waked me.—If you were a mother, lady,
I should scarce dare to tell you, that its noises
And peevish cries so fretted on my brain
That I have struck the innocent babe in anger. 225

Teresa. O Heaven! it is too horrible to hear.

Alhadra. What was it then to suffer? 'Tis most right
That such as you should hear it.—Know you not,
What nature makes you mourn, she bids you heal?[830:2]
Great evils ask great passions to redress them, 230
And whirlwinds fitliest scatter pestilence.

Teresa. You were at length released?

Alhadra. Yes, at length
I saw the blessed arch of the whole heaven!
'Twas the first time my infant smiled. No more—
For if I dwell upon that moment, Lady, 235
A trance comes on which makes me o'er again
All I then was—my knees hang loose and drag,
And my lip falls with such an idiot laugh,
That you would start and shudder!

Teresa. But your husband—

Alhadra. A month's imprisonment would kill him, Lady. 240

Teresa. Alas, poor man!

Alhadra. He hath a lion's courage,
Fearless in act, but feeble in endurance;
Unfit for boisterous times, with gentle heart
He worships nature in the hill and valley,
[831] Not knowing what he loves, but loves it all— 245

Teresa. Know you that stately Moor?

Alhadra. I know him not:
But doubt not he is some Moresco chieftain,
Who hides himself among the Alpujarras.

Teresa. The Alpujarras? Does he know his danger,
So near this seat?

Alhadra. He wears the Moorish robes too, 250
As in defiance of the royal edict.

[Alhadra advances to Alvar, who has walked to the back of the stage, near the rocks. Teresa drops her veil.

Alhadra. Gallant Moresco! An inquisitor,
Monviedro, of known hatred to our race——

Alvar. You have mistaken me. I am a Christian.

Alhadra. He deems, that we are plotting to ensnare him: 255
Speak to him, Lady—none can hear you speak,
And not believe you innocent of guile.

Teresa. If aught enforce you to concealment, Sir—

Alhadra. He trembles strangely.

Teresa. See, we have disturbed him.
[Approaches nearer to him.
I pray you, think us friends—uncowl your face, 260
For you seem faint, and the night-breeze blows healing.
I pray you, think us friends!

Alvar (raising his head). Calm, very calm!
'Tis all too tranquil for reality!
And she spoke to me with her innocent voice, 265
That voice, that innocent voice! She is no traitress!

Teresa. Let us retire (haughtily to Alhadra).

Alhadra. He is indeed a Christian.

Alvar (aside). She deems me dead, yet wears no mourning garment!
Why should my brother's—wife—wear mourning garments? 270
[To Teresa.
Your pardon, noble dame! that I disturbed you:
I had just started from a frightful dream.

Teresa. Dreams tell but of the past, and yet, 'tis said,
They prophesy—

Alvar. The Past lives o'er again
In its effects, and to the guilty spirit 275
The ever-frowning Present is its image.

Teresa. Traitress! (Then aside.)
What sudden spell o'ermasters me?
Why seeks he me, shunning the Moorish woman?

Alvar. I dreamt I had a friend, on whom I leant
With blindest trust, and a betrothéd maid, 280
Whom I was wont to call not mine, but me:
For mine own self seem'd nothing, lacking her.
This maid so idolized, that trusted friend
Dishonoured in my absence, soul and body!
Fear, following guilt, tempted to blacker guilt, 285
And murderers were suborned against my life.
But by my looks, and most impassioned words,
I roused the virtues that are dead in no man,
Even in the assassins' hearts! they made their terms,
And thanked me for redeeming them from murder. 290

Alhadra. You are lost in thought: hear him no more, sweet Lady!

Teresa. From morn to night I am myself a dreamer,
And slight things bring on me the idle mood!
Well sir, what happened then?

Alvar. On a rude rock,
A rock, methought, fast by a grove of firs, 295
Whose thready leaves to the low-breathing gale
Made a soft sound most like the distant ocean,
I stayed, as though the hour of death were passed,
And I were sitting in the world of spirits—
For all things seemed unreal! There I sate— 300
The dews fell clammy, and the night descended,
Black, sultry, close! and ere the midnight hour
A storm came on, mingling all sounds of fear,
That woods, and sky, and mountains, seemed one havock.
The second flash of lightning shewed a tree 305
Hard by me, newly scathed. I rose tumultuous:
My soul worked high, I bared my head to the storm,
And with loud voice and clamorous agony,
Kneeling I prayed to the great Spirit that made me,
[833] Prayed, that Remorse might fasten on their hearts, 310
And cling with poisonous tooth, inextricable
As the gored lion's bite!

Teresa. A fearful curse!

Alhadra. But dreamt you not that you returned and killed them?
Dreamt you of no revenge?

Alvar. She would have died
Died in her guilt—perchance by her own hands! 315
And bending o'er her self-inflicted wounds,
I might have met the evil glance of frenzy,
And leapt myself into an unblest grave!
I prayed for the punishment that cleanses hearts:
For still I loved her!

Alhadra. And you dreamt all this? 320

Teresa. My soul is full of visions all as wild!

Alhadra. There is no room in this heart for puling love-tales.

Teresa (lifts up her veil, and advances to Alvar). Stranger, farewell! I guess not who you are,
Nor why you so addressed your tale to me.
Your mien is noble, and, I own, perplexed me, 325
With obscure memory of something past,
Which still escaped my efforts, or presented
Tricks of a fancy pampered with long wishing.
If, as it sometimes happens, our rude startling,
Whilst your full heart was shaping out its dream, 330
Drove you to this, your not ungentle, wildness—
You have my sympathy, and so farewell!
But if some undiscovered wrongs oppress you,
And you need strength to drag them into light,
The generous Valdez, and my Lord Ordonio, 335
Have arm and will to aid a noble sufferer,
Nor shall you want my favourable pleading.[833:1]

Alvar (alone). 'Tis strange! It cannot be! my Lord Ordonio!
[834] Her Lord Ordonio! Nay, I will not do it!
I cursed him once—and one curse is enough! 340
How sad she looked, and pale! but not like guilt—
And her calm tones—sweet as a song of mercy!
If the bad spirit retain'd his angel's voice,
Hell scarce were Hell. And why not innocent?
Who meant to murder me, might well cheat her? 345
But ere she married him, he had stained her honour;
Ah! there I am hampered. What if this were a lie
Framed by the assassin? Who should tell it him,
If it were truth? Ordonio would not tell him.
Yet why one lie? all else, I know, was truth. 350
No start, no jealousy of stirring conscience!
And she referred to me—fondly, methought!
Could she walk here if she had been a traitress?
Here where we played together in our childhood?
Here where we plighted vows? where her cold cheek 355
Received my last kiss, when with suppressed feelings
She had fainted in my arms? It cannot be!
'Tis not in nature! I will die believing,
That I shall meet her where no evil is,
No treachery, no cup dashed from the lips. 360
I'll haunt this scene no more! live she in peace!
Her husband—aye her husband! May this angel
New mould his canker'd heart! Assist me, heaven,
That I may pray for my poor guilty brother! [Exit.

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