m oft T" THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF NORTH CAROLINA AT CHAPEL HILL ENDOWED BY THE DIALECTIC AND PHILANTHROPIC SOCIETIES m PR4613 .D38 M6 1822 This book is due at the WALTER R. DAVIS LIBRARY on the last date stamped under "Date Due." If not on hold it may be renewed by bringing it to the library. DATE DUE RET " DATE RET DUE Rev. 1184 Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2012 with funding from University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill http://archive.org/details/montezumatragedyOOdors MONTEZUMA, OTHER POEMS. LONDON : PRINTED BY THOMAS DAVISON, WHITEFRIARS. Cv- Vl7-frf PR 4-4) 3 ,1)3? MONTEZUMA, TRAGEDY, IN FIVE ACTS AND OTHER POEM sX^oW ^ BY ST. JOHN DORSET, AUTHOR OF THE TRAGEDY OF THE " VAMPIRE. Sxj^a? Ikotx/vit Ao/yuoj e'%9;otoj noKiv. Sophocle LONDON : PRINTED FOR RODWELL AND MARTIN, NEW BOND STREET. 1822. TO THE RIGHT HON. LORD BYRON, THIS TRAGEDY is RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED. ADVERTISEMENT. I think it better to anticipate a criticism, to which the present Drama is peculiarly ob- noxious ; because, if it be just, I ought at the same time to acknowledge, as far as it goes, a radical failure, inasmuch as my error has been one of taste, and not of execution. It may be objected to a few scenes and de- tached passages, that the style scarcely rises above the level of ordinary discourse, and some colloquial expressions might be instanced, per- haps too liberal for this species of composition. I should be sorry if this objection were held valid in the opinion of an enlightened criticism. Whatever familiarities may issue from the lips of any of the Dramatis Personae, they have vni ADVERTISEMENT. been intentional. It was hoped, the moral costume with which circumstances had clothed the lives and language of the Castilians (to part with which would be to endanger the truth of the picture), might be retained with- out much injury to the impression of the work as a tragic performance. I may have been in error ; but I reckoned it an absurdity to adopt poetical language on every occasion indiscrimi- nately, delineating characters so diametrically opposed as those of the Spaniards and Mexi- cans. I could not deem it injurious to admit a portion of those freedoms into conversation, which men of the world very usually indulge in, and which appeared to me almost indispensa- ble in the discourse of such worldly libertines as Fernando Cortez and his followers : I cannot see otherwise how I could establish their histo- rical identity. An undeviating appropriation of a poetical style to men, " Who sleep with head upon the hilt, Their fever'd hand must grasp in waking," ADVERTISEMENT. ix however sanctioned, and however specious, would not, I should apprehend, be in the cor- rectest taste. I have, moreover, throughout this whole piece, taken advantage of the licence to contrast with better effect the principles and conduct of the chief personages of the Drama. I know there will always be a poetical feeling associated with the dash and conduct of this extraordinary enterprise ; but I submit with all deference, whatever poetry may belong to the invasion and conquest of Mexico, is (as is the character of Cortez himself), essentially and in- extricably epic. I may be told of the highly dramatic narrative of Robertson ; but do we not find all the accounts of this romantic age to be equally dramatic in the pages of our magnify cent historian ? In his America, as in Charles the Fifth, and the history of Scotland, it is the description of the writer, and not the subject upon which he treats, that I consider dramatic: it is the method, and not the matter. The character of Montezuma is undoubtedly x ADVERTISEMENT. a very fine subject for the Drama; if it had not been, I should never have adopted his fate for the ground- work of a Tragedy. It was once my intention to have embodied some of the more striking features of the Spanish hero ; but a very little insight into the subject convinced me it would not be well-judged, and that for the reason stated above. I have there- fore been at the pains to invent a character, who might occupy a conspicuous