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Thy sire and I will crush the snake!
He kiss'd her forehead as he spake,
And Geraldine in maiden wise,
Casting down her large bright eyes,
With blushing cheek and courtesy fine
She turn'd her from Sir Leoline;
Softly gathering up her train,
That o'er her right arm fell again;
And folded her arms across her chest,
And couch'd her head upon her breast,
And look'd askance at Christabel-
Jesu, Maria, shield her well!

The same, for whom thy lady died.
O by the pangs of her dear mother,
Think thou no evil of thy child!
For her, and thee, and for no other,
She pray'd the moment ere she died ;
Pray'd that the babe for whom she died
Might prove her dear lord's joy and pride!
That prayer her deadly pangs beguiled,

Sir Leoline!
And wouldst thou wrong thy only child,

Her child and thine ?

A snake's small eye blinks dull and shy,
And the lady's eyes they shrunk in her head,
Each shrunk up to a serpent's eye,
And with somewhat of malice and more of dread,
At Christabel she look'd askance:
One moment-and the sight was fled!
But Christabel, in dizzy trance
Stumbling on the unsteady ground,
Shudder'd aloud, with a hissing sound;
And Geraldine again turn'd round,
And like a thing, that sought relief,
Full of wonder and full of grief,
She roll'd her large bright eyes divine
Wildly on Sir Leoline.

Within the Baron's heart and brain
If thoughts like these had any share,
They only swell’d his rage and pain,
And did but work confusion there.
His heart was cleft with pain and rage,
His cheeks they quiverd, his eyes were wild,
Dishonor'd thus in his old age;
Dishonor'd by his only child,
And all his hospitality
To the insulted daughter of his friend
By more than woman's jealousy
Brought thus to a disgraceful end-
He rollid his eye with stern regard
Upon the gentle minstrel bard,
And said in tones abrupt, austere,
Why, Bracy! dost thou loiter here?
I bade thee hence! The Bard obey'd ;
And, turning from his own sweet maid,
The aged knight, Sir Leoline,
Led forth the lady Geraldine!

THE CONCLUSION TO PART II.

The maid, alas ! her thoughts are gone,
She nothing sees-no sight but one !
The maid, devoid of guile and sin,
I know not how, in fearful wise
So deeply had she drunken in
That look, those shrunken serpent eyes,
That all her features were resign'd
To this sole image in her mind :
And passively did imitate
That look of dull and treacherous hate!
And thus she stood, in dizzy trance,
Sull picturing that look askance
With forced, unconscious sympathy
Full before her father's view-
As far as such a look could be,
In eyes so innocent and blue.
And when the trance was o'er, the maid
Paused awhile, and inly pray'd :
Then falling at the Baron's feet,
" By my mother's soul do I entreat
That thou this woman send away!”
She said : and more she could not say ;
For what she knew she could not tell,
O’ermaster'd by the mighty spell.

A LITTLE child, a limber elf,
Singing, dancing to itself,
A fairy thing with red round cheeks
That always finds and never seeks,
Makes such a vision to the sight
As fills a father's eyes with light;
And pleasures flow in so thick and fast
Upon his heart, that he at last
Must needs express his love's excess
With words of unmeant bitterness.
Perhaps 't is pretty to force together
Thoughts so all unlike each other;
To mutter and mock a broken charm,
To dally with wrong that does no harm.
Perhaps 't is tender too and pretty
At each wild word to feel within
A sweet recoil of love and pity.
And what, if in a world of sin
(O sorrow and shame should this be true)!
Such giddiness of heart and brain
Comes seldom save from rage and pain,
So talks as it's most used to do.

82

Why is thy cheek so wan and wild,
Sir Leoline ? Thy only child
Lies at thy feet, thy joy, thy pride,
So fair, so innocent, so mild,

Remorse ;

A TRAGEDY, IN FIVE ACTS.

ALVAR.

ZULIMEZ.

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

ZULIMEZ.
Remorse is as the heart in which it

grows:

If that be gentle, it drops balmy dews Marquis Valdez, Father to the two brothers, and of true repentance; but if proud and gloomy, Donna Teresa's Guardian.

It is a poison-tree that, pierced to the inmost,
Dox ALVAR, the eldest son.

