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
Dishonour'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,
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.
You are lost in thought: hear him no more, sweet Lady!
From morn to night I am myself a dreamer, And slight things bring on me the idle mood! Well, sir, what happen'd then?
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,
I stay'd, as though the hour of death were pass'd,
And I were sitting in the world of spirits-
For all things seem'd unreal! There I sate-
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,
No start, no jealousy of stirring conscience!
And she referr'd to me-fondly, methought!
Could she walk here if she had been a traitress?
Here, where we play'd together in our childhood?
Here, where we plighted vows? where her cold cheek
Received my last kiss, when with suppress'd feelings
That woods, and sky, and mountains, seem'd one havoc. She had fainted in my arms? It cannot be!
The second flash of lightning show'd a tree
Hard by me, newly scathed. I rose tumultuous:
My soul work'd high, I bared my head to the storm,
And, with loud voice and clamorous agony,
Kneeling I pray'd to the great Spirit that made me,
Pray'd, that REMORSE might fasten on their hearts,
And cling with poisonous tooth, inextricable
As the gored lion's bite!
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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 address'd your tale to me.
Your mien is noble, and, I own, perplex'd me
With obscure memory of something past,
Which still escaped my efforts, or presented
Tricks of a fancy pamper'd with long wishing.
If, as it sometimes happens, our rude startling
Whilst your full heart was shaping out its dream,
Drove you to this, your not ungentle, wildness--
You have my sympathy, and so farewell!
But if some undiscover'd wrongs oppress you,
And
you need strength to drag them into light,
The generous Valdez, and my Lord Ordonio,
Have arm and will to aid a noble sufferer;
Nor shall you want my favourable pleading.
[Exeunt TERESA and ALHADRA.
ALVAR (alone).
'T is strange! It cannot be! my Lord Ordonio!
Her Lord Ordonio! Nay, I will not do it!
I cursed him once-and one curse is enough!
How had she look'd, and pale! hut 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?
But ere she married him, he had stain'd her honour;.
Ah! there I am hamper'd. 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.
'T is not in nature! I will die, believing
That I shall meet her where no evil is,
No treachery, no cup dash'd from the lips.
I'll haunt this scene no more! live she in peace!
Her husband-ay, her husband! May this angel
New mould his canker'd heart! Assist me, Heaven,
That I may pray for my poor guilty brother!
A wild and mountainous Country. ORDONIO and Isı-
DORE are discovered, supposed at a little distance from
ISIDORE'S house.
Here we may stop: your house distinct in view,
Yet we secured from listeners.
Now indeed
My house! and it looks cheerful as the clusters
Basking in sunshine on yon vine-clad rock,
That over-brows it! Patron! Friend! Preserver!
Thrice have you saved my life. Once in the battle
You gave it me: next rescued me from suicide,
When for my follies I was made to wander,
With mouths to feed, and not a morsel for them:
Now, but for you, a dungeon's slimy stones
Had been my bed and pillow.
Good Isidore!
Why this to me? It is enough, you know it.
A common trick of Gratitude, my lord,
Seeking to ease her own full heart--
In blunt terms, you can play the sorcerer.
She hath no faith in Holy Church, 't is true:
Her lover school'd her in some newer nonsense!
Yet still a tale of spirits works upon her.
She is a lone enthusiast, sensitive,
Shivers, and can not keep the tears in her eye:
And such do love the marvellous too well
Not to believe it. We will wind up her fancy
With a strange music, that she knows not of-
With fumes of frankincense, and mummery,
Then leave, as one sure token of his death,
That portrait, which from off the dead man's neck
I bade thee take, the trophy of thy conquest.
Will that be a sure sign?
Beyond suspicion. Fondly caressing him, her favour'd lover (By some base spell he had bewitch'd her senses), She whisper'd such dark fears of me, forsooth, As made this heart pour gall into my veins. And as she coyly bound it round his neck, She made him promise silence; and now holds The secret of the existence of this portrait, Known only to her lover and herself.
But I had traced her, stolen unnoticed on them, And unsuspected saw and heard the whole.
But now I should have cursed the man who told me
You could ask aught, my lord, and I refuse-
But this I can not do.
ISIDORE (with stammering).
Why-why, my lord!