station in the Drama, without profaning our historical recol- lections. As some explanation of the violences I have here and there appropriated to my heroine, it may be noticed, en passant, that she is what I should consider a spoiled child, and her father's own girl. There is a family likeness I have imagined to exist, and which I have endea- voured to sustain, ad imum. I am aware there are two Dramas from the pen of Dryden, upon much the same subject as the present Tragedy ; in how far the character ADVERTISEMENT. xi or incident in either of them may resemble that of Montezuma, is what I cannot say, because I have never met with them. I have not limited myself within those bounds which I must have done had I written with historical precision, Circumstances are sup- posed in Montezuma, not merely not borne out by history, but often directly opposed to it ; and as I have made free with events, so I have not been very tenacious how I modelled my historical characters to suit my own ideas of dramatic excellence ; for this cause I have given an amiableness to Montezuma, such as we do not find him invested with by the histo- rian, with whose words respecting him I think it advisable to enrich this Preface. " As the power of Montezuma enabled him to take this spirited part, his own dispositions were such as seemed naturally to prompt him to it. Of all the princes who had swayed the Mexican empire, he was the most haughty, the most violent, and the most impatient of control. xii ADVERTISEMENT. His subjects looked up to him with awe, and his enemies with terror. The former he go- verned with unexampled rigour, but they were impressed with such an opinion of his capacity, as commanded their respect ; and by many vic- tories over the latter, he had spread far the dread of his arms, and had added several con- siderable provinces to his dominions. But, though his talents might be suited to the trans- actions of a state so imperfectly polished as the Mexican empire, and sufficient to conduct them while in their accustomed course, they were altogether inadequate to a conjuncture so extraordinary, and did not qualify him either to judge with the discernment, or to act with the decision, requisite in such trying emer- gence. * " From the moment that the Spaniards ap- peared on his coast, he discovered symptoms of timidity and embarrassment. Instead of taking such resolutions, as the consciousness of his own power, or the memory of his former ex- ADVERTISEMENT. xiii ploits might have inspired, he deliberated with an anxiety and hesitation, which did not escape the notice of his meanest courtiers. " Under those circumstances it ceases to be incredible, that a handful of adventurers should alarm the monarch of a great empire and all his subjects. " Notwithstanding the influence of this im- pression, when the messenger arrived from the Spanish camp, with an account that the leader of the strangers, adhering to his original de- mand, refused to obey the order enjoining him to leave the country, Montezuma assumed some degree of resolution, and in a transport of rage natural to a fierce prince unaccustomed to meet with any opposition to his will, he threatened to sacrifice those presumptuous men to his gods. " But his doubts and fears quickly returned, and instead of issuing orders to carry his threats into execution, he again called his ministers to confer and offer their advice. Feeble and tern- xiv ADVERTISEMENT. porising measures will always be the result when men assemble to deliberate in a situation where they ought to act. The Mexican counsellors took no effectual measure for expelling such troublesome intruders, and were satisfied with issuing a more positive injunction requiring them to leave the country ; but this they pre- posterously accompanied with a present of such value, as proved a fresh inducement to remain there. " Meanwhile the Spaniards were not without solicitude, or a variety of sentiments, in delibe- rating concerning their own future conduct. From what they had already seen, many of them formed such extravagant ideas concern- ing the opulence of the country, that, despising danger or hardships, when they had in view