TRAGEDIES, BY WILLIAM SOTHEBY, ESQ. THE DEATH OF DARNLEY. IVAN. ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. THE CONFESSION. ORESTES. LONDON: PRINTED FOR JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE-STREET ; by w. btjlmer and co. cleveland-row, st. james's. 1814. ■f7 TO MISS JOANNA BAILLIE. Dear Madam, In dedicating a Volume of Tragedies to the Author of the Dramas on the Passions, who can he more aware, than I am, of the hazardous comparison to which I subject myself ? that consideration, how- ever, will not deter me from thus publicly expressing my high admiration of your poetic powers, and the enjoyment that I have long experienced from a friendship, which has convinced me that the qualities of your heart enhance those of your genius. WILLIAM SOTHEBY. Upper Seymour-Street, June 3, 1814. THE DEATH OF DARNLEY, A TRAGEDY FIVE ACTS. DRAMATIS PERSONS. Men. Henry Darnley, King of Scotland. Earl Bothwell. Earl Morton. Earl Ruthven. Sir Thomas Randolph,, Embassador of Elizabeth. David Rizzio, Foreign Secretary to Queen Mary. Lindsay, Confident of Rizzio. Siward, Servant of the Queen. John Hepburn, -\ John Hay., > Servants of Bothwell. Herman, a 'page, J Lords, Guards, Heralds, fyc. &;c. Musicians, Dancers. Women. Mary, Queen of Scotland. Countess of Argyle, the Queen's natural sister. SCENE, Edinburgh and its suburbs. THE DEATH OF DARNLEY. ACT I. SCENE I. dntichamber of Rizzio's Apartment at Holy-rood, TJie Stage crowded with Courtiers and Suitors. Two of Rizzio's Gentlemen Ushers. 1 Gent. Look how they press : their clamorous noise confounds me. All suitors ? 2 Gent. Yes — You are but new in office — J Tis ever thus : hither, at dawn of day. All hasten, ere our Lord, high-honour'd Rizzio, Goes forth to greet his sovereign — 1 Suit, [Presenting a 'petition to the Gent. U.~\ Sir — 1 pray — 2 Suit My suit is— 3 Suit, And — sir — mine — 4 Suit, Hear, I beseech you — 6 THE DEATH 2 Gent, Peace, sirs,, such clamour would awake the dead — Think you by thus outvoicing all the rest To gain respect ? You do forget yourself, Nor pay due honour to Lord Rizzio's state. This is no place for brawling— 1 Suit To your kindness Let me commend my suit: if you but whisper The name of Ronald to lord Rizzio's ears. Claim me for life your debtor — 2 Gent, Silence — silence ! Lord Rizzio comes — [Folding doors flung open. On Rizzio's ad- vance, all in silence low before him. After a pause, a Suitor speaks aside to the 2 Gent. Usher.] 1 Suit. Forget me not— 2 Gent. My lord, This much-deserving man — Riz. [interrupting him.] I ask'd not of him— If justice urge his suit, 'tis freely granted, If not, who pleads his cause, bears my displeasure. Courtiers. Freely command us. Riz. [Aside,"] Worthless all— I know them — Deem they me proud r" 'tis their servility, And they must reap its bitter fruit — contempt. — I thank your zeal, and, I beseech you, sirs, Bear me not blame that I reject your service : My gracious sovereign's bounty far o'erpays His servant's utmost efforts. OF DARNLEY. 7 Suitors, [presenting petition.'] Deign to cast On these our humble suits an eye of favour. Biz. [to a servant.] Receive, and in my chamber duly place them. They shall not be neglected — Our gracious sovereign will each wrong redress : Each merit recompense. — [Ruthven enters. Earl Ruthven here ! 'Tis an unlock' d for honour — Ruth. Bid these hence : We must have secret conference. Riz. My friends, Retire ! [All but Rizzio and Ruthven depart.} — My lord, I scarce can doubt the cause Which brings you at this hour to Rizzio's roof; Nor would I lightly hazard your displeasure : But, if your word — I mean not to offend— Breathe aught disloyal, aught that slightly touches The honour, peace, nay pleasure of my sovereign, Spare me the utterance — Ruth. If to reconcile Her father's son, the brother of her blood To his high-honour'd sovereign, if to bring The sigh of deep repentance to her ear, If to lay prostrate at her throne, the chieftain Whose power has strength to shake it, deem you this Disloyal or ungrateful, I will spare you Th J unwelcome utterance — Riz. I entreat you, speak — Ruth. I will not idly dwell upon the past ; Fierce feuds, and civil wars that long have fill'd 8 THE DEATH The realm with woe. — -Enough, that now Earl Murray, Mov'd by just sense of his acknowledg'd error — Riz. [interrupting .] His guilt — rebellion — Ruth, To his sovereign's mercy Submits, if Rizzio, by strong motives sway'd, Will plead in his behalf — -The hour's most urgent: This day, the council meet, the states, to-morrow : The ban and proclamation are gone forth ; Earl Murray must in person now appear, Answering the accusation, or await A traitor's doom. Your counsel, sir, all know it, Much moves the sovereign — Name your terms, command them, Wealth, office, honours — Here we are alone- Take this rare gem, [offering a ring.] sure pledge of Murray's friendship, And mine, and Morton's favour. Riz. No, my lord ; I will not touch that pledge — yet, would to heav'n That Rizzio's words had power to reunite The realm in bonds of peace ! But, how persuade The queen to look on Murray ? Tho' her soul Incline to mercy, yet, too freshly bleeds The wound inflicted by a brother's hand — Deep weighs upon her heart that day, when Murray, Her father's son, her once-lov'd brother, rais'd His arm in battle, from her realm to drive His sovereign, and with murderous hand unthrone The youth her soul adores. Ruth. Rizzio, reflect, OF DARNLEY. 9 Tho' keen your glance,, and vers'd in courtly ways. It cannot read the heart. Those worshippers. Light flutterers in life's sunshine, on whose lip Insidious flattery speaks in borrow'd smiles, Will in your need forsake you. — Sir, Earl Murray Has powerful friends, while you, in this rude realm, By jealousy and hate encompass'd, dwell A solitary stranger ? Riz. Courts Earl Ruthven A solitary, stranger ? Ruth. Hear, rash man ! Take Ruth yen's proffer'd hand, or dread his ven- geance. Rizzio, the choice is thine— Riz. No — honour, duty, Faith, gratitude, forbid — The Earl's return Would but revive a flame that must be quench'd In royal blood. + Ruth. Art thou resolv'd ? Riz. I am. Ruth. Ill-fated man ! be Murray now restor'd, Or, I forewarn thee, slave, when next we meet, Beware of Ruthven. [Ruthven goes. Riz. Ha ! Messenger enters. Mes. My lord — the man — His name I know not — He, who oft, in secret, By night here meets you, seeks admittance. Riz. Go ! 10 THE DEATH Conduct him hither— -[Mess, returns with Lindsay, Hence — [to the Mess. We are alone — [to Lindsay. Speak freely, faithful Lindsay — Lincl. Look on this, [a paper. ~\ My lord, ere yet you seek the royal presence. Strictly peruse this statement : it concerns More than yourself: a kingdom's weal's at hazard. Biz. [perusing the statement^ Earl Murray, and Elizabeth conjoind ! [Reads on.~\ Morton and Randolph leagu'd ! — Perfidious traitors ! Lind. Soon shall their guilt be manifest. Riz. Good Lindsay ! Thro' all their wiles pursue them, and expose To the clear light of day the dark recesses Of Morton's guileful mind— Trace out this plot, And claim of me large recompense — Lind. My lord ; My friends, tho' few, are firm and eagie-ey'd. There are, 'neath Morton's roof, men gained by gold, Who move at my disposal.— -If I err not You shall obtain, ere night, ere close of council, Sure proofs of their conspiracy. [Lindsay goes. Riz. Farewell — How ? how escape their vengeance ? — I must perish — My spirit is o'erpower'd : guile after guile, Treason on treason — Here, designing Randolph, Fit instrument of dark Elizabeth, OF DARNLEY. 11 In compact with insidious Morton, labours My sov'reign's vow'd destruction : daring Murray There meditates fierce inroad on her kingdom. Without, impending horrors, and within Factions and feuds and treachery — Barbarous realm ! Farewell ! Where'er I pass, hate, envy, malice Pursue my step, and every blameless deed Brand with unjust detraction.— I'll depart — But how bid thee farewell ; thou, o'er whose sceptre In vain sweet Mercy bends, attempering justice : Thou, who o'er this dark realm in vain pour'st forth The bright illumination of thy soul, A sun that gleams on frozen solitudes, Lighting up tracts of horror : gracious mistress ! How leave thee to their wiles? Yet — Rizzio's murder Beneath thy palace roof would fill thy soul With horror and deep anguish — Be thou spar'd That aggravated woe ! I'll quit the realm — Yet, ere I go for ever, tho' each word Will pierce her heart, yet must I bear, perforce, The king's contemptuous answer — much-wrong'd sov'reign ! How will the scene which ends thy suff'rings close ? [Exit. 12 THE DEATH Scene changes to BothwelVs House. BOTHWELL. Both. Deem they, dull fools, that Bothwell tamely labours To work their petty ends ? A crown I grasp at, And her who wears it : no light acquisition, Nor by light deeds achiev'd — day after day Matures my high-rais'd hopes — Can Scotland's queen, Whose peerless charms and rare accomplishments From the wide world claim homage, still submit To cold neglect, and the capricious humours Of a vain stripling ? who now likes, now loaths, Shifting his fancies with each transient moment. Where now his haunt ? not with his beauteous consort In royal palaces : yon lonely roof Conceals this phantom king : his guards, the grooms That wait on his low sports ; the hawk and hound, And the field's idle labours. — Crafty Morton ! I know thee well, that thou canst sound the heart And draw its secrets forth : — thou dost suspect My daring aim : thine too has not escaped me — My power must aid them : Both well's pow'r must compass Earl Murray's pardon, yea, and their advancement. Shall I then meanly limit the reward OF DARNLEY. 13 That waits such service ? — They shall crown my hope To its overflowing height. Page enters. Page. My lord — Both. Well, boy ! Page. The masque but waits your word — I hear the prelude, Shrill pipe and tabret temper'd to the ring Of harp and cymbal, and melodious swell Of the sweet-voic'd recorders — Both. Go, my boy, Away — and like wing'd Zephyr quaintly rob'd, Lead the gay masque, and on the Queen's approach These rhymes present: [gives him a letter:] and say, " the crowned Moor Who yesterday, at tournay, in her presence, Unhors'd the giant Frenchman, and proclaimed Proud Scotland's Queen the peerless flow'r of beauty, Making the challeng'd field confess her charms, Now, as a slave, sues at her feet to lay The envied prize." Away. Page. [Running off ~\ This will delight her. [Exit. Both. Were it but this, it were an easy task — But not by sports and revels, net by show And mimicry of combat, tilt and tournay, Must Scotland's Queen be won : by ruthless war, By deeds more fell than battle, deeds of murder, That prize must be achiev'd, if true the beldam 14 THE DEATH Who watch'd my fated birth, and o'er my cradle Mutter'd strange horrors. Hepburn enters. Hepburn ! — Wherefore here ? Why thus uncalled ? Hep. The cause, my Lord, I trow, Will more than justify my bold intrusion. The gray-hair'd man, the shepherd, that fam'd seer, Whom you in vain so oft have sought to question, Is once again return'd. Both. Mean you hoar Donald ? Is it indeed gray Donald ? Hep. 'Tis that shepherd, He whom we call the Prophet of the Isles. His beard is whiter than the new-fall'n snow. He is once more return'd : all flock around him ! And some bow down before him : yet there are Who cannot bear his aspect, when he fixes His broad eye on them. Both. Why not here ? — You knew How anxiously I sought him. Hep. Good, my Lord, I did entreat him earnestly ; I said, A Lord of pow'r — I did not name Earl Bothwell, W'ould lavishly reward him. He replied not, But shook his silver locks, and seem'd to smile Half pitying, half in scorn. Both. Bid Hay close watch His path — Prepare my Moorish robes ; and, Hepburn, OF DARNLEY. 15 Let all my train be summoned to attend me In Eastern pomp — Away [he goes.'] — That seer, hoar Donald, All know it well — the kingdom far and near Yet rings of it — did speak of Beaton's death, Yea, and the manner of the cardinal's murder, Ere he who shed his blood had plann'd the deed. He comes in happiest hour : he shall unfold Th'uncertain issue of these dark events, Morton enters unperceived. Shall speak of Bothwell's crown, of Bothwell's wedlock With his soul's sovereign. Mor. {overhearing hint."} Ha ! 'tis as I thought. I'll break the charm — Health to the brave Earl Bothwell. Both. Earl Morton ! Pardon my uncourteous seeming: — - Forgive — I heard you not — Mor. No, you were list'ning To your own words : words that the heart disclose — Beware— Both. My lord, how mean you ? Mor. Nay— but this, That Bothwell's inmost thoughts are known to all. Both. Are they so common that the public tongue May freely descant on ? Mor. The very stones That pave our city ring of gallant Bothwell — 16 THE DEATH Ask them whose trumpet summons to the tournay, Enquire who gives the festival,, who leads The gay carousal, whose fleet maskers flash Like sun-beams up and down the dazzled streets ? One answer cries, ff Lord Bothwell."-— Both. Truce, my lord^ No more of this — 'Twas not for this, I know, To waste the idle hour, and loosely prattle Of revelry and feast, and gay carousal, You brake upon my privacy. Mor, 'Tis true. You know the wish that day and night here weighs. Both. Yes — to recal Earl Murray. Mor. And in this I seek, my lord, your powerful aid. In fame, In wealth, in arms, what chieftain equals Bothwell ? Whose voice more sways our sovereign queen ? Both. - Whose ? Rizzio's. Mor. At the approach of Bothwell's foot, that worm Shall rVrink beneath the earth. Both. But first 'twill sting me. Mor. If by unmanly terror you invite it. Both. Unmanly terror ! are those terms well weigh 'd ? Is it Lord Morton's wish to rouse my anger ? Mor. Yes, to its utmost swell : till it o'erflows. And like a flood resistless sweeps away All that obstructs its fury. Both. Cease this trifling. What would you with Lord Bothwell ? OF DARNLEY. IT Mor. That Lord Bothwell, As friend to friend, would bare his heart to Morton; Do but confide in me, and I will steer you To jour soul's haven. Both. Plainly speak. Mor. The king Affects you much. Both. The king, my Lord, 'tis true, For that I love the chase, and with him commune In well-bred phrases of the hunter's craft, Of goss-hawk and of grey-hound, and can wind Smoothly the bugle horn, and know the coverts Where harts are harbour'd, and the roe-buck bedded, Frequents my company. What then ! Mor. My Lord, Look on these bonds. I every word have weigh'd With cool and cautious foresight. This confirms Ambitious Darnley's high-rais'd hopes, and binds us To fix and guard the matrimonial crown On his boy-brow : this we must sign. The other By Darnley sign'd, assures the exile's pardu i } And to Earl Murray, all his former honours, And princely pow'r. The rest, of course, ensues, Our favour and advancement. Move, thou canst, The king to sign it. Both. Well we know, that crowu Is Darnley's fix'd desire : but how persuade him To fetter his free hand, and here be branded Our titled slave ? Mor. One artful word — 'tis done, A look would fire him. Teach his eye to glance 18 THE DEATH On Rizzio's favour — and — if hints avail not, Dwell on his fair queen's minion. To procure That minion's murder — if I rightly reckon— The king would sign the bond. Both. His hand shall sign it. To Murray and his friends I am inclined : You shall not doubt my zeal. With this good sword. At hazard of my life,, I would make smooth His way to all his pow'r, so, in return, Earl Murray and his friends would — > Mor. [interrupting!] Favour BothwelL I am his pledge, I answer for Earl Murray. What are thy views ? Both. When Darnley enter'd Scotland., What was his wish ? Mar. To wed the queen. Both. No doubt. And is it not, I pray, most right and fitting, That he who weds the queen, e'en at his pleasure Should rule the kingdom, if his rule restore The Earl and his adherents, and advance To pow'r and honours those who hold your faith : And — further— by the royal seal assure To you, my good Lord Morton, and your followers. The abbies rich possessions. Is not this Fit rule and government ? and such a ruler The idol of your worship ? Mor. Such a ruler Would prove a nation's blessing. Both. Further — say, Should death untimely sweep this Darnley off, OF DARNLEY. HI Would you not kindly urge my suit to sooth The beauteous mourner's woe,, and her fair hand Ease of the sceptre's weight ? Mor. The crown and sov 'reign, If Ruthven's, Morton's, Murray's pow'r avail, Shall grace Earl Bothwell. Both. Hand to hand., my lord, We understand each other. Now — farewell — I now in eastern pomp — such this day's sports — Seek whom my soul adores. [Bothwell goes.] Mor. 'Tis death thou seek'st-— Bothwell — beware. Beneath thy flow'ry path, On watch, with gasping throat, and eye of lire, A gilded serpent lies. There shalt thou perish, Proud man ! and on thy ruin Murray tow'r. END OF ACT THE FIRST. 20 THE DEATH ACT II. SCENE I. The Queen's Apartment. Groups of Musicians, Singers, Dancers, BothwelV* Page habited like Zephyr. Page. This is the order. At the queen's first entrance,, In silence lay jour garlands at her feet, Then — rise at waving of my wand. And— you— [Addressing the different groups, With lute, and cymbal, and the soft-breath'd reed. Salute her : you — attemper'd to the music, Match your clear notes : and, you, my sprightly play- mates, In cadence to the song and music, mix Your fleet steps in the many-figur'd dance, Where Zephyr sports with Flora. [The Queen and Countess o/Argyle enter in state, with a courtly retinue. At her entrance the masque of Zephyr and Flora begins. The Queen on her throne at first looks on the dance, but soon sinks back in seeming woe.] C. of Ar. A rare masque ! My gracious sov'reign ! deign to view their revels. OF DARNLEY. 21 See, like gay-coloured clouds that float around The sun's bright car, their light limbs glance before us, One gracious look vouchsafe them. Page. [To the maskers ] Here pay homage. [Kneels to the Queen. They all kneel. Arise — blend, blend anew the foot and voice ! C. of Ar. [To the Queen] Such revels once had pow'r to fill your fancy With sprigbtliest images. Queen. [After a long pause ] Why are ye fled, Ye days so fair, so fleet, that o'er me gleam'd Like an enchanted dream ? Why fled away And never know return ? C. of Ar. Cease, cease the dance — The queen is troubled. Queen. Bear with me, my sister. Tho' on my ear their song breath 'd melody, Sweet as the night's lone warbler's, tho' the dance Of fabled fairies on the moon-light dews, Scarce quaintlier than their circles, yet these sports But breathe of pleasures past, and on the heart Press like an added misery. With such revels, Such winning fantasies, Love woo'd my smile In the green bow'rs of France. [To the maskers, ,] Thanks, gentle friends ! Let not th' untimely woe that dims my day, Eclipse your cloudless sun-shine Say, fair page, Or, must I rather name you the wing'd herald That welcomes in the spring ? Say, gentle Zephyr, Whose is this brave device ? %% THE DEATH Page. [Page kneeling presents Bothwett's rhymes.] Here — royal lady. These rhymes may haply tell. The crowned Moor, Who yesterday at tournay, in your presence, Unhors'd the giant Frenchman, and proclaim'd Proud Scotland's queen, the peerless flow'r of beauty, Making the challeng'd field confess her charms, Now, prostrate at her foot-stool, sues to lay The envied prize. Queen. Such suit was ne'er denied. [Page goes out. [Bothwell, as a Moorish king, enters with a stately retinue, kneels, and lays the tournay prize at the Queen's feet, .] Queen. Rise, gallant Moor! and, if a lady's plume May grace a warrior's helm, and if you deem The conqueror repaid, whom Scotland's queen Her champion names, champion of Scotland's queen, Earl Bothwell, rise I Both. My wealth, my power, my friends, My life^ my soul, command them. May I bid These from your presence ? Queen. Wherefore ? Both. I would fain Alone address you. 'Tis no idle speech That claims my soy 'reign's ear. Queen. Another time. Both. Danger and death surround you. Queen. I can front them. OF DARNLEY. 23 Both. Bothwell shall guard bis sovereign. Royal lady, The traveller who haunts untrodden wilds Where fierce beasts prowl, at evejy step, by day Casts round his path fear's searching glance, at night Circles his couch with fire. Full fain would Bothwell Be to thy day a sun, whose beam before you Lights all the way : and, ever- more by night Watch as th' undying flame, that o'er the altar From profanation and rude touch unblest, Guards the adored image. Rizzio enters. Queen. Rizzio— Have you then seen the king ? Riz. I bear his words. The public must not hear them, Both. [Aside.] How she greets him ! See — interchange they not familiar smiles ? Insidious sycophant ! Queen. Go, faithful Rizzio, Say to that gallant knight, a fitter time May claim his audience. Riz. My Lord Bothwell— Both. [Interrupting him.] Cease I mark'd each word : you need not echo it ; 'Twill not receive new graces from your utterance. Your champion, [to the Queen.'] at the council, gracious lady, Will so sustain your throne, that Scotland's queen 24 THE DEATH Will not, methinks, there chase him from her presence. Stranger ! [7b Rizzio ^\ beware : the natives of this realm Are a proud race, Our nobles brook not tamely The rule and nod of minions. [Bothwell and Maskers depart. Queen. Go, my friends ! Leave me with Rizzio. Gentle Countess, stay : To thee my soul its inmost thoughts entrusts. Speak— [lb Rizzio, ,] nought conceal. Riz. 'Twill stab you to the heart. Queen. Perpetual woe has chill'd it. I had once A heart that keenly felt. Oh Darnley, Darnley ! Look on me, I entreat you, as a flow'r On whose fast-fading leaves, ere fully blown, The snow-storm has descended, and sore shatter'd In its first fragrance— On its stalk it withers Reckless of show'r and sunshine — Such I am. Thy sovereign bids thee speak. — Why pause? Biz. The king Is link'd with traitors — and-— Queen, [interrupting him.] Bad men deceive him; Not yet this heart is stone— Why quit me, Darnley ? Why leave the shelter of these guardian arms ? And will he not comply with my request? Not that lone roof abandon ? It disgraces Alike his state and mine — Biz. The king no more Returns to Holy-rood — Queen. What then am 1 ? OF DARNLEY. 25 Some loathsome object ? - But — He loves you not — Ho! Siward— Siward enters. With this man, this skillful horseman, Alone of all the train who tend my person Will he at times deign conference. Go, Siward : With reverence — with entreaty — with submission — And, is it come to this ? — Bad men betray him — Oh ! he is new to life, in the first bloom Of guileless youth, quiek-passion'd, slightly mov'd, And in the world's dark mazes all unskilled — ■ I will not leave him to their wiles a prey — My prayers, my tears may move him — I must see him. Once, once his Mary's voice had pow'r to sway him : Again these arms shall shelter him, again My Henry on this bosom shall repose. Say- Siw. Whom must I address, my royal mistress ? Queen. Did I not name your sov'reign ? Go, good Siward, Address the king : Entreat him to return : say, that all honour, Proud retinue, and pomp, and royal state Shall gratulate his coming — [Siwai^d goes.^ This, at least Will sooth his pride — His pride ! — and what am I ? To be rejected, scorn'd ! — Ungrateful youth, Hast thou forgotten all ? Thy words, thy vows Yet vibrate on my heart: each graceful feature 26 THE DEATH Still warmly glowing there. — Rizzio, you urg'd not With fondness my request, but coldly bore A tutor'd speech— His. No— fervently I urg'd it— Zeal lent my lip its eloquence— In truth I could not choose but say, how leave those charms, Charms, which uncrowned, unscepter'd, well might move The masters of the world to wage fierce contest. I could not choose but say, who hails his sovereign, The proudest chieftain who draws nigh the throne Feels honour'd in his homage — Then I dwelt On Arran, Scotland's heir, whose eagle eye Gaz'd on the sun, till reason all-o'erpowVd Melted beneath the blaze— While yet I spake, The king, who first all graciously, methought, Had bow'd his ear, while from his eye-lid stole A tear of fond regret, on sudden fir'd By scornful rage, exclaimed, " Slave, tell thy mis- tress " The king prefers yon solitary roof ec To Holy-rood's polluted court, the haunt " Of low-born minions — Queen. Ha ! Riz. [Aside.) I'll quit the realm : Rizzio shall never give her soul displeasure — I liv*d but in her sun-shine. — Gracious mistress, Whose kindness ne'er thy servant's pray'r denied, Now giant my last request — [kneels.") Queen. Why kneel ? Arise — You, you alone of all who court my favour ' OF DARNLEY. 27 I still have found most loyal. — What thy suit ? What wish you — wealth, or pow'r, or added honour ? Demand it — Biz. No — obscurity and peace — I pray your patience — He, who now entreats you, Had birth 'mid rocks and mountains, on whose brow Th'eternal snows have rest, in a green vale Whereshepherds tend their flocks,inthe brief season When summer looks on Alpine solitudes. Lady, the birth-place of the mountaineer Is twin'd around the heart — We may, at times, In the pursuit of wealth and pow'r, forget it, But 'tis within the heart : and if, perchance, We hear the horn that calld the herd to pasture, Or catch a rude note of the green corn-pipe That breathes our native melodies, each day Hour after hour, consum'd by fond regret We waste away, no more revisiting The spot where first our naked footstep sported — Do not deny me : let me there return, And close the remnant of life's troublous day In privacy and peace — Queen. None left on earth In whom my soul may blamelessly confide? Arm'd guards my state surround, beneath my sight Where'er I gaze obsequious courtiers kneel, And wide and general as the air, the breath Of flatterers hails my presence ; yet— in these I trust not. On thy faith I firmly rested : Wilt thou desert thy sovereign ? — 28 THE DEATH Riss. Never, never ; Here let me rather die. — Queen. What mean you, Rizzio? JRiz. This-— There are men, beneath your palace roof, Whose daggers will leap forth at sight of Rizzio — How shall I 'scape their malice ? Queen. First their daggers, Shall drink their sovereign's biood — Siward enters. Ha ! Si ward ! speak. Siw. If, seeming harsh, let not your servant's words Offend you — I but speak the king's command. Say — ic that my hx'd resolve to her is known, " My will, in this, unchang'd, unchangeable — ee But — that if Scotland's queen this day, at council^ ec Obey my word, and at the assembled states ec Fix on my brow the crown : I will return : ef Else — never." Queen. Fix upon his brow the crown ! — Would that I might : and that the glowing image Which fir'd my fancy, were no vain illusion! Angel ! that guard'st this empire, hear my pray'r ! Make the exalted youth, by me ador'd, The idol of a nation : gift his soul W ith pow'r to sway a realm : that I may take The crown from off my brow to grace his temples, And greatly glory in my self-abasement OF DARNLEY. 