Remorse;

A TRAGEDY, IN FIVE ACTS.

MARQUIS VALDEZ, Father to the two brothers, and of true repentance; but if proud and gloomy,

ALVAR.

A portrait which she had procured by stealth
(For ever then it seems her heart foreboded
Or knew Ordonio's moody rivalry),

A portrait of herself with thrilling hand
She tied around my neck, conjuring me
With earnest prayers, that I would keep it sacred
To my own knowledge: nor did she desist,
Till she had won a solemn promise from me,
That (save my own) no eye should e'er behold it
Till my return. Yet this the assassin knew,
Knew that which none but she could have disclosed.

A damning proof!

ZULIMEZ.

ALVAR.

My own life wearied me!

And but for the imperative Voice within,
With mine own hand I had thrown off the burthen.
That Voice, which quell'd me, calm'd me: and I
sought

The Belgic states: there join'd the better cause;
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.
The fullness of my anguish by degrees
Waned to a meditative melancholy;

And still, the more I mused, my soul became
More doubtful, more perplex'd; and still Teresa,
Night after night, she visited my sleep,
Now as a saintly sufferer, wan and tearful,
Now as a saint in glory beckoning to me!
Yes, still, as in contempt of proof and reason,
I cherish the fond faith that she is guiltless!
Hear then my fix'd resolve: I'll linger here
In the disguise of a Moresco chieftain.-
The Moorish robes ?-

Heaven knows with what delight I saw your loves,
And could my heart's blood give him back to thee,
I would die smiling. But these are idle thoughts;
Thy dying father comes upon my soul

With that same look, with which he gave thee to me,
I held thee in my arms a powerless babe,
While thy poor mother with a mute entreaty
Fix'd her faint eyes on mine. Ah not for this,
That I should let thee feed thy soul with gloom,
And with slow anguish wear away thy life,
The victim of a useless constancy.

I must not see thee wretched.

TERESA.

There are woes

Ill-barter'd for the garishness of joy!

If it be wretched with an untired eye
To watch those skiey tints, and this green ocean;
Or in the sultry hour beneath some rock,
My hair dishevell'd by the pleasant sea-breeze,
To shape sweet visions, and live o'er again
All past hours of delight! If it be wretched
To watch some bark, and fancy Alvar there,
To go through each minutest circumstance
Of the blest meeting, and to frame adventures
Most terrible and strange, and hear him tell them;
* (As once I knew a crazy Moorish maid
Who drest her in her buried lover's clothes,
And o'er the smooth spring in the mountain cleft
Hung with her lute, and play'd the self-same tune
He used to play, and listen'd to the shadow
Herself had made)-if this be wretchedness,
And if indeed it be a wretched thing
To trick out mine own death-bed, and imagine
That I had died, died just ere his return!
Then see him listening to my constancy,
Or hover round, as he at midnight oft

Here Valdez bends back, and smiles at her wildness, which Teresa noticing, checks her enthusiasm, and in a soothing half-playful tone and manner, apologizes for her fancy by the little tale in the parenthesis.

Oh no! he did not!

TERESA.

VALDEZ.

Captured in sight of land!

From yon hill point, nay, from our castle watch-tower
We might have seen-

TERESA.

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

My Lord, on' strong suspicion of relapse
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,
His capture, not his death. But that he made appeal to you, my Lord,
As surety for his soundness in the faith.
Though lessen'd by experience what small trust
The asseverations of these Moors deserve,
Yet still the deference to Ordonio's name,
Nor less the wish to prove, with what high honor
The Holy Church regards her faithful soldiers,
Thus far prevail'd with me that-

VALDEZ.

Alas! how aptly thou forgett'st a tale
Thou ne'er didst wish to learn! my brave Ordonio
Saw both the pirate and his prize go down,
In the same storm that baffled his own valor,
And thus twice snatch'd a brother from his hopes :
Gallant Ordonio! (pauses; then tenderly). O beloved

Teresa!

ORDONIO.

Reverend father,
I am much beholden to your high opinion,
Which so o'erprizes my light services.

[Then to ALHADRA
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
Some four years since to quell these rebel Moors,
Should prove the patron of this infidel!
The guarantee of a Moresco's faith!
Now I return.

ALHADRA.

My Lord, my husband's name

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

ALHADRA.

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),
You were at sea, and there engaged the pirates,
The murderers doubtless of your brother Alvar!

With your permission, my dear Lord,

Daughter!

[TERESA looks at MONVIEDRO with disgust and
horror. ORDONIO's appearance to be collected I'll loiter yet awhile t' enjoy the sea breeze.
[Exeunt VALDEZ, MONVIEDRO, and ORDONIO
from what follows.

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

You press'd upon him too abruptly, father,
The fate of one, on whom, you know, he doted.

ORDONIO (starting as in sudden agitation).
O Heavens! I? I-doted? (then recovering himself).

Yes! I doted on him.

[ORDONIO walks to the end of the stage,
VALDEZ follows, soothing him.

TERESA (her eye following ORDONIO).
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!

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,
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!

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
Doth not prevail-

ORDONIO.

"Tis certain that he was a Catholic;

What changes may have happen'd in three years,
I cannot say; but grant me this, good father:
Myself I'll sift him: if I find him sound,
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.

VALDEZ.

Meantime, return with us and take refreshment.

I was a Moresco!
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,
Slow opening at the appointed hour, disclosed
One human countenance, the lamp's red flame
Cower'd as it enter'd, and at once sunk down.
Oh miserable! by that lamp to see

My infant quarrelling with the coarse hard bread
Brought daily for the little wretch was sickly-
My rage had dried away its natural food

:

In darkness I remain'd-the dull bell counting,

Know you that stately Moor?

ALHADRA.

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

TERESA.

I dreamt I had a friend, on whom I leant
With blindest trust, and a betrothed maid,
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
Dishonor'd in my absence, soul and body!
Fear, following guilt, tempted to blacker guilt,
And murderers were suborn'd against my life.
But by my looks, and most impassion'd words,
He wears the Moorish robes too, I roused the virtues that are dead in no man
Even in the assassins' hearts! they made their terms
And thank'd me for redeeming them from murder.

The Alpuxarras? Does he know his danger,
So near this seat?

ALHADRA.

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 (interrupting her).

You have mistaken me. I am a Christian.

ALHADRA.

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

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 happen'd then?

ALVAR.

On a rude rock, A rock, methought, fast by a grove of firs, Whose thready leaves to the low breathing gale Made a soft sound most like the distant ocean,