treasures which appeared to be inexhaustible, they were eager to attempt the conquest. Others, estimating the power of the Mexican empire by its wealth, and enumerating the va- rious proofs which had occurred of its being ADVERTISEMENT. XV under a well regulated administration, con- tended, that it would be an act of the wildest frenzy to attack such a state with a small body of men, in want of provisions* unconnected with any ally, and already enfeebled by the diseases peculiar to the climate, and the loss of several of their number. Cortez secretly ap- plauded the advocates for bold measures, and cherished their romantic ideas," &c. &c. &c. Robertson's History of America, Book V. Vol. II. Page 269. Octavo Edition. MONTEZUMA. ^> DRAMATIS PERSONS. Montezuma. Z ob ay a. Cazziva. RoBILDA. Fernando Cortez. Sebastian. Manuel. Alvarado. Felix. Mora. Mexicans, Spaniards, fyc. fyc. Scene — Mexico. B 2 MONTEZUMA. ACT I. SCENE I. The Batiks of the Lake of Mexico — three Ships at anchor : the City in the Distance. Enter Manuel, Felix, and Alvarado. MANUEL. Dead, say you ? FELIX, Dead. ALVARADO. When was it ? MANUEL. Prithee, tell us. FELIX. Just now. ALVARADO. And where ? 6 MONTEZUMA, ACT I. FELIX. In the great temple. MANUEL. Jove I FELIX. I saw it: he expired on the spot. ALVARADO. And did you nothing ? FELIX. Pshaw! would you have done More than I did, and died for a revenge ? ALVARADO. Why, was there any tumult ? FELIX. When the savage Struck down our comrade, all the people shouted, And rush'd into the streets, and call'd aloud For Spanish blood : I hid behind a pillar Until the sanctuary was made empty Of all but me ; and then I slunk away. MANUEL. Which man among them all stood forth and did it ? FELIX. The heir of Mexico. MANUEL. The prince Zobaya ? ' ALVARADO. I'll swear it was no other. FELIX. He lifted down the huge cross from the pedestal, SC. I. A TRAGEDY. And rushing to our countryman, who placed it There, where a deformed idol stood before, He kilTd him with a blow. MANUEL. Inhuman dog ! ALVARADO. Then we are at their mercy. MANUEL. Even so : For it is plain they 're bolder than ourselves ; At best it is a dread equality Of rashness. FELIX. We have the worse cause as well. ALVARADO. That is the best on't. FELIX. How, good sir ? ALVARADO. We want As much as will create despair in us : Cool valour will do nothing. MANUEL. Against men Who fight for all they love and live for : we Can only lose a ducat in possession, And hope of more to be wrung out of them : True, Alvarado. FELIX. Would I were at home ! 8 MONTEZUMA, ACT i. ALVAEADO. I would you were, Don Felix ; by the saints, You can laugh at a jest, but not encounter Pale Hazard with a frown, great as her own, When she talks to you, with her finger thus. FELIX. Confess we cannot live more than a week, If not preserved to satisfy the gods Of Mexico, when they want men for food : They '11 roast us : here we stand : how we came hither I cannot recollect : they thought us deities : (To Alvarado.) Thou dost not look like one: now if we tread An inch of ground we've pass'd, they'll mess upon us. ALVARADO. For peril's sake I am in love with peril : I would I might contend with this Zobaya. MANUEL. He is the confident of Montezuma. FELIX. His kinsman too. MANUEL. He would have cut us short Upon our march. FELIX. He counsell'd them to shut The gates of Mexico against us : how They hate us ! It is said about the camp The passionate king has suffer 'd us so far, SC. I. A TRAGEDY. 9 And lock'd us in the city to make sure His vengeance. ALVARADO. Fool ! There's refuge at the last. [Pointing to the Ships. FELIX. Ay, we may starve there. MANUEL. Nay, it was well done To cheat the wary king ; to feast his sight With wonders, useful to ourselves alone : It is an evident authority To awe the city, and afford us shelter. FELIX. True, for a day. ALVARADO. By Heav'n, if they alarm us We will on board, and from the cannon's mouth Pour such a storm, shall make the pavements crack. And yawn to catch the towers that grow upon them. Who's this? FELIX. Dost thou not know him since a woman Has made him a philosopher ? ALVARADO. He's pale. FELIX. He would fain pass by us. Speak to him, Manuel : he's your friend. 