29 Heightening his exaltation ! — Scotland's crown Is no vain toy to deck the brow of beauty. Tis heav'n's high charge : a proud inheritance From far-fam'd ancestors., king after king, A countless generation. I will guard it. Yea, and transmit its honours to my offspring With undirninish'd lustre. Siward, bear My answer back : say, Be patient. Miro. Say, was it slight th' offence,, that here, so long, In these drear haunts, doom'd for my sire's misdeeds, I still have serv'd inglorious ? wrong on wrong- — Insult on insult ! nay — 'tis known to all, That when the ruthless minion, proud Rimuni, Had of his honour'd charge depriv'd Naritzin, On me by right and ordinance of service, Devolved the care of Ivan. Vain my claims. Galinovitz, it seems, has won their favour ; A stripling, in his boy-hood, o'er my brow Rais'd as in mockery. Be swift vengeance mine! Deep, deadly as their outrage. Feo. Mirovitz, 'Tis in thy power. The guard who serve the night- watch, , Now, at my word assembled, wait thy bidding, In secret, in the cavern, delv'd beneath The western bastion, whose huge bulk drives back The wint'ry floods. But not on them alone Our hope is fix'd : all whom this isle contains, At thy first summons will arise in arms To free Naritzin. Such his kindly rule, That when the herald's voice aloud proclaim'd IVAN. 83 That here the Empress and Rimuni meet This day to seal his doom, the cry of wrath, Of vengeance, and revolt, rang round the isle. Go forth — and head the tumult. Miro. Feodor, The rage and uproar of the populace Burst like the tide, whose refluent waves, ere long, Die off unheard : not such my course of vengeance. Its progress like the Neva's ceaseless stream, That gathering up its strength from thousand rills Sweeps onward, without ebb, and undermines The tower whose shadow slumbers on its bosom In proud security. My art shall gain To serve my deep revenge, all who this night Hold watch and ward o'er Ivan. Feo. Speed, and prosper. [Exeunt. e? Scene the Second. A Cavern outside the Ramparts. Conspirators. Con. He comes not. Hence. Con. Stay, comrades ! wherefore dread In Mirovitz, delay ? you, who so oft Witness'd his valour, first to mount the breach, Or singly scale the fortress ? Con. Hark, some step Approaches. Comrades ! on your guard : be watch- ful ! Nearer it hastens : on your guard, I say — Now boldly challenge. {They draw their swords. 84 IVAN. MraoviTZ and Feodor enter. Con. Friend or foe ? advance not. Feo. 'Tis Mirovitz. Miro. Put up your swords, brave comrades ! Say, are all present ? Theodore, I see, Norkots, and Ostralof, and brave Nagotzin. I greet thee, bold Truwarotz, Sulskoi, too, And Voronetz, who never fled from man. Feo. Behold them, brave, determin'd ; speak thy will. Miro. My will ! not so : 'tis loyalty, 'tis honour Points out their path. Comrades, the prisoner, Ivan, Is Russia's rightful Emperor. 'Tis your king Claims vengeance. By his wrongs, his woes, I urge you : Recall to mind, the day which hail'd him monarch, Saw him a helpless prisoner ; call to mir p l, How, on from fort to fort, they dragg'd their victim, Ere to this spot accurst, this last abode Of horror and despair, Rimuni doom'd him As one entomb 'd alive, in yon drear cell To moulder limb by limb. No beam of day Ere glimmers on the cell that hears his groan : And, till renown'd Naritzin here held charge, 'Tis known to all — the fierce barbarians tortur'd His tender limbs. The sentinels on watch, Tho' us'd to blood and groans of horrid death, Have quak'd to hear his night-shriek. Con. We will free him. Fix thou the hour, IVAN. 85 Miro. First, jield me patient hearing. You all revere Naritzin. Con. Yes— as children Honour a father. Miro. You would shed jour blood To rescue him from wrong. Con. Most willingly. Miro. Naritzin cannot brook such deep disgrace. Thus wrong'd by her. Her — on whose brow his hand Once fix'd the crown ! if fam'd Naritzin join us, The realm would rise in arms. Con. Lead to Naritzin — Miro. [stopping him. ~\ Yet stay. Say, brave associates, if the lord Naritzin Decline our profferd aid, are all resolv'd To free their sov'reign ? Con. We will rescue Ivan, Or bravely perish. On — - Miro. Yet — ere we speed, Pledge we a soldier's faith, a soldier's honour, That in this cave, ere night-fall, once again We meet, to fix the hour, and give to each Fit charge and separate station. Cons. Yes — ere night-fall. Here we will meet. To thee we freely pledge A soldier's honour. Lead us forth. Miro. Brave comrades, I lead where glory summons : fearless follow. [Exeunt, 86 IVAN. Scene the Third. A rocky shore on the margin of the Lake, overlooked by a Bastion of the Fort. Narshkoff andhis two Sons enter, and spread a Net on the Rocks. Son. [to his brother^ Cheer you, my brother : here awhile take rest : You are o'er-tir'd : here in the sun repose. Narsh. Give me the net, and I will spread it out, And on the smooth rock dry its dripping meshes : So, if perchance some soldier cross our way, We shall not breed suspicion, but may seem Intent on our day labour. [iZe looks round earnestly. Son. Tell me, father, Why do you seem disturbed ? what care comes o'er you? Why point to yon dark nook ? Narsh. We have o'er-shot it. Look, my bsave boys, our tough oars have o'er-shot The little creek — 'Tis there, beneath that rock, Where yon huge birch bow'd down by weight of years Hangs o'er the Neva. Son. 'Tis a cheerless spot, Gloomy as night — Narsh. That was th'appointed place ; There we must anchor our light skiff, and wait IVAN. 8? The signal — When,, at night, the torch thrice waves On yon tall eastern turret — look — ; Son. I note it — Narsh. At the third signal, at a moment's warning All must be ready : we must hoist the sail If fair the breeze : if foul, brave boys, your sinews Must not refuse to labour at the oar, Till our good vessel o'er Ladoga's lake Has safely wafted the entrusted charge — It was no trifling bribe — Son. Our life's at hazard — JVarsh. So is it, every day, when we do tempt The wave, and cast our meshes in the flood. Look you, so we but reach yon shore in safety The rest of life we may carouse at will. Take up the net — push off the boat — away — Son. My brother is o'er-tir'd ; a little moment, A moment rest. And, tell us, I entreat you, Whom we must land in safety on yon shore ? Narsli. I know not : but, no doubt, some high- born prisoner Who has escap'd from chains. Son. Oh ! were it Ivan, This hand should from my arm first drop in the wave Ere it let loose the oar. That hapless youth ! I know not why it is, whene'er I hear His story, tho' it sorely grieve my heart, „ Yet doth it chain mine ear. Narsh. 'Tis ever so When miseries unprovok'd command our pity. 88 IVAN, In sooth his woe would melt a heart of stone. Ivan is rightful emperor : he was crown'd King in his cradle — Son. Out—alas the day '. It had been better, father, had poor Ivan Our brother been,, and born like us to labour. Then — he had scap'd those torturers. Narsh. Would that Ivan Had perish'd with the monk who lur'd him forth, Ere to yon hideous cave the ruffians dragged him J J Tis now, eight years gone by, and Ivan then Scarce ten years old — 'Twas a bleak eve, and loudly The Neva roar'd : I never shall forget it. Just as I moor'd my boat yon side the flood, A band of soldiers haiPd me : loud their voice, And fiercely, as in wrath, their swords unsheath'd Wav'd o'er their prisoners. 'Twas a piteous sights And all was strife and tumult I full fain Had fled the spot, when one, with whose stern voice I dar'd not parley, bad me to this isle Ferry the prisoners, Ivan, and the monk, Each bound in chains— Son. The boy, their king, in chains ! Narsh. Sore manacled. The child sunk down oe'rpower'd, Mute, motionless, save ever and anon A big tear trickled, and a deep sigh burst As it would break his heart. Not so the monk : I heard his thrilling outcry, as he writh'd And struggled with his chains, and with clench'diist In frantic rage oft struck his hoary temples. IVAN. 89 And as I reach'd the fort, just as my oar Spent its last stroke, the monk., uprising, dash'd From either side the guard that closely grasp'd him, Then plung'd into the flood with all his weight Of fetters. — Never man beheld him more : Save, yearly, on that day, that very hour He perish'd, some have seen- — Son. Seen what ? Say, father — JVarsh. His very self, that monk, so manacled, Rise from the flood, and point with threat'ning hand To Ivan's tow'r. But, hush ! the air has ears, And the whole isle is vex'd with vigilant spies. [Ortoskj a Sentinel,, appears on the bastion. Come, let us hence — Ort. Speak — Son. t 'Tis the sentinel ! Ort. I charge you, on your lives, say, wherefore here ? Why, on this spot ? Narsh. We are poor fishermen Who in these waters seek by daily labour Our hard-earn'd food. We were o'er-tir'd, good soldier, And came to dry our nets, and rest awhile On this smooth beach. Ort. Away, nor loiter here. If, when I challenge next, you here are found, You are for life imprison'd. [Sentinel goes. Narsh, Come, my boys ! 'Tis dangerous tarrying here. m IVAN. Son. Oh grant, kind heav'n, That this stout oar may bear poor Ivan hence, And I will prize it as a monarch's sceptre. [Exeunt, Scene the Fourth. Naritzin's Castle. Naritzin. Narit. Wrong'd by Elizabeth ! thy offspring ! thine. Thou father of thy country ! Her, on whose brow this hand the diadem fix'd Reft from the hapless Ivan ! Judge of earth ! And must Naritzin's conscious lip confess 'Tis righteous retribution ? Must I own In bitterness of self-accusing misery Th'eternal truth, i( One deed unhallow'd teems With woe engend'ring woe ?" What now awaits me ? Death, or drear exile, where Siberia's snows Shall sepulchre my bones. Oh ! were it mine Alone to suffer ! But, thou ill-starr'd Ivan ! To leave thee thus expos'd ! And thou, most lov'd Petrowna, whose pure spirit did prefer To pomp and courts, this residence of horror, To share my doom ; ah! 'tis thy secret grief That festers in this bosom. Righteous heav'n Heap on this head thy fury ! Spare Petrowna ! Oh shield the innnocent Ivan ! IVAN. 91 Galvez enters. Galvez here ! Why thus uncall'd ? [A shout heard. Gal. My lord, and honour'd master, Hark to the voice that loudly calls on you. None, none shall injure you. Voices without.] No pow'r on earth Shall wrong the good Naritzin. Petrowna enters. Narit. Ha ! Petrowna ! I pray thee, love, retire. [to Galvez.~] Say, whence this tumult ? Gal. All whom this isle contains, th'indignant soldiers Are risen to rescue you. Pet, 'Tis known to all, That here, the woman thy pow'r exalted, She who has basely wrong'd thee, and her minion, The insolent Rimuni, meet this day To seal thy condemnation. [Voices without] Comrades! on — - Our swords shall guard Naritzin. Narit. [to Galvez.'] Go, control Their fury. Gal. J Tis in vain. Their rage enflam'd, If you deny them audience, will burst forth In maddening insurrection. Pet. Good, my lord, Admit them to thy presence. Thou hast ever 92 IVAN. Heard, and redrest their grievance. I beseech thee, Vouchsafe them gracious hearing. Narit. [to Galvez.] Give them entrance. [Galvez goes. Yes, I will curb this tumult. Aid me, heav'n ! Make firm my mind, that I may yet withstand This dread temptation ! Mirovitz and Soldiers enter. Wherefore here ? Why, soldiers, This tumult ? Who has injur'd you ? Miro. My lord, You they have injur'd, basely wrong'd you. — Hear us : Your rule has ever been most merciful : Your kindness and humanity have sooth'd Th'abode of horror : and while yet our hands Hold strength to wield a soldier's weapon, none Shall force you from this isle. Narit. Say, what thy purpose ? Miro. To rescue you from violence and wrong. Narit. Thou, rescue me! Whence thy authority? Miro. High heav'n, who wills not that the guilt- less suffer : The soul's resistless impulse to abase Tyrannic pow'r. Narit. Proud words but ill conceal Disloyal deeds. Soldiers, obey : depart Ere death repress your daring. Hence — IVAN. 93 Sol, Speak, Mirovitz : This is a righteous cause. Miro. You see these veterans. Men like myself, grey-headed, worn with service. You know their gallant deeds. Narit. Yes, oft have witness'd. There's not a breast of those who now surround me Undinted by brave wounds. Miro. Shall then the chief Who marshall'd us to conquest, fall a victim To base suspicion ? No : their brave right hands Each on his sword, are pledg'd. Speak but the word, The cannon levell'd to announce the arrival Of those weak tyrants, 'neath Ladoga's water Shall plunge in all its bravery their galley Ere it insult the fort. Narit. I'll hear no more. I am unarm'd, or I had plung'd my sword, Bold rebel ! in thy heart. Hence — Pet. Thy disgrace, Thy wrongs inflame their souls. Miro. At will command us : Naritzin's word needs not a sovereign's sanction. Narit. If then Naritzin's word has pow'r, obey it. Soldiers, your zeal betrays you. What your pur- pose ? To shield Naritzin from the iron grasp Of merciless oppression ? How ? By deeds Whose guilt and dire enormities outswell 94 IVAN. The vile traducer's mal ice : deeds that cast Round spotless loyalty the blood-stain'd garb Of treason and rebellion. Here, first plunge Your weapons, ere a mutinous arm be rais'd To strike th'anointed brow. Revere your sov'reign! Each to his home, in peace, and from Naritzin Learn to submit. [Soldiers depart; Miro. [ingoing.'] My lord, in time of peril Here claim redress. [Laying his hand on his sword. [Exit, Pet. [advancing solemnly.'] And did I rightly hear thee ? Submit ! And didst thou speak it ? Thine, that word ! Narit. None but myself shall vindicate my honour. Pet. What thy resolve ? Narit. I will confront the accuser, And shame the slanderous tongue. Pet. Why rush on death ? Hear me pour forth my inmost soul, and plead For one in hopeless anguish, one by all Abandoned : one, on whom no sun by day, Nor moon nor star by night, has sent its beam : Who for the freshness of the vital air. Drinks foul contagion, and for human utterance, Hears but the echo rendering back his groan, Or pestential damps, that drop by drop Burst on his flinty bed. I plead for Ivan. Thou did'st permit it, in the cell unseen Of human eye, I still'd his frantic shriek, The while he knew not whose the voice that sooth'd him. IVAN. 95 I taught him to adore the awful pow'r Whose chastisement is love : and, year by year Matur'd his virtues, and beheld the flow'r That cruel hands once crushed, expanding fair Beneath my tendance. Who shall tend him now ? The ruthless torturers ? Narit. You wound my soul. Pet. Is mine at peace ? Oh grant my pray'r. Free Ivan ; And fix him — for thou can'st — thy word has pow'r. King on his father's throne. Narit. I crown'd Elizabeth, The offspring of my lord and much-lov'd master, The father of his country. I enthron'd her, Urge me no more. Pet. Be witness, earth and heav'n ! Witness thyself ! while on thy sacred word Her throne in proud security repos'd, Tho' my heart inly glow'd, my lip was silent. Forbearance now is base servility, dishonouring our nature. Thou did'st crown her: What thy reward ? Rimuni's word shall answer. Hear, and avenge ! To thee, an injur'd nation Lifts up her voice : not this abode of horror That calls down light'ning- from indignant heav'n,, But, at thy word, a realm would rise in arms, And crush the usurper. Narit. Oh that heav'n 's wing'd fires Had pierc'd my brow, or ere I had dethron'd The unoffending child ! 96 IVAN. Pet. Restore him. Free From anguish and remorse thy troubled spirit. Narit. Hence — lest I do a deed whose mere suggestion Rives me with horror. [Cannon and shouts heard.] Heard you not that sound, Those shouts — that roar of cannon ? 'Tis— Pet. [interrupting him.] Th' usurper. Narit. [shouts and cannon repeated ] Again — Pet. That sound announces her arrival This side the Neva. JVarit. Now awhile, Petrowna, Farewell. I must prepare and arm my spirit. Pet. [interrupting him.] For insult, for oppres- sion, for dire injuries That mock the utterance. Hear my farewell word : We may not meet again. Thou art the temple Where honour dwelt enshrin'd, and shall thy knee Bend at Rimuni's beck ? and must Petrowna, (Spare, spare me that disgrace !) look tamely on And see her lord lift vainly up the hand That crown'd and uncrowned kings, to that base minion A suppliant for pity ? Narit. Never — never. Bend to Rimuni ? Lift to him this hand ! Rather its strength shall o'er yon rampart wave War's crimson standard and array the realm In Ivan's cause. My pow'r shall yet prevail : Thro' me the voice of truth shall reach the throne, And silence the oppressor* I this day I V A N. 97 Will lighten Ivan's doom : yon sun, this day Shall see Naritzin or Rimuni perish. Awhile farewell. Pet. Whate'er thy doom, is mine: Bonds, exile, death. Go thou where honour calls : Th' oppressor shall not triumph. Ivan! reign ! END OF ACT THE FIRST. 98 IVAN. ACT II. SCENE I. The outward Fort. GalinovitZj Mirovitz, Feodor, Soldiers under arms to receive the Empress. Galin. [to Mirovitz~\ The herald is arrived. Here will the Empress A few fleet hours remain. Ere day-light dies All speed away, and in new pomps and pleasures Blot out the memory of these scenes of horror. Miro. [aside.'] Oh that the Neva in its roaring waters Would their proud bark ingulph ! i [Sound of trumpets. Galin. [looking out.] Behold., they come— Gay as in festal pomp. The sun-beams gild Their streamers,, now bright-waving in the wind. Now, as the light breeze falls., kissing in sport The Neva's dimpled wave. JMiro. [aside.] Insulting pomp ! That flares portentous on these drear abodes, Like some strange meteor that with transient glare, Appalls mankind. [Flourish of trumpets.] Yon trumpets' ceaseless clamour Proclaims their entry, [Looking out.] Ha! Rimuni leads her : IVAN. 99 Look, how she leans on his proud arm, and smiles Delighted with his flattery. The Empress, Rimuni, Senators, Guards, Heralds, enter in state. Sold, [kneeling.] Hail ! long live Elizabeth, our gracious sov'reign ! Emp. Rise — I thank jour love, and will reward your zeal. Rim. [presenting Galinovitz'] Galinovitz, now warden of yon fortress, More faithful than Naritzin, kneels before you. Deign to vouchsafe him audience ! Galin. [laying at her feet various keys.] Gracious Empress ! These at your feet I lay. This guards the gate That bars the outward fortress : this secures All that the inward moat encircles : this The citadel : these close the prisoner's cells : This, from the eye of man and light of heav'n, Hides Ivan. Rim. Lives he yet ? Galin. Yet Ivan breathes. Rim. [aside,'] Would he were dead ! Emp, [to Galinovitz.] Sir, till our further will Resume thy chaige. Miro. [aside to Feodor ] We must avoid suspicion. With seeming reverence we will knee! b ;fore her. [They kneel to the Empress. Emp. Your suit— your names. 100 IVAN. Rim. [advancing, interrupts them."} Ungrateful to your ear. This, Mirovitz, that, Feodor, his brother, Their ancestors of old were fam'd for pow'r And loyalty : but their rebellious father Serv'd with Mazeppa, when that faithless chief Leagu'd with our foes against your godlike sire. The weight of his rebellion crush'd himself And all his race. Miro. We long in arms have serv'd you, And shed our youthful blood in tented fields. Following your standard. Rim. Vaunt not thus your duty. Emp. Merit by loyal deeds our further favour. Miro. We are your slaves, [Shouts heard at Naritzin's approach. „ &im, [aside."] The proud Naritzin comes, Naritzin enters, followed by Petrowna closely veiled. Sold, [kneeling to the Empress.] Look down with eye of favour on Naritzin. Rim. Peace ! nor insult the royal presence. Narit. [kneeling respectfully to the Empress.] Justice. Rim. It shall not be delay 'd. Narit. My lord Rimuni, Not unto you, Naritzin deigns appeal. Justice, my gracious mistress ! Emp. Sir, it grieves me IVAN. 101 To see thee thus, here in the face of day A man accus'd, before the public eye Disgraced. 1 leant on thee, my lord Naritzin, As on the prop and column of my empire. Naj^it. If ere my zeal, I may not add my actions, Your favour won, now in the public presence Declare my crime. Rim. Before the senate answer : There hear thy condemnation. Pet. [aside to Naritzin.'] Condemnation ! Be firm — farewell. [Petrowna goes. Narit. Hear, Empress ! on his death-bed Your sire, my much-lov'd master, charg'd Naritzin By many a wound, when, side by side, our swords Bore conquest on their edge, that long as life Yet linger'd in these veins, I should uphold The glory of his empire, nor desert * His royal offspring. Have I disobey'd My sov'reign's charge? Let this distinguish'd proof, Your gift, make answer. [A diamond cross.] With this high reward, When on your brow I fix'd the diadem, You deign'd to honour me. Suspicion's breath Must not with venemous taint pollute the breast Grac'd by a monarch's favour. At your word This hand resign'd my sword : a monarch's present. Take back your gift, and grant Naritzin's pray'r, Vouchsafe me one request, the plain demand Of justice. Emp. Speak. Narit. That you, my gracious mistress, 102 IVAN. ' Would deign your presence when Naritzin pleads Before th' assembled senate. Rim. Proud Naritzin ! Mine is the grateful task to free the sovereign From toils and cares of state : and I am charg'd To search out your misdeeds. Narit. I shall divulge Truths bitter to thy soul,, thou man of guilt. Emp. Proclaim them— freely speak : thysov'reign 1 bids thee. Narit. The image of my lord, and gracious master , The father of his country , lives in you. I may not here proclaim them. In your presence, Before the senate, at their secret council, All shall be fully told. Efnp. There, we will hear thee. On to the council. There, my lord Naritzin, If guiltless, at my throne, before my presence Stand unappalPd. Thy sov'reign is thy judge. [Exeunt omnes. Scene changes to Ivan's Prison, faintly illumed with one central lamp. Petrowna enters with a lamp, and basket of provisions. Ivan asleep. Pet. Forgive my long delay '. Ivan — oh answer me. He hears me not, Or, at the breath, the whisper of my word, His voice had giv'n kind welcome — [looking on him.] Deep his slumber : IVAN. 103 Yet, at this hour, such sleep is no repose That gently recreates nature. Gracious heav'n ! How will his misery end ? will once again Thy beam, oh blessed sun, illume his brow ? Will he, in kindly fellowship with man, Feel what the god of kindness has infus'd In human hearts, responsive to the voice Of sympathy : or must this cell for ever Close on his unavenged wrongs ? Ivan. \asleethe peace, the public weal, The throne's stability, your sacred life, Claim justly such restraint : but all beyond — Ruthless oppression. Rim. Dar'st thou thus proclaim it Before thy sov'reign's presence ? Narit. Sir, I speak Under the terror of no earthly pow'r : [pointing up."] There reigns my judge. Emp. My lord Rimuni, silence. Narit. If, haply to have sooth'd by tenderest cares Him whom my pow'r dethron'd, be deem'd a crime, Be on my head that guilt ! the blest offence Will whisper peace to my departing soul. The cell, 'tis true, has Ivan's dwelling been, Nor other eye than mine, save one on earth. Has ever glanc'd upon him. Rim. Ha! another — Mark'd you his word, dread sovereign ? 'Emp. [to Naritzin.'] Who ? declare it. Narit. Petrowna. From her lip, day after day, E'en in the tomb that sepulchres the living, Ivan has learnt the words of wisdom, iearnt How best to temper passion, and imbib'd IVAN. 119 The balm of heav'nly solace which religion Mingles in misery's chalice — Rim. [interrupting him. Aside to the Empress.'] The brute Ivan, Of cultured reason ! 'Tis most perilous. Not vain the warning. Were this widely rumour' d, Were it but whisper'd in the public ear, The realm would rise in arms. My gracious Sov'reign ! Bid hence the senate. I beseech you, hear me. Emp. My spirit is sore troubled. Rim. I entreat you, Let me dismiss them. Loyal tho' they seem, They must not share this counsel. Emp. Bid them hence. Rim. My lords ! awhile retire. [ The Senate and Naritzin depart. Emp. What now thy counsel ? Rim. It was no idle rumour reach'd your throne Of Ivan's followers, and projected rescue — All is confirm'd. And — but you do not heed me— Emp. Be brief. Rim. Your throne, your sacred life's at hazard. Be judge yourself: before you, face to face, Bid forth the boy, and witness what his nature, His nature ! Who can doubt it ? Aptly tutor'd : All mildness ! All submission ! But beware ! Sudden, in full-grown strength, mature for vengeance The lion from his secret lair will spring, And crush you in his fury—' Emp. Yes—I dread him. ■120 IVAN. Rim. Were the boy dead, then would your soul know peace ! There are — I know the man, whose loyal zeal Would rid you of that fear. Emp. By murder ? Never — Rim. You — or the boy. Emp. Oh heap not on my soul That added guilt. Rim. Think not Rimuni's nature Inclines to deeds of blood. The sacred duty To guard your life compels me. Emp. Spare me- — spare me. Rim. I wish not Ivan's death : but say, where breathes On earth — I do not know that living man- On whom my soul in fearless confidence Can rest such perilous charge. Emp. Yes. One I know In whom I firmly trust. Rim. Then I conjure you, Bind on his soul by heav'n-attested vows, This solemn charge, to stab without remorse The boy, if fraud or force attempt his rescue. Till then, as wont, within th' imprisoning cell Closely immure him. Emp. 'Tis most wisely counselPd. Bid lord Naritzin in yon cloister's cell Attend my summons. Rim. Lord Naritzin ! Emp. Speed. Bid him there wait my presence. And, I charge you. IVAN. 121 At hazard of my deep displeasure charge you, Let none approach the spot. My will is fix'd : Reply not : be thy sov'reign's word obey'd. \_Exeunt. Scene changes to the Cave of the Conspirators, Conspirators. Mirovitz. Feodor. Con. [to Mirovitz.] Detain us not. Most dangerous this delay. Now fix the hour : give each his separate charge. But — if you doubt our word — Miro. [interrupting him.~\ I doubt you not. Con. On— to the altar lead us : There pledge our souls to Ivan's cause, there bind us To slay whoe'er withstands his sov'reign's rescue. Behold us fix'd. Miro. Hear then my last resolve. You know the tyrannous custom of this fort, Month after month, fresh troops the isle surround, And night by night, new guards keep watch and ward Round Ivan's cell. This night that charge is ours. I, when the hour strikes twelve, relieve the watch. Now, one by one, pledge your brave hands with mine. You, [selecting two in turn.~\ guard the outward draw-bridge : you, the gates Of the first tow'r : the iron draw-bridge, yours : Your charge, the inner fort : you, guard the vaults That wind thro' ways obscure to Ivan's cell : 122 IVAN. You , bold Truwarotz, and brave Voronetz, You, at his cell take station : thine,, my brother, The eastern turret : o'er its crested brow — Be watchful— If all favour our design, At stroke of one, a lighted beacon raise ; Wave it distinctly thrice : — at the third signal We rush to Ivan's cave, and force our entrance If aught our way oppose. A sail now waits My summons, o'er Ladoga's lake, to waft us To liberty, to wealth, to fame, to honour. [Exeunt, EHD OF ACT THE THIRD, IVAN. • 123 ACT IV. SCENE I. Tlie Cloisters. Empress and Naritzin. Emp. My lord Naritzin, on thy faith I rest : I shall pour forth, as truth and nature urge, My secret soul before thee. Oh ! I would That I had never wielded in this hand The sceptre reft from Ivan ! Since that hour, However outwardly I bear my pomp, And arm my brow with confidence, within Fear and suspicion that nor day nor night Have rest, possess me. I, by violence The empire seiz'd : declare what voice has pow'r To say in accents that may win assent, stage with the Spaniards. »{' Pen Arcal, 1 Rimac, } Conspirators. Spaniards. D. F. Pizarro, Juan Pizarro, His Brother. Pedro de Lerma, a discontented Chief. Alvaradosj an old brave Captain, Benalcazar, ditto. -p. ^- i Ai f Son to Pizar ro's rival. A Don Diego de Almaero,-! I young honourable Knt. b" "° iXUU °5 J Woman. z frt Co^/a, Daughter of the Sun, Child of (_ Villoma, Wife of Zamorin. ' SCENE, Fortress of Cuzco, founded on a Rock, crowned by the Temple of the Sun. At its base, Pizarro's Camp, and part of Cuzco in ruins. Time, That of representation. ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. ACT I. SCENE I. A Court before the Temple of the Sun. An Altar before the gates of the Temple. Villoma. Vil. God of my fathers ! hear me. Thou, thron'd on flame ! Thou, at whose dawn, the world Thy visible creation, bursts the veil Of darkness, and in new-born life and lustre Sees all that breathe, look up, and bless thy beams: Hear my deep anguish ! Now no more, my voice Calls down, as once in happier years, thy ray, Pure source of being, thro' the womb of earth To stream fertility. No more, thy priest Fresh gathering from the spring free tribute, lays The prime of the year, of herb, and fruit, and flow'r Nature's sweet offering on thy bloodless shrine. Far other gifts I bring : receive these spoils, That mournful on thy golde%gates I hang, 164 ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. The lance, the helm, and buckler : while I call On thee, once God of Peace, to arm thy sons With dauntless fortitude. Let brave Zamorin Again exultant from Pizarro's host Return : and on thy heav'n-born child, sole heir Of slain Huascar, here, in triumph fix The crown that grac'd his sires on Cuzco's throne? Zama enters 3 kneels. Zama. My sire ! Vil. My Zama— Oh may the blessing of a father's voice Assuage thy grief ! Zama, Yet — lives my husband ? say — . Deceive me not : I think I could endure From thee to hear his doom : let none less lov'd Say to thy child, cc Zamorin rests in death." Vil, How shall I answer thee ? Zama. Oh speak. Vil. , His doom Is yet unknown. Day after day, in vain I claim the hostage. Zama. Ah ! the foot that treads Where the base Spaniard haunts, to Cuzco's walls Shall never more return. Our word was sacred : On the dread day mark'd out for Cuzco's woe, This fort impregnable, yon gold-roof 'd temple, Gifts, and exhaustless wealth, and countless gems^ Offerings from kings thro' ages to their god, Had giac'd Pizarro'sjnureph, if Peru, ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 165 Regardless of the city of her god, Fear'd to confront the Spaniard. Such the terms, And famine forced compliance, when Pizarro Proclaim'd by solemn oath, that fresh supplies' Should Cuzco's wants relieve, if brave Zamorin Went forth the public hostage, pledg'd for Cuzco: Yea, o'er his banner'd cross the Spaniard vow'd, That, if Peru, ere that dread day, once more Should arm her routed multitudes, Zamorin Again should lead the battle. Thus aliur'd From Cuzco's walls the voluntary hostage Went fearless forth. Vil, Yet vibrates on my heart His farewell word. Zama. But, from that day, no succour Has Cuzco's wants reliev'd, no voice has breath'd Word of Zamorin. What avails it now, That to defend the city of her god, And free her far-fam'd chieftain, arm'd Peru Her banner'd rainbow rears, and hosts on hosts Fill all the plain ? in vain. The perjur'd Spaniard Basely detains the hostage : and Zamorin, Whose brave resistance rous'd Peru, whose spirit Glow'd thro' the mingled mass, whose arm alone Could guide in war her multitudes, Zamorin, Th' avenger of his countrv, 'mid yon host Pines in base chains, or now, an untomb'd corse, Feasts their vile dogs of carnage. Vil. Calm thy soul. Zama. Hear me, my sire, nor fondiy feign a hope No longer felt. 166 ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. Now grant mv only pray'r : let me go forth. And learn Zamorin's fate, Vil, And wouldst thou leave A father's arms, and Cazco's hallow'd walls, To rush amidst the riot, and flush'd camp Of yon fell spoilers ? %ama. To Zamorin's arms I haste, to sooth his soul, or with him perish, ViL Urge not a vain request. Zama. Must then Zamorin, Who went the public hostage, who reliev'd The public woe, when famine and despair Knelt to the foe for bread, mid ruthless men Perish, of all abandon'd, far from Zama, On whose responsive look his eye might dwell, And while it swims in death's o'ershadowing mist, Catch j ere it close for ever, the last solace Of one fond tear ? my father ! by that name t Oh by the memory of her who bore me, Whose image, ne'er forgotten; lives in Zama, Whose voice, ne'er heard in vain, speaks in thy heart While her lov'd daughter pleads— Orcas suddenly enters. Vil. Why, Orcas, here ? Whence this intrusion ? Orcas. Zeal to save thy life, And Cuzco's tow'rs, and the sun's hallow'd temple From spoil and profanation. Not alone By the fell Spaniard, by her native sons, Cuzco is doom'd to perish — ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. Vil How? Ore. By treason. Vil. Treason! Zama. Oh horror ! Ore. Since the perjnr'd Spaniard, Regardless of his vow, once more cut off The scant supply, despair and swift revolt Have spread from breast to breast. This day, eredawn, When wearied from my night-watch I return'd, Thro' the thick mists that swept the mount, I saw A fire-ball from the Spanish camp beneath Flash forth, a second from the southern mound Crost it in air : that was th' appointed signal. A youth by horror struck and deep remorse, Confest the crime. And, here, in that dark cavern Where the sun ne'er sent down a beam, vile traitors Leagu'd with Gulaxa — Vil. [interrupting Jiim.~\ Ha ! that base usurper ! Whom fell Pizarro treacherously has lur'd With Cuzco's prom is' d crown ? Ore. The same. — All know His rank, how glorious once, an honoured Inca, Sprung of the sun's pure race, of royal blood : But— from that day when captur'd by Pizarro, The conqueror spar'd his life, the base Peruvian Thro' fear, or fraud (what recks the worthless motive) Worships the fell invader : so fame rumours : And, in these walls, amid faint-hearted men Dispirited by woe, his vaunted pow'r And favour with Pizarro, each new day 168 ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. Gain him new followers . With that man, the traitors Who, in their turn, this day the fortress guard, Hold secret conference. Vil. What their fell intent ? Ore. To fix the hour, when to these hallow'd walls Pizarro shall advance, and on this temple Upraise his blood-stain'd banner. Vil. First, his steel Shall pierce my bosom. Zama. First, the hallow'd stream That warms this heart, a Coya's blood shall How, And on his brow the daughter of the sun Draw down vindictive lire. Vil. Speed, Orcas, haste : Summon the chosen chiefs that guard the temple : And let the signal wave, and, — so deceiv'd- — The traitors join Gulaxa. I will meet him. Tho' long adversity has bow'd the sons Of Cuzco, tho' consuming famine slack/ d Their pithless joints, yet in these walls are men Who in their heav J n-born monarch's righteous cause Will gladly perish. Haste — Ore. Be such my death. [Exit. [Loud shouts and cries heard. Zama. Whence that loud shout, those cries ? Vil. 'Tis now the time : The guard at my command here lead the Spaniard. Ne'er, till this day, have Cuzco's sons beheld A Spanish chief in chains. ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 169 Arcal rushes in. Shouts continued. Arc. Priest of the sun ! Speed forth, allay the tumult, aid the guard O'erpow'r'd by numbers- Owe of the Guard rushing in. Guard. Holy father ! haste, Or Cuzeo streams with blood. Vil. Zama, retire. Zama. Retire! thy life in danger? come, my father. [Exeunt. Scene changes to the Public Square. Peruvians contending with the Guard conducting Almagro in chains. Guard. Drive, drive them back. 1 Per. Think of Peru's slain race. 2 P&\ [to Almagro.'] Give me my son. [Almagro in silence shows signs of pity and horror. 3 Per. Where is my father's corse ? Scorn you to answer ? you did rack his age To sport your children, and your hounds lapp'd up The life-blood as it spouted from his wounds — 1 Per. Your goblets foam'd, and the feast shook with laughter In mockery of our wounds ; and when your captives 170 ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. Exhausted sunk, ye rous'd them to new life By pangs unknown before. Peruvians. Force back the guard. Perish, fell monster ! [Peruvians forcing Almagro from the over- powered Guard.'] Guard. Hescue him. Villoma, Zama, Arcal, enter. Vil. Peruvians. Per. Strike,, ere Villoma save him. Per. Die. Vil. My children I Have you no pity ? have you chang'd your nature ? Oh spare him. Zama. Hear, Peruvians, know ye not His voice who bids you spare. It is Villoma's. Ye are his children, all — - Per. Perish, fell monster — Zama. [rushing amid them in act to murder Almagro.'] Oh sun, withdraw thy light ! murder in Cuzco An unarm'd captive ! — not on him — on me — Here, on a Coya, daughter of your god. Satiate your vengeance. [ Tliey all fling down their weapons at Zama' 's feet. Aim. Lady ! not for me Hazard your life. Oh Spain ! are these barbarians? Peruvians, [fmeeling to Villoma.'] Forgive thy children ! yet, oh holy father, ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 171 Look down with eye of pity on our sufferings. Resistance now is vain. Priest of the sun, Resign the fort. Behold us bow'd to earth With want, and woe, and famine. Vil. How resign it ? A solemn adjuration binds my soul Ne'er to admit the Spaniard, till Zamorin Here yields the fort, or, to confirm his will, Sends back the hallow'd bracelet. Zama. Ne'er again Shall Cuzco hail that consecrated chain. Zamorin is no more. Aim. Nay, weep not, lady ! Zamorin yet is living. Zama. Living ! Spaniard ! Vil. My sons, depart in peace, [they go.] Stranger ! approach — Learn from your foe to pity and protect Him whom your pow'r can crush. Aim. Are these, barbarians ? They told me that Peruvians were at best, Men but in shape ; in soul, of brutal nature. We Spaniards know you not, Vil. And who art thou From whose astonish 'd soul the voice of praise Sounds like reproof? say, why hast thou assaiPd Basely this fortress, while thy perjur'd chief Detains our hostage ? Aim. Bid Pizarro answer : This recks not me : I broke no sacred truce. 172 ZAMGRIN AND ZAMA. Vil. Your vows ye break at will : our word was sacred. What but leagued treason urged you to assail This rock in frantic insolence ? Aim. My lance Was met by valiant men. Vil. Presumptuous youth ! Declare the truths nor let deceitful words Draw righteous vengeance down. Aim. Cease thy vain threats : I speak not at command. Vil. Proud man ! Zama. My father, He looks like one whom gentleness may gain More than harsh force compel . I pray thee, stranger ! Aught know'st thou of Zamoiin ? Aim. He yet lives — So rumour speaks — but — -by Pizarro, held, — As I am — bound. Zama. A hostage ! and in bonds ! Inhuman men. Aim. All are not such,, fair lady ! Vil. Who art thou, and what urg'd thy rash assault ? Aim. A passion,, haply, to Peru unknown : Glory. Had conquest crown'd me ; Spain had rank'd Mine., with proud names, whose mention fires the soul, Columbus, Cortez, and far-fam'd Pizarro. Fair dames of proud Castille, at solemn jousts Had wing'd their knights to victory, with the praise ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 173 Of young Almagro : and,, if here I perish I have not sham'd ray sire. 77/. Almagro's son. Whose army fronts our warriors, while Pizarro Encamps beneath these walls ? Jim. Brief let me be. Scarce had I landed on this coast,, (few days Now past) with men., and steeds,, and warlike stores, Trebling Pizarro's battle,, when my sire, Yet weak with uncur'd wounds, to me resign'd His host, and high command. Thus, arm'd with pow'r And due authority, I sought Pizarro, With fair proposal, instantly to join Our squadrons, and disperse your numbers- la/, [interrupting him ] How ! Rash insolence of youth ! captive, beware ! Look on those bonds. Aim. Your multitudes dispers'd, Then, if that haughty chieftain yet disown'd The signet that I bore, the Emperor's grant Of Cuzco to my sire, to force compliance. I came, Pizarro heard, and taunting, bade me Fix on your rocks my flag ; there crown Almagro : And with bold impress charge my maiden shield, Yet bloodless, and but prickt with tilting points. He spake, and smil'd in scorn : my blood boil'd in me: And forth I sallied where your host beheld me, Ere yet my followers join'd, pois'd on my lance Vault o'er the moat, and with adventurous grasp From rock to rock climb up the craggy fort, 174 ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. And chase your warriors, till one daring chief Seiz'd me unawares, and reckless of his life, In the deep flood plung'd with me. More I know not. You best can tell how rescu'd from the flood You drew me forth, and when in swoon I lay, What warriors stript an unresisting; captive, And thus enslav'd : you best can tell the death That now awaits me. Vil. Fear not — Aim. Fear ! we Spaniards Shrink not from death. Zama, Thy life redeems the hostage, Almagro for Zamorin, chief for chief. Aim. No — rather than consent to my release, Pizarro, in thy sight, beneath these walls Would stab the hostage. 'Tis not life I seek : A Spanish chief in Cuzco manacled, Almagro's son slav'd by Peruvian bonds, Seeks but the consolation of the grave To hide in death his shame. Yet — I will sue thee : And bend the suppliant knee : a father's woe Weighs on my heart. You are a man of mercy ; Send back my corse — my lance — a father's gift, To old Almagro. It will soothe the warrior To hang it o'er my tomb. And let your herald Say, how I fought, how died — Zama. [flinging herself at Villoma' 's feet.] Oh let me sue For mercy. Such as he, in prime of life, Zamorin : and each tear that falls for him, Pleads for this captive youth. And haply too ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 175 While on his doom we pause, and calmly weigh What caution dictates, in his native land One, sad as Zama, at the thought of war Presses a bleeding heart, and mourns as dead, Him yet alive. Vil. Zama, pronounce his doom. Zama. Freedom. Zamorin's wife from bondage frees thee. [Unclasping his chains. Aim. Touch not these chains : I am a man disgrac'd. Zama. What mean your words ? Spaniard, the sons of Cuzco Deem guilt, and not misfortune a disgrace. Youth, thou art free : in victory's ruthless hour, Remember Zama. To Pizarro go, Say how Peruvian conquerors treat their captives, So bid him treat his hostage. Aim. I will force him To free the hostage, or no more Almagro Will woo renown in arms, nor wield a lance Where love and glory point the warrior's course. Expect thy lord : my life for his is pledg'd. Cuzco, ere night, shall view within her walls Zamorin, or Almagro. \Exeunt. END OF ACT THE FIRST. 176 ZAMOHIN AND ZAMA. ACT II, SCENE I. Pizarro's Camp beneath Cuzco. PlZARRO. Piz. Perish the Indian who resists Pizarro S Perish, Zamorin ! not to rouse defiance I lur'd that chieftain hither. Had my threats Or proffer'd realms avail'd, not Cuzco's tow'rs And fruitful empire, but the western world Had own'd me sovereign'. In that Inca's soul, Tho' mild and merciful, a firmness reigns That knows not fear : but sooner at my bidding Would Andes' rock on its eternal base Than his calm spirit yield — ■Juan enters. My brother ! Juan — Hast thou succeeded ? but — another day ! — And on that captur'd f©rt our chiefs shall grasp Wealth boundless as their wish. Juan. Some I have gain'd, Leaders of note : others, Almagro's gold Heapt from far Chili, and rich realms between, Has brib'dto quit thy standard: Chaves, Fernandez, Haro, and dauntless Lerma. ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 177 Piz. Dark-brow'd Lerma ! Almagro's golden ingots outweigh mine. Juan. No. His stern spirit broods o'er fancied wrongs. He has not smil'd since Cassamarca's fight. I met him mid his squadron, near him stood A herald from Almagro : at my offers Th' indignant chieftain smil'd, and loud exclaim'd That all might hear, ' e Base souls by gold are brib'd, " Brave men by glory : from wrong'd Lerma's lip, ie Ere I depart, this day, your chief shall learn ee What gifts must gain a warrior." Piz. Haughty spirit I Juan. Your force is much diminish'd. Sixty horsemen : Of pikes and cross-bows full an hundred gone. Had not the flood, in which we saw him plung'd, O'er young Almagro clos'd, and yonder signal That sweeps the rocks confirm'd Gulaxa's word, Despair had bow'd my\apirit, Piz. On that Inca My trust is fixt: and, if his art prevail, This day, ere night-fall, yon rock-structur'd fort By strength of mortal arm impregnable, Shall at my summon's yie|^ : and Cuzco's tow'rs, Proud palaces, and mansions of delight, Rich fanes, and gold-roof'd temples, pav'd with gems, Wait ray disposal. Then — the rebel chiefs Who swell Almagro's numbers, at my feet Shall prostrate fall, and shout Pizarro's name. 178 ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. While from yon battlements I view beneath me, Day after day, Almagro's vaunted host Perish without a blow. Herald enters. Her. [to Pizarro.] My lord ! the chiefs Who faithful to your banner yet remain, Now claim your presence. Piz. Claim it ! [after deliberation.']— Bring Zamorin, Th' unyielding Inca, where my chiefs in council Shall mark his dreadful doom. [Herald goes.] This will, methinks, Sooth them awhile, ere conquest on yon walls Waves my proud banner. Juan — thou attend. [Epceunt. Scene changes to the Tent of tied Chiefs in Council. Alvarados, Benalcazar, Spanish Chiefs. Alv. Comrades ! be firm. Brave Benalcazar, hear me. # I grant our loss is heavy, Chaves, Fernandez, Haro, and valiant Lerma : chiefs of proof : Men of wise voice in council, and whose arm Chained victory to their standard.' They are gone; Ana we have cause for grief, none for despair, If we who yet are left, view not each other ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 179 With that cold eye of timorous distrust, That ill befits a soldier. [Towards the conclusion of this speech, Pizarro enters, and takes his seat as Chief of the Council. After long silence, Pizarro rises.~\ Piz. Why thus silent ? Let none despair. Time was, fame-honour'd chiefs ! When by pale fear, and woe, and want encircled, On a lone island near this coast I drew Thus, with my sword, a line : " Behold (I said) ec On this side, danger and immortal glory : cc There, safety and dishonour." Blush, Castile ! All, all but thirteen warriors, left Pizarro. There, the heav'n-destin'd conquerors of Peru Month after month obscurely lay conceal'd, And glor knew us not: but, when our foot Once trod upon this coast, our second step Tow'r'd on the neck of monarchs. Alv. On this sword I laid, in pledge of faith, a soldier's hand, Ere victory blazing round Pizarro's brow Had lur'd the fickle noon-swarm. The bright sun Allur'd not me, nor shall the storm appal. Pizarro's cause is mine: and may this arm Wither in battle, when I turn my lance Against his helm. Piz. Brave chief, behold this gem : 'Twas king Ataliba's : he died, and left us Heir to his wealth. Take, and transmit this jewel 180 ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. To thy son's sons, to late posterity, As a memorial that Pizarro knew Thy worth, nor lightly honoured it. Herald enters. Her. My lord, The hostage waits thy will. Piz. Bring him before us. [Herald goes. Your wel 1-weigh 'd voice — I am b ut one amongyou — Shall fix his doom. Alv. Fain would I, front to front Behold him. Since that hard-contested battle When singly he assail'd me, as I slew His routed host, I ne'er have seen that warrior. You still refus'd me. Piz. I had ever hope So to have sway'd him, that his soul had bow'd Submissive to your will : my threats avail'd not. Yet — I have witness'd men who boldly brav'd A single front, turn pale and quake at sight Of chiefs in council. Herald enters with Zamorin. Alv. In his air and form Reigns simple grandeur, and on that calm front I trace the visible impress of a mind That yields not to base fear. \Zamorin regardless of the Council, unclasps let, and crushes it, link after link. / ] Oh sacred charge ! ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 181 Pledge of a monarch's love, a nation's trust, Farewell for ever. [Kisses it. Alv. Why, Peruvian, thus Unclasp that bracelet from thy arm, why rend it Link after link ? Zam. [to himself.] Not their unhallow'd hands : Their touch shall not pollute thee. So, [crushing it.'] ..scape Their sacrilegious avarice— nor — perhaps — Attest Zamorin's frailty. Alv. Peruvian ! We are not by your spoils so lur'd, so slav'd By every glittering toy, that we had stript thee Of that poor ornament. Brave Inca, say, Why dost thou tread that bauble under foot ? Zam. I'll answer thee, when it is crush'd to atoms. Say. [To Pizarro.] Have I leave to speak ? Piz. We Spaniards, Inca, Do not condemn our prisoners unheard. Zam. Man, man, thou mock'st me. Look, where thou art thron'd, Look, where I stand. And hast thou heart to mock me ? Alv. Thou shalt have patient hearing. Piz. We attend. Zam. It ever hath been custom with our kings, From great Huana Capac, our first monarch, The offspring of the sun, when they select A leader of their forces, round his arm To bind the chain which in the hour of peace Circles their neck : that bracelet, linkt by hands 182 ZAMORIN'AND ZAMA. Celestial, all Peru so sacred deems, That Cuzco's chiefs beholding it would yield The city, and the temple of their god. Who bears that bracelet, speaks, and is obey'd Like one from heav'n. No eye shall see it more ; s Tis crush'd to atoms. Alv. ' Wherefore ? Zam, I received it From good Huascar, on the very night He perish'd, by the fell usurper slain, Sent by Ataliba, whom you did murder. [ The Council murmurs enraged. Ben, To torture with him. Zam. Whence this sudden rage ? Ben. Away with him. Zam. In what have I offended ? Or can you not in patience hear the deed That you had heart to act ? Alv. Hear, hear him, comrades ! The language of plain truth, howe'er it gall me, Is not unwelcome to a soldier's ear. On with your speech. You shall not interrupt him. Zam. When I came forth your hostage, not your prisoner, I charg'd Villoma to refuse all terms If by that chain unvouch'd ; for I had heard That ye had instruments of hellish pow'r To force the tongue to utterance : now to feign What the soul knew was false, and now deny The truth that is our birthright from above. I never shrunk, as these deep scars may witness, ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 183 From wounds in war, but what ye might inflict When cool the blood, I knew not. This I know, That man is frail : and doubts, yea — fears came o'er me, Lest in the heart here bosom'd, human frailty Might underneath the agony of torture, Betray its weakness. Ben. Then bid yonder fort Instantly yield, or the keen rack shall goad Your quivering limbs. Zam. I now can stand the trial : For what the tongue may rave when nature groans In madd'ning torture, now has no avail. The chain is crush'd. Gulaxa enters in haste. Piz. Gulaxa ! Gul. Brave Pizarro, Art thou prepar'd to lead thy host in arms, When I advance the signal ? Piz. Yes. Go forth— And reign at Cuzco. Zam. Reign ! no— base usurper. Piz. Pizarro-crowns him. Zam. On his brow your hand May fix a crown : but you are strangers to us. 'Tis not the diadem that awes our souls, Peru reveres her father in her king : Our's is the heart's pure homage. Gul. Hear, Zamorin. 184 ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. Cuzco obeys my signal . yet — I know There are within yon fort who still resist. Alone thy influence sways them : bid them yield i Enough of blood has stream'd. They who oppose me, Shall surely die. Zam, I pity whom thou sparest. Gul. Think that thou view'st Villoma prone on earth. His grey hairs stain'd with gore: think on thy Zama, When ruthless war unchains his triple fiends., Jlapine, and Lust, and Murder. Zam. Lord of Nature ! Who in yon orb of living light, to earth, Faint shadowest forth thy glory : pow'r supreme ! Who for high ends to man unsearchable, Send'st forth thy dreadful ministers of vengeance, Tempest and spotted plague, and flame-wing'd bolts ; And new, along the violated deep Hast pent, more fell than tempest, plague, and fire, From other worlds, the outcast of mankind To waste this realm : to thee, oh Sun ! I call : And join my voice to that which mute to man, Pleads audibly in heav'n. and in each drop Of innocent blood, spilt upon earth, draws down Dire retribution on the murderer's brow. Hence— murderer ! [Gulaxa -departs. As he goes loud shouts are heard. Voices without.'] Almagro. Hail — Almagro, ZAM0R1N AND ZAMA. 185 Herald enters. Her. r to Pizarro.'] My lord- — Almagro's son, on foaming; steed, Speeds thro' your camp : with him his far-fam'd leaders, Herrada, Garcias, and renown'd Orgognez. And — from your squadrons, many a fickle soldier Gathers around them. Hark ! [shouts heard.] the air resounds With shouts of young Almagro. Piz. Chiefs, be firm- On you Pizarro rests : and plunder'd Cuzco Shall all your toils o'erpay — Amid sliouts of Almagro — Young Almagro, Her- rada, Garcias, and Orgognez, enter. Ha ! who art thou ? Art thou a spirit risen from the dead, To haunt me at mid-day ? Aim. None from the dead. Herrada ! stay with me : go, trusty Garcias, Haste to my sire : relate what here has past. Orgognez, ere three hours have wing'd their flight, Be it thy charge to lead my chosen squadrons To storm this camp, if yet Pizarro brave us. [Orgognez and Garcias depart. [To Pizarro' s Council.] Are these the chiefs whom terror chain' d to earth, 186 ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. When o'er the fosse I sprung, and scal'd the rock? And slept jour swords when one of Spanish blood Sunk in jour sight ? Alt). The sword and lance were pow'rless Gainst that proud fort where our good cannon fail'd. But — when I saw thee raid surrounding foes Rush singlj unappall'd, old Alvarados Heard on his back war's iron harness ring. Methought in each old scar the whizzing shaft Sunk, as when first it pierc'd me, Aim. Hear. Pizarro—- Dismiss tbj chiefs : let us confer in secret. Piz. Retire awhile, my friends. [The Chiefs depart. Aim. [staying Zamorin.] Is this the hostage ? Zam. You see Zamorin. Aim. Go not hence, brave man. Thro' me thj Zama greets thee. Zam. Name her not : The very sound unmans me. Zama, Zama, Oh may'st thou never hear what I have suffer'd ! Aim. [to Pizarro.] Tho' thou resist my sire's just claim, and mock The Emperor's sacred signet- — Piz. [interrupting him.] Heav'n forefend I Aim. Yet we maj meet on terms : and, in that hope, Before thy warriors I reproach'd thee not, But face to face here breathe mj just rebuke. Yet know I to forgive, and once aton'd, Remember not th' offense. ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 187 Piz. Then — we are friends. Declare the terms. Aim. First, free this hostage. Zam. Me? Spaniard ! art thou aware of thy demand ? Piz. Why free this man, alike thy foe and mine? ^4/;??. Their fortress I assail'd, they spard my life; The sire of this brave man unclasp'd my chains. The wife of this brave man spake comfort to rae ; And when I seem'd in sorrow, look'd on me As one who views a brother. Zam. Zam a saw Distress, nor ask'd when misery pierced her soul, Whether a friend or foe required reiief : 'Twas human nature suffered,. Zama pitied. Spaniard, beneath our roof, in Cuzco's walls, The life of man is sacred. Piz [to Almagro.~\ You did promise To free this chief. Aim. My life for his is pledg'd. Piz. Say, we release him, you require no more. Aim. Nought, but our right, the Emperor's grant. Juan enters. Juan. Pizarro, The beck'ning signal waves from yonder fort, Shall I array the troops ? Piz. Haste, quickly arm them. I, I will Jead them. [Juan goes. Aim. Trust not to that signal. 188 ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. Piz. You plead the Emperor's grant ! behold my title, Not penn'd in characters that man can forge. Make and unmake at will. [Takes his helmet off'.'] "Tis chartered here, Imprinted by the iron hand of war, On this time-furrow'd front : and till thy sword Has raz'd it out, look not to rule at Cuzco. Each dent, and honour'd scar that seams this head,, Will yawn afresh, wide as when first the blood Gush'd from the wound, whene'er Pizarro yields What conquest gave him on the well-fought field. Here ends our conference. Guard! confine this Indian. END OF ACT THE SECOND. ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 189 ACT III. SCENE I. The Court before the Temple of the Sun. Villoma and Zama. Zama. Oh ! go not forth ; to others trust the charge : 'Tis not a woman's fear : each voice reports Signs of dire portent. Vil. Earth has rock'd ere now, And red volcanos roar'd- — Zama. Not these alone, Nor lakes that heav'd when not a light leaf wav'd, Nor fiery armies clanging in the skies : But from the southern turret one who watch'd Last night — [Priests burst in. Priest. Hear, hear, Villoma — Vil. Why thus burst Unbidden ? Wherefore shake thy limbs ? Priest. Good father ! Vil. Speak, holy man — Priest. It was our charge this day, To watch the heav'ns : noon's solemn hour drew near, When, as we gaz'd observant of the God, To hymn his mid-day pomp, at once from view, While not a cloud obscur'd the golden sky, 190 ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. The sun withdrew his light : and wide o'er heav'n From the dark orb thick gathering vapours spread Ceaselessly streaming. As our hearts died in us — Oh horror ! Vil. Speak — Priest. The temple's ponderous gates Mov'd by an unseen hand, and dreadful groans, As from a struggling spirit loath to part, Burst from the riven shrine — Zama. These, these are sent Dire warnings from above. Oh, go not forth. Vil. At this dread hour when treason shakes the realm, And brother against brother arms his hand, I will not to another trust that charge Which duty binds on me. The will of heaven, More audible than prodigies and portents, Bids me defend my country. Orcas enters. Ore. Haste, Villoma ! The secret signal floats above the rock : Now, mid the traitors, in the cavern's gloom Where the sun never shone, Gulaxa leagues The murderous band. Vil. Say, are th 'appointed guard Drawn forth, and well advis'd ? Ore, They wait thy word, And call on thee to lead them. [Orcas goes. Vil. Say, I come — ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 191 Thou, if this hand, oh Sun, that clasps thy shrine, Has ne'er from youth to age been rais'd to thee But to invoke from heav'n, on all beneath. Thy universal blessings, hear my pray'r ! Accept this life, a sacrifice for all ! Strike here, and save thy realm ! — My child, fare- well ! Zama. I will not leave thee at this dreadful hour: Zamorin's wife has sway among the chiefs, Zamorin's spirit breath'd in softer tone, E'en in a woman's voice has pow'r to daunt The soul of guilt. Vil. Think of thy boding fears — . Zama. I have no fear : thy life, thy life's in danger. [Exeunt; Scene, a Cave. Gulaxa, Rim ac, Conspirators. Qui. Your stations are assign'd, and ye have sworn What time Pizarro's trumpet rends the air To yield the fortress — Rim. Yes, 'tis sworn, Gulaxa, But where is Arcal ? GuL On the middle rampire That skirts the ledge of rocks, his eye o'erlooks The Spanish camp. Rim. Trust not that man, Gulaxa : His life, methinks, is bosom'd in Villoma, That he so fears to wound him — 192 ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. Villoma, Zama, Orcas, Guard, burst in. Vil. Seize their weapons. Rim. No — not if this a? ail. Zama. [catching his lifted hand.] Here, traitor ! strike. — A daughter's hand has sav'd thee. [To Villoma. Vil. Drag them forth, Drag forth these serpents from their darksome cave : Th' all seeing sun shall glare upon their shame. [They drag them forth. Traitors, jour doom is death. Kneel not to me. \_To Gulaxa. I cannot pardon thee. Gul. Nor do I ask it, But on such terms as shall redeem my soul From galling infamy. I boldly claim Not mercy, but high praise, and just reward Due to a deed that to remotest time Shall consecrate my memory. Vil. Say on. Gul. The signal waves ; the Spaniards soon will march : I know the impatience of Pizarro's soul : That chief will lead them. At the lower fort Fix me to guide bis foot-step up the rock : Then, ere he cross the outward bridge, this hand Shall pierce his breast. Zama. Oh more than serpent fell., He only wounds, instinctively, in rage, ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 193 The foot that bruises him : but thou, oh man ! Thou with deliberate thought, pondering the means, Would'st stab the friend who leans upon thy breast, And fell him with thy hand, held forth in act Of seeming kindness. • Vil. And for this thou claim'st Praise and reward : such recompense as suits Such actions, be thy meed. When guilt, like thine, Stalks forth unpunish'd, he who pardons it Incurs the wrath of heav'n. Thy doom is death. Ore. [looking out.] Almagro's son, who left this morn our walls, Returns — and with him— one — Zama. Perhaps — Zamorin. Vil. [To Orcas who goes out.~\ Conduct them hither. Oh ! all gracious lieav'n ! Thro' dark and intricate mazes hid from man Thy mercy lightens, as the golden sun Bursts from the veil of clouds. Orcas enters, conducting Almagro and Herrada. Zama. It is not — no— J Tis not Zamorin. Why that look of woe ? [To Almagro. Why art thou silent ? oh ! he is no more. Aim. I left him living: but — you see me here — - Zama. I understand you. He will not live leng. Aim. I left him at the mercy of Pizarro. Oh, if thou wish to hear his last farewell, Or see him more, away : this chief [Herrada.'] shall guard thee. 194 ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. Rely on him, as oo this willing victim, Pledg'd for Zamorin's life. Gul. [as Zama is rushing out.'] Stay, Zama, stay S But grant me life, [to Villoma.'] and I will mark the means To free the hostage. To her heart again Zama shall clasp her lord. Vil. Speak — thou art pardon'd. Gul. [pointing to AlmagroJ] Lo, in this chief, Pizarro's fellest foe : The wish most harbour'd in Pizarro's heart, Is this man's death : haste, proffer in excLange His corse, and hail Zamorin. Zama. No — fell traitor ! First, let Zamorin die, and with him, Zama. [To Herraela.] Spaniard ! in thee I trust. My sire — farewell. [Zama rushes out, accompanied by Herrada. Vil. Haste, haste, restrain her flight— my daughter: Zama ! Perfidious murderer ! [to Gulaxa.] No. Thou shalt not die : It now were mercy. When Pizarro, swol'n \ With pride of prornis'd victory, leads his host Against this fort, and summons forth his slaves, Then — to confound the conqueror, cast before him This traitor — chain'd. So in thy doom, that chief Shall dread his destiny. [To Orcas.~\ Be this thy charge. [Exeunt. ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 195 Scene changes to Pizarro' s Camp. Pizarro comes from his Tent, at the sound of Trumpets at a distance. Piz. Here will I cross their march — By Saint Iago, Would that smooth sounds, or words of lofty tone Might cool these fiery spirits ! 'till yon rock Barr'd my free progress, their resistless course Swept o'er Peru, from realm to conquer'd realm, Following from the east on Victory's eagle wing The sun, that like a harbinger before us, Lit our long march of glory. \a trumpet."] Hark — • a trumpet ! The sound of men in arms. Lerma and his Host enter Lev. Pizarro. Piz. Lerma ! Ler. Pedro de Lerma. [lifting up his vizor."] Look upon him. Halt ! Comrades in arms ! Piz. Brave warrior ! at this hour Why cas'd in steel with these thy valiant men ? No herald summond thee. Ler. I march, Pizarro, To join Almagro's standard. Some have fled Like men, guilt-sham'd, as if they fear'd thy frown. 196 ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. I come, as chief meets chief, as foe fronts foe. To say that thou hast wrong'd me. Piz. No — brave warrior. Ler. How. Thou remember'st not ? The injurer Can smile on whom he wrong'd; and calmly tender His hand in pledge of friendship ! Say,, Pizarro, Hast thou forgot the memorable day. When swol'n by autumn floods, th' Apurimac Barr'd our pursuit ? when, on its crags, your host Shrunk back, and nought was heard, when paus'd the gust, But the flood's ceaseless roar, who, foremost, spurr'd His steed careering on the pendulous bridge, Which, o'er the torrent, wreath'd from rock to rock, Shook its light net-work waving with each wind ? Piz. 'Tis fresh in my remembrance. Valiant Ler ma, Thy steed first cross'd it. Ler. You remember that ! Then — when the Indians ambush' d 'mid the cliffs, Fell on our struggling rear, you bad Henriquez Charge with the lances. Was not that my post ? Piz. I saw thee not. Ler. The routed Indians saw me, Who hemm'd Alvarez round : I rescued him ; And heard, at my return, Henriquez' name Echoed from rank to rank. Piz. Forget tli* offence. Since then long time has past, and Lerma's merits Have not been unrewarded. Ler. Years on years ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 197 Heal not the wound where injur'd honour bled ; Once felt, and ne'er forgotten. So., farewell. You know this raven plume, that oft in fight Has wing'd jour troops to victory : Pizarro, Avoid it, and beware of Lerma wrong'd ! Piz. Farewell, stern Lerma, nor forget this blade When it unplumes thy helm* Avoid Pizarro ! [They 'part different ways. Scene changes to another part of Pizarro' s Camp. Zamorin. %am. The stir and shout of the tumultuous camp Loud ring from tent to tent : ere-long yon fort, Impregnable by pow'r of mortal arm. Shall yield its strength, and treason ope its gates At stern Pizarro's voice. Oh heav'n-born babe ! Sole relic of the race sent down to earth To bless this realm ! no more my arm shall guard thee. Villoma — Zama — hold my madd'ning brain ! Not that— not that — no — the fixt earth shall first Fall from it shatter'd base : and thou, oh Sun, Rush from thy sphere, ere guilt's foul touch pollute Her pure and sinless bosom. [Juan's voice heard without. Juan. When the trumpet Summons the warriors, to Pizarro lead them : Now strictly guard the tent : let none approach. 198 ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. Zama speaks in entering* Zamorin ! Zam. 'Tis her voice. It cannot be. Once., once again charm'd Fancy ! breathe that sound ! Zama. [embracing Mm.] Zamorin. Zam. 'Tis herself— angel of light. Zama. Yet, yet thou liv'st, and these fond arras enfold thee. Oh I had fear that never , never more This eye had gaz'd on thine. Zam. Yes — I will clasp thee,, And; ere we part, in thy celestial look Taste the pure transport of a world, where love "Mid spirits of the blest, links soul with soul In everlasting union. Yet — my Zama ! I would we had not met, Zama. Oh say not that ! Zam. Why gaze thus on me with unsated eye ? Zama, Oh ! thou art strangely aiter'd, since we parted. A few, few days. Keen grief has wrung thy soul, And each worn feature, as I gaze on thee, Wounds me with mute reproach. Had I been here., Thou had'st less keenly suffered. Zam. That alone, I had but that alone to sooth my anguish : Thou knew'st it not— Zama. • Yet, sure, had I been here. ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 199 Thy soul, tho' pierced with anguish, had found peace While pillow'd on my breast thy brow repos'd. And I had watch' d thy sleep, and if my tears Shed in mute wretched uess, had chanc'd to stray Down thy pale cheek, my lip had kiss'd them off, And met thee with a smile. Zam. The past, oh Zama ! Wakes not a pang. Would thou wert now away ! Zama. Never, Zamorin, will I leave thee more : None, none shall part us. Thou wert once unkind, Yet was it kindly meant ! but never more Force me to quit thee : nor dissolve the dream So sweet, of hope, that whispers to my soul That I may sooth thy grief. Alas ! Zamorin, You hid from me the woe that nature suffers, But left me to the nameless agonies Of fear's unreal shapings. Yet — my husband — Zam. Why that dread silence ? Speak thy inmost wish. Zama. The fond indulgence of a woman's weak- ness Must not unman thee : these are ruthless men ; And, if thou deem, that death's unpitied pangs Will less severely wound thee, if thy Zama Be far away : I, now, tho' loth, will leave thee. And, yet, mid these rude men, whose brutal rage Ends not with life — Zam. Cease, cease : you wring my heart. Zama. To leave thy untomb'd corse expos'd to scorn 200 ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. And insults that the tongue wants strength to utter ! Oh by that love which made this earth a heav'n, By the blest vow that made us one., refuse not My last request !— Zam. I was prepar'd for death : Thou hast unman 'd me-: 'tis for thee I fear. Zama. Thou weep'st, nor longer can'st deny my pray'r : 'Tis what religion prompts, and these bad men, Unhallow'd as they are, will not refuse it. 'Tis but to close the eye which cannot see The hand that weighs it down, and smooth the brow Insensate to the touch which presses it. Nor will they envy me a little spot Where I may hide thee in the grave, and pour O'er thy cold corse a pray'r, while death steals o'er The lip that breathes farewell. [Trumpet sounds. Zam. Hark ! that dread signal ! Juan enters with a Guard. Juan. Bring the Peruvians forth. Zam. Art thou prepar'd, My Zama ? Zama. Yes, Zamorin, thus — [embraces him."] to perish, And hail the stroke that shall in death unite us. END OF ACT THE THIRD. ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 201 ACT IV. SCENE I. Tlie Fort of Cusco. Pizarro, Alyarados, Benalcazar, ZaMORIN, Zama. Soldiers arrayed. Piz. Comrades in arms ! Who here have watch'd, while through each labour- ing change The cold moon slowly toil'd, and at the base Of these vast rocks, seen the red balls ye launch 'd Fall from the unscath'd fortress ! Ye, whom war, By irksome trials in the lingering seige Has taught to bear the iron yoke that galls Proud valour, while your spirit glow'd within you, Like the trained war-steed, balancing his pace While his eye flames with fire ; lo, there your spoils ! [Pointing to the Fort. Drag from unfathom'd caves exhaustless wealth, And jems that pale the noon-beam : on yon height Repose, and one by one tell o'er your scars : And where the arrow pierc'd your batter'd mail, Close it with plates of gold — Ben. Now, give the signal — Thy troops demand the spoil. Piz. O'er yon proud temple When victory waves my banner, Benalcazar, 202 ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. Fix on the battlement this Inca's head., So shall they perish, all who stood before us Barring our way to conquest. Zama, Man of blood — All— [going to the different chiefs.} are ye all alike? Thou aged warrior, po Alvarados.l Whose silver beard shows like my father's ! spare him ! Zam, Zama ! submit in silence. Piz. [to his herald.'] Sound the trumpet. Summon the fortress., Alv. First, Pizarro, hear me— This corselet bears the dint of many a wound That bought thee conquest: gold and gems I ask not. I claim his freedom. Zama. Thou wcrt born of woman, And drops of pity mingled in the breast That gave thee milk. Alv. [to Zama,] Hang not around me, thus ; Mine is no heart of flint : since she who bore me, Wept o'er her farewell blessing, this old cheek , Has never felt a tear : the drops would' scald My eye unwonted to them ~— . Ben. Hear, Pizarro, Our followers murmur at. this long delay — Alv. [to Ben] When Alvarados speaks, he will be heard — In the last action, when his army fled, I found this Inca with the fight o'erdone Stretch'don a heap,, Indians and Spaniards slain* ZAM0R1N AND ZAMA. 203 I bad him yield : he answer'd not, but swiftly As one just fresh in onset, wrench'd my lance From its firm rest : and, as I grasp'd my sword, With my own weapon, thro' this iron gauntlet, Thus, pierc'd me: and may venom lurk in the wound, If Aharados see him basely slain As he had ne'er known valour. Zama. [kisses his hand.'] Zama's lip Shall head the wound — Piz. [to Alv.~\ Pizarro is thy debtor. When the proud fortress yields, release the hostage. Summon the place — Zam. [advancing.] Pizarro, stay — That fort Hangs on my word : be warn'd, and now release me: Or rage will prompt strange deeds, which shall outlast The fame that waits on victory — Peru Once more in arms demands her chief: release him, Him whom you cannot fear^- Ben. Free him, Pizarro — Our scanty band scatters at will their myriads Like dust before the blast — Zam. Boast not, proud warrior ! We are not cas'd in mail, we forge not swords Edg'd to cut steel, we launch not hidden fires That flash, and man is dead, nor mount on steeds That crush the foe beneath their iron hoof — We fight, as nature dictates : ye are train 'd To slaughter as an art : and in mid fight Ye speak, and are obey'd, and turn the tide 204: ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. Of battle with a word. Bat, with our shields Twin'd rushes of the brook, reed shafts, and spears Uobarb'd with iron, and for high-plum'd casque A wreath of flow'rs piuck'd from our native soil, Arm'd in our country's cause, we will once more Front you without a fear— - Ben. [to Piz.] These valiant men Have eam'd rewards beyond a monarch's ransom, And claim the promised spoil. We come not hither Thus to be mock'd by slaves, Pis. Draw your brave swords, Wave your triumphant standards, peal the trumpet. Yield to Pizarro's power ! Ore. [on the battlement.'] Where is the chief Who thrones and unthrones kings ? Piz, [advancing.'] Behold Pi zarro — Ore. [to the guards within the fort.] Now cast the traitor forth, then, close the gates. [Gidaxa is cast forth . He kneels to Pizarro . Pen. This is no harbinger of victory. Alv. [to Gul.] Why dost thou clasp his knees ? why prone on earth Thus shrouded close from view, as if thou fear'd'st That the abhorrent eye should turn from thee As from a sight unblest ? Zam. Is this the monarch Whom great Pizarro crown 'd ? Piz. Ye mountains ! crush me ! Gape earth that I have drench 'd with blood, and hide me In central night ! ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 205 Ben, [to Pizarro.~\ Where are thepromis'd spoils? Piz. [confusedly to his army.~] This is not as it seems. It moves your wonder. Be not alarm'd, my friends : art oft beneath The semblance of repulse — Oh heav'n and earth ! By all my former fame,, and the proud hope Of greater glory, now for ever gone, Thou \to Gulaxa.~] shalt not live. [Going to stab him. Gul. Stay thy impetuous hand : I was myself betray'd. Send back your troops. Ye^ yet thou shalt succeed. Piz. Comrades ! retire A little while : here soon to meet again. I pray you to the camp. [All go hut Pizarro, Juan, and Gulaxa. Gul. Grant me but life, Villoma shall obey me. Piz. Mark me., traitor, Oh — if false hope deceive me, thou shalt die In lingering agonies. There, fix my banners, Now, ere Almagro's swift advancing host Pluck conquest from my grasp. Gul. 'Tis in thy pow'r. Piz. No trifle turns Pizarro from his course. Gul. You need but feign the act. Piz. Be brief — feveal it — Gul. You mark'd that woman whom they lead away. Piz. Most beautiful. In form, and face, and air, Peerless, and rarely grac'd. 208 ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. Gul. You know her rank. Piz. Zamorin's wife. Gul. Know you nought else ? Zam. No more, Gul. She is a daughter of the sun : a Coya. / Piz. [impatiently .] Well, well. Gul. You heed me not. She is a Coya, Pure in her veins, from our first monarch, flows Her blood by mortal mixture unprofan'd. Her father, in yon rock-built temple, serves The sun, his sire and god, — her life is sacred — You understand me : let me add no more. Piz. Her life is sacred. I have heard such tales ; But these vain dreams and visions of weak fancies., Past with the hearing. Gul. Oh you misconceive it : So sacred are their lives, that he who wounds them Unknowingly, nay, tho* devoid of sense, Idiot or lunatic, no longer dwells With man, but from the social tie cut off, Strays lone on earth, amid the beasts of the wild. Who slays a Coya, is entomb'd aliye, His race from earth swept off, and e'en the ground That fed him, hid with stones, which he who passes,, Casts with a curse upon it. Pis;. Then — you mean That I sWbuld slay this daughter of the sun, If her stern sire refuse to yield the fort. Gul. You need but threaten it. But ne'er Villoma Will yield the fort, unsanction'd by Zamorin. A solemn vow restricts him. Free the hostage : ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 207 Let him once more to Cuzco's walls return ; And when Villoma and Zamorin view The Coja in thj pow'r — Piz. [interrupting him.] It cannot fail — Juan — delay not — to Zamorin haste ; Release the hostage : this the sole condition, That young Almagro in yon walls remain A captive : here, with us, the Coya rests, Pledge of Zamorin's words. [Juan goes.] Guards ! seize this traitor, [Gulaxa.] And underneath yon rock that view'd our shame, In torturing pangs inflict his doom of death. [Exeunt. Scene changes to the Camp. Zamorin and Zama. Zam. Oh hapless country ! by thy native race Betray'd to merciless men ! Zama Yet some remain Unshaken : from the rest, when thou went'st forth, Hope fled : from thee the general spirit flow'd As light from heav'n. Thy influence reign'd in all ; Thou wert their voice in counsel, strength in war, In woe, sole prop : thou went'st, and dark despair Fell on the brave : while strange extravagant tales That made the Spaniards, gods, found sure belief In the base fear that forg'd them. Zam. Lost Peru ! Oh could they hear my voice ! e'en now, ere night, 208 ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. Spaniards 'gainst Spaniard, arra'd by demons, clash In unforgiving contest. Knew they this, Hope would revive, and with reviving hope, Th' unconquerable will, and pow'r to quell Th 5 invader. Oh ! how gladly would I pour My willing blood upon my native earth, If my blest voice, in death, might warn Peru Of fate to come ! Juan enters. Juan. Zamorin, thou art free : Go to yon fort, and as becomes the brave. Defend thy country. Zam. Gracious heav'n ! I thank thee ! Yet much I fear thou mock'st me. Juan. Thou art free. Yet — -hear the terms. Zam. I knew that thou did'st mock me. You need not name them. Juan. Had thy will consented To young Almagro's death, the western world Had own'd thy rule. Zama. He came, a willing victim Pledged for thy life. [Zamorin.~\ By his kind aid I stand Here at thy side. Zam. You may depart. Juan. Yet — hear me : Nor price of blood, nor aught unjust I claim : This only, to detain him in yon fort ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 209 A prisoner : Zama, hostage for thy word Here, in our guard, remains, [after a long pause.'] You answer not. Zama. Yes. He consents. Oh, linger not, Zamorin. Away, [aside to Zamorin.'] and warn Peru of fate to come. Farewell. Zam. Oh man ! thou hadst not hope to move me. Juan. I understand thee not. Zam. Then briefly this, We love our wives, and in that name comprise All that earth holds most sacred. Thou art answer'd. Zama. Good Spaniard ! I may move him : pray retire. [Juan goes, [After a long silence.] You will consent. Zam. Never. Zama. You love me not. Zam. Far beyond life. Zama. More than thy country's freedom, Than virtue, self-esteem, vows fix'd in heav'n, That vow, which when Huascar's spirit fled, Left on his corse a smile ? thee I have lov'd With that pure ardour, which to rightly name it, Seems likest adoration : for in thee, Virtue in human shape, gave me on earth The foretaste of hereafter. I have liv'd In that persuasion blest : so let me die. Oh say, you will consent. Zam. Art thou aware Of their intent ? 210 ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. Zama. I think I shall not live. Zam. 'Tis plain as if Pizarro's voice proclaimed it : Thee, they will drag thee underneath the fort, And in a father's sight-^- Zama. [interrupting him."] Oh name it not. Zam. 'I he fiend will pierce thy bosom, if Villoma Refuse to yield the fort. Zama, a father Can ne'er endure that sight. Zama. Thou wilt be with him : Control him — and then — sooth him, that he feel not That he has lost a child. Zam. How shall I stand Unshaken, when a father's heart drops blood ? Zama. Thou art the column that supports Peru. Zam. It is thy voice, but thou hast chang'd thy nature. Thy eye, that gazes on me, sheds no tear, While mine — Zama. Spare, pity me, consent, farewell. Zam. Is it a trivial thing to part with life, That we no more shall meet as once in bliss ? Zama. Husband ! clasp, clasp me in thy arms, then ask That question, and my heart shall answer thee. Thus, [embracing Mm.'] we will die together. Yet — I fear Peru's deep curse will load our parting breath. Zam. Thou more than woman. Zama. No, a weak, frail woman, Who has not chang'd her nature : one, from love ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 211 Who borrows strength beyond her pow'r, to utter What breaks her heart. Say, that we live, Zamorin, And yield the fort; the earth will groan beneath us; The sun withdraw his light that we hare hymn'd, Both when it rose and set ; for still it blest Our love, whose bond was virtue. We may shun A scornful world : how shall we shun ourselves, The worse despisers ? Say, we die together ; My father to redeem our corse from insult Would yield the fort, but — as he tomb'd our bones, Shame would suspend his blessing. Fix our doom: My soul, high-strain'd. beyond its nature, leans On thee for aid : oh, by thy virtue, husband, Give strength to mine. Oh let me die in peace, And make my memory blest. [Rushes out, hut returns. Zam. Farewell— be blest — Yet — yet. I have a fear. How shall I speak it ? these are bad, bad men. When he, who should protect, is far away, When most his aid is wanted — Zama. Spous'd in heav'n ! Let not a fear for me disturb thee more ! I can protect myself — depart in peace I Zam. What thy intent ? Zama. Ere the good Spaniard went, Who brought me hither, I entreated him One favour for Almagro's sake : he gave it : Uncertain as I was what doom might wait me, I begg'd this steel. I will not rashly use it. f 212 ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. But when all else shall fail, 'twill be no crime To rescue a pure daughter of the sun, Thy wife, fiom touch unblest. Zam. [embraces her.'] We meet — in heav'n. END OF ACT THE FOURTH. ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 213 ACT V. SCENE I. Tlie Sanctuary of the Temple of the Sun. On each side of the Sun, Mazing over his Altar, the em- balmed bodies of the Peruvian Emperors, from Manco Capac their first Sovereign, seated on golden thrones. Villoma, Zamorin, Peruvian Chiefs. Vil. Defenders of your country ! Approach, and on this bloodless altar lay Your hands, the plighted witness of your vow. Peruv. We lay our hands — Vil. Now vow ye will perform Whate'er Zamorin urges. Peruv. Hear our vow ! Zam. [to Vil.'] Thy duty now is o'er. Oh holy father ! Retire, I pray thee. On their souls I bind A dreadful charge : their, country's freedom claims it: A charge of bloody whose utterance were unfit For thy pure ear. [Vil. departs. Zam. Defenders of Peru ! Who here in awful ecstasy adore High wonders ne'er expos'd to eyes on earth Save the Sun's hallow'd race : ye, whom pure zeal, 214 ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. And that great cause which consecrates your vow, The freedom of your country, here unites In holiest league : by him, who on yon \_Manco CapacJ] throne, Now o'er you bends, the founder of our country, Who from their rocks first drew our sires, and tam'd To social life, when lone, dispersed, they wander'd O'er earth's wide wilderness, where man and beast Grappled for nature's sov'reignty -'_; by him Who first unclos'd the unaccustom'd heart To pity, tenderness, and gentle joys, Who to the woods and wilds brute passion chas'd, And taught the interchange of soul with soul, And sympathies of kin that make on earth Each home a blissful heav'n :— By Him, my voice Adjures you, to resist the fell invader, Or with your realm, religion, freedom, laws, In one wide wreck expire — ■ Peruv. We will resist Or perish.