Ordonio. I have hurl'd him down the chasm! treason for treason.
He dreamt of it: henceforward let him sleep,
A dreamless sleep, from which no wife can wake him. 170
His dream too is made out—Now for his friend. [Exit Ordonio.
FOOTNOTES:
LINENOTES:
After 12 [He goes . . . moonlight: returns after a minute's
elapse, in an extasy of fear. Editions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
[13] pit] pit Editions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
[18] Ordonio (goes . . . returns, and with great scorn).
Editions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
[20] Isidore (forcing a laugh faintly.) Editions 1, 2, 3,
1829.
[47] ever] eve Edition 1.
[49] Ordonio (interrupting him). Editions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
[51] brave] brave Editions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
[60] battens] fattens Edition 1.
[71] afraid] afraid Editions 2, 3, 1829.
[82] Ordonio (stands lost in thought, then after a pause).
Editions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
is] is Editions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
[97]
[Ordonio darkly, and in the feeling of self-justification,
tells what he conceives of his own character and actions, speaking of himself in the
third person.
Editions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
[103] He? He] He? He Editions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
[124] this] his Editions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
[127]
Well it was done! [Then very wildly.
Editions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
[140] him . . . He] him . . . He, Editions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
[155] thee] thee Editions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
After 167
[They fight . . . standing. (The rest of the
stage-direction is here omitted.)
Isid. (springing wildly towards Ordonio). Still I can strangle thee!
Ord. Nay fool, stand off!
I'll kill thee, but not so. Go fetch thy sword.
[Isidore hurries into the recess with his torch, Ordonio follows him
. . . returns alone.
Edition 1.
[169] dreamt] dreamt Editions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
[171] dream] dream Editions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
Scene II
The interior Court of a Saracenic or Gothic Castle, with the Iron Gate
of a Dungeon visible.
Teresa. Heart-chilling superstition! thou canst glaze
Ev'n pity's eye with her own frozen tear.
In vain I urge the tortures that await him;
[865]
Even Selma, reverend guardian of my childhood,
My second mother, shuts her heart against me! 5
Well, I have won from her what most imports
The present need, this secret of the dungeon
Known only to herself.—A Moor! a Sorcerer!
No, I have faith, that Nature ne'er permitted
Baseness to wear a form so noble. True, 10
I doubt not that Ordonio had suborned him
To act some part in some unholy fraud;
As little doubt, that for some unknown purpose
He hath baffled his suborner, terror-struck him,
And that Ordonio meditates revenge! 15
But my resolve is fixed! myself will rescue him,
And learn if haply he knew aught of Alvar.
Enter Valdez.
Valdez. Still sad?—and gazing at the massive door
Of that fell dungeon which thou ne'er had'st sight of,
Save what, perchance, thy infant fancy shap'd it 20
When the nurse still'd thy cries with unmeant threats.
Now by my faith, girl! this same wizard haunts thee!
A stately man, and eloquent and tender—
Who then need wonder if a lady sighs
Even at the thought of what these stern Dominicans— 25
Teresa. The horror of their ghastly punishments
Doth so o'ertop the height of all compassion,
That I should feel too little for mine enemy,
If it were possible I could feel more,
Even though the dearest inmates of our household 30
Were doom'd to suffer them. That such things are—
Valdez. Hush, thoughtless woman!
Teresa. Nay, it wakes within me
More than a woman's spirit.
Valdez. No more of this—
What if Monviedro or his creatures hear us!
I dare not listen to you.
Teresa. My honoured lord, 35
These were my Alvar's lessons, and whene'er
I bend me o'er his portrait, I repeat them,
As if to give a voice to the mute image.
Valdez. ——We have mourned for Alvar.
Of his sad fate there now remains no doubt. 40
Have I no other son?
Teresa. Speak not of him!
That low imposture! That mysterious picture!
If this be madness, must I wed a madman?
And if not madness, there is mystery,
And guilt doth lurk behind it.
Valdez. Is this well? 45
Teresa. Yes, it is truth: saw you his countenance?
How rage, remorse, and scorn, and stupid fear
Displaced each other with swift interchanges?
O that I had indeed the sorcerer's power.——
I would call up before thine eyes the image 50
Of my betrothed Alvar, of thy first-born![866:1]
His own fair countenance, his kingly forehead,
His tender smiles, love's day-dawn on his lips!
That spiritual and almost heavenly light
In his commanding eye—his mien heroic, 55
Virtue's own native heraldry! to man
Genial, and pleasant to his guardian angel.
Whene'er he gladden'd, how the gladness spread
Wide round him! and when oft with swelling tears,
Flash'd through by indignation, he bewail'd 60
The wrongs of Belgium's martyr'd patriots,
Oh, what a grief was there—for joy to envy,
Or gaze upon enamour'd!
O my father!
Recall that morning when we knelt together,
And thou didst bless our loves! O even now, 65
Even now, my sire! to thy mind's eye present him,
As at that moment he rose up before thee,
Stately, with beaming look! Place, place beside him
Ordonio's dark perturbéd countenance!
Then bid me (Oh thou could'st not) bid me turn 70
From him, the joy, the triumph of our kind!
To take in exchange that brooding man, who never
Lifts up his eye from the earth, unless to scowl.
Valdez. Ungrateful woman! I have tried to stifle
An old man's passion! was it not enough, 75
That thou hast made my son a restless man,
[867]
Banish'd his health, and half unhing'd his reason;
But that thou wilt insult him with suspicion?
And toil to blast his honour? I am old,
A comfortless old man!
Teresa. O grief! to hear 80
Hateful entreaties from a voice we love!
Enter a Peasant and presents a letter to Valdez.
Valdez (reading it). 'He dares not venture hither!' Why, what can this mean?
'Lest the Familiars of the Inquisition,
That watch around my gates, should intercept him;
But he conjures me, that without delay 85
I hasten to him—for my own sake entreats me
To guard from danger him I hold imprison'd—
He will reveal a secret, the joy of which
Will even outweigh the sorrow.'—Why what can this be?
Perchance it is some Moorish stratagem, 90
To have in me a hostage for his safety.
Nay, that they dare not! Ho! collect my servants!
I will go thither—let them arm themselves. [Exit Valdez.
Teresa (alone). The moon is high in heaven, and all is hush'd.
Yet anxious listener! I have seem'd to hear 95
A low dead thunder mutter thro' the night,
As 'twere a giant angry in his sleep.
O Alvar! Alvar! that they could return,
Those blessed days that imitated heaven,
When we two wont to walk at eventide; 100
When we saw nought but beauty; when we heard
The voice of that Almighty One who loved us
In every gale that breathed, and wave that murmur'd!
O we have listen'd, even till high-wrought pleasure
Hath half assumed the countenance of grief, 105
And the deep sigh seemed to heave up a weight
Of bliss, that pressed too heavy on the heart. [A pause.
And this majestic Moor, seems he not one
Who oft and long communing with my Alvar
Hath drunk in kindred lustre from his presence, 110
And guides me to him with reflected light?
What if in yon dark dungeon coward treachery
Be groping for him with envenomed poniard—
Hence, womanish fears, traitors to love and duty—
I'll free him. [Exit Teresa.
FOOTNOTES:
LINENOTES:
Before 1 stage-direction om. Scene II is headed 'The
Sea-Coast' Edition 1.
The interior . . . of Dungeon visible. Editions 2, 3,
1829.
[17] know] knew Editions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
[18] Valdez. Still sad, Teresa! This same wizard haunts you
Edition 1.
After 23 [With a sneer. Editions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
[26] Teresa (with solemn indignation). Editions 1, 2, 3,
1829.
[33] woman's] woman Edition 1.
[62] there Editions 2, 3, 1829.
[80, 81] Teresa. O Grief . . . we love! om. Edition 1.
Scene III
The mountains by moonlight. Alhadra alone in a Moorish dress.
Alhadra. Yon hanging woods, that touch'd by autumn seem
As they were blossoming hues of fire and gold
The flower-like woods, most lovely in decay,
The many clouds, the sea, the rock, the sands.
Lie in the silent moonshine: and the owl, 5
(Strange! very strange!) the screech-owl only wakes!
Sole voice, sole eye of all this world of beauty!
Unless, perhaps, she sing her screeching song
To a herd of wolves, that skulk athirst for blood.
Why such a thing am I?—Where are these men? 10
I need the sympathy of human faces,
To beat away this deep contempt for all things,
Which quenches my revenge. O! would to Alla,
The raven, or the sea-mew, were appointed
To bring me food! or rather that my soul 15
Could drink in life from the universal air!
It were a lot divine in some small skiff
Along some Ocean's boundless solitude,
To float for ever with a careless course.
And think myself the only being alive! 20
My children!—Isidore's children!—Son of Valdez,
This hath new strung mine arm. Thou coward tyrant!
To stupify a woman's heart with anguish
Till she forgot—even that she was a mother!
[She fixes her eye on the earth. Then drop in one after another, from
different parts of the stage, a considerable number of Morescoes, all
in Moorish garments and Moorish armour. They form a circle at a distance
round Alhadra, and remain silent till Naomi enters.
Naomi. Woman! May Alla and the Prophet bless thee! 25
We have obeyed thy call. Where is our chief?
And why didst thou enjoin these Moorish garments?
Alhadra (raising her eyes, and looking round on the circle). Warriors of Mahomet! faithful in the battle!
My countrymen! Come ye prepared to work
An honourable deed? And would ye work it 30
In the slave's garb? Curse on those Christian robes!
They are spell-blasted: and whoever wears them,
His arm shrinks wither'd, his heart melts away,
And his bones soften.
Naomi. Where is Isidore?
Alhadra. This night I went from forth my house, and left 35
His children all asleep: and he was living!
And I return'd and found them still asleep,
But he had perished——
All Morescoes. Perished?
Alhadra. He had perished!
Sleep on, poor babes! not one of you doth know
That he is fatherless—a desolate orphan! 40
Why should we wake them? Can an infant's arm
Revenge his murder?
One Moresco (to another). Did she say his murder?
Naomi. Murder? Not murdered?
Alhadra. Murdered by a Christian!
[They all at once draw their sabres.
Alhadra (to Naomi, who advances from the circle). Brother of Zagri! fling away thy sword;
This is thy chieftain's! [He steps forward to take it.
Dost thou dare receive it? 45
For I have sworn by Alla and the Prophet,
No tear shall dim these eyes, this woman's heart
Shall heave no groan, till I have seen that sword
Wet with the life-blood of the son of Valdez! [A pause.
Ordonio was your chieftain's murderer! 50
Naomi. He dies, by Alla!
All (kneeling). By Alla!
Alhadra. This night your chieftain armed himself,
And hurried from me. But I followed him
At distance, till I saw him enter—there!
Naomi. The cavern?
Alhadra. Yes, the mouth of yonder cavern 55
After a while I saw the son of Valdez
Rush by with flaring torch; he likewise entered.
There was another and a longer pause;
And once, methought I heard the clash of swords!
And soon the son of Valdez re-appeared: 60
He flung his torch towards the moon in sport,
And seemed as he were mirthful! I stood listening,
Impatient for the footsteps of my husband!
Naomi. Thou called'st him?
Alhadra. I crept into the cavern—
'Twas dark and very silent.
What said'st thou? 65
No! no! I did not dare call, Isidore,
Lest I should hear no answer! A brief while,
Belike, I lost all thought and memory
Of that for which I came! After that pause,
O Heaven! I heard a groan, and followed it: 70
And yet another groan, which guided me
Into a strange recess—and there was light,
A hideous light! his torch lay on the ground;
Its flame burnt dimly o'er a chasm's brink:
I spake; and whilst I spake, a feeble groan 75
Came from that chasm! it was his last! his death-groan!
Naomi. Comfort her, Alla!
Alhadra. I stood in unimaginable trance
And agony that cannot be remembered,
Listening with horrid hope to hear a groan! 80
But I had heard his last: my husband's death-groan!
Naomi. Haste! let us onward.
Alhadra. I looked far down the pit—
My sight was bounded by a jutting fragment:
And it was stained with blood. Then first I shrieked,
My eye-balls burnt, my brain grew hot as fire, 85
And all the hanging drops of the wet roof
Turned into blood—I saw them turn to blood!
And I was leaping wildly down the chasm,
When on the farther brink I saw his sword,
And it said, Vengeance!—Curses on my tongue! 90
[871]The moon hath moved in Heaven, and I am here,
And he hath not had vengeance! Isidore!
Spirit of Isidore! thy murderer lives!
Away! away!
All. Away! away!
[She rushes off, all following her.
LINENOTES:
Before 25
The mountains by moonlight. Alhadra alone in a Moorish dress; her eye
fixed on the earth. Then drop in one after another, from different parts
of the stage, a considerable number of Morescoes, all in Moorish
garments. They form a circle at a distance round Alhadra.
A Moresco, Naomi, advances from out the circle.
Naomi. Woman! may Alla, &c.
Edition 1.
Stage-direction after 24 [She fixes . . . and remain silent till the
Second in Command, Naomi, enters, distinguished by his dress and armour,
and by the silent obeisance paid to him on his entrance by the other
Moors. Editions 2, 3, 1829.
Before 28 Alhadra (lifting up eyes, and looking, &c.).
Edition 1.
[35] Alhadra (in a deep low voice). Editions 1, 2, 3,
1829.
[54] there Editions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
[65]
'Twas dark and very silent. [Then wildly.
Editions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
[72] light Editions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
After 77 All. Haste, let us seek the murderer. Edition
1.
ACT V
Scene I
A Dungeon.
Alvar (alone) rises slowly from a bed of reeds.
Alvar. And this place my forefathers made for man!
This is the process of our love and wisdom
To each poor brother who offends against us—
Most innocent, perhaps—and what if guilty?
Is this the only cure? Merciful God! 5
Each pore and natural outlet shrivelled up
By ignorance and parching poverty,
His energies roll back upon his heart,
And stagnate and corrupt, till, chang'd to poison,
They break out on him, like a loathsome plague-spot! 10
Then we call in our pampered mountebanks:
And this is their best cure! uncomforted
And friendless solitude, groaning and tears,
And savage faces, at the clanking hour,
Seen through the steam and vapours of his dungeon 15
By the lamp's dismal twilight! So he lies
Circled with evil, till his very soul
Unmoulds its essence, hopelessly deformed
By sights of evermore deformity!