10 MONTEZUMA, - ACT I. ALVARADO. Is he in love ? FELIX. Most constantly. Enter Sebastian. MANUEL. Pshaw ! silence ! — a good day. FELTX. May't please you, recollect us, Don Sebastian ? SEBASTIAN. Ha ! My friend ! Felix ! Alvarado ! There is my hand. ' FELIX. A melancholy greeting. A plague on thy philosophy ! — A girl Of Mexico has made thee what thou could'st Not make thyself. SEBASTIAN. Ha ! what 's that, Don Felix ? FELIX Serious. SEBASTIAN. Nay you traduce me. FELIX. So I don 't, by Heaven ! Thou wert a libertine as free as light, As gay as the wild wind where flowers grow, As rash and sudden as the flick'ring blaze SC. I. A TRAGEDY. 11 That kills in sport, as changeful as the minutes, As idle as the drowsy winter morn. What but a monk or woman could so change thee ? Thou sleepest, and by night, which thou didst never ; Thou go'st abroad by day into the woods And think'st the while : Sebastian is no more ! Thine instincts now run slow, like rivers — ay, Cold love, like death, has touch'd thee. SEBASTIAN. Oh you mistake ! FELIX. I prithee tell us. SEBASTIAN. Cold? Fire And frenzy are not hot like love. FELIX. Thou 'rt lost; Thou hast no wit but morals ; mere philosophy Hath made thee mad : such is the end of wisdom. MANUEL. It ne^r will be thy end from such a cause. FELIX. Now, who 's for sport ? if thou would'st wear to shreds Thy melancholy, come with us. ALVARADO. Ay, come. SEBASTIAN. Excuse me if I may not : fare ye well : I had a word — no matter : will you go ? [To Manuel, 12 MONTEZUMA, act I. MANUEL. I dare not : no — to-night — to-morrow, Felix — I 'm sick to-day : I shall but spoil your mirth. FELIX. Love's dang'rous. I am gone. ALVARADO. Perhaps to-night — MANUEL. Ay, we shall meet. Farewell. FELIX. Let us not tarry longer. ALVARADO. MANUEL. We'll meet to-night. [Exeunt Felix and Alvarado. SEBASTIAN. Well, let them go : I am not in the humour To traffic with them for a word or two. Does she not love me ? tell me that, I pray thee. MANUEL. Ay, as a princess loves a pretty page, Or he a golden bracelet ; something handsome That suits his person or his liking. SEBASTIAN. Softly,— Why does she bid me never fail a day To visit her ? or why solicit me With costly presents ? why so constantly Follow me when the hunters are abroad, SC. I. A TRAGEDY. 13 And woo me from the chase, and linger with me, Stilling; the forest birds with her sweet voice ? Oh ! by my life she does it without art, In the full view of gaping Mexicans ; And all the while her bright eye, like the eagle's, Looks admiration in the face. MANUEL. There dwells an argument against her love : I know she is most confident, and shrinks not At smiles and scrutinies. A love-sick girl is not so unreserved : The sightless earth, which cannot return glances, Has more and steadier attraction to The coy maid, than the wilder'd summer gnat Finds in a torch ; her eye is like a book The heart has written in. When did she ever of her own accord Weep for a cause she could not tell you of ? When did she ever falter in her speech ? When did she blush ? SEBASTIAN. Oh never ! — Shame does that. MANUEL Well ? (I speak plainly) do you doubt the king, Her father, and the kingdom, would not deem her Shamed, if they saw, or thought they saw, she gave Herself to you? I'm sorry to say this, Because you droop : lovers must hear the truth, All those, at least, who like yourself search for it : It saves a world of pain and disappointment. 14 MONTEZUMA, act I. SEBASTIAN. It wrongs us of an universe of bliss ; It tears hope from us like a limb o 1 the heart. And leaves us bleeding. MANUEL. She is never sad, And yet she is to marry with Zobaya, Soon, or we hear the tale imperfectly: Does she not say sometimes, how glad she would be To live a virgin ? Sebastian (despondingly). No. MANUEL. You make me smile — Meaning she'd rather wed with any other Than with the prince. SEBASTIAN. You see I'm in despair. MANUEL. But have you ever told her of your love ? SEBASTIAN. How could I dare ? MANUEL. Do it, and presently : If you offend her, why adventure more Than courteous phrases : come, we 11 talk of it ; When do you visit her ? SEBASTIAN. At noon. SC. II. A TRAGEDY. 