— Lead us forth — Zam. -No, not to war ; 'Tis not to battle that I urge you forth, To combat with a foe whom hell has arm'd With its own fires. — They told you they were Gods: You found them hid beneath their iron mail Men sensible of pain ; and I have found them Men viler than the beast that roams the wild. Hear, and rejoice, and hymn the song of praise : Ere night, their hosts by rival chieftains arm'd In merciless combat meet. Thou stand, Peru, Aloof, and when th'exhausted victor mourns ZAMORIN AND ZAM A. 215 His conquest, sweep from earth that groans beneath them v The wretched remnant of these Gods distain'd With kindred murder. Peruv. On their head our vengeance ! Zam. Be firm ; ye must endure a dreadful test : I cannot speak it. Yet, whatever ye view, E'en tho' Villoma in the dust before you Strew his grey hairs, and pray you spare his age : E'en tho' the chief whose charge now binds your souls, Should, slave of human frailty deny The oath that past his lip, swear ye will guard The fort till death. — Vow this, or now resign Your lives, your liberty, your king, your God, At fell Pizarro's word. Peruv. Our oath is fix'd. Zam. Then ye are conquerors — now, friends ! farewell — Each to his separate charge, and guard the gates, Lest rous'd to frantic agony, Peru Burst them, and yield the fortress — Peruv. We have vow'd — [Peruvian chiefs depart, Zam. [falls on the altar.] Oh thou, who view'st the heart ! thou, to whom thought Speaks without tongue ; to thee is no disguise. Therefore, accept for incense, this deep sigh ; For sacrifice, these tears wrung from the heart And streaming on thy shrine. These now may fall Blameless, unseen of man. Yet, not the less n6 'ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. Sustain me to th* accomplishment, and fill With dauntless force, that in thy cause my soul May triumph ; and when free Peru shouts forth The hymn of praise, rejoin my bride in heay'n^! \_Exit. Scene changes to Pizarro's Camp. , Pizarro, Alvarados, Soldiers. Biz. [to Mv.~] Speed, speed, brave chief! the field may yet be ours. Lead forth thy charge, and, as the foe ascends Yon mound, where our brisk cannon shall confound them, Assail them unawares— Benalcazar enters. Well, Benalcazar t Ben. Caudia contemns thy offer • he is gone, With him his valiant pikemen — Biz. Then, brave chiefs, We shall have more to conquer. Haste, Alvarez : Bring 1 Zarna hither — - Alt. What now thy intent I do not look to fathom ; but, beware— 'Tis loudly rumour'd thro' th'unquiet camp That from yon fort releas'd, Almagro's son Heads his fleet squadrons. All, with eager voice Count and recount his force, and, as fear reckons, Swell them at every numbering — ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 217 Piz. Brave Castillians ! The lion counts not when he thins the herd — On you brave chiefs, Przarro's glory rests : Lead forth your separate charges. [Alvarados and Benalcazar go. Zama enters. Zama, say, If Cuzco saw beneath her sacred walls A daughter of the Sun, and o'er her breast The quivering dagger gleam., in act to strike. Would not thy race to rescue her from death Resign the fort,' and hail with grateful shout The foe who spar'd her life ? - Zama. A crime so fell Would draw down fire from heav'n — Piz, Thou art the victim, And I — [Zama kneels.'] kneel not to me : beneath yon walls Urge thy request. Thy race are prone to pity ; A father, and a husband will avert The threatened deed— - Zama. They will not yield the fortress. A daughter of the Sun now bows before thee, Who ne'er has bow'd the knee to mortal man. Grant my request — Piz. Thy life depends on them — Zama. Of life I have no hope : I urge no pray'r That thou, Pizarro, may'st not justly grant. I shall not live : nor will Zamorin lone: nS ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. Survive my loss : but it will sooth Villomaj And seem like shew of solace to his tears That they are shed upon his daughter's corse. He is a time-worn man, bow'd by sore grief, And ere he close my last sad rites, he too May rest with me. He is a holy man, And heav'n till now has smil'd upon his pray'r ; Grant this, and if indulgent Heav'n will hear The voice of one who for her murderer pleads, Pangs less severe in death's dread hour shall rack Thy struggling spirit. A Spanish Chief enters. Cliief. As the gale comes on, An Intermingled noise of neighing steeds, And troops that shout to battle, mark the advance Of fierce Almagro's force. Juan enters. Juan. Haste, Pizarro — Summon Zamorin : bid him yield the fort, Of view his Zama perish— Piz. Speed, brave Juan, Lead forth my chosen guard, and, if avail Or skill or courage, yet awhile resist Almagro's numbers. — Zama, to yon fort. [Exeunt. ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 219 Scene changes to the Fort. Zamorin and Almagro in a watch-tower. Zam. Look o'er yon rising mound. Again they rally. Again they charge the foe, and bravely combat As men who fear not death — Aim. No more detain me — ■ You sav'd my life, for you my blood shall flow : Mine to confront the danger, yours alone The fruits of victory. Zam. On either wing They hem them round, and bear down all before them. See, from your numerous squadrons, once again Their routed lances fly — Aim. Another troop Rush from the camp : the men who fled but now Turn back on their pursuers. Steed on steed Confus'dly clash, and mix in doubtful fight. I will not tamely see my warriors slain : Detain me not : this arm shall turn the battle : This arm shall rescue Zama. Zam. No, brave knight, My word is pledg'd : I trust th'event to Heav'n — • But no false word shall stain Zamorin's lip — . Ah ! who yon chief ? \_a trumpet is heard- Piz, [behind the scenes.'] Zamorin. 220 ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. Zam. Hold, my heart 5 'Tis he : 'tis fierce Pizarro, to these wails Swift he advances. Aid me, Heav'n ! Pizarro, Zama, Spanish Chiefs, Soldiers, enter. Piz. [entering.'] Villoma, Zamorin, yield the fort, or now the Coya Bleeds in your sight. Peruvians ! yield the fort, Or now the sacred daughter of the Sun Pollutes with blood your consecrated walls. [Villoma, Zamorin, Almagro, Peruvian Chiefs, People, &;c. rush to the lower battlements.^ Vil. My child— my child ! Zam. Sustain me now, oh Sun ! Remember, chiefs ! your vow : keep back the throng ! Piz. [standing over Zama with his drawn dagger.] Consent, or now she dies. Vil. Hear ! Pizarro ! Draw back the steel : the fort, the fort is thine. Release me from my vow ! [to Zamorin.] it is thy wife, It is thy wife, Zamorin ! hear, Peruvians ! Her blood be on your head : the Sun's pure blood ! By these grey hairs ! I kneel to you, my children. Oh spare a wretched father, spare my age. I have but her. * [Villoma faints. Zam. Convey him from the walls. Chiefs, [to Zamorin^] Release us from our oaths. People. Oh horror ! horror ! ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 221 Come on— force back the bars. Resist us not. \_Tothe Chiefs. Pizarro ! sheath thy blade : we yield the fort. Piz. Haste., soldiers I fix your standards on yon walls. Zama. There is no other aid. Zamorin, turn Thy eyes away, [going to stab herself, is prevented by Pizarro. ,] Oh feeble arm ! Piz. Peruvians, Unbar the gate?, or now the Coya dies. Voices without. ] Almagro ! victory, victory, Almagro ! Orgognez rushes in with Almagro's conquering army. Aim. Pizarro, free the Coya, or thou diest. Piz. [his lifted dagger in act to strike.'] Nay— if thou threaten. Benalcazar and Alvarados, brought in Prisoners and wounded. Benalcazar, bleeding ! Thou too, [to Alvarados] disarm'd ? Alv. His forces o'ermatch'd ours. Aim. Hear, Pizarro ! Release her, or thou diest, and these thy chiefs Perish in lingering agonies : restore her, And in exchange receive their ransom'd lives. Piz. And may I trust to thee ? 222 ZAMORIN AND ZAMA: Aim. [to Orgognez.] Brave chief, release them. Alv. [after being released.'] Free her, or Alvarados joins Almagro. Piz. [sheaths his dagger, and frees Zama.] Pizarro knows thy worth. Aim. Descend, Zamorin, Thy firmness has prevail'd. In friendly league, Beneath Almagro's pow'r, bear rule o'er Cuzco. But — if the league with Spaniards seem offence, Almagro shall confirm Pizarro's word. I will relieve the fort : thou, arm Peru : The rest is Heav'n's. Now, bid the gates unclose : Descend, and from a Spaniard's hand receive " Thy peerless bride ! [The gates are flung open, Zamorin descends, Zam. Spaniard ! in thee I trust. Zama. [They rush into each other's arms.] Thou more than mortal ! Zama. My Zamorin ! Zam. Once more, once more on earth we shall be blest. And thou, [to Almagro.] who hast redeem'd the name of Spaniard From ever-dun ng guilt, hear the last sound That from Zamorin's voice shall reach thy ear, Till in the van of battle, front to front, Each leading on his host to death or conquest, Our shouts immingle. Hear me praise thy virtue, While I renounce thy friendship. We are foes. Ye have destroy'd my country, have defac'd A realm on whose untam'd fertility ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 223 The sun look'd kindly down, and prosperous show'rs Pour'd forth perpetual harvests : ye have outrag'd A people, whom content, and peace, and love, Had bound in purest bliss, that gave to man In this terrestrial paradise, the pledge Of heav'n's assur'd beatitude. Oh, stranger ! This race, this realm, this paradise, your steel And ruthless flame have wasted : I oppos'd : Nor shall this arm, till death relax its vigour, Fail to avenge the outrage. Can you say, " Forgive the offence, be it no more remember'd ?" Go, gather up your host. Hence, as you came : And when th' unfathomable deep that severs Our hostile worlds, rolls all its strength between us: And when our blissful brides, who ne'er have heard The name of Spaniard, to their bosoms press A new-born race : and new-born flow'rs and fruits Hide every spot whereon your foot found rest, You are forgiven. Till that day, Zamorin Feeds in his heart just vengeance. Now- — farewell. THE END. THE CONFESSION, A TRAGEDY FIVE ACTS. y Monks. DRAMATIS PERSONS. Men. Provost. Prior. Sacristan. Steward. ■ Confessor. Infirmier. J Julian, Count of Tortona, under the name of Alfonso, 'performing the functions of Hospitalier to the Convent. Francis, Servant of Agnes. Claude, Guide. Peasants, Assassins. Women. Agnes, Countess of Tortona. Ellon. Female Attendants belonging td Agnes. SCENE, the Convent of the Great St. Bernard, and the Hocks adjoining. Time, that of Representation. THE CONFESSION ACT I. SCENE I. The wildest Alpine scenery of ice-mountains and precipices covered with snow, in the environs of the Great St. Bernard. The travellers are seen on different heights amid the windings of the rock, slowly descending the pass leading to the Vallais. First, Francis with two Guides exploring the way, and sounding the hollows with long poles : then Agnes by herself preceding a litter borne by the mountain-peasants: on either side of the litter a female Attendant, followed by a Page. Agnes. Agnes. Oh glorious Sun ! illurain'd by thy beams These wastes of snow, these Alpine solitudes Have pow'r to sooth me. [advancing, and looking on different parts. ] How distinct each rock, Smooth-brow'd, or spiring* high its tapering peak ! Yon range of wavy sweep, and this that breaks Eastward in varied forms like floating; clouds ! Their hues, how changeful ! these, of roseate glow, 230 THE CONFESSION. - Those, azure-dy'd : and some that climb the sky Fling to the light their summits cop'd with gold ! Oh thou, who spak'st creation into birth, How glorious, Lord of Nature, these thy works : How awfully sublime ! Fran. Each step we tread Leads to new dangers. Guide. Sound that snow-heap 'd cave. Fran. How fearfully yon tumbling rock o'er- hangs [Turning back to Agnes. The narrow pass. Beware ! Agnes. Proceed, good Francis. Fran. Here yawns a chasm, down whose depth, the sight Wanders without repose. I'll gaze no more : Its very horror, while it shocks the sense, Most strangely fascinates. [He advances, These slippery fragments, Hurl'd by the tempest from the crags above, Roll loose beneath me. — Lady, let me aid you : Lean on this faithful arm. Agnes. My foot treads firm. To those who know not grief such ways are painful. I have within my soul what mocks at toil. Fran, You were in luxury nurs'd, nor have been us'd To scenes like these : I, in my childhood, rock'd In want's stern cradle feel these aged sinews, That never shrunk in war, ache with each step As slow I labour on. Oh, honour'd lady ! The holy brothers of St. Bernard wara'd you THE CONFESSION. 231 Not to attempt the pass. Return, I pray. Yet, jet amid the rocks a lingering echo Heaves back the slow clang of the convent bell. It is for you I fear. Agnes. My will is fix'd. Go with the guides, and timely warning give If aught impede the way. The topmost snow Stirr'd by the zephyr's breath, may swell before it To size impassable. Fran. I must obey. Agnes, [to those zvho bear the litter.] Be careful, I beseech you ; this steep path Betrays th 'unsteady foot : guard well the litter : You shall not lack reward. Kind, gentle maids, Be watchful of your charge. I first, myself, Will this sharp ridge explore. So may'st thou, Ellen, Securely pass, and ere death end thy woe Find peace once more ! Fran, [to the guides.^ Heard you that sound ? Guide. Most plainly — The voice of men advancing. Fran. List! again Up as the gale comes slowly from beneath, I hear distinct the noise of echo'd steps. Guide. 'Tis strange in this new season; so far well, Claude enters. The rocks below are open. — Welcome, Claude: It is the provost's guide. Thrice welcome Claude : How fares the reverend Albert ? 232 THE CONFESSION. Claude. Heav'n has heard The convent pray'rs : he looks restored to youth : Another man ! 'Twill cheer your heart to see him. He will be here in th 'instant. — Hark, they come. I haste to warn the convent. Fare you well. Guide. Oh happy hour ! Heav'n guard his sacred life. Claude, [going, speaks to Agnes.] Lady ! I pray you let the litter rest : And in this cave, that fronts the mid-day sun., Wait till the train pass by. This narrow ridge Will else your lives endanger. [Claude goes. Agnes, [to her train,'] Repose awhile, my friends ! and in this cave Set down the litter. Your good Provost comes — Not these bleak rocks alone, and the Alpine swains Echo his praises : far and wide his virtues Call forth the general blessing on his head. The Provost and his train enter : as the Provost passes, Agnes speaks. Your benediction, father ! Pro. Peace be with you ! Those widow's weeds, this melancholy train : — Daughter, you seem in woe, and pale your cheek Thro' sorrow more than years : what urgent cause Compells you to these mountains ? Agnes. Holy father ! I pray you pardon me, nor deem me one Rude or untouch'd by kindness, that I leave you, THE CONFESSION. 233 I\Fv tale of grief untold. — These sable weeds But ill express the anguish of my soul. But seek not out the cause. The pow'r who tries The mourner, smites in mercy. Thou hast blest me: Farewell — Pro. Yet, mark me, daughter, no vain wish To hear what may in utterance grieve thy spirit, And ill may suit my years : but sacred duties By heav'n enjoin' d, and sympathy of nature That bids an old man, vers'd himself in woe, Feel for the grief of others, prompt my speech, — Agnes. When thou dost pray for those who grieve on earth, Remember me. Pro. Yet there are lenient words, Balm of the soul. Daughter, my way of life Has been where sinners wept, where sorrow sigh'd, And anguish groari'd around me : and I know How willingly the mourner, bow'd with woe,, "Broods o'er the secret pang that life consumes. This must not be : heav'n link'd us heart to heart To heighten every pleasure, and by sharing Lessen the load of misery. — Silent still ? Turn not away regardless. Agnes. No, good father ; Each word thou speak'st is treasur'd in my soul. AVould I might freely at thy feet pour forth What weighs upon my heart. I am not one Infirm of mind who fondly broods o'er woe. These tears, that will not be supprest, gush out Not for myself alone. One farewell pray 'r. 234 THE CONFESSION. Trust me, the burden of my grief is lightened : For thou hast pitied me. Pro. In silence mourn, I will not urge thee more. Heav'n sooth thy soul ! But I conjure thee, if thou value life Turn to our hospitable roof again : There wait till fitter season may ensure Thy safe departure. Duty forc'd my step Now in this hazardous time : not far the roof That shelters me : but long thy way, and perils No arm of man can ward, surround the path Where-ere thou goest. And these lone rocks at times Are crost by ruthless robbers, Agnes. I must on. Pro. No roof, no shelter near, nor safe return, If the dim night-fall steal on thee unwares. And oft the sun in these unsteady skies Sinks, ere its close, in tempest. Agnes, I must on. [Pointing to the litter.'] Here lies a hapless woman, one who wastes Hourly away, worn out with ceaseless woe : An uncomplaining sufferer, nigh to death : A native of yon vale ; her only wish Is yet once more to view the peaceful spot To childhood dear, and there to find her grave Amid her kin. Farewell. Pro. May heav'n protect thee ! [Exeunt omnes. THE CONFESSION. 235 Scene the second, the Convent Cloisters. Prior and Confessor. Prior. Say, hast thou found Alfonso ? Con. No, good Prior. He mus'd not in his cell, nor duely came To join th' assembled monks, Ere the fixt duties of the convent call'd Each to his separate office. Prior. 'Tis most strange. Con. I have made careful search, and closely question'd The brethren, one by one. Prior. Who last beheld him ? Con. Juan. At dawn while he unbarr'd the gates, Alfonso darted forth Striking his breast in anguish. Prior. Heav'n protect him ! Sooth, all ye sainted host, his woe-worn soul ! Con. Alas ! my mind misgives me. Prior. How ? Con. I fear We ne'er shall see him more. Unhappy man ! Our holy Provost to these walls returns To fix anew our duties. Much methinks He dreads the issue of that solemn inquest. Which here confirms him in his perilous charge, His only solace : or for ever drives him From this lone roof. To him he must reveal 236 THE CONFESSION. The anguish of his spirit. Hapless man ! Fain had he died unknown ! Prior. Hear, holy Saint ! Thou, who didst found 'mid everlasting snows These walls, thy earthly residence, look down I Look down on him whose unremitted zeal At life's dread risk, has highly minister'd To thy most blest intent ! — Hear, holy Bernard, Nor to the storm and conflict of dark passion. Abandon poor Alfonso ! Con. Yes, my brother, Service like his, nor wealth, nor worldly honours Gain or repay : its source is in the heart ; And in the spirit that there prompts to act, Finds its sole recompense. Prior. If fervent pray'rs, If tears of gratitude by others shed, The pilgrim and lone stranger, at life's hazard, By brave Alfonso rescu'd from destruction, Could heal the wound that bleeds with inward pangs Peace on his soul had shed her lenient balm : But 'tis not so with him. Con. No — many a time When the lost travellers, whom his arm from far Bore 'mid the howling night-storm, whom his hand Long chaf 'd before the hearth, with grateful look First turn'd th' awaken'd eye on poor Alfonso, Who hung all pity o'er the seeming corse : How have I seen him from his dark cheek dash The tear away, and fly the open'd lip That pour'd its blessing on him, THE CONFESSION. 237 Steward enters with Laymen bearing logs, fyc. Stew. Haste,, my friends, Rake up the embers, pile the glowing hearth With unctuous pine, The sight shall cheer him, and the crackling blaze Breathe grateful fragrance round. Then, deck the board, And freely cull what best may furnish out Our frugal banquet. {Exeunt Laymen. Con. Whence this sudden haste ? Stew. Ring out the convent bell, that the loud peal Recal each absent brother. None must fail Of their accustom'd duty. Prior. Stay* good Steward. Stew. The Provost is expected, and each moment We look to greet him. Prior. All good angels guide him ! But say who brought The welcome news ? for scarce the lower rocks Peep thro' the snow : and, save some pilgrim bound On feaiful penance, and that mournful train Who left at morn the convent, none have dar'd The dangerous pass. Stew. You know the southern guide. Prior. What, faithful Claude ? He, who for many a season Has claim'd the convent prize, his custom'd due Who from the pass first clears the drifted snows ? Stew. The same. He left our long-expected Provost 238 THE CONFESSION. Now as he slowly up the mountain toil'd. Farewell ; my charge awaits me. [Exit. Prior. Peace be with you ! Alas, no common call,, in this rude season,, Has forc'd good Albert, Jbow'd with weight of years, To leave the shelter of the peaceful vale. 'Tis not alone to fix our separate charge ; Mandates from Rome, strictly to scrutinize Each layman and poor hind that serves the convent, (For rumour dwells on bad men harbour'd here) Now urge his step. Con. Full well we know his mission That shames this sacred roof. Alas ! that slander Should feign, that here the ruffian and fell murderer Unquestion'd guests,, have found familiar shelter. Such haunt not here. Sad years of ceaseless wars That long have wasted fair Italia' s plain, Turning to barrenness her fruitful soil, Have steel'd men's hearts ; and, haply, from the camp, Outcasts, who prowl when late the battle bled, And pluck'd, 'tis said, while the warm blood yet flows v The covering from the wound, at times have sought Night shelter from the storm. Else, never here Have lawless men found refuge. Prior. Go, my brother, Ere Albert yet arrives, search out once more Alfonso's lonely haunt, Heav'n guide thy steps ! [Exeunt. END OF ACT THE FIRST. THE CONFESSION. 239 ACT II. SCENE I. TJie Convent Hall. Provost, Prior, Confessor, oilier Brethren, and Laymen. Pro. [to the Laymen] Brothers ! no charge of murder rests on them. Depart in peace, my friends ! Heav'n's blessing on you ! Would that the princes of the world, and those That sigh on golden beds, could lay, like you, Hands innocent of ill, on guiltless hearts, And taste such sleep as yours ! depart in peace ! Sacristan enters. Sac. Alfonso is relurn'd — yet — hapless man ! Pro. Why stands he not, as duty bids, before us? Sac. Oh he is loth to come. Pro. This is most strange. Sac. I found him, in the cemetery, lone, 'Mid many a stranger corse, unse met mine, when first i woke, I had not thank'd this charitable man For forcing life upon me. Oh ! I faint. Agnes. Here, on my bosom rest. Ellen. Thou art most kind. Yes, I shall soon have rest : eternal rest, And thou thy heavenly crown. [Swoons. Inf. Here — bear her up. Agnes. Oh gently with her. Inf. Good St. Bernard, aid us ! [Exeunt. 250 THE CONFESSION. Scenes a Lake on the South side of the Convent surrounded with Mountains covered with snow. Alfonso pacing restlessly to and fro. Alfonso. Alf. Ye mountains ! on whose heights when first ye tow'r'd, Coeval winter stood ! hoar cliffs ! where Time From the first stretch and waving of his wing, Shed everlasting snows ! oh hear my voice, Fall on my brow ! and thou, on which I tread, Immoveable rock ! rive thy deep base beneath me, Nor give me back, till at th' appointed hour I, and each secret sinner upon earth Stand up, and hear the doom that shall not change. It will not be conceal'd ! they shall hear all : Or I once more on that loath 'd world beneath, Must stand all lonely 'mid the moving press Like one, on whom the blue plague, as it past, Shed visible taint. Confessor without. Alfonso ! Alf. Ha ! Confessor enters. Con. Alfonso — 'Tis he. I long have sought thee — louldly call'd— And thrice the convent bell has warn'd thee back. Alf. It 'scap'd me not unheard. Conf The Provost sent me — THE CONFESSION. 251 Alf. Consents he to my wishes ? Con. Trust his kindness. Alf. He comes to search my soul. Con. Not your's alone. Each layman, every hind that serves the convent, Have render'd strict account. Alf. Pure sinless souls ! Why wound their spirit with unfounded questions? They have not shed man's blood. Con. 'Tis true, they urg'd th'enquiry. Alf. And ere now Each to his day-task hies with lighten'd heart, Merrily trolling forth his mountain song : Each with the good man's blessing on his head. Con. So shall thy soul find peace. Alf. Oh never — never. Con Thou dost not know his kindness, but thy deeds Are known to him — Alf. [troubled.'] What deeds ? Con. All, all, whate'er Z< a! and unwearied toil, and dauntless courage Have wrought at life's dread risque. Alf Would I had perish'd In rescuing others ! Con. Why thus dread the Provost ? To him reveal thy grief: He is not, as some are who wear our garb, Of soul austere. Virtue in him beams forth With seraph mercy : and his way of life 'Mid scenes of misery, but in closer bonds 252 THE CONFESSION. Links him with those that suffer. And hoar age, That draws his spirit nearer to his God, Looks kindly back on those who toil below. If thou hast sinn'dj in him the penitent sinner Beholds a father — ■ Alf. But I have »ot shed The tear of penitence. Who probes my sou!., Must loath the thing I am. I shall pour forth To his astonished and incredulous ear, Guilt that shall shock his soul, while tears gush forth In pity of man's weakness. Con. Calm thy spirit— Alf. [highly agitated.'] These rocks have heard it ; and the night-storm borne On his dark wing, 'mid cliffs, and hollow caves My echoed groans ; and I have quak'd to hear, Sounds as of men, accomplices in guilt, Muttering their tales of murder. Con. Sooth him, Heav'n ! Be calm, Alfonso ; these wild bursts of passion Will but arouse suspicion. — Why thus grasp me? Alf. Suspicion ! Who beheld me? Where th' ac- cuser ? Come to the Provost. Con. Not till thou art calm. None shall behold thee thus, so strangely mov'd. I oft have still'd thy grief. Alf. Thou art most kind. Con. Look round ; this scene shall sooth thee : Long years may pass, ere in these storm tost heights. THE CONFESSION. 253 A sky so clear, air of such temperate breath, And sun with scarce a cloud to veil his glory May visit us again. Alf. Oh holy comforter ! Scenes such as these have rais'd my voice in pray'r, 'Mid solitudes where none on earth could hear. Oil that the innocent joys of days long past Might steal me from myself, like lenient dreams Of friends that are no more. Con. Nay, inly brood not. Look on yon azure sky, and call on Heav'n. — Oh hang not o'er that lake which stilly sleeps : Its hue is dark and dreary : tho' it spread A polished mirror to the rocks around. Why dost thou gaze so fixedly upon it ? Alf Look where the shape of yon o'erhanging crag That thwarts the sun A lies shadow'd on the lake, How suddenly th' gathering ice shoots on, Chilling the wave beneath. E'en so it fares with me — the winter, here, [Striking his breast. Turns every object that the eye doth glance on, To its own cheerless nature. [Starts bach from the lake in the utmost agitation.'] Heav'n and earth ! Saw, saw you it ? Con. Whence that wild look of horror ? Why start away ? Alf [looking round.'] Where did the spectre vanish ? Con, What spectre ? I beheld none. 254 THE CONFESSION. Alf That— that form Which scowl 'd upon me, there— [pointing to the lake.] not earthly, sure ? Oh never jet did flesh and blood assume Such ghastly semblance : never living eye So look'd. Con. Oh merciful Heav'n ! Alf. I do conjure you, Oh tell me — am I then that ghastly form ? Was it myself ? was there none other here ? Con. It was thy shadow'd form. Alf [vehemently ] Come to the Provost. What need of vain confession ? guilt is on me : Deep graven by the visible hand of heav'n, Like his that bore upon his brow the blood Of the first slain. Come to the Provost, haste ! [Exeunt, END OF ACT THE SECOND. THE CONFESSION. 255 ACT III. SCENE I. The Hall of the Convent. Monks in Council. Provost, Prior, Infirmier, Steward. Prior. I hear their steps, Alf. [without.'] That, that, or nought on earth Shall force it force me — Prior. Hark ! it is his voice. We pray thee, kindly question him. Alfonso and Confessor enter. Pro. Alfonso, I come not arm'd with harsh authority To wound th'afflicted soul : not mine the office From the reluctant bosom, ere the time, To pluck th' unripe confession : rather mine To praise thy deeds, and here, before the brethren Proclaim thy high desert. Alf. It is the motive Alone that sanctions all. I claim no praise. Pro. Bow not beneath despair. Whate'e, thy crime, Know that, unceasing at the gates of mercy, A beckoning spirit calls aloud to earth, sieel Lcks blood. 2 Assas. Our booty shall not fail. Be patient, brother. 1 Assas. Why did you lure us from the southern plains ? There still, if plunder fail'd, earth's grassy bed Ref/esh'd our weary limbs, and the blue sky Look'd kindly on our slumber. Here — 2 Assas. Be patient — Our long expected prize, Tortona's wealth, Ere long shall far o'erpay these transient toils. 1 Assas. Aye, if we seize the Countess. 2 Assas. If we seize her ! How can she 'scape ? 1 Assas. The pass below is open, Secure from danger, by the Provost's guides Clear 'd from the snows. 2 Assas. No, not if trusty Gualter Has faithfully obey'd me. THE CONFESSION. 267 Gualter and a Third Assassin enter. 1 Assas. See,, he comes. 2 Assas. Well, Gua my n aunts, Like some ferocious beast that makes ins lair In the unfiequenkd wilderness ! what am 1 ? A wretch, moon-stricken, to be watch'd aud bound: Unfit to bide where man makes resilience ? 268 THE CONFESSION. Would that I were not, what indeed I am ! Or being what I am, in form a man. That heav'n had cast me in the ideot mould, Of those that in the valley gasp in the sun, With disproportion^ throats : and uncouth limbs, That know not their own use. Con. [behind the scenes.] Alfonso ! ho ! Alf. Shout on ! shout on ! here none will look to find me : Or if they chance to spy me, who will dare Climb up this giddy edge ? they nigh had seiz'd me, But for that jutting point on which I sprung, While they past on beneath. Sacristan and Confessor enter. Sac. See you the track Of his uncertain step amid the snow ? Con. It ceas'd on sudden. Sac. Long my eye pursu'd it, In mazy shiftings all irregular. Con. Aye, purposely confus'd to mock pursuit. He's fled, I fear, for ever. Alf. [wildly laughing.] Ha ! ha ! ha 1 Sac. Heard you that noise ? Con, Sure from the air it burst : For never foot of man E'er scal'd these mountains. Sac. Let us once more hail him. Alfonso ! ho — Alfonso ! [Clashing of swords heard behind the scenes. THE CONFESSION. 269 Agnes, [behind the scenes.] Murder — Help — Murder. Fran, {behind the scenes] This good sword shall free you. Agnes, {behind the scenes ] Help from the convent, help. Sac. What cry was that ? Con. I heard the cry of murder. Hark ! 'tis the clash of swords. Francis and the Infirmier enter, [to Francis. Speak — wherefore thus. Thy looks stare wildly — there is blood upon thee. Fran, [to the Infirmier, .] Your limbs are fresh, back to the convent, haste. Ring out tli' alarum bell, [Infirmier goes.'] Three men,, assassins, Disguis'd like those that on the mountains urge The chamois chase, have seiz'd the hapless ladies. I battled, long as these sore-mangled limbs Could stand their poniards. Alf. [leaping from the rock, and snatching his sword.'] See ! th' avenger here I Wash off, kind heav'n ! the murder on this blade, By the assassin's blood. Come, lead the way. I have in battle cop'd with mighty men, And foil'd proud warriors. Fran. Give me, Sir, your arm. My wounds bleed fast [Exeunt. 270 THE CONFESSION. Scene, another part of the Mountains. Agnes, Countess of Tortona, Ellen, Assassins. Agnes. If 'tis my wealth you seek, I gave you all. Assas. Dame, if your strength had match'd your fearless mind, Your wealth had ne'er eniich'd us. Agnes, [to the other Assassins going to bind Ellen.} Bind her not : She scarce has pow'r to lift her hands in pray'r. Assas. To her, to her she points Ellen. Oh wound her not. Here, here, good men, these stones, they say, are diamonds : This had escap'd you — take it — spare her life. 'Twas once a nuptial present — so — farewell. [Kissing the picture, which she gives the Assassin. I fondly thought to have worn thee in the grave. Spare but her life, and I shall die content. [Szvoons away. Agnes. Hear me, unhappy men ! and mark my words. I am Tortona's Countess, and I come To bear this sufferer, more than daughter to me, To the lone vale below that gave her birth. Let me pass on, and this last duty pay, And, by yon lieav'n ! I vow, [Gives a ring to one of the Assassins. Whene'er you show this ring, I will redeem it THE CONFESSION. 271 With riches, that shall free your future days From deeds of guilt. Assas. [looking upon Ellen.'] Her pulse is still- it beats not. Assas. Let not this corse betray us. Plunge it, there, Within yon snow-pit. Assas. Aye. I'll safely tomb her. Give me the corse. [One of the Assassins bears Ellen off. Agnes. Oh stay ! she is not dead. Restore her to my arms, I will repay you With wealth, a monarch's ransom. Assas. Those will free Thyself, or thou shalt join her. Agnes. Ye shall banquet In golden halls, and o'er your tombs I'll raise Convents, where holy men by force of pray'r, Shall save your souls from fiends. Assas. You promise rarely, Alfonso [behind the scenes.] Die wretch. Go — • bear her to the convent. Agnes. Heav'n ! I hear the voice of succour. Man ! unhand me. [Struggling with them. Assas. [going to stab her.] Nay — if you struggle, lady ! you are dead. 212 THE CONFESSION. Alfonso rushes in, stabs one of the Assassins, in struggling with the other, who flies, he is himself wounded. Alf. This to thy heart— fly, murderer— -thou art free. [to Agnes. Agnes. Oh what words Can rightly praise, what earthly gifts reward thee ? Thus, on thy hand, the Countess of Tortona Prints the warm kiss of gratitude. Alf. [falls prostrate. ] Oh— oh. Agnes. Whence that deep groan ? the assassin's steel has pierc'd him. Alf. [looking up.'] Not that— I felt it not. Strike —strike me dead. Agnes. What — for this deed ? Let it not grieve thy soul — Long ages past, a voice from heav'n decreed, "Who spills man's blood, by man his blood be spilt/' W r hy art thou silent ? Speak. Alf. But— but forgive me, Agnes. In what hast thou offended ? Alf [to himself.'] I must speak. The threaten 'd torments of the world to come, W here sinners meet their doom, are center 'd here. Agnes. In what hast thou offended ? Alf. I have left The path where Virtue led me : I have strown In the smooth vale of innocence and peace, Rank baleful seed : and I have pluck'd its fruit THE CONFESSION. 273 That leaves a scar and blister on the soul, When all of earth sinks to its native dust. You know me now. Away — Agnes. I know none such. Alf But you do know my voice. Agnes. Lift up thy cowl : Thy features may instruct me. Alf. Ask not that. You'll turn away in horror. Agnes. If thy guilt Aught touches me, this act of rescu'd life Obliterates all trace of past offence. Lift up thy cowl. [He lifts it up reluctantly. Oh Heav'ns !— I know thee not. Nay — go not hence. Alf. I would not shock thy soul — [To himself. .] I will not see her more. But — oh — her pardon ! I am (but do not gaze on me) I was, In happier years, when Virtue led my steps, Thy husband — Agnes, [she recollects him, and screams,] Thou — my husband ! Julian ! Julian ! And yet — I knew thee not. Thou shalt not leave me. My arms shall hold thee. Thou art more than pardon'd, Husband ! Alf. Oh sound once grateful to my soul. But do not stain thy unpolluted lip. Look, look not so. 274 THE CONFESSION. Agnes. I cannot view on earth One so belov'd. Alf. Not with that eye of kindness. I cannot look on thee : oh, if thine eye Flashed vengeful light'ning, I'd not turn away. Thou shalt not hold me more. Agnes. Am I so hateful ? Alf. Next Heav'n, I honour thee, but ne'er shall saints Stoop to a fiend's embrace. Why should'st thou weep ? I cannot shed a tear. Agnes. i \ embracing him.~\ Weep in these arms : And as I clasp thee to my heart, recall Past years of bliss, and pray'rs once heard in Heav'n, That in each other's arms, blessing and blest, Our life at once might close, and one the tomb Rais'd o'er us, join'd in death. Husband ! sore woe Has chas'd away the vision of delight, That o'er the innocence of untried youth DifFus'd th' enchanted day-dream : it hath pleas'd The searcher of the heart, by misery's test, To prove my soul, and, here, 'mid lonely wilds Where none but Heav'n can witness, I invoke His ministering host, again to grave the vow That links my lot to thine. Come, on this bosom Rest, and find peace once more. Alf. Peace! never, never. 'Tis Virtue's heritage. Agnes. It shall be thine. THE CONFESSION. 275 Alf. The past— the past. nes. Oh be it with these tears Eternally forgotten ! Alf. I have born Unmov'd the shock of horror, but thy kindness Unmans me. Agnes, I thought not to have known once more, The blessing of such tears. \He weeps, Agnes, Oh thou hast groan'd In bitterness of spirit to the storm, That smote thee, sweeping by on icy wings, And none has listen 'd to thy woe, no voice Spake consolation. Where, alas ! was Agnes ? Ah ! haply whilst thou call'd'st in anguish on me, I, far away, unconscious of thy woe, Pour'd unavailing sorrow on the tomb, That clos'd not o'er thy sufferings. Now behold me Thus at thy side, more blest to stand the storm, And sootli thy misery, than in thoughtless years, When the gay partner of vain joy, alone I glitter'd in thy sunshine. Alf. Heav'n reward thee ! Agnes. Heav'n hath rewarded me : once more we meet. Oh give me all thy grief, and I will steal Each pang away, and lull thee to repose. These aims, amid the wilderness, shall stretch Soft shelter o'er thee, here thy brow be pillow' d : And ever as thou wak'st, the eye of Agnes Shall gladden thine : till in the gradual peace 276 THE CONFESSION. That gains upon thee., I shall taste, once more, All bliss that earth can give. Alf. [falling on her neck.'] Thus let me thank thee — No — no. [Starts back in horror.'] Guilt, guilt is on me. Agnes. None o'er earth, Pass without stain. Alf. No common guilt is mine. Agnes. Bow not beneath despair ! I woo thee not To luxury, and light pleasures, and the dream Of joy departed. No. But, hand in hand, Now let us, in affliction doubly dear, Right onward journeying thro' the vale of woe, Soothe and support each other. Once again Here have we met, and never, never more, If virtue yet have force to sway the heart, Shall earthly pow'r divide us. Alf. Oh thou know'st not — I cannot tell it thee. Agnes. I know it all. Oh thou art deeply wounded : drops of blood Stream on the snow. Come — let thy wife support thee — Lean on me, Julian. Let us to the convent. Oh no — not there — not there. Alf. Support me not. There was a time — let me depart, I pray thee, While reason yet is mine, [more and more confused.] 'Tis not this wound. *Tis in my head — my heart — the fiend that tends THE CONFESSION. 277 On evil deeds, is busy with my soul. Angel of light ! (thou art not of this earth) Who, from the mansions of the blest, descend'st On gracious errand to repentant sinners. Canst thou not quell this demon ? drive him hence ! I cannot long sustain this terrible coil ? Agnes. Father of mercy ! calm his troubled spirit! Alf. [frantic] Woman ! thou kuow'st me not. I know thee well — Thou art Novara's daughter : the fair prize. Gaily they came, brave gallants in their trim, High-plum'd, and banners floating — theproud steeds Caparison'd, career'd beneath thy throne. Thou knew'st me then, when from the vanquish'd field I bore the blushing bride — but — when he struck me — Thou looking on, upon my nuptial day^ When the proud peasant struck me, at thy side, Thou did'st forget me — hie thee to thy palace : But there is one : and well I warn thee, lady ! One of low birth — look, if she flash before thee, She claims me for her own. We meet no more. Agnes. We part not, till death parts us. Alf. Am I thine ? I know not what I speak — if I have utter'd Sounds grievous to thy soul, thy pardon, Agnes. It will not be controll'd. Agnes. Oh be the past Eternally forgotten ! mark me, Julian — Thy wounds require relief — recall thy mind. 278 THE CONFESSION. Is there amid these wilds a sheltering roof, Save yonder convent ? Alf. None — for miles around. Agnes Oh go not to the convent — yet thou diest Here without succour — but there is a cause. Alf. Oh ! might I perish here ! thus at thy feet, Thy tears fast falling o'er me. Infirmier enters with other Monks. Inf. Haste ! oh haste. The hapless Ellen ! A^nes. Name her not — I charge thee. Inf Thou must attend. For thee alone she grieves. Her wilder'd fancy views thee pierc'd with wounds Beneath the murderer's blade, speak comfort to her, Ere her last breath in frantic horror pass. Alf. Ellen ! and raving — oh ! it cannot be. It is — it is — said'st thou not now ? I heard thee. I must not to the convent ? by the love Thou did'st profess, I do conjure thee, speak: Is it that hapless one ? I may once more Gaze on her as she dies ; and her pale lip May breathe forgiveness o'er me. Agnes. Yes — lis Ellen. I found her, lone, and raving on thy tomb. Gaze not above so wildly. Alf 5 Tis complete. The measure is complete. The wife has sooth'd her. What brought thee hither ? Agnes. Pity for her woe. THE CONFESSION. 279 Nay, more— The word of Heav'n, that bids me not desert The orphan and the helpless, nor abandon To bitter scorn, one innocent of ill. Alone my presence calms her troubled spirit : It awes at once, and soothes her. I have hung O'er her distemper'd dreams, and thro' the night Bath'd with cool drop her lip of fire, and watch'd her, As one who tends a daughter — but for me, Dark brooding grief again had rous'd her soul To frantic horror : but my voice has wean'd her From earthly thoughts, and smooth'd her way to Heav'n, And now ere life quite ceas'd— Alf. How ! was she dying ? Thanks, gracious Heav'n ! receive her to thy rest ! Soon will her misery cease — but thine, [to himself] poor wretch ! Was she so near her end ? then I will see her. Oh, say, say what brought thee to these wilds ? Agnes. Be calm ! She wish'd once more to view her native vale., And there to die in peace, and nameless lie With those from whom she sprung. Alf. Alas ! poor Ellen ! No other wish but that ! [with fervor.'} there shalt thou rest. Where from the cradle to the grave, thy life One blameless day, each tranquil as the last, Had glided on unknown in lowly peace : But I drew near, and like the tempter, stole 280 THE CONFESSION. On thy lone paradise— there shalt thou rest. [rushing off Restrain me not — Agnes. Hear— Julian— Inf. Stay,, rash man ! Thy wound bleeds fast. Alas ! you scarce have strength To reach the convent walls. Alf. [in wrath] Oppose me not — Ellen ! no murderer's blade shall scare thee more. Who shall delay thy passage ? low he lies [pointing to the Assassin, Who turn'd thee from thy course. I, I will place thee Beneath the sod, and in thy grave, find mine. [rushes out. END OF ACT THE FOURTH. THE CONFESSION. 281 ACT V. SCENE I. Convent Hall. Provost. Pro Thou saint in Heav'n ! Thou, who did'st lead Alfonso to these rocks, Self-doom'd in just atonement for past guilt, Look down on his affliction. Confessor enters. Con. Holy father ! These unexampled miseries o'erpow'r me : Forgive these gushing tears. The hapless Julian ! Pro. Alas ! how fares it with him ? Con. As with one Not long to live : deep was th' assassin's blow. Faint with the loss of blood, long time he lay In death-like swoon : here human art avail'd : But who can heal the anguish of the soul. Save Heav'n that smites in mercy ! Pro. Say, my brother. Is he restor'd to reason. Fitly prepar'd for that eternal state That knows no change ? Con. Yes ; Heav'n has visited The contrite man. In Agnes' arms he woke, 282 THE CONFESSION. Calm as from sleep : in fitter hour I'll tell Their farewell interview : 'tis graven here. Pro. Then grant, all-gracious Heav'n ! his sole request ! Oh may poor Ellen's last forgiveness breathe Peace to Jhis parting spirit. Con. Who shall say What may ensue, if ere they meet again ? Hence flow my tears. At Julian's earnest pray'r^ The virtuous Agnes hangs o'er Ellen's couch;. Watching the moment of returning reason, That, haply, ere he breathes his last, the voice Of pardon yet may sooth him. Pro. Grant it, Heav'n. Con I left him still'd in meek and holy- sadness, To bear that parting scene : but much I fear For hapless Ellen. Her mind may ne'er regain its peaceful mood. Say, holy father ! may they meet again ? Or will not anguish rouse their souls once more To frantic agony ? Pro. What Ellen's state ? Con. I cannot call it frenzy, And yet she is not in her perfect mind. 'Tis no delirium, where the fever's rage Boils in the blood, and on the throbbing brain, Shapes images and scenes of spectred horror : "Tis the mild error of the sense confus'd, That plays on cheated fancy : for she seems, All memory of later woe effac'd, THE CONFESSION. 283 Blissful as once ere bleak adversity Had ruffled youth's smooth current. Pro. Such things pass Man's narrow ken : Heav'n wills it. Con. Round her couch She fashions those, who sadly minister, To the gay partners of her innocent sports. Poor peasant girls, who cull in spring fresh flow'rs To wreath their brow, and mix the mirthful dance: And oft she calls Tortona's dame, who prays In silence o'er her, her own happy mother, List'ning with fond attention to the tune That late she taught her. Me, my mournful duties Have long familiar made with death-bed woe : And I have look'd on sinners when despair Scowl'd, as their eye glar'd fixedly upon me ; But never have I witness'd such a scene ; It quite o'ercomes me : life and death in one So strangely link'd, and all that's sweet and sad. Yet — haply as we commune, holy father, All may be chang'd, and horrid images Usurp the mastery. Pro. Let us haste : our pray'rs May chase the fiend that haunts the bed of death. [Exeunt. 284 THE CONFESSION. Scene the Second, an Apartment in the Convent. Agnes, Ellen on a Couch, attendant Monks, fyc. Agnes. Hush ! rouse her not. Ellen, [in a delirium. ~\ So — enter in, I pray you, Strangers and all : it is but once a year We thus make holiday. Not so — not so — You trip it awkardly, and mar the measure. The pipe's not out of tune, your step lacks ear. Oh— I have scarcely breath at once to dance And teach the motion. [Ellen sinks exhausted. Provost and Confessor enter. Pro. [to Agnes. ] Is all quiet with her ? Agnes. No — but exhausted with the play of fancy, She peaceful sleeps. Pro. [considering her."] Quite breathless, or I err. Agnes. She but reposes : pray you, rouse her not. I dread what may ensue : a shock too sudden In painful horrors may unlodge her spirit. I have been us'd to these fantastic moods, Long have I watch'd her, and by tender cares Had smoothed her passage to eternity : But this sad day hath all undone. Oh peace ! Her eyes unclose, and bright their eager glare. Ellen. Hark ! 'twas the shepherd's pipe ! Away ! away ! haste— to the green hills fly. I will no longer, while the dog-star flames, THE CONFESSION. 285 Doze in your sultry plains. The flat air lies Here, here, like lead upon me : it weighs down The soul's free wing. Haste, to the green hills, fly. How daintily the cool breeze fans my brow, Tangling my locks in many a mazy twine ! Climb o'er yon mountain's peak, that props up Heav'n : Mind not that mass of snow : so — heave it off. Agnes. Compose thyself : here, on my bosom rest. Ellen. Speak low — speak very low — only in whispers — You know not what it is. Stranger ! that mass Which rock-like beetles o'er you, is loose snow. The mule-bell must not tinkle while it passes : Its very echo bursts it. Hail, once more., My native land ! hail sweetest interchange Of all that chiefly gladdens eye and ear, Bright lakes, the pine-clad mount, and hill and dale ! Hark ! 'twas the Alpine lark that upward trill'd : Angels may hear it now : 'tis mute to earth : And oh that sound, most sweet at distance heard, The hidden waterfall, that in still moon-light Makes pleasant music to light-tripping elves. Thou peaceful hut ! thou vine, that I have taught To clasp the rock : and thou my summer bow'r, Where underneath the green bough's canopy I sat, nor wish'd for the eagle's stretch of wing, That swept the upper world : oh never more Will I away. On you my eye first glanc'd, On you my dying look shall close in peace : 284 THE CONFESSION. And there the sod shall rise that hides poor Ellen. Pray for iue — oh, I die. Agnes. A cold dew stands On her pale brow. I ne'er saw this before. Pro. 'Tis the fore-runner of approaching death. Sacristan enters. Sac. [to Agnes,] Lady ! Alfonso now at life's last close, Thus speaks thro' me, that he doth feel assur'd Of Heav'nly mercy, if the death-bed blessing Of Ellen rest upon him. Canst thou ask it ? Ellen will not deny thee. \ Pro. [bending over Ellen.] 'Tis, I fear, In vain — I trace — alas ! no sign of life. Agnes, [kneels 1 Oh Beav'n ! in mercy yet awhile keep back The stroke of death, and to herself restore her : That one last word may breathe o'er dying Julian, Peace and forgiveness. Pro. Heav'n has heard thy voice : The recompence of virtue shall not fail, While God is judge above. Her pulse faint flutters. Hark ! that low sigh, Ellen, [recovering.] I pray you, call me not From Heav'n's eternal rest ! where have I been? Most lov'd, most honour'd lady ! art thou near me? Then I shall die in peace. But — -where-— where am I ? Agnes, Beneath the convent roof with holy men. THE CONFESSION. 287 Ellen, [gazing around her.'] Thanks, holy father: a poor peasant's child Can give no more. For thee, thou Saint on earth ! I have a gift : it is the pictur'd form Of him, who never for one base as I am, Should have left thee, whom only angels equal. Where is it ? Agnes. You resign'd it, gentle Ellen, To rescue me from death. Ellen. Then, take this kiss : And — give me thine. [They embrace. Agnes. Ellen — I have a wish, A pray'r to thee. Ellen. Oh may my spirit pass In granting it ! Agnes. We soon shall part for ever. Ellen. Not so. We meet in Heav'n. Agnes. But— there is one — Poor Julian. Ellen. What of him ? Agnes. Will he be there ? How shall he stand at the appointed day Before the judgment seat, if thy forgiveness Rest not upon him ? Ellen. Oh that now he heard me. 'Twere now no sin to gaze upon this face, And hear the voice that pardons him. Agnes. And canst thou Endure the meeting ? will it not o'erpow'r thee ? He is beneath this roof. Will it not shock thee Once more to view him ? not, as once, alas, 288 THE CONFESSION. In pride of manhood, but a contrite sinner Chastis'd by woe : and, such as now I view thee, Nigh unto death ? yet peace at last would sooth him, Blest by thy pardon. Ellen. Heav'n has giv'n me strength. If he can look on Ellen, hither lead him. Say, Heav'n is merciful. I pray, delay not: My breath begins to fail. Be not long absent. Oh let me, on thy breast, in blessing thee Breathe out my spirit ! Agnes. Grant me strength, ye saints ! [Agnes goes out. Prior, [looking on Ellen.] Her head reclines again. Sure, life has left her. Alfonso led in by Agnes, and supported by the Monks. Alf. I pray you, mock me not. Is she not dead ? Lift me, and let me gaze upon her face. [After long gazing on her. How calm ! e'en so as when I first beheld thee. It speaks a soul that past in peace with all : And if thy placid lip has utterance lost, That look is like a blessing. Ellen Agnes ? Julian ? Where are you ? Alf. Prostrate at thy feet. Ellen. Oh, Julian, In secret oft I pray'd That thou might'st hear my blessing : Heav'n is gracious. THE CONFESSION. 289 Give me thy hand : I cannot see thy face, My eyes grow dim : thy honour'd hand, thou saint! Thus I unite you. [joining their hands.'] Heav'n has heard my pray'r. Now — Julian, thou art blest. We meet in heav'n. [Ellen dies. Julian. Father of Mercy ! thanks. Support me, Agnes ! Oh that I ne'er had wrong'd thee ! [Julian dies. Agnes, Julian — hear me — His hand now quits my grasp. Farewell ! farewell. [She kneels over them. Prior. Rise, virtuous mourner, rise ! celestial peace Be thine ! oh thou, who in severest trial, Firm in thyself, and faultless, shed'st the tear Lenient o'er human frailty ! peace be thine ! [To the Monks bending over the dead bodies. Brethren ! o'er these the solemn requiem breathe 1 Then, duly in our cemetery place Till other burial claims : thou, [to Julian?] with thy sires, In sculptur'd tombs : and thou, [to Ellen.] poor child, with thine, Nameless beneath the grass-sod. Soon will pass Your mortal frames from sight: but long your fate Shall call down tears from many a stranger guest. Oft shall they sigh o'er thee, poor peasant girl ! Whose earthly woes, unmerited, await Heav'n's blissful recompense. For thee, Alfonso ! u 290 THE CONFESSION. By thy example., warn the man of guilt, That Heav'n, who purified thy soul by woe, And chastened with sore wounds, may summon him, Flush' d from the banquet where sin ranks the guests,, At once before the presence of his God. THE END. ORESTES, A TRAGEDY FIVE ACTS, DRAMATIS PERSONS. Men. iEgisthus, King of Argos. Orestes. Pjlades. Areas, Governor of Orestes. Calchas, Prophet and Priest of Jupiter. Nireus, an ancient Domestic of Agamemnon. Phanor., an Officer belonging to vEgisthus. Guards, 8$c. Women. Clytemnestra. Electra. Phedra, Attendant of Clytemnestra. SCENE— Argos. Time — that of representation. ORESTES, ACT I. SCENE I. The Temple of Jupiter. Calchas at the Altar. Cal. Hear., Jove supreme ! Thou ! who., o'er all in highe heav'n enthron'd, Look'st on the frail inhabitants of earth, Oh hear my prayer ! let not the sun, new ris'n On this dread day, unconscious of thy pow'r Withdraw his beams — bid Argos own thy might ; While thou, in visitation of thy wrath, On the polluted feast of lust and murther Shalt loose th' avenging thunder ! Nireus enters. Calchas, hail ! Cal. What brings thee hither ? JVire. Clytemnestra's will. This day, when yearly rites, that mock the heav'ns, In Argos solemnize the blood-stain'd nuptials, Fear harrows up her soul. Cal. [to himself. ,] Their doom is fixt. Not vain at dawn the omen. 296 ORESTES. Nire. Clytemnestra Now bids thee to the palace. Cal. What, once more To hear in insolence of pride, iEgisthus Defy the vengeance of long-lingering Jove., And taunt his holy priest ! Yes — I will go : If Jove confirm the omen — I will go : But not to sooth her terror. Yet, say first Of wrong'd Eiectra. Nire. On this day's return, Not only, as of old, iEgisthus binds Her limbs with chains, and in the cavern's gloom Bids her, unheard, rave on her long-lost brother, Th' avenger, lorn Orestes, Cal. [interrupting him.~] Hear, hear, Heav'n ! Nire. But ere the sun go down, his vow is past To join by force the daughter of Atrides With one low-born : that never heir arise To claim the crown of Argos, or avenge Her murther'd sire. Cal. The measure is complete. 'Tis doom'd above, the impious are no more. I will consult the God — Nireus, retire — [Exeunt. Scene the second. — An apartment in the Palace. iEGisTHus — -Clytemnestra. JEgis. Scorn, Clytemnestra, these unwonted fears : Prepare to grace the triumph. Cly. No, ^Egisthus— ORESTES. 297 Not oracles, nor voice of answering shrine, Signs from the flight of bird, or bleeding victim, So mark impending doom, as the night vision, The harbinger of vengeance. JEgis. Clytemnestra, Shall idle terrors, shadows of a dream Subdue thy daring spirit ? these are mock'ries That dotage dwells on, or the senseless fears Of credulous childhood - - Cly. [interrupting him] Hear me — JEgis. I have seen thee Mid the fierce clamours of the madd'ning tumult Staud with undaunted brow. Cly. Thou hast beheld me Stain'd with the blood of man, a warrior's blood, The woman stood before astonish'd Argos, Her dagger dropping gore, I dread none earthly. This supernatural sight o'er-powers my soul. Look here — while Clytemnestra shakes before thee, Hast thou no fear ? JEgis. None from the dreams of night. While yet Orestes liv'd Cly. [interrupting him.