Weeps only tears of poison.
Don ORDONIO, the youngest son.
MONVIEDRO, 2 Dominican and Inquisitor.
ZULIMEZ, the faithful attendant on Alvar.

And of a brother,
ISIDORE, a Moresco Chieftain, ostensibly a Christian.

Dare I hold this, unproved ? nor make one effort, FAMILIARS OF THE INQUISITION.

To save him ?-Hear me, friend! I have yet to tell thee NAOMI.

That this same life, which he conspired to take, Moors, SERVANTS, etc.

Himself once rescued from the angry flood, DONNA TERESA, an Orphan Heiress.

And at the imminent hazard of his own. ALHADRA, Wife to Isidore.

Add too my oathTIME The reign of Philip II., just at the close of

You have thrice told already the civil wars against the Moors, and during the The years of absence and of secrecy, heat of the persecution which raged against them, To which a forced oath bound you: if in truth shortly after the edict which forbade the wearing A suborn'd murderer have the power to dictate of Moresco apparel under pain of death.

A binding oath

ALVAR.

My long captivity

Left me no choice: the very Wish too languish'd
REMORSE.

With the fond Ilope that nursed it; the sick babe
Droop'd at the bosom of its famish'd mother

But (more than all) Teresa's perfidy;
ACT I.

The assassin's strong assurance, when no interest,

No motive could have tempted him to falsehood : SCENE I.

In the first pangs of his awaken'd conscience, The Sea Shore on the Coast of Granada.

When with abhorrence of his own black purpose

The murderous weapon, pointed at my breast, Don Alvar, wrapt in a Boal-cloak, and ZuLIMEZ Fell from his palsied hand(a Moresco), both as just landed

Heavy presumption ! No sound, no face of joy to welcome us!

It weigh'd not with me-Hark! I will tell thee all: My faithful Zulimez, for one brief moment

As we pass'd by, I bade thee mark the base Let me forget my anguish and their crimes.

Of yonder clintIf aught on earth demand an unmix'd feeling,

ZULIMEZ. Tis surely this—after long years of exile,

That rocky seat you mean, To step forth on firm land, and gazing round us,

Shaped by the billows?To hail at once our country, and our birth-place.

ALVAR Hail, Spain! Granada, hail! once more I press

There Teresa met me, l'hy sands with filial awe, land of my fathers!

The morning of the day of my departure. Then claim your rights in it! O, revered Don Alvar,

We were alone : the purple hue of dawn

Fell from the kindling east aslant upon us,
Yei, yet give up your all too gentle purpose.
It is ton hazardous! reveal yourself,

And, blending with the blushes on her cheek,
And let the guilty meet the doom of guilt!

Suffused the tear-drops there with rosy light.

There seem'd a glory round us, and Teresa Remember, Zulimez! I am his brother:

The angel of the vision ! [Then wilh agitation

Hadst thou seen Lajured, indeed! O deeply injured! yet

How in each motion her most innocent soul Ordonio's brother.

Beam'd forth and brighten'd, thou thyself wouldst Nobly-minded Alvar! This sure but gives his guilt a blacker dye.

Guilt is a thing impossible in her!

She must be innocent!
ALVAR.
The more behoves it, I should rouse within him

ZULIMEZ (with a sigh).
Remorse! that I should save him from himself.

Proceed, my Lord!
H2

83

ZULIMEZ.

ZULIMEZ.

ALVAR.

ALVAR.

ZULIMEZ.

ALVAR.

ZULIMEZ.

tell me,

TERESA.

TERESA.

ALVAR.

Now to the cave beneath the vaulted rock, A portrait which she had procured by stealth Where having shaped you to a Moorish chieftain, (For ever then it seems her heart foreboded I will seek our mariners; and in the dusk Or knew Ordonio's moody rivalry),

Transport whate'er we need to the small dell A portrait of herself with thrilling hand

In the Alpuxarras—there where Zagri lived.
She tied around my neck, conjuring me

ALVAR
With earnest prayers, that I would keep it sacred I know it well : it is the obscurest haunt
To my own knowledge: nor did she desist,

Of all the mountains

(Both stand listening Till she had won a solemn promise from me,

Voices at a distance ! That (save my own) no eye should e'er behold it Let us away!

[Eseurt Till my return. Yet this the assassin knew, Knew that which none but she could have disclosed. ZULIMEZ.