15 MANUEL. I Let's waste An hour in the city. SEBASTIAN. As you please. [Exeunt Sebastian and Manuel. SCENE II. An Apartment in the Mexican Palace. Enter Montezuma, followed hy Cazziva. MONTEZUMA. What'er ye be, ye unseen instruments, That, in obscure and terrible succession, Usurp the dark supremacy of my soul, Ye shall have full submission, since to strive Is vain : now light the lamp in this dim world, And manifest yourselves : my shadowy thoughts, Be unto me more palpable and present, And busy, for ye will — but mute, like vengeance. CAZZIVA. My lord ! MONTEZUMA. Now, priest, why do you track my footsteps ? Be still, ye ministers of passionate hatred, Justice ye shall have, we'll all have justice ! If you have any thing to ask, speak on, And quick; I am impatient. 16 MONTEZUMA, ACT I. CAZZIVA. Another time, ray prince. MONTEZUMA. Thou reVrend man, I have a little power, not much ; what would'st thou ? CAZZIVA. I am not come to sue, MONTEZUMA. That's well, that's well; I have a bountiful heart, sir, but no means. CAZZIVA. My tidings will await your leisure. MONTEZUMA. Tidings ! Hear mine first : how you look ! as if you knew it not — High Priest, as if you knew not all the shame The general voice is big with. CAZZIVA. What is this ? MONTEZUMA. Other men have their will ; their palms are loose, Supple, and strong ; mine have a mountain on 'era : I cannot wield my sceptre for the load, Nor lift to pray — I cannot, by the sun ! Feel you no weight upon your hands ? No strong Impediment ? CAZZIVA. None. MONTEZUMA. Is it possible ? SC. II. A TRAGEDY. 17 Go, go : yet I have tidings ; stay and hear them : Our clear cerulean lake, so gallantly CroWd with the foliage of thick plantain-groves, Tall shining poplars, fragrant cedar-trees, Its grave assembly of star-crested rocks, Its alabaster domes of silvery light, Serene pavilions, sunny palaces, And triple isles, begirt with battlements, That show like armed children of the deep, Are all insulted, scorn'd, and trodden down ! These strangers have no feeling with us, man ; Our peaceful wave is fretted with their arts, Furrow'd by chariots that yoke the wind, And scatter foam, like dust. How think you now ? Are not these tidings ? CAZZIVA. Have I leave to speak ? MONTEZUMA. You have : there 's something; written on the waste Of thy cold visage: give it breath. (Seats himself.) Now, sir; But I have deep intents, so be not prolix. CAZZIVA. Do you remember when the Spaniard First landed on our coasts, he did despatch A messenger of peace to Montezuma ? MONTEZUMA. He came, and I was then enthroned, and sat, Monarch-like, with ten thousand warriors circling- me. Me and my beautiful Mora : why, thou priest, c 18 MONTEZUMA, ACT I. Conjure the memory of that fatal day ? I would have met the invader in his path, Darken' d with venom'd shafts the light of HeaVn, And hurPd a wilderness of rocks and crags In thunder down the mountain precipice : Thou cam'st betwixt me and my purpose, old Caz- ziva ! Sages and prophets struck the sword of victory From mighty hands .-—dost thou repent thee this ? CAZZIVA. Yet not to us alone ; the princess Mora — MONTEZUMA. True : well, no more of that. CAZZIVA. She pleaded for them, And for one chiefly ; and she bade thee mark, As I believe, his aspect, and declared 'T was vain to think, so gentle as he seem'd, — And you remember that ? MONTEZUMA. You see I do : Of course : what then ? I have not time for this : — On, sir. CAZZIVA. Know you the person of that stranger ? MONTEZUMA. / Jcnow his race : — proceed — haply I Ve heard My daughter call him brave : and what of this ? CAZZIVA. You are not ignorant how oft they met ? J SC. H. A TRAGEDY. 19 montezuma. Met? CAZZIVA. Very frequently : 'tis known and talk'd of : I 'm bold to say it. MONTEZUMA. Shall I kill him ? this is well : very well, sir : Where heard 1 st thou this ? Now thou shalt perish : is 't not False ? swear it and be great : is she a traitor ? Who doth declare it, sir ? zvJio ddres ? Oh death ! CAZZIVA. Forgive me this. MONTEZUMA. She leagued against me ! she ! Hear thou, my slave, — speak to the point, — quick ! quick ! Disgorge the blistering venom of thy tale, Before the utter frