ACT IV. SCENE 1.

A cavern, dark, except where a gleam of moonlight is seen on one side at the further end of it; supposed to be cast on it from a crevice in a part of the cavern out of sight. Isidone alone, an extinguished torch in his hand. isld one. | Faith 't was a moving letter—very moving ! • His life in danger, no place safe but this! T was his turn now to talk of gratitude." And yet—but no! there can't be such a villain. It can not be ' Thanks to that little crevice, Which lets the moonlight in I'll go and sit by it. To peep at a tree, or see a he-goat's beard, 0, hear a cow or two breathe loud in their sleep– Any thing but this crash of water-drops! These dullabortive sounds that fret the silence With puny thwartings and mock opposition' So beats the death-watch to a dead man's ear. [he goes out of sight, opposite to the patch of moonlight: returns after a minute's elapse, in an ecstacy of fear. A hellish pit'. The very same I dreamt of! ! was just in—and those damn'd fingers of ice Which clutch'd my hair up! Ha!—what's that—it mov’d. [Isidone stands staring at another recess in the cavern. In the mean time Ordo Nio enters with a torch, and halloos to Isiboke. is no re. ! swear that I saw something moving there ! The noonshine came and went like a slash of lightnuns;–– ! swear, I saw it move. of posio (goes into the recess, then returns, and with great scorn). A jutting clay stone Props on the long lank weed, that grows beneath: And the weed nods and drips. Isidone (forcing a laugh faintly). A jest to laugh at' It was not that which scared me, good my lord. on do Nio. What scared you, then? isi done. You see that little rift

But first permit me!

[Lights his torch at Oaponio's, and while lighting it. (A lighted torch in the hand, ls no unpleasant object here—one's breath | Floats round the flame, and makes as many colours As the thin clouds that travel near the moon.) | You see that crevice there? My torch extinguish’d by these water drops, And marking that the moonlight came from thence, steps in to it, meaning to sit there; But scarcely had I measured twenty paces— My body bending forward, yea, o'erbalanced Aimost beyond recoil, on the dim brink of a huge chasm I stept. The shadowy moonshine filling the Void, so counterfeited Substance,

| That my foot hung aslant adown the edge.

Was it my own fear?
Fear too hath its instincts!
(And yet such dens as these are wildly told of,
And there are Beings that live, yet not for the eye)
An arm of frost above and from behind me
Pluck'd up and snatch'd me backward. Merciful
Heaven
You smile! alas, even smiles look ghastly here!
My lord, I pray you, go yourself and view it.
On do Nio.
It must have shot some pleasant feelings through you.
isi done.
If every atom of a dead man's flesh
Should creep, each one with a particular life,
Yet all as cold as ever—'t was just so!
Or had it drizzled needle points of frost
Upon a feverish head made suddenly bald—
onbonio (interrupting him).
Why Isidore,
I blush for thy cowardice. It might have startled,
I grant you, even a brave man for a moment—
But such a panic–
isidore.
When a boy, my lord
I could have sate whole hours beside that chasm,
Push'd in huge stones, and heard them strike and rattle
Against its horrid sides: then hung my head
Low down, and listen'd till the heavy fragments
Sank with faint crash in that still groaning well,
Which never thirsty pilgrim blest, which never
A living thing came near—unless, perchance,
Some blind-worm battens on the ropy mould
Close at its edge,
on Donio.
Art thou more coward now 1
Isidone.
Call him, that fears his fellow-man, a coward
I fear not man—but this inhuman cavern,
It were too bad a prison-house for goblins.
Beside (you'll smile, my lord), but true it is,
My last night's sleep was very sorely haunted
By what had pass'd between us in the morning.
O sleep of horrors! Now run down and stared at
By Forms so hideous that they mock remembrance—
Now seeing nothing and imagining nothing,
But only being afraid—stitled with Fear!
While every goodly or familiar form
Ilad a strange power of breathing terror round me!
I saw you in a thousand fearful shapes;
And, I entreat your lordship to believe me,
In my last dream——
of Donlo.
Well?
Isidore.
I was in the act
Of falling down that chasm, when Alhadra
Waked me: she heard my heartbeat.
oradon Io.
Strange chough
Had you been here before?
Isido Re.
Never, my lord!
But mine eyes do not see it now more clearly,
Than in my dream I saw—that very chasm.
ondonio (stands lost in thought, then after a pause.)
I know not why it should be yet it is—

Son of Lord Waldez! I had well nigh fainted.
At length I said (if that indeed I said it,
And that no Spirit made my tongue its organ),
That woman is dishonour’d by that brother,
And he the man who sent us to destroy you.
He drove a thrust at me in rage. I told him,
He wore her portrait round his neck. He look'd
As he had been made of the rock that propt his back—
Ay, just as you look now—only less ghastly!
At length, recovering from his trance, he threw
His sword away, and bade us take his life,
It was not worth his keeping.
OR don Io.
And you kill'd him?
Oh blood-hounds! may eternal wrath flame round you!
He was his Maker's Image undefaced? [A pause.
It seizes me—by Hell I will go on!
What—wouldst thou stop, man? thy pale looks won't
save thee! [A pause.
Oh cold—cold—cold! shot through with icy cold!
Isidone (aside).
Were he alive he had return'd ere now—
The consequence the same—dead through his plotting!
of Donio.
O this unutterable dying away—here—
This sickness of the heart!
What if I went
And lived in a hollow tomb, and fed on weeds?
Ay! that's the road to heaven! O fool! fool! fool!
[A pause.
What have I done but that which nature destined,
Or the blind elements stirr'd up within me?
If good were meant, why were we made these Beings?
And if not meant—

[A pause.

is I done. You are disturb'd, my lord! ondonio (starts, looks at him wildly; then, after a pause, during which his features are forced into a smile). A gust of the soul! i' faith, it overset me. O't was all folly—all! idle as laughter! Now, Isidore! I swear that thou shalt aid me. Isidone (in a low voice).

I'll perish first!

oradonio.

What dost thou mutter off

1st do ar. Some of your servants know me, I am certain.

ob donio. There's some sense in that scruple; but we'll mask you.

isld of e. They'll know my gait; but stay! last night I watch'd A stranger near the ruin in the wood, Who as it seem'd was gathering herbs and wild slowers. I had follow'd him at distance, seen him scale Its western wall, and by an easier entrance Stole after him unnoticed. There I mark'd, That, 'mid the chequer-work of light and shade, With curious choice he pluck'd no other flowers But those on which the moonlight fell: and once I heard him muttering o'er the plant. A wizard— Some gaunt slave prowling here for dark employment.

on to onio. Doubtless you question'd him?

Isidort E.

"T was my intention,

Having first traced him homeward to his haunt.
But lo! the stern Dominican, whose spies
Lurk every where, already (as it seem'd)
Had given commission to his apt familiar
To seek and sound the Moor; who now returning,
Was by this trusty agent stopped midway.
I, dreading fresh suspicion if found near him
In that lone place, again conceal’d myself,
Yet within hearing. So the Moor was question'd,
And in your name, as lord of this domain,
Proudly he answer'd, “Say to the Lord Ordonio,
He that can bring the dead to life again!»

oradonio. A strange reply: Isidor e. - Ay, all of him is strange.