~\ Is he too murther'd ? JEgis. If gold can bribe, Orestes is no more — Why droops thy brow ? his father's spirit fir'd him : His hate pursu'd, his vengeful blade hung o'er us. Speak I ungrateful words, thy son is dead ? Cly. Thou never had'st a child — JEgis. Mourn not his loss. Cly. Here, at this breast he hung. 298 ORESTES. Messenger enters. Mes. Dread Lord, the pomp Waits but tbj presence— JEgis. Go — bid forth my train. Come, Cljtemnestra, rob'd in Troy's proud spoils, dace, as of old, the triumph. Cly. No— -iEgisthus — I will not grace the triumph : let the base Conceal their fear : such as I am behold me— I know not female artifice that lends The lip of misery a dissembling smile. No robe of Phrygian state shall blaze on me, No banquet hail my presence— t/Egis. Have I wrong'd thee ? Dost thou repent the deed that joins our doom ? Cly. Were it again to act, again this hand Would slay the man who wrong'd me — thee, iEgis- thus, I still have faithful found. Whate'er the fate That Jove decrees, tho' thunder burst around me, Thee I will ne'er desert. JEgis. I know thee now. Cly. Go, glitter in thy splendor. Yet — I pray thee — Yet— nay, I charge thee, that no word, no look, No, not a silent smile betray contempt. I brook not insult, less from thee than all — Beware — JEgis. Why this to me ? speak — Cly. When the spectre ORESTES. 299 Glar'd on me as I shriek'd — thou — dost not heed me., 'Tis man thou fear'st — hast thou no other fear ? jEgis. Say on — Cly. I breath'd aloud a vow to heav'n, That on this fated day his child, Electra, Should on Atrides' sepulchre, complete The funeral rites ! We reck'd not of the dead. Th' accepted offerings haply may appease The avenging spirit — from this blood-stain'd hand Such rites were profanation. Mgis. But Electra Now groans in chains, and, ere the night-fall, forc'd To hateful nuptials, vents her idle rage Beneath a servile roof. Cly. Free her from chains. Urge not the unequal tie : I have but her, Yet, if regardless of a mother's will That daughter mock my fear, fix thou her doom*, E'en what thou wilt, so I no more behold her. Her voice has terror in it : and her eye In awful silence fixt on mine, exerts Strange mastery o'er my spirit — Messenger enters. Calchas comes. Cly, Avoid the indignant prophet. [TEgisthus exit, as Calchas enters, H« ly Seer ! Accept thy Sovereign's thanks, that thou, long time 300 ORESTES. A stranger to this palace, once again, At Clytemnestra's call, hast deign'd to hear What weighs upon her heart — Cal. [interruping her.'] No thanks, for this, To me are due — ere my reluctant step Past o'er thy threshold, the inspected victim Gave sign ; alone that signal I obey'd— Cly. Jove-honour'd prophet ! super-natural hor- rors, Mark me the victim of Heav'n's imminent wrath. Cal.'— [pointing up.~\ Their justice reigns- — thou shalt not scape thy doom. Cly. Thy prescience, Seer, can all unfold : thy pray'rs, Wing'd intercessors at the throne of Jove, Avert impending destiny, and turn The thunder in its course. Cal. Here prayer avails not. When impious mortals tremble at their doom, Alone repentance at the throne of Jove Pleads, and is heard Repent ! Cly. Not — not for this I call'd thee. Priest, thy office hallows thee : Or, ere this hour, the tongue that rudely taunts Its sovereign had been mute. [Calchas going in anger, she stops him. Stay— Cal. Impious mortal ! I leave thee to thy fate — Cly. [detaining him.'] Not unrevealed : ORESTES. 301 Or shield me from these horrors, or unfold Clearly the dread unknown : that now my soul May summon all its strength to meet Heav'n's wrath. Cal. I speak but what Jove dictates — thou, be brief — Cly. Calchas, thou know'st, this day, ten years gone by The son of Atreus perish'd — Cal. Slain by thee — Cly. Aye — I deny it not — Cal. 'Tis known to all. Cly. He justly fell : and ever on this day We hold a solemn festival at Argos, In honour of my nuptials with iEgisthus ; Add - - - if thou wilt of triumph o'er the slain. This too is known to all — but 'tis not known, That ever duly on this day's return, E'en at the very instant, at the dead Of midnight, when I smote him, a deep groan, Such as he utter'd when he fell beneath me, Bursts on my ear : and one, who cries " revenge," Floats by ; a shapeless figure indistinct : For I have gaz'd on't with unalter'd eye, 'Till the dim shadow vanish'd from my sight. Last night the groan was heard, the voice was heard Of one who cried ce revenge :" — the shadow floated : But. gradually the uncertain shape assum'd The foim of Agamemnon, mail'd in arms, Such as he stands, terrific on his tomb. 302 ORESTES. Cal. Didst thou then gaze with an unalter'd eye ? Cly. No — 'twas himself — I could not gaze on him. But, ere I turn'd, I saw the wound I made : And thro' his corselet gush'd the blood : he caught it. And from the hollow of his hand pour'd forth An offering to the Furies : then drew near And cast the dregs on me. Cal. That was no phantom. Cly. 'Twas fresh, 'twas living blood, 'twas warm to sense, Such as it spouted on me when I smote him. I turn'd aside, but still before my sight Which way my scar'd eye glanc'd, arm'd Furies stood. The viper brood that round their tresses tangled Their scaly coils, turn'd all their stings on me. On me, each bickering eye, that roll'd in blood, Shot sparks of fire. A voice of thunder burst, te Thus, will we lap thy blood" — ct the dead shall " slay thee" — I shriek'd : in rush'd the attendants : all was void- But they too heard the iron of their feet That echoed on the pavement : they beheld The flames in trailing flakes along the gloom — Say ! how shall I appease th' avenging Furies ? Cal. By offerings suited to their ruthless nature. Cly. Prophet! explain those words — cc the dead ec shall slay thee." Cal. [aside. 1 ] Aid me, inspiring Jove ! Cly. Wilt thou not answer ? ORESTES. 303 Cal. In silence hear the pow'r, who guides my voice. — Cly. Oh speak ! Cal. This day, a stranger youth, heav'n-sent, To Argos bears Orestes' funeral urn. — He can unfold the mystery of fate. — Cly. Would he were come ! Cal. He comes — obey the God — Thou, and ^Egisthus, to the secret bath Where Agamemnon perish'd, lead the stranger ; There, force him to reveal, howe'er reluctant, What Phoebus has imparted — bid Electra On Agamemnon's tomb libations pour. Cly Where bled Atrides ? said'st thou — in the bath- Not there — not there — I pray thee. — Cal. On that spot Question the stranger youth : and, if averse, Force him to speak. — Cly. I thank thee, Seer ! farewell. — [Exeunt. As they go out, ^Egisthus and Phanor enter. Pha. Electra doth refuse */Egis. Refuse to quit The gloomy cell ! Pha. " No earthly pow'r, this day, (C Shall force me to behold the light I loath." — Such were her words. — i/Egis. Bid her expect my presence. [Phanor goes. 304 ORESTES. Oft, proud Electra, hast thou vainly sought To bear thy offerings to Atrides' tomb : If proffer'd, thou reject it, never more Thy voice, domestic fiend, shall threat JEgisthus. [Exit, Scene the Third, a Prison, Electra— Phanor enters. Pha. iEgisthus comes. Elec. Is there yet more to bear ? iEoisTHus enters. ^Egis. Go, Phanor — Elec. No — be present — stir not hence- — . With him I hold not secret conference. — c/Egis. Yield not to vain suspicions—- if thou wilt. Detain him — bid him strictly note each word, Record each look — yet, were no witness near. Woman, the weakness of thy sex protects thee. Thou hast no cause for fear. — Elec. Phanor, retire.— [fee S oes - We dread not whom we scorn — speak, I am mute. */Egis. I would that we had met in fitter place ! Elec. It suits a sufferer that delights in grief: It suits an outrag'd soul that broods on vengeance : It suits the day, the deed, thee most, base murderer ! Look on these chains : think on the groans of death That echoed through these vaults. ORESTES. 305 JEgis. I come to grant What thou hast oft implor'd. Elec. I oft have claim'd Rights still deny'd : the melancholy right, To shed a tear on the unhonour'd tomb Of him whom thou didst slay — I ne'er implor'd thee. JEgis. 'Twere well that thou hadst sued — time \*as, Electra, That I with gifts and proffer'd kindness sought To sooth thy haughty spirit. Elec, Gifts ! to me ! Tyrant ! thou speak'st to Agamemnon's daughter ! No bribe can lure the lion race to fawn — JEgis. Therefore the lion race isgall'dwith chains. Elec. [with vehement indignation.'] Where art thou, brother ? — I had hope in thee — The sun keeps on his course, and the firm earth Rests on its base — Yet Jove holds sway in heav'n. JEgis. I come to free thee from these slavish chains : Free thee from nuptials that disgrace thy birth, And bid thee offer at a father's tomb The long-neglected rites. — Elec. Thou mock'st me, tyrant — JEgis. I loose thy chains. — Elec. No — not a link shall fall. — These bonds are precious to me — time shall come When such may chain thee where the Furies close Their adamantine rivets. — jEgis. Dost thou wish To honour Agamemnon ? 306 ORESTES. Elec. More than life— If life the sacrifice, my father ! hear me ! For thee, another daughter gladly dies. Iphigenia bleeds again in me. jEgis. Go forth, and place on Agamemnon's tomb Thy mother's offerings. Elec. Said I not, thou mock'st me ? — - jEgis. I mock thee not. 'Tis Clytemnestra's will. Elec. Her will ! aid, Keav'n ! repentance yet may touch her ! Yes. I will bear the offerings. Lead me to her. [Exeunt. END OF ACT THE FIRST. ORESTES. 307 ACT II. SCENE I. A Street within the Walls of Argos. Orestes bearing an Urn. Pylades, Arcas. Arc. Brave youths ! by friendship join'd, and now by fate In common danger yok'd, here safely rest. None know you here. I, in strange garb disguised, Long absent from these walls, will venture on, And timely caution give. Pyla. [pointing to Orestes.] How deep his groan! Grief, like the mildew on the bloom of spring, Preys on his faded prime. Oh soothe his soul ! Arc. \to Orestes.'] The oracle of Phcebus shall not fail. Soon will your mission cease. Ores. Oh ! Pyla. Why that groan f Arc. He droops o'er-wearied — rest — behold the goal— These are the walls of Argos. There, the palace Tow'rs proudly eminent. Ores. Oh ! Pyla- Droop not, brother. Arc. Thou ! whom these arms received, e'en from the cradle, 308 ORESTES. When sad Electra rescued thee from death, Orestes ! firmly execute thy charge. Thou, Pylades ! watch o'er him, rouse his soul By words that fire the hero. Here remain — I will not long be absent. [Exit. Pyla. Lean on me. Friend of my soul ! thou more than brother, come, Lean on this faithful breast ! — tho' long the way, And rough the mountain tract, I oft have seen thee From dawn to night-fall urge the brindled wolf. And laugh to scorn the partners of the chase, That fainted in the noon-beam — silent — still — Think on the race when you outstript the Phocian, Nam'd from his speed, the Brother of the Wind. — Ores, [to himself. ~\ These are the walls of Argos. Pyla. Look upon me — Hast thou forgot, when thou a boy didst wield The cactus' weight, and level I'd at a blow Polydamas, who, proud of giant size Unrivall'd, buffetted in sport the wind ? Ores, [to himself."] There tow'rs the palace, proudly eminent.— Pyla. Alas ! the themes once wont to please, avail not! Ores. Oh dire disgrace ! that Agamemnon's son Should thus approach the palace of his fathers ! Thus lone, disguis'd, and stranger to his kin, The midnight plunderer in the gloom that shrouds him, Starts, as he falters on — Oh ! Pylades ! We, in the light of day, 'mid wondering throngs, ORESTES. 309 When every eye gaz'd on us, oft have vow'd To rush where glory sunimon'd us, tho' death Stood at the goal, and held the wreath to crown us. But — now — Pyla. Thou must obey th' inspiring God. By artifice, not force, ensure success — Rouse from despair — revenge thy father's death ! Ores. By any deed but this — a mother's murther! Arcas enters. Arc. Brave youths ! go boldly on — the palace gates Are left without a guard : and Clytenmestra, (So rumour speaks) lone broods o'er boding fears. Ores, [with horror.'] Not that the place — not this th' appointed hour — At midnight — in the bath — where fell my father — Not in obscure response Apollo spoke. Arc. First, Orestes, Bear the feign'd tale to Clytemnestia's ear. That done, on Agamemnon's tomb complete The funeral rites. There claim th' appointed signal. On that thy doom depends : on that, the faith Due to the Delphic shrine. Thy father's image Shall, as instinct with life, thrice wave his lance ; Or we are made the mockery of vain words, And murther stalks unpunish'd — [A festive chorus in the procession ofJEgisthus is heard.] Hark ! that sound As of some festive choir ! 310 ORESTES, Phanor, with some of uEgisthus's guards enters. Pha. What may this mean ? Why bends that mourner o'er the funeral urn ? Nought of disastrous portent on this day Shall cloud rejoicing Argos — hence ! — [to Orestes. Ores. Beware— Arc. Touch not that youth — we mean not to offend — Pha. Hence ! Pyla. Say, ere we depart, why rings the shout Of joy and choral song ? Pha. 'Tis Argos' feast, Her annual feast : when every slave and captive, Free as his lord, the common banquet shares. Pyla. What cause thus consecrates a nation's joy ? Pha. iEgisthus' nuptials ! Ores, [who, till now, had appeared regardless of their discourse, hursts forward j Slave ! 'tis false. Pyla. Oh heed not — Grief for the dead distracts him. Pha. On, I haste To join the pomp. Away, nor linger here, Sullying with ill-tim'd gloom the general joy. [Exit. Ores, [drawing a dagger.'} Come, Pylades — he dies — a lion's nerve Strengthens my sinews. Arc. Stay, rash youth ! you rush ORESTES. 311 On self-destruction — Guards and thronging crouds Compass him round.- — Ores. Nor guards, nor throngs avail, When vengeance strikes the blow by justice doom'd, It strikes like Heav'n's wing'd bolt : earth quakes beneath it, And all that live fly from the prostrate victim. I will not be restrain'd come — Arc. Pylades ! If thou regard his life, oh hold, detain him ! [the chorus is again heard. Ores. That shout again ! I will not be controll'd ! Oh may it rouse the thunder that but sleeps At Jove's right hand ! — Away Pyla. [restraining him.] Orestes — friend ! Ores. Ha! Pyla. Hear me ! Ores. Any pray'r — but that — but that — Thou sway'st at will each impulse of my soul. — Pyla. My brother ! Ores. Do not, I beseech thee, urge Thy influence o'er me — heard'st thou ? 'tis his feast ! Base Argos revels for iEgisthus' nuptials ! It is vEgisthus, not a mother's breast I haste to pierce. Pyla. The oracle decreed, Art should prevail, not force. Ores, [his hand on his breast.'] Here — here it speaks — I want no other oracle. Stay thou — 312 ORESTES. Jove ! let me strike him dead ! I ask not life. Farewell. [as he rushes out, Pylades embraces him. Pyla. We die together. — Ores. Stay, my brother ! Pyla. Lead on ! Ores. But — they will slay — thee — Pyla. Boldly go. — Ores. Mould, mould me at thy will — what shall I do? Pyla. Swear, if thou meet the tyrant in his triumph, Thou wilt not strike him ere th' appointed time. Ores. An oath ! to thee ! — my friend ! take my pledg'd hand. Arc. Oh virtuous youths ! great Jove ! in safety guide you. [Exeunt. Scene the Second. — The Great Square. The triumphal procession of Mgistiivs. — He, in a Car, adorn' cl with garlands, drawn by four Horses. — Music, Choral Hymn, Guards, People shouting. Arcas, Orestes, Pylades, crossifig the stage. Arc. I pray you, pass this way — avoid the press. Ores. E'en where thou wilt. Pha. [seeing them.~\ Unmanner'd stranger ! hence. Bear off that funeral urn. — Ores, Let me pass on. — ORESTES. 313 Pha. Guards ! force him from the place — jEgis. What means this tumult ? Pha. Regard it not, oh King! some men, obscure, Strangers, it seems, to Argos — JEgis. Ha ! an urn Crossing our pomp ! reveal jour name, your country. Disclose your purpose ? — speak — Ores. Our country, Phocis : Of race unknown to fame. uEgis. Whose ashes, Phocians, Rest in that urn? — Ores. — We bear to Clytemnestra — JEgis. [interrupting 111111.] The ashes of Orestes ? Ores. — in this urn — jEgis. [descending from his car.] Thrice welcome! strangers ! share our joyful feast — Not unrewarded you return from Argos. — Give him that royal robe, — Ores. We seek no gifts— We may not share the banquet — look on this. [the urn. From Strophius we are come — the Lord of Phocis — By whose command we bear the last remains Of him that was Orestes — When he fell Before the Altar of the Delphian God, Slain by an Argive, — JEgis. — Cease — we reck not this — Ores. King ! it imports thee much — When slander strikes The fetter'd slave, he, bold in innocence, Confronts the base accuser, and asserts 314 ORESTES. The dignity of virtue ! hear, vEgisthus ! Orestes slew the wretch who pierc'd his breast ; And the Assassin with his dying breath. Pronounced — Pyla. [endeavouring to silence him.] Peace, brother ! Ores, [not regarding him.] That iEgisthus sent him ! JEgis. [after a long pause.'] That urn, thou say'st, contains Orestes' ashes : Why hither brought ? — Phocis knows funeral rites. Ores. May not the ashes of a son repose Where sleeps his sire ?- — May not one kindred tear Be shed upon his urn, who never knew In life the blessing of a kindred smile ? JEgis. Electra lives — a mother's tear, no doubt — Ores, [aside.] A mother — Mgis. — -Go — to Clytemnestra bear The ashes of her son — [to his guard.] Ye — safely guard him. [Exeunt. Scene the Third — an Apartment in the Palace. Clytemnestra, Phedra. Phe. Vainly I urg'd — Electra still refuses, (No cause assign'd) from other hand than thine, To take the funeral offerings — this the bowl — And this the consecrated hair you sent — [presents them. ORESTES. 315 Cly. No other hand but hers may bear the gift : None left, save her alone. Twas Calchas spoke it: I may not disobey — conduct her hither — \_Phedra goes. Omit whate'er these Prophets have enjoin'd, All fails/ and we., forewarn'd, provoke our doom. Electra and Phedra enter. Cly. [to Electra. ~\ Thou hast refus'd to bear my funeral offerings ! Elec. I dar'd not place them on my father's tomb, 'Till I had commun'd with thee — Cly. Say — what cause ? — Elec. What cause ? And dost thou ask ? And shall I speak it. Cly. Haply thou deem'dst it base, beneath thy birth, To take these gifts from other hands than mine ? Elec. I long have suffer'd base indignities — Lo, these [her chains. Cly. I bad iEgisthus free thee. Elec. Yes, He proffer'd — I refus'd — Cly. Yet, in that guise, Offerings were insu|$ — Elec. No — 'tis when the woman Who slew her husband, mocks his tomb with gifts. Cly. Daughter ! Elec. Oh, would that I could answer — Mother ! Cly. My soul is overcharged with horror. Spare me — 316 ORESTES. Elec. Therefore I came. 'Tis now the suited time When words may pierce the soul. Oh ! had I found thee A thoughtless reveller, rob'd in nuptial pomp. And smiling at the thron'd adulterer's side., I never had addrest thee — now I view thee Clad in the garb of woe : and thy pale hue, Marks the deep wound that festers in thy soul. I see this, yet rejoice not : no, nor feel The triumph that repays, exalts the opprest When the oppressor falls. Behold these tears — They stream for thee — [clasping Clytemnestra's hand. Cly. And have I yet a child ? Elec. Oh, pow'r of heav'n ! now give me words of force To change the soul. Turn not away, my mother ! No whisper of reproach shall wound thy ear. We long have been estiang'd, not known each other: For ever, at my coming, base ^Egisthus Stood like a fiend between us. Oh, my mother. Year after year has past unheeded o'er thee. In the brief breathing space, this side the tomb In mercy left, one moment yet is thine : The present — Now. & Oh ! on the tablet of eternity, Record it by contrition — Cly. [highly agitated, aside.] Oh, I cannot ! Elec. Turn not away — not for myself I plead. All, I forgive thee all. I plead for one Lov'd more than life. I plead for sad Orestes : ORESTES. SIT For a lov'd brother ; for thy son, I plead. Recal the wanderer Cly. Oh ! Elec. At Argos crown him. Restore him to the empire of his fathers ; So will I bear the votive gifts, and sooth Him, him that was thy husband. I will tend Thy troubled couch : nor leave thee at the hour When g ui It at death 's approach, shal I rise before thee, A Fury arm/d. Repent, and crown Orestes. Cly, Ah, haply at this hour, he too Phedra enters. Phe. Dread Queen ! Sent from iEgisthus, at the palace gates A stranger youth — Cly. A stranger youth ! Phe. Who bears A funeral urn. Cly. 'Tis he — I come, I come — Elec. Not yet — oh hear ! Cly. My fate on him depends. Elec. Now, on my knees, I pray one moment hear me. I saw thy big tear tremble, Oh, my mother ! We never, since the day my father died, Have known one common woe. Cly. No more detain me. 'Tis he — away — Elec. [in anger.'] Dost thou despise my prayer ? I on my bended knee have clasp'd thy hand. 318 ORESTES. Cly. Say, wilt thou bear these offerings to the dead ? Elec. Yes : or I ne'er shall view my father's tomb. Cly. Away. [Exit* Elcc. [to Phedra.~\ Take thou the offerings- follow me. [Exeunt. Scene changes to the Gates of the Palace, magnifi- cently decorated with Trophies. Phanor and Guards— Arcas, Orestes, Pylades. Pha. These are the gates with Ilium's trophies grac'd — Pass not that threshold — here exepect the Queen. Ores, [after a pause of wonder. ~] Hail, palace! and thou portal ! o'er whose arch The spoils of Troy by Agamemnon plac'd — Pyla. [interrupting him, aside.'] Beware — we are observ'd — the guard yet lingers. Clytemnestra [heard in entering.'] Where is the stranger ? Clytemnestra greets him. ♦ Ores, [hearing her voice, looks up.] Turn me to stone, or I am lost for ever. Clytemnestra, Electra, Phedra, enter. Art thou the mother of Orestes ? Cly. ' Yes- Ores. Whom then behold I there, of royal port ? Elec. His sister. ORESTES. 319 Ores. Thou — Electra ! Elec. What of him ? Ores. Thou, that Electra ! thou — Orestes' sister. Elec. Long suffering bears the show of length of years. Be but Orestes safe,, and life new-born Will glow in every vein — thou answer'st not-— Why art thou silent ? Cly. [impatiently .] Say, what brought thee hither? Stranger ! why thus transfixt in senseless woe ? Why gaze on her ? I, I am Clytemnestra. Ores. I come, the bearer of a mournful tale To thee and to thy race. Elec. Hah ! Cly. Youth ! disclose it. Ores. Heav'n haply has possest thee with a spirit That yields not to misfortune — on that brow — [Electra. I note alas ! the lineaments of one Who will not hear my tale of woe, unmov'd— Let her depart : and one brief word unfolds My mournful mission. — Cly. Hear'st thou not, Electra ? Elec. Speak it. Ores. I pray thee urge her to retire. Cly. [to Electra.'] Thou hear'st — Elec. I stir not hence — my soul is dead Alike to joy and grief, save that alone Which from a brother flows — and if thou bring Aught of Orestes, till thy voice reveal it, No force shall hence remove me. 320 ORESTES. Ores, [to Electro, ] Arm thy soul- Here lies, within this urn, what was Orestes. An Arg ve basely slew him — we, from Phocis^ Bring this to place it in Atrides' tomb — Thou hast rny mission — Elec. Wherefore should I breathe ? I have no hope — earth ! hide me in thy womb ! [falls down. Ores. Oh let me raise thee ! — Elec. Touch me not, I charge thee. Not with that hand that held Orestes' urn. My father ! thou shalt hear, and aid Electra. — [Exit. Ores. Oh ! Cly. Heed her not ! — thy unexpected words Have pierc'd my heart. Yet, stranger ! go not hence. [to all the other s.~\ You — -stand apart — good youth ! Ores, [with horror.~\ What would'st thou, woman ? Cly. Thy aid ! Ores. I cannot aid thee — Cly. Thou alone Canst free my soul from agonising horror. Gifts of rare worth shall crown thy prompt com- pliance. A feast is in the palace held this night : I shall not join the revels — while they banquet, Meet me alone. Things of high import urge. Why dost thou turn away ? Ores. Meet thee alone ! Oh 1 ask not that ! ORESTES. 321 Cly. A heav'n-taught Seer enjoin'd it — The prophet Calchas. — Ores. Ha ! 'tis passing strange ! Cly Say thou consent's! — Ores. I'll meet thee. Cly. Lone — Ores. Expect me. [Exeunt. END OF ACT THE SECOND. $%% ORESTES. ACT III. SCENE I A Street in Argos. Orestes — Py lades. Ores. Areas will soon return— here wait his coming 1 . I must depart alone — Pyla, Why force me from thee ? Ores. Forbear — Pyla, • Not habit, nor the ties of blood, But sympathy of nature made us one ; We never have been sunder'd- — hand in hand, We still with equal pace have shap'd our course Till this sad hour — our joys, our griefs the same. One cradle rock'd our infant sleep : our sports In youth the same ; the same adventurous perils Enur'd our growing strength to stem the battle — ■ Ores. Were it to stem the battle, Pylades ! We were not now to part ! Pyla. Yet, let me join thee. Each wish, new springing in thy mind, ere utter'd, My ready zeal prevented. Grant me this. Ores. Brother, thou art unkind : it wrings my soul. Strange doubts perplex — I will not long be absent. There dwells the prophet, a brief word at once Unveils the mystery ; I go alone. Farewell. ORESTES. 323 Pyla. Yet — go not thus in anger from me ! Ores. Come, to my heart. And, if it seem,, my brother, That there beyond just time I linger — Pyla. Well- Ores. Seek me. Pyla. I shall not fail — this, this is kind. One word — and then — farewell — Ores. Be brief — Pyla. Orestes, Now,, by the vow that death should ne'er disjoin us, When, prostrate at the hallo w'd shrine of friendship, Tears, for each other shed, gush'd forth ; I charge thee If the Seer threaten danger, call on me. — Ores. I would not live without thee. Art thou answer'd ? Pyla. Farewell. \_Orestes goes.~\ His gloomy silence awes my soul. Arcas enters. Arc. Where is Orestes ? leave him not, I charge thee— - Pyla. Hast thou not prosper'd, Arcas ? Arc. None are left Of Troy's proud conquerors, save neglected veterans Who dare not shew a scar. On every side New dangers threat. Suspicion closely marks us. E'en 'mid the license of the public feast The guards are doubled, and each questioned stranger Who falters in his answer— 324 ORESTES. Phanor enters* Pha. [to Areas.] Follow me. — [guards enter. Arc. In what have I offended ? Pha. Not unwatch'd Hast thou held secret conference with men Of sterner times,, who shun us as a race That have forgot our fathers. Come thou forth Where tortures shall force out unwilling truth. Arc. [looking on Pylades.] Be sure, no torture shall unlock these lips. Pha. [to Pi/ladcs.~] Speak'st thou to him — thou too beware — his fate Perchance impends o'er thee. [Exeunt. Pyla. Lost, lost Orestes 1 [Exit. Scene changes to the Temple of Jupiter. Calchas. Cal. [to a Minister.] Now let him enter. The clear sparkling flame [Orestes slowly advances. Gave no ungrateful sign— approach the altar. Ores. Hail ! Cal. Not reluctance, youth! nor ought of honour Due to the Minister of highest Jove, Delay'd thy entrance : holy rites detain'd me : And suppliant Kings must wait till fav'ring omens Permit approach. Ores. Hail, Seer ! I bring thee not ORESTES. 325 OfF'rings of votive gold, and precious incense: No victim led by me shall stain the altar. If heav'n, unsifted, hears not him who calls. Seer, I retire in silence. Cal. There are gifts Of higher rate than gold and hecatombs : Gifts, which from op'ning heav'n draw blessings down : The tribute of an uncorrupted heart. If such thj offering, speak — Ores. My years are few. As yet — these hands are pure — but— Cal. Freely speak. Ores, If thou canst read the heart, in mine behold The bittter conflict of a troubled spirit, That agonis'd by woe, doubt, fear, despair, Dreads e'en the wreck of reason. — -Seer, assist me. Cal. Poor youth ! I pity thee — I will assist thee — My voice shall still the tumult of thy soul. Ores, [with vehemence.] Thou still the tumult of my soul ! — oh, rather Urge to its height the storm, that so my arm May execute its mission — holy Seer ! Thau talk'st to one of that disastrous mood Whose mind no longer master of itself, Acts not its own resolve. Seer ! I am bound To deeds that shock my nature. 'Tis most horrible! Turn this to stone, [striking his breast.~\ that, at the name of mother Sheds drops of blood, and I will do the deed ! [Falls on the altar. 326 ORESTES. Cal. [after a pause.] 'Tishe — the long expected — ■ [aside."] 