SCENE II.
A damning proof!

Enter TERESA and VALDEZ.
ALVAR.

My own life wearied me!
And but for the imperative Voice within,

I hold Ordonio dear; he is your son With mine own hand I had thrown off the burthen.

And Alvar's brother. That Voice, which quell’d me, calm'd me: and I

VALDEZ. sought

Love him for himself, The Belgic states: there join'd the better cause;

Nor make the living wretched for the dead.
And there too fought as one that courted death!
Wounded, I fell among the dead and dying,
In death-like trance : a long imprisonment follow'd. I mourn that you should plead in vain, Lord Valdez

But heaven hath heard my vow, and I remain
The fullness of my anguish by degrees
Waned to a meditative melancholy;

Faithful to Alvar, be he dead or living.
And still, the more I mused, my soul became

VALDEZ. More doubtful, more perplex'd; and still Teresa,

Heaven knows with what delight I saw your loves, Night after night, she visited my sleep,

And could my heart's blood give him back to thee, Now as a saintly sufferer, wan and tearful, I would die smiling. But these are idle thoughts; Now as a saint in glory beckoning to me!

Thy dying father comes upon my soul Yes, still, as in contempt of proof and reason,

With that same look, with which he gave thee to me I cherish the fond faith that she is guiltless ! I held thee in my arms a powerless babe, Hear then my fix'd resolve: I'll linger here While thy poor mother with a mute entreaty In the disguise of a Moresco chieftain.

Fix'd her faint eyes on mine. Ah not for this, The Moorish robes ?

That I should let thee feed thy soul with gloom,

And with slow anguish wear away thy life,
ZULIMEZ.

The victim of a useless constancy.
All, all are in the sea-cave,
Some furlong hence. I bade our mariners

I must not see thee wretched.
Secrete the boat there.

TERESA.

There are woes
ALVAR.
Above all, the picture

Ill-barter'd for the garishness of joy!
Of the assassination-

If it be wretched with an untired eye

To watch those skiey tints, and this green ocean;
ZULIMEZ.
Be assured

Or in the sultry hour beneath some rock,
That it remains uninjured.

My hair dishevell’d by the pleasant sea-breeze,

To shape sweet visions, and live o'er again
ALVAR.
Thus disguised,

All past hours of delight! If it be wretched
I will first seek to meet Ordonio's—wife!

To watch some bark, and fancy Alvar there, If possible, alone too. This was her wonted walk. To go through each minutest circumstance And this the hour; her words, her

Of the blest meeting, and to frame adventures looks

very Will acquit her or convict.

Most terrible and strange, and hear him tell them;

*(As once I knew a crazy Moorish maid
ZULIMEZ.

Who drest her in her buried lover's clothes,
Will they not know you?

And o'er the smooth spring in the mountain cleft
ALVAR.
With your aid, friend, I shall unfearingly

Hung with her lute, and play'd the self-same tune Trust the disguise ; and as to my complexion,

He used to play, and listen’d to the shadow

Herself had made)-if this be wretchedness,
My long imprisonment, the scanty food,
This scar,—and toil beneath a burning sun,

And if indeed it be a wretched thing
Have done already half the business for us.

To trick out mine own death-bed, and imagine Add too my youth, when last we saw each other.

That I had died, died just ere his return! Manhood has swoln my chest

, and taught my voice Then see him listening to my constancy, A hoarser note-Besides, they think me dead :

Or hover round, as he at midnight oft
And what the mind believes impossible,
The bodily sense is slow to recognize.

• Here Valdez bends back, and smiles at her wildness which Teresa noticing, checks her enthusiasm, and in a sooth

ing half-playful tone and manner, apologizes for her fancy "Tis yours, Str, to command; mine to obey.

by the little tale in the parenthesis.

ZULIMEZ.

TERESA.

TERESA

VALDEZ.

VALDEZ.

TERESA.

Sits on my grave and gazes at the moon;

His wounds and perilous voyages, and how Or haply, in some more fantastic mood,

With an heroic fearlessness of danger To be in Paradise, and with choice flowers He roam'd the coast of Afric for your Alvar. Build up a bower where he and I might dwell, It was not well—You have moved me even to tears And there to wait his coming ! O my sire ! My Alvar's sire! if this be wretchedness

Oh pardon me, Lord Valdez! pardon me! That eats away the life, what were it, think you,

It was a foolish and ungrateful speech, If in a most assured reality

A most ungrateful speech! But I am hurried He should return, and see a brother's infant

Beyond myself, if I but hear of one Smile at him from my arms?