With other ministrations thou, O Nature! 20
Healest thy wandering and distempered child:
Thou pourest on him thy soft influences,
Thy sunny hues, fair forms, and breathing sweets;
Thy melodies of woods, and winds, and waters!
Till he relent, and can no more endure 25
To be a jarring and a dissonant thing
Amid this general dance and minstrelsy;
But, bursting into tears, wins back his way,
[872]
His angry spirit healed and harmonized
By the benignant touch of love and beauty. 30
I am chill and weary! Yon rude bench of stone,
In that dark angle, the sole resting-place!
But the self-approving mind is its own light
And life's best warmth still radiates from the heart
Where love sits brooding, and an honest purpose. 35
[Retires out of sight.
Enter Teresa with a taper.
Teresa. It has chilled my very life——my own voice scares me;
Yet when I hear it not I seem to lose
The substance of my being—my strongest grasp
Sends inwards but weak witness that I am.
I seek to cheat the echo.—How the half sounds 40
Blend with this strangled light! Is he not here— [Looking round.
O for one human face here—but to see
One human face here to sustain me.—Courage!
It is but my own fear! The life within me,
It sinks and wavers like this cone of flame, 45
Beyond which I scarce dare look onward! Oh!
If I faint? If this inhuman den should be
At once my death-bed and my burial vault?
[Faintly screams as Alvar emerges from the recess.
Alvar (rushes towards her, and catches her as she is falling).
O gracious heaven! it is, it is Teresa!
Shall I reveal myself? The sudden shock 50
Of rapture will blow out this spark of life,
And joy complete what terror has begun.
O ye impetuous beatings here, be still!
Teresa, best beloved! pale, pale, and cold!
Her pulse doth flutter! Teresa! my Teresa! 55
Teresa (recovering). I heard a voice; but often in my dreams
I hear that voice! and wake and try—and try—
To hear it waking! but I never could—
And 'tis so now—even so! Well! he is dead—
[873]
Murdered perhaps! and I am faint, and feel 60
As if it were no painful thing to die!
Alvar. Believe it not, sweet maid! Believe it not,
Belovéd woman! 'Twas a low imposture
Framed by a guilty wretch.
Teresa. Ha! Who art thou?
Alvar. Suborned by his brother—
Teresa. Didst thou murder him? 65
And dost thou now repent? Poor troubled man,
I do forgive thee, and may Heaven forgive thee!
Alvar. Ordonio—he—
Teresa. If thou didst murder him—
His spirit ever at the throne of God
Asks mercy for thee: prays for mercy for thee, 70
With tears in Heaven!
Alvar. Alvar was not murdered.
Be calm! Be calm, sweet maid!
Teresa. Nay, nay, but tell me! [A pause.
O 'tis lost again!
This dull confuséd pain— [A pause.
Mysterious man!
Methinks I can not fear thee: for thine eye 75
Doth swim with love and pity—Well! Ordonio—
Oh my foreboding heart! And he suborned thee,
And thou didst spare his life? Blessings shower on thee,
As many as the drops twice counted o'er
In the fond faithful heart of his Teresa! 80
Alvar. I can endure no more. The Moorish sorcerer
Exists but in the stain upon his face.
That picture—
Teresa. Ha! speak on!
Alvar. Beloved Teresa!
It told but half the truth. O let this portrait
[874]
Tell all—that Alvar lives—that he is here! 85
Thy much deceived but ever faithful Alvar. [Takes her portrait from his neck, and gives it her.
Teresa (receiving the portrait). The same—it is the same! Ah! Who art thou?
Nay, I will call thee, Alvar! [She falls on his neck.
Alvar. O joy unutterable!
But hark! a sound as of removing bars
At the dungeon's outer door. A brief, brief while 90
Conceal thyself, my love! It is Ordonio.
For the honour of our race, for our dear father;
O for himself too (he is still my brother)
Let me recall him to his nobler nature,
That he may wake as from a dream of murder! 95
O let me reconcile him to himself,
Open the sacred source of penitent tears,
And be once more his own beloved Alvar.
Teresa. O my all virtuous love! I fear to leave thee
With that obdurate man.
Alvar. Thou dost not leave me! 100
But a brief while retire into the darkness:
O that my joy could spread its sunshine round thee!
Teresa. The sound of thy voice shall be my music!
Alvar! my Alvar! am I sure I hold thee?
Is it no dream? thee in my arms, my Alvar! [Exit. 105
[A noise at the Dungeon door. It opens, and Ordonio enters, with a
goblet in his hand.