'tis tli' avenger. Thou must perform, unquestion'd, Heav'n's com- mand — Ores, [rising gradually almost to frenzy^] Prophets may speak, and Oracles pronounce ec So move'' — - ei this deed be done" — C( 'tis Heav'n's {e command" — But they forget that the poor instrument To execute that will, is Man, weak Man. Rocks, at the call divine, leap from their base, Earth, at the word, deep to its centre shakes, The sea, and the wing'd storm, and fiery bolt, Wait but a nod. Be these the instruments To execute Heav'n's vengeance on the world. But let not man be urg'd to shed man's blood. What, if the guilt of an abandon'd woman That slew her husband, calls down signal vengeance! Must the son plunge a dagger in the heart Of her who bore him ? Cal. Aid, inspiring Jove ! Offspring of Agamemnon, Troy's great conqueror, Orestes ! — Ores. How — Orestes ! why thus call A wandering stranger, a lost wretch unknown ? Cal. [with enthusiastic dignity^] I know thee— know thou me — 'tis Calchas speaks. 1 at the altar stood the ministering priest, This consecrated blade I hold before thee, Gleam'd in my hand, descending swift in act To pierce the prorler'd bosom of thy sister, ORESTES. 327 Whom Agamemnon to Diana's shrine Had led, his first-born, Iphigene, to slaughter. The virgin knelt beneath me, and to heav'n Look'd up with fearless eye ; before me, bow'd The father, in his mantle veild from sight. I heard his groan : deep as the groan of death. The father felt : the chief of Greece obey'd. Taught by thy father, son, obey the Gods. Fir'd by thy sister Ores, [seizing his dagger.] Seer — 'tis done — thy dagger ! Cal. This never shall be stain'd with human blood* Hast thou forgotten it ? not this the blade — Heav'n, in fit time, will arm thee with a weapon Forg'd for the deed. Ores, [full of horror .] 'Tis true — the very blade, (Said it not so ?) with which she slew my Father. So spake the Pythian : and that none, save that, And trusted to me by a mother's hand Must do its office. How shali I obtain it ? Cal. Ere night — thou shalt possess it — now delay not. Go to thy father's tomb, invoke his shade : There Fate's portentous sign shall fix thy doom. If unappeas'd the spirit claim revenge, Strike, without dread — farewell. — Ores, Seer ! — I obey. [Exeunt. 338 ORESTES. Scene changes to the Tomb of Agamemnon. — His Statue in armour on the Sepulchre, Electra, Phedra. Elec. Forgive ! dread spirit of my sire ! forgive I Bring me the bowl — the offerings — on the tomb Lo, these I place : this, on the earth pour forth — Heard you that hissing foam ? the unhallow'd stream Bubbles, and froths, and vanishes, in fumes Loathsome to sense. And, see the earth beneath Peel'd bare, as if the light'ning, in its passage Had scath'd it, marking out to unborn ages A spot accurst, where grass nor herb shall spring. To Clytemnestra go. I have obey'd Her will. Relate, most solemnly I charge thee, What thou hast witness'd here Phe. I shall not fail. [Exit. Elec. Oh honour 'd shade ! that in the realms of night Hast sense of human act (else wherefore this ?) [pointing to the earth. Deign thou to pardon, that a daughter's hand Has dar'd pollute thy sepulchre, with gifts From her — who slew thee. I have none to oifer — But I will pour upon thy tomb, my Father ! Vows that rcr>re priz'd than incense of the east, Shall gratify thy spirit. Vows of vengeance : Vengeance against thy slaters. Sire ! assist me ! None breathe on earth who hear Electra's cry. ORESTES. 329 He, be, for whom alone, hope yet awhile Sustain'd ray soul, Orestes is no more. The rather thou arise ! that, at thy voice, A woman's feeble arm may strike the blow Resistless as Jove's thunder — Hark ! some step Approaches— here I may unseen retire. 'Tis he— the Phocian, whose unhallow'd tongue Proclaimed Orestes' death. [conceals herself behind the tomb. Pylades, Orestes, enter. Pyla. Draw near the tomb. Ores. Give me the urn — no hand but mine may place it — Elec. [starts forward. 1 Yes — there is one — Ores. Thou ! here — Elec. Nay — start not, stranger ! Thou in my soul hast fixt a cureless wound : Yet, if thy heart be human sooth my woe ! Ores. What is thy wish ! Elec. Give me, I pray, that urn — Ores. This cannot sooth thy woe. Elec* Thou ne'er hast known A sister's love — Ores. Alas ! Elec. Give me the urn — So never rnay'st thou know that grief of heart Which finds its only solace in the tear That falls upon the dust of one most lov'd. Ores, [aside to Pylades.~] May I consent ? 330 ORESTES. Elec. Thus — on my knee — « Ores. Oh rise ! Elec. Consent, I pray — the tears steal down thy cheek ! Oh youth ! thou can'st not now refuse my pray'r. Ores, [to Pylades.~] Rise — take it! ^-friend! these gushing tears betray me— Pyla. Be firm ! 'twere dangerous to reveal the truth. Elec. [clasping the urn.'] Orestes ! oh my brother ! oh sole cause For whom I have sustain'd year after year The ills of loath'd existence ! thou art gone ! Thou too hast left me ! left me, reft of hope. To shed lone tears that bathe th' unfeeling urn. Was it for this I snatch'd thee from the cradle When keen-ey'd murther thirsted for thy blood ? I rescued thee that thou in manhood's strength Might rise th' avenger of a father's death : Rise, the restorer of a glorious race Which sprung from Jove ! here, here, alas ! thou liest. While yet my hand has strength to hold the urn, Oh while my lips now press the farewell kiss, Strike, strike me dead, kind Heav'n ! and thou, oh stranger ! (1 have no kin, no friend, no brother left) Here place Electra. — Blest alone in this, That death unites her ashes with Orestes. Ores, [bursting from Pylades.~\ I will not be restrain'd— thou hast a brother. Behold Orestes here. ORESTES. 331 Elec. Thou — thou — Orestes ! Ores. Behold this well known sign. Elec. Oh ! [shrieks. Ores. Trust the oath Of vengeance breath'd on Agamemnon's tomb. Elec. [rushing to his arms'] I trust my heart — and do I hold thee living ? Oh, let me gaze on thee, thou godlike youth ! Clasp thee again ! oh let me feel once more The pressure of thy arms, and thy warm breath That pours new life within me. Ores. Oh, my sister ! And is it thus we meet ? how pale thy cheek Oh thou hast suffer 'd much ! Elec. 'Tis all forgotten — Oh, golden light of day ! and thou, great Jove ! Hear my exulting voice ! Pyla. [interrupting her.'] Restrain, Electra ! These shouts of clamorous joy — Elec. What envious stranger Dares interrupt my transport ? Ores. Look on him — 'Tis Pylades — my friend. Elec. . My second brother Thou com'st to share our triumph. Pyla. Oh restrain Thy transport — much I fear — Elec. [interrupting him.~] What cause for fear? Doubt'st thou success will crown us ? 'tis Oreates ! Who can oppose him ? so stood Hercules When the Nemaean lion gasp'd beneath him. 332 ORESTES. Ores. This is no hour of triumph — cease, Electra! This is a dreadful crisis mark'd by fate, My Pylades ! thou know'st that none on earth, Save Agamemnon's offspring, must be present When I invoke his shade, and claim the signal, Dread harbinger of vengeance. Pyla. I must leave thee— Ores. To Calchas go — there, in due time, expect me. [Exit. Electra, hear ! nor interrupt my words, How strange soe'er — Elec. Speak — not the dead more silent- Ores. It fits thee, but in part, and briefly, now, To know how past my youth :- — let this suffice : Such lore, as suits a monarch, Strophius gave. When the first down began to shade my cheek, (A few fleet months now past) Strophius reveal'd My birth, till then unknown ; and at the shrine Of Phoebus, bade me from the God enquire My future fate — I went— a voice thus hail'd me. " Son of a murther'd Father ! thine to slay ce The slayers — they, by fraud, the chieftain smote. " By fraud they perish. At thy twentieth year " (Complete this day, e'en this, on which they hold The feast of blood) — " to Argos go, thyself, " The bearer of the tale that speaks thee dead. ee At midnight — in the bath — on the same spot * c Where bled Atrides — with the self-same weapon, te That steel with which the wife her husband slew, ** Son, pierce thy mother's bosom" — at the word I swoon'd — Electra— [she seems fainting. ORESTES. 333 Elec. I am sick at heart — Ores. Oh thou hast more to hear, more dreadful far! Elcc. 'Tis past — proceed — Ores. A voice of thunder rous'd me — cc Mortal ! if thou dispute the will of heav'n, ec Heart!) j dread sentence — thou shalt roam o'er earth ee Stranger to man. No house shall give thee shelter: ce No hospitable board afford thee food : " The rock thy resting-place : thy fellowship " With beasts of prey : foul leprosy shall eat " Thy life, by lingering pangs slow worn away." Elec. {highly agitated.'} Brother, thou shalt obey. They knew not mercy. Ores. I dare not disobey — look here, [shews his arm."] Electra ! Elec. "lis horrible — Ores. And ne'er to be effae'd But by the gushing blood of her who bore me — Elec. Thrice, thrice she struck the blow, without remorse— What folio w'd, quickly speak — Ores. With shuddering awe I bow'd, and touch'd the altar — then the voice Spake as before. fC To Argos, go, invoke " Thy Father's shade ; if, unappeas'd, the manes * r Claim justice, the fixt statue on his tomb " Shall thrice, in sign of vengeance, wave his spear." Elec. [starting up.] Shade of my Father ! rise, and sa\e Orestes. Begin the invocation. 334 ORESTES. Ores, Yet — my sister ! — Elec. Why this delay ? Ores. I have a secret grief. I dread to utter it — Elec. Confide in me. Ores. He knows it not, the friend,, the bosom friend, Who reads my heart — I would not shock his soul. He, he, perhaps, would fly this fated wretch. Elec. Electra, never — by our father's spirit Who watches o'er us, I conjure thee, speak. Ores. Know, when my mother bleeds (so spake the voice) Her furies from that hour shall goad me on, (Rendering each day a curse, each night unholy,) From land to land, till back to Greece I bring From Tauris' shrine, with blood of strangers stain'd, One sacred to Diana — this was utter'd : And, that of all on earth, but one alone Should watch my flight, and tend me at the hour When Furies howl around me Elec. Yes, my brother, 'Mid direst woe, the Furies howling round, Rendering each day a curse, each night unholy, I will alone watch o'er thee. Thou, my brother ! Shalt on this sheltering bosom rest thy brow : And, when, at intervals, peace sooths thy soul, Thou too wilt turn a kindred eye on mine, And kindly look on me— delay no more. Begin the invocation. Ores. Now, Electra, ORESTES. 335 Gaze on the statue with unshrinking eye, I dare not trust my senses. If it stir. In silence follow me — Shade of my Father ! If unappeas'd thy manes : — if the blood Of those who slew thee shall be shed for thine, If 'tis thy awful mandate that the son Should slay his mother [Amid peals of thunder and flashes of lightening the Statue waves the spear, and a voice cries, " Vengeance, vengeance, vengeance."] END OF ACT THE THIRD, 33$ ORESTES. ACT IV. SCENE I. The Temple of Jupiter. Calchas. Cal. The lightening flash'd- — the spirit claims revenge — Dark prophecies, of old obscurely veil'd, Flash on the sight — the son shall slay his mother ! Soul of the guilty ! melt with fear ! shake earth ! While justice from her adamantine throne Applauds the righteous deed — Pylades enters, Pyla. Some danger low'rs. They are not at the tomb — forlorn Orestes, Who shall protect thee now ? Cal. The pow'r who sent him. Wait thou the destin'd time — Pyla. Yet, Seer ! reflect, The horrors of the scene, the^gloom of death. The invocation of a vengeful spirit, The call and summons to a mother's murther, And that portentous signal which confounds The faculties of man : these, singly, shake Minds of firm texture : and combin'd 'gainst one ORESTES. 337 Of soul so deeply agonis'd, at once May o'erturn reason. — Hah ! [seeing Areas enter. Arc. Time-honour'd Calchas — Pjjla. Ha ! — can it be ? — thou never hast betray'd us — ^rc.They might have torn my body, limb by limb., These lips were closed for ever. Pyla. What preserv'd thee? Arc. The visible arm and agency of Hcav'n. Cal. Hear, son of Strophius ! And, in still reverence, bow before the Gods. Pyla. Relate what pass'd. Arc. I stood before iEgisthus. 'Twas noontide : bright the sun, the monarch rode In pomp of triumph, then while loud his slaves Shouted cc Behold a God," from cloudless heav'n Jove shot the lightning down, and all was still. Cal. They knew not what it meant— I watch 'd the bolt That flash'd portentous, as the answ'ring spirit Claim'd vengeance. Arc. Unappall'd, the tyrant rag'd : Again the lightning flash'd, his steeds transfixt Fell breathless. From his seat the monarch rose, His rent robes widely flutter'd, and his hair Streamed loosely, sing'd with flame : but, in his eye Pride glow'd, and indignation : and his brow Uplifted, hurl'd defiance 'gainst the God. He mock'd at heav'n, and earth : and, at the sight Of me in chains, smii'd in contemptuous mood, And bad me join the feast. z 338 ORESTES, Attendant enters. Prophet ! iEgisthus Now summons thee. Cal. Say, I attend. Go, thou— [to Areas, Murderer ! I will confront thee, and each word Of prescient truth, to every ear, but thine, Shall mark thy imminent death S Electra, and Orestes close veiled, enter. Pyla. Electra here ! Why thus close veil'd ? [to Orestes.] why this mys- terious silence ? Elec. [to Pylades.'] Speak to him. [to Orestes.'] J Tis thy friend— 'tis Pylades. Ores. Bid him avoid me — say is Calchas here ? Pyla. Orestes ! look upon me — * Ores. Touch me not — Away — unveil not this devoted head. Pyla, Come to my arms. Ores. My touch conveys pollution. Pyla. Whate'er thy doom, 'tis mine. Ores, [uncovering himself^] Let all avoid me : This head is self-devoted to the Furies. Pyla. What words are these ? explain their awful meaning. Wilt thou not speak ? Ores. I dare a nameless deed : And now fate summons to a conference, That moro than death appals me. ORESTES. 339 Pyla. Oh ! Ores. Nay, sigh not — No pitying sigh, no sound of soothing voice Must now be heard by me. Such sounds would melt me. I have held conference with a form of night : My powers, each sense, and living faculty, My soul, and its affections, all are bound To beings that inhabit other worlds : To this estrang'd and dead — Calchas ! prepare The solemn rites. Cal. Come. Ores, [going, turns back.~\ Pylades — Electra— ^ Elec. Oh, brother ! brother ! Pyla. More than life belov'd ! Ores. Friend ! Sister ! Oh, I dare not say — fare- well ! [Exit with Calchas. Pyla. Selected minister of Jove ! farewell ! Elec. Avenger of a murther'd sire, farewell ! He hears, and waves me back — I now may weep — Thou, whom I look on with a sister's eye, Oh think not harshly of me, that a woman Excites to vengeance — bear with me, I pray — My heart is overcharg'd, and I have never Found friendly ear, wherein I dar'd to breathe, The whisper of a woe. Pyla. You see a brother — Elec. Not nature, but dire wrongs have steel'd Electra. Thou heard'st his words ; each sense, and faculty, His soul, and his affections (so he spake) 340 ORESTES. Were dead to earthy estranged from humankind. And wherefore dead to earth ? alas ! his spirit Had commun'd with th' unearthly — with whom then Has lorn Electra commun'd ? kindred beings ? Had I a mother ? no — a murthress rear'd me. What love ? what cares ? what counsel ? what ex- ample ? Such as debase the soul., to vilest passions Give brute excess : such as to name, shall never Pollute my virgin lip. Pyla. I pity thee — Elec. No pity — spare me that — I am high-soul'd-— How else had I existed ? how sustain'd While youth decayed, year after year, to see A base adulterer in Atrides* robes. O'er me extend the sceptre of my race, And when a tear gush'd forth, insult my woe ? Hear him revile my father's memory : And, if I look'd but stern, bid Phrygian slaves Chain my free hands ? so have I liv'd for ven- geance — Dread, unexampled vengeance. Pyla. Such dire wrongs Pass human sufferance. Would I might assist thee ! Elec. Thou can'st assist me — thou like one from heav'n May'sl sooth Electra. Pyla. Can this arm defend thee ? Elec. Brave youth ! Orestes' arm is strongly nerv'd — - ORESTES 341 From thee I ask no act of blood, but one Of unexampled kindness — - Pyla. Speak thy wish. Elec. Hear then — Orestes nurs'd a woe in secret, That prej'd upon his mind : from thee withheld, Kindly withheld, lest it should shock thy nature : Or, in th'unguarded transport of affection, Bind thee in fellowship of woe with him To nameless sufferings — Pyla. Unkind Orestes ! Elec. The Oracle decreed — E'en from the moment that he strikes the murthress, Her persecuting Furies should pursue him, "Till from the Tauric shrine he bring to Greece One sacred to Diana — in his flight, Mid the wild ravings of a mind distraught, This too was plainly told — " that one alone i rage.] And, I have pow'r, unbounded pow'r, That shall enforce compliance — Ores, [full of horror.] Force! beware — Cbj. Thy pale cheek flashes with unwonted fire: Again, resistless shudders shake thy frame. Nav — fear not — let compassion touch thy heart ! Hear,, innocent youth 1 thou know'st not what it is: Thou hast no stain of blood upon thy soul. Could'st thou conceive ! — no — none but murtherers can., The tortures that await them ! — I have felt them — I have giv'n answer at the dead of night To tongueless calls : my couch has been beset With shapeless forms : the Furies of the slain Have toss'd their torches round me, and their locks Knotted with adders Ores. Cease — my brain's on fire — Oh spare me ! spare me ! Cly. Meet me on — the spot — Down from thy brow big drops in horror roll — [Orestes fixes his eyes on a dagger in the apartment. ~\ Why are thine eyes fix'd on yon glittering scabbard? Ores. Spak'st thou not now of gifts ? — give me that dagger , And I will meet thee at the destin'd place. Cly. I have rare gems and gold — those shall reward thee : 346 ORESTES, That steel is nothing worth — Ores. Give me that dagger — I'll meet thee on the spot — Cly. Why strangely prize it ? — Ores. What ! is it strange that man to battle bred Should value a man's weapon ? one, perhaps, That grac'd, 'mid wond'ring chiefs 3 Atrides* side. Refuse it, death in tortures ne'er shall daunt me. Cly. [gives it.~] Thou know'st not with what blade I arm thy hand. Ores, [full of horror^] There is no blood on thee, thou shining steel ! [aside, drawing the blade. Cly. Swear thou wilt meet ^Egisthus — Ores, [ardently interrupting her.'] Aye — Cly. And me, At midnight — where — Ores. ^ a Jj na )0 I know it all — In the blood-sprinkled bath. Cly, By oath confirm it. Ores. An oath too ! — by my Father's memory ! Cly, [gives him two keys.~\ Take these — this guards the passage — this, the bath — Be there — and watch the tread of foot ; — if mine, This hand shall at the portal give the signal — That heard, admit me. Ores. I have sworn — Cly. Farewell. [Exeunt. END OF ACT THE FOURTH. ORESTES. 347 ACT V. SCENE I. A Street before the Palace. Calchas, Pylades. Cal. Obey — not mine the dictate — Jove there guides me. Deem not that stern iEgisthus' summons mov'd me To join the feast of murther. Pyla. I obey. Yet bid me not with tame forbearance hear His insults, unaveng'd — oh ! bid me plunge This dagger in his heart, and there behold me Stab the proud tyrant on his guarded throne. Cal. Leave him to heav'n — Fate, at the destin'd time, Will crush the impious. Pyla. Seer, once more I urge thee, May I not aid Orestes ? — Cal. Not this night — The time shall come, when Pylades alone Shall aid, alone shall sooth his frantic woe. \As they are going out they meet Electra. Elec. Say, hast thou seen Orestes ? I, in vain, Have search'd the palace round, Cal. He pass'd not here — 348 ORESTES. Pyla. How hast thou 'scap'd unnotic'd ? Elec. None keep watch — The guards are steep'd in riotous excess. Oh were not force forbidden ! we ourselves, Few as we are,, might boldly dare the deed, And master these brute revellers. Col. [to Electra"} Go, Electra, And if thou find Orestes, I enjoin thee, Not unattended let him seek the bath. I dread his troubled spirit. Elec. Guide me, Jove ! Thanks, holy prophet [Exit. Cat. [to Py lades ^\ To the banquet, come ! [Exeunt ■ Scene changes to a gloomy Court. Orestes. Ores. Here let me pause — no voice is heard — no step Breaks on this noiseless gloom — I saw the sun Go calmly down — yet — once — -('tis said) the God Turn'd back with horror from Thyestes' feast. Of kindred blood, I dare a kindred deed — Let me not dwell on't. 'Tis not yet the hour. Yon clouds, that gather o'er me, thickly veil All that has form and hue in deepest gloom ! Man sees not man, the outward beam is dim, Yet, ah ! more clearly the internal light ORESTES. 349 Glares on the thought close-shrouded in the soul. I hear a step. Electra enters. Elec. Orestes ! oh where art thou ? Ores. It is her voice ! Elec. Who speaks ? — Orestes ! answer — Ores. I would this had not been ! Elec. 'Tis he — my brother. Ores. I look'd not for this meeting-. My intent Is fixt — I shun all human intercourse. Depart — I pray — Elec. If 'tis thy wish — I go But — thus to part in fearful ignorance ! — Ores. Thou wilt not then with woman's pity melt me ? — Elec. Fix on thy heart thy hand, and count its beats, Then question mine — our aim, our souls are one — I will not vex thee with vain strife of words, Turning thy spirit from its great intent :' But if thou hold my blood aliied to thine, Confide in me — Ores, [shewing the dagger.'] I have the dagger — here Elec. Enough Ores. And I have vow'd — ■ Elec. What vow ? Ores, At midnight To meet her at the bath — Elec. Th' adulterer with her ? 350 ORESTES. Ores. He shall not 'scape — this too is fixt, that I Go, ere the hour — these [the keys.~\ give me entrance — -then At signal, I admit them — Elec. But, my brother — Ores. Wherefore this pause ? Elec. Thou goest not there alone — Ores. Oh be my heart but firm, this arm, Electra, Dreads no resistance. Elec. Thou alone the avenger ; The son of Agamemnon shall alone Claim, vindicate, and wear his father's honours — But the dread deed is destin'd in the place Where bled thy father — at the hour he fell — Ores. I know it — aye, and justly so ordain'd — Elec. There thou must wait alone th' appointed time. Ores. Well — Elec. How shall pass the dreary interval? No light has glanc'd on that accursed spot Since there he bled — Ores. A lamp dispels the gloom — Elec. To witness what ? the robe which shrouded him, Thrice rent, where each deep stroke did pierce his heart. Thou wilt have leisure time : for what ? to gaze on The brazen bath crusted with unwash'd stains : To count the drops of blood that spot the floor : And gather one by one, wherever scatter'd, ORESTES. 351 Each hair, with blood distain'd, rent from his head In the last struggle when he gasp'd for breath. Ores. Thou shak'st my soul. Elec. And thou wilt hear his groan As the adultress smote him. Ores, [seizing her arm] Cease ! Electra, Come ! let us go together — Elec. Thus, Orestes, Thus join'd, all, all will prosper. Ores, Be thou present ! Shade of my father ! rise ! and claim revenge — [Exeunt. Scene, the Palace. Clytemnestra and Phedra. Phe. Loud rung their mirth — before I reach'd the hall The tumult met my ear : I scarce could pass The press of guests that round ^Egisthus clamor'd. I spake thy words, and much I wonder, Queen ! That thus he lingers. Cly. Few are found, who quit With willing speed, the feast and crowded banquet At misery's call. And yet, raethinks, JEgisthus Had hasten'd when I urg'd. You spake my words 1 Phe, When I drew near hinr, his bow'd head hung o'er A heavy goblet charg'd with wine. I rous'd him, 352 ORESTES. And thrice repeated what thou spak'st — he heard^ And gave (forgive the utterance) slow assent. Cly. Reluctantly complied! — you misconceived— * You importun'd him rudely at the banquet. He comes — it is himself — leave us — [Exit as sEgisthus enters. iEgisthus ! Why this delay ? JEgis, Thou should 'st have join'd our revels — Cly. What ! to smile On flattering fools,, regardless of my doom, When boding visitations summon me To fate's uncertain issue ? thou hast heard The supernatural vision — jEgis. Woman's fears ! — Cly. Light-hearted man ! when Clytemnestra shakes No brood of idle. fear her soul appals — The shape I saw was palpable as thine. Laugh with thy slaves — to me give serious heed. The banquet and the bowl awhile forget. JEgis. Speak, I attend. — Heard'st thou that fes- tive shout? [a laugh and festal shout are heard'] Would that the phantom that appall'd thy soul Might dare confront our feasters ? Cly. [with highest indignation.'] 'Twas — Atrides — [yEgisthus starts back. Aye — start — the grape's thick fumes o'ercloud thy brain. But I will rouse thy soul to conscious terror. When answering torches on from mount to mount, ORESTES. 353 From Ida's crest to Argos, spake that Troy Was levell'd, and the lord of Greece, the conqueror, The son of A.treus, Agamemnon, sped In triumph to his realm : who then preserv'd thee ? JEgis. Forbear — Cly. , In prostrate guise, thou call'd'st on me. I struck the warrior while thou stood'st aloof — - I sav'd, I wedded, I first hail'd thee, King. jEgis. Forbear — I will obey thee. Cly. Mark at least, Not mine the wreck of peace, of fame, of virtue, For base ingratitude. JEgis. Thy will is mine. Cly. iEgisthus, 'tis decreed, the prophet spake it, That from the youth, who bore Orestes' urn, I claim deliverance from these madd'ning horrors : The mystery of fate is known to him. And ere two hours are past, the time is mark'd, At midnight — in the bath — where fell Atrides, I meet the youth : thou too must join my steps. Delay not when I call. *&gis. I now am ready, Let us prevent his step. Cly, Hast thou no fear ? jEgis. The place I fear not : nor that beardless youth — Cly. Thou hast no weapon with thee — this at least Were prudent, to go arm'd. jEgis. Give me thy dagger. Cly. The youth requested it. *Egis. Thou— trust that dagger a a 354 ORESTES. To him ! a youth unknown ! well — 'tis the hand That gives the steel its worth — I will go arra'd — Fear not — I will protect thee — Cly. Thou protect me I Oh be but with me ! go, and if thou feast, Avoid excess- — be ready at the summons. [Exeunt* Scene changes to a magnificent oanqueting-room, thronged with guests, and sumptuously decorated. Musicians, Singers, 8gc. #c. Phanor, Guests. Pha. J Tis but a transient absence — on his brow Low'r'd discontent — the king was loath to leave us. Our mirth shall chase his gloom. On his return,, Swift at his entrance,, wake the lyre and flute., And raise the festive chorus. — See he comes. iEoisTHus enters. [instruments and voices strike up saluting him,"] Pha. Hail, monarch ! hail ! — [choral song. jEgis. I greet you all— most welcome — The intervening moments, which, like clouds Crossing the sun, broke rudely on our mirth, By shew of grateful contrast, give new zest And relish to enjoyment. — Welcome all. My spirits, with redoubled ardour, rush To meet your transport — hll again the bowl. That strain once more — [chorus is repeated. ORESTES. 355 Fling wide the palace gates — the wond'ring stran- gers Shall gaze on our magnificence — say,, Phanor, Where is the Prophet ? — him I bade attend ; His oft-repeated threat will raise our mirth — Looks this like Heav'n's displeasure ? Where the strangers That met us in our triumph ? — Pha. They attend. We but delayed, iEgisthus, till thy nod Gave sign of entrance. dSgis. Let them now advance. Enter Pylades and Arc as. Pha. Make way, make way. Pyla. I pray thee., leave us here. JEgis, Who speaks ? Pha. The stranger Phocians — ■ JEgis. Forward lead them. Look ! how they gaze^ in speechless wonder lost. Pha. The gorgeous majesty of Argos,, dazzles The unaccustom'd eye. ^Egis. Your Phocian feasts Are poor to these ? Pyla. No, ours are holy banquets Whereon the Gods look down — not feasts of blood. Pha. Lo ! Calchas comes — [as the Prophet slowly advances, the scene gradually darkens. *