Who aims to rival Alvar. Were we not
Oh, what a thought ! [Clasping her forehead. Born in one day, like twins of the same parent ?
VALDEZ.

Nursed in one cradle ? Pardon me, my father!
A thought? even so! mere thought! an empty thought. A six years' absence is a heavy thing,
The very week he promised his return-

Yet still the hope survives,
TERESA (abruptly).

VALDEZ (looking forward).
Was it not then a busy joy? to see him,

Hush! 'tis Monviedro.
After those three years' travels! we had no fears-
The frequent tidings, the ne'er-failing letter, The Inquisitor! on what new scent of blood ?
Almost endear'd his absence! Yet the gladness,
The tumult of our joy! What then if now

Enter MONVIEDRO with ALHADRA.

MONVIEDRO (having first made his obersance to O power of youth to feed on pleasant thoughts,

VALDEZ and TERESA).
Spite of conviction! I am old and heartless!
Yes, I am old—I have no pleasant fancies- Peace and the truth be with you! Good my Lord,
Hectic and unrefresh'd with rest-

My present need is with your son.
TERESA (with great tenderness)

(Looking forward My father! We have hit the time. Here comes he! Yes, 't is he

Enter from the opposite side Don ORDONIO.
The sober truth is all too much for me!
I see no sail which brings not to my mind

My Lord Ordonio, this Moresco woman
The home-bound bark in which my son was captured (Alhadra is her name) asks audience of you.
By the Algerine—to perish with his captors !

ORDONIO.

Hail, reverend father! what may be the business? Oh no! he did not! VALDEZ.

My Lord, on strong suspicion of relapse Captured in sight of land! To his false creed, so recently abjured, From yon hill point, nay, from our castle watch-tower The secret servants of the inquisition We might have seen

Have seized her husband, and at my command
TERESA.

To the supreme tribunal would have led him,
His capture, not his death. But that he made appeal to you, my Lord,

As surety for his soundness in the faith.
Alas! how aptly thou forgett'st a tale

Though lessen'd by experience what small trust Thou ne'er didst wish to learn! my brave Ordonio The asseverations of these Moors deserve, Saw both the pirate and his prize go down,

Yet still the deference to Ordonio's name, In the same storm that baffled his own valor,

Nor less the wish to prove, with what high honor And thus twice snatch'd a brother from his hopes : The Holy Church regards her faithful soldiers, Gallant Ordonio! (pauses; then tenderly). O beloved Thus far prevail'd with me thatTeresa!

ORDONIO. Wouldst thou best prove thy faith to generous Alvar,

Reverend father, And most delight his spirit, go, make thou

I am much beholden to your high opinion, His brother happy, make his aged father

Which so o'erprizes my light services. Sink to the grave in joy.

[Then to ALHADRA I would that I could serve you ; but in truth For mercy's sake,

Your face is new to me. Press me no more! I have no power to love him.

MONVIEDRO. His proud forbidding eye, and his dark brow,

My mind foretold me, Chill me like dew damps of the unwholesome night: That such would be the event. In truth, Lord Valdez. My love, a timorous and tender flower,

'Twas little probable, that Don Ordonio, Cloees beneath his touch.

That your illustrious son, who fought so bravely

Some four years since to quell these rebel Moors,
You wrong him, maiden! Should prove the patron of this infidel!
You wrong him, by my soul! Nor was it well The guarantee of a Moresco's faith!
To character by such unkindly phrases

Now I return.
The stir and workings of that love for you
Which he has told to smother, 'T was not well, My Lord, my husband's name
Nor is it grateful in you to forget

Is Isidore. (ORDONIO starts.)—You may remember it

MONVIEDRO.

VALDEZ.

TERESA.

VALDEZ.

ALHADRA.

TERESA.

ALHADRA.

MONVIEDRO.

Three years ago, three years this very week,

ALHADRA.
You left him at Almeria.

Not till my husband's free! I may not do it
MONVIEDRO.

I will stay here.
Palpably false!

TERESA (aside).

Who is this Isidore ? This very week, three years ago, my Lord (You needs must recollect it by your wound),

VALDEZ. You were at sea, and there engaged the pirates,

Daughter! The murderers doubtless of your brother Alvar!

[Teresa looks at Moxviedro with disgust and with your permission, my dear Lord,

horror. Ordonio's appearance to be collected I'll loiter yet awhile l' enjoy the sea breeze.
from what follows.

(Exeunt ValDEZ, MONVIEDRO, and ORDONIO MONVIEDRO (10 VALDEZ, and pointing at ORDONIO). What! is he ill, my Lord ? how strange he looks !

Hah! there he goes! a bitter curse go with him,

A scathing curse!
VALDEZ (angrily).

(Then as if recollecting herself, and uith a timid look) You press'd upon him too abrupily, father,

You haie him, don't you, lady? The fate of one, on whom, you know, he doted.

TERESA (perceiving that Alhadra is conscious she has ORDONIO (starting as in sudden agitation).

spoken imprudently).
O Heavens! I? I-doted ? (then recovering himself). Oh fear not me! my heart is sad for you.
Yes! I doted on him.

ALILADRA.
[Ordonio walks to the end of the stage, These fell inquisitors! these sons of blood !
VALDEZ follows, soothing him.

As I came on, his face so madden'd me,
TERESA (her eye following ORDONIO). That ever and anon I clutch'd my dagger
I do not, can not, love him. Is my heart hard ?

And half unsheathed itIs my heart hard ? that even now the thought

TERESA. Should force itself upon me?-Yet I feel it!

Be more calm, I pray you

ALHADRA.
The drops did start and stand upon his forehead!

And as he walked along the narrow path
I will return. In very truth, I grieve
To have been the occasion. Ho! attend me, woman!

Close by the mountain's edge, my soul grew eager;

"T was with hard toil I made myself remember ALHADRA (10 TERESA).

That his Familiars held my babes and husband. O gentle lady! make the father stay,

To have leapt upon him with a tiger's plunge, Until my Lord recover. I am sure,

And hurl'd him down the rugged precipice, That he will say he is my husband's friend.

0, it had been most sweet!

TERESA. Stay, father! stay! my Lord will soon recover.

Hush ! hush for shame! ORDONIO (as they return, to VALDEZ). Where is your woman's heart? Strange, that this Monviedro

ALHADRA. Should have the power so to distemper me!

O gentle lady!

You have no skill to guess my many wrongs, Nay, 'twas an amiable weakness, son!

Many and strange! Besides (ironically), I am a Chris

tian, MONVIEDRO. My Lord, I truly grieve

And Christians never pardon—'tis their faith! OR DONIO.

Tut! name it not. Shame fall on those who so have shown it to thee! A sudden seizure, father! think not of it.

ALHADRA. As to this woman's husband, I do know him.

I know that man; 't is well he knows not me. I know him well, and that he is a Christian.

Five years ago (and he was the prime agent), MONVIEDRO.

Five years ago the holy brethren seized me. I hope, my Lord, your merely human pily

TERESA.
Doth not prevail-

What might your crime be ?
OR DONIO.

ALHADRA. "Tis certain that he was a Catholic;

I was a Moresco! What changes may have happen'd in three years,

They cast me, then a young and nursing mother, I cannot say; but grant me this, good father:

Into a dungeon of their prison-house, Myself I'll sist him: if I find him sound,

Where was no bed, no fire, no ray of light, You'll grant me your authority and name

No touch, no sound of comfort! The black air, To liberate his house.

It was a toil to breathe it! when the door,
MONVIEDRO.
Your zeal, my Lord,

Slow opening at the appointed hour, disclosed And your late merits in this holy warfare,

One human countenance, the lamp's red flame

Cower'd as it enter’d, and at once sunk down. Would authorize an ampler trust—you have it

Oh miserable! by that lamp to see
OR DONIO.

My infant quarrelling with the coarse hard bread I will attend you home within an hour.

Brought daily : for the little wretch was sicklyVALDEZ.

My rage had dried away its natural food Meantime, return with us and take refreshment. In darkness I remain'd—the dull bell counting,

TERESA

VALDEZ.

TERESA.

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