He call'd himself a Christian, yet he wears
The Moorish robes, as if he courted death.
on toonio.
Where does this wizard live?
Isidone (pointing to the distance).
You see that brooklet?
Trace its course backward: through a narrow opening
It leads you to the place.
on Donio.
How shall I know it?
15 I do ae.
You cannot err. It is a small green dell
Built all around with high off-sloping hills,
And from its shape our peasants aptly call it
The Giant's Cradle. There's a lake in the midst,
And round its banks tall wood that branches over,
And makes a kind of faery forest grow
Down in the water. At the further end
A puny cataract falls on the lake;
And there, a curious sight! you see its shadow
For ever curling like a wreath of smoke,
Up through the foliage of those faery trees.
His cot stands opposite. You cannot miss it.
orbonio (in retiring stops suddenly at the edge of the
scene, and then turning round to Isidone).
Ha!—Who lurks there? Have we been overheard?
There, where the smooth high wall of slate-rock glit-
ters-
isi done.
'Neath those tall stones, which, propping each the other,
Form a mock portal with their pointed arch :
Pardon my smiles! T is a poorldiot Boy,
Who sits in the sun, and twirls a bough about,
His weak eyes seeth'd in most unmeaning tears.
And so he sits, swaying his cone-like head :
And, staring at his bough from morn to sun-set,
See-saws his voice in inarticulate noises!
on do Nio.
T is well! and now for this same Wizard's Lair.
Isldora E.
Some three strides up the hill, a mountain ash
Stretches its lower boughs and scarlet clusters
O'er the old thatch.
of Donio.

I shall not fail to find it.
[Exeunt Ordonio and Isidore.

The Inquisition, too—You comprehend me?
You are poor, in peril. I have wealth and power,
can quench the flames, and cure your poverty:
And for the boon I ask of you, but this,
That wou should serve me—once—for a few hours.
- A Lv. An (solemnly).
Thou art the son of Waldez' would to Heaven
That I could truly and for ever serve thee.
orado Nio.
The slave begins to soften. [Aside.
You are my friend,
• He that can bring the dead to life again,”
Nay, no defence to me! The holy brethren
Believe these calumnies—I know thee better.
(Then with great bitterness.)
Thou art a man, and as a man I'll trust thee!
Alvaa (aside).
Alas! this hollow mirth—Declare your business.
on too Nio.
I love a lady, and she would love me,
But for an idle and fantastic scruple.
Have vou no servants here, no listeners?
- [Onboxio steps to the door.
ALWAR.
What, faithless too? False to his angel wife?
To such a wife? Well mightst thou look so wan,
Ill-starr'd Teresa!—Wretch! my softer soul
Is pass'd away, and I will probe his conscience!
out noxio.
In truth this lady loved another man,
But he has perish'd.

on doxolo. why what ails thee? What, art thou mad? why look'st thou upward so? Dost pray to Lucifer, Prince of the Air? Alvah (recollecting himself). Proceed, I shall be silent. [Alva a sits, and leaning on the table, hides his face. ofadox. 10. To Teresar Politic wizard! ere you sent that message, You had conn'd your lesson, made yourself proficient In all my fortunes. Hah! you prophesied A golden crop! Well, you have not mistaken– Be faithful to me and I'll pay thee nobly. Alvah (lifting up his head). Well! and this lady? of Donio. . If we could make her certain of his death, She needs must wed me. Ere her lover left her, She tied a little portrait round his neck, Entreating him to wear it. Alvah (sighing). Yes! he did so on noxio. Why no: he was afraid of accidents, Of robberies, and shipwrecks, and the like. In secrecy he gave it me to keep, Till his return. A LWAR. what he was your friend then! ostonio (wounded and embarrassed). I was his friend.— Now that he gave it me This lady knows not. You are a mighty witard– Can call the dead man up—he will not come— He is in heaven then—there you have no influence : Still there are tokens—and vour imps may bring you Something he wore about him when he died. And when the smoke of the incense on the altar Is pass'd, your spirits will have left this picture. What say you now? Alvah (after a pause). Ordonio, I will do it. of dox to. We'll hazard no delay. Be it to-night, In the early evening. Ask for the Lord Valdez. I will prepare him. Music too, and incense (For I have arranged it—Music, Altar, Incense), All shall be ready. Here is this same picture, And here, what you will value more, a purse. Come early for your magic ceremonies. ALW win. I will not fail to meet you. of nonto. Till next we meet, farewell ! [Exit Orbosio.

Alvah (alone, indignantly flings the purse away, and

gazes passionately at the portrait).
And I did curse thee?

At midnight? on my knees? and I believed
Thee perjured, thee a traitress! Thee dishonour'd?
0 blind and credulous fool! O guilt of folly!
Should not thy in articulate Fondnesses,
Thy Infant Loves—should not thy Maiden Vows
Have come upon my heart? And this sweet Image,
Tied round my neck with many a chaste endearment,

0 add n to. This was too melancholy, Father. WALDEz. Nay, My Alvar loved sad music from a child. Once he was lost; and after weary search We found him in an open place in the wood, To which spot he had follow'd a blind boy, Who breathed into a pipe of sycamore Some strangely moving notes: and these, he said, Were taught him in a dream. Him we first saw Stretch'd on the broad top of a sunny heath-bank: And lower down poor Alvar, fast asleep, His head upon the blind boy's dog. It pleased me To mark how he had fasten’d round the pipe A silver toy his grandam had late given him. Methinks I see him now as he then look dEven so!—lie had outgrown his infant dress, Yet still he wore it. A Lw.M. R. My tears must not slow' I must not clasp his knees, and cry, My father!

Enter Tsarsa, and Attendants.

reft ESA.
Lord Waldez, you have asked my presence here,
And I submit; but (IIeaven bear witness for me)
My heart approves it not! t is mockery.
on Donio.

Believe you then no preternatural influence
Believe you not that spirits throng around us?

tee ESA.
Say rather that I have imagined it
A possible thing; and it has soothed my soul
As other fancies have; but ne'er seduced me
To traffic with the black and frenzied hope
That the dead hear the voice of witch or wizard.
(To Alvah). Stranger, I mourn and blush to see you

here,

On such employment With far other thoughts
I left you.
oadonio (aside).
Ha! he has been tampering with her?
ALWAR.
O high-soul’d Maiden! and more dear to me
Than suits the Stranger's name!—
I swear to thee
I will uncover all concealed guilt.
Doubt, but decide not! Stand ye from the altar.
[Here a strain of music is heard from behind the
scene.
ALwa R.
With no irreverent voice or uncouth charm
I call up the Departed'
Soul of Alvar !
Hear our soft suit, and heed my milder spell:
So may the Gates of Paradise, unbarr'd,
Cease thy swift toils! Since haply thou art one
Of that innumerable company
Who in broad circle, lovelier than the rainbow,
Girdle this round earth in a dizzy motion,
With noise too vast and constant to be heard:
Fitliest unheard For oh, ye numberless
And rapid travellers! what ear unstunn'd,
What sense unmadden'd, might bear up against
The rushing of your congregated wings?
[Music.
Even now your living wheel turns o'er my head
[Music expressive of the movements and images
that follow.
Ye, as ye pass, toss high the desert Sands,
That roar and whiten, like a burst of waters,
A sweet appearance, but a dread illusion
To the parch'd caravan that roams by night!
And ye build upon the becalmed waves
That whirling pillar, which from Earth to Heaven
Stands vast, and moves in blackness! Ye too split
The ice mount' and with fragments many and huge
Tempest the new-thaw'd sea, whose sudden gulfs
Suck in, perchance, some Lapland wizard's skiff!
Then round and round the whirlpool's marge ye dance,
Till from the blue swoln Corse the Soul toils out,
And joins your mighty Army.
[Here behind the scenes a voice sings the three
words, . Hear, Sweet Spirit."
Soul of Alvar !
Hear the mild spell, and tempt no blacker Charm
By sighs unquiet, and the sickly pang
Of a half dead, yet still undying Hope,
Pass visible before our mortal sense'
So shall the Church's cleansing rites be thine,
Her knells and masses that redeem the Dead'

song.

Behind the Scenes, accompanied by the same Instrument as before.

Hear, sweet spirit, hear the spell,
Lest a blacker charm compel !
So shall the midnight breezes swell
With thy deep long-lingering knell.

And at evening evermore,
In a Chapel on the shore,
Shall the Chaunters sad and saintly,
Yellow tapers burning faintly,