You know you told me that the lady loved you,
Had loved you with incautious tenderness;
That if the young man, her betrothed husband,
Returned, yourself, and she, and the honour of both
Must perish. Now, though with no tenderer scruples
Than those which being native to the heart,
Than those, my lord, which merely being a man-
ORDONIO (aloud, though to express his contempt
he speaks in the third person).
This fellow is a Man-he kill'd for hire
One whom he knew not, yet has tender scruples!
[Then turning to ISIDORE.
These doubts, these fears, thy whine, thy stammering
Pish, fool! thou blunder'st through the book of guilt,
Spelling thy villany.
I thrust away the thought-it drove me wild. But listen to me now-I pray you listen-
Villain! no more. I'll hear no more of it.
My lord, it much imports your future safety That you should hear it.
'ORDONIO (turning off from ISIDORE). Am not I a Man! 'T is as it should be! tut--the deed itself Was idle, and these after-pangs still idler!
We met him in the very place you mention'd. Hard by a grove of firs
He fought us valiantly, and wounded all;
In fine, compell'd a parley.
ORDONIO (sighing, as if lost in thought).
Alvar! brother!
ORDONIO (with eager suspicion).
Yes?
ISIDORE (indignantly).
Yes-I spurn'd it.
He promised us I know not what-in vain!
Then with a look and voice that overawed me,
He said, What mean you, friends? My life is dear:
I have a brother and a promised wife,
Who make life dear to me-and if I fall,
That brother will roam earth and hell for vengeance.
There was a likeness in his face to yours;
I ask'd his brother's name: he said-Ordonio,
Son of Lord Valdez! 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.
your servants know ORDONIO.
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!»>
'Neath those tall stones, which, propping each the other,
Form a mock portal with their pointed arch!
Pardon my smiles! 'T is a poor Idiot Boy,
There's some sense in that scruple; but we'll mask you. Who sits in the sun, and twirls a bough about,
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 flowers.
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.
Doubtless you question'd him?
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!
'T is well! and now for this same Wizard's Lair.
Some three strides up the hill, a mountain ash Stretches its lower boughs and scarlet clusters O'er the old thatch.
I shall not fail to find it. [Exeunt ORDONIO and ISIDORE.
The inside of a Cottage, around which Flowers and Plants of various kinds are seen. Discovers ALVAR, ZULIMEZ, and ALHADRA, as on the point of leaving.
ALHADRA (addressing ALVAR).
Farewell, then! and though many thoughts perplex me,
Aught evil or ignoble never can I
Suspect of thee! If what thou seem'st thou art,
The oppressed brethren of thy blood have need
Of such a leader.
Nobly-minded woman!
Long time against oppression have I fought,
And for the native liberty of faith
Have bled and suffer'd bonds. Of this be certain:
Time, as he courses onward, still unrolls
The volume of Concealment. In the Future,
As in the optician's glassy cylinder,
The indistinguishable blots and colours
Of the dim Past collect and shape themselves,
Upstarting in their own completed image
To scare or to reward.
I sought the guilty, And what I sought I found: but ere the spear Flew from my hand, there rose an angel form Betwixt me and my aim. With baffled purpose To the Avenger I leave Vengeance, and depart!
Whate'er betide, if aught my arm may aid,
Or power protect, my word is pledged to thee:
For many are thy wrongs, and thy soul noble.
Once more farewell.
[Exit ALHADRA. Yes, to the Belgic states
We will return. These robes, this stain'd complexion, Akin to falsehood, weigh upon my spirit.
Whate'er befall us, the heroic Maurice
Will grant us an asylum, in remembrance
Of our past services.
And all the wealth, power, influence which is yours, You let a murderer hold?
O faithful Zulimez!
That my return involved Ordonio's death,
I trust, would give me an unmingled pang,
Yet bearable-but when I see my father
Strewing his scant grey hairs, e'en on the ground,
Which soon must be his grave, and my Teresa-
Her husband proved a murderer, and her infants,
His infants-poor Teresa!-all would perish,
All perish-all! and I (nay bear with me)
Could not survive the complicated ruin!
ZULIMEZ (much affected).
Nay now! I have distress'd you-you well know,
I ne'er will quit your fortunes. True, 't is tiresome!
You are a painter,' one of many fancies!
You can call up past deeds, and make them live
On the blank canvas! and each little herb,
That grows on mountain bleak, or tangled forest,
You have learnt to name--
Hark! heard you not some footsteps? What follows thence?
That you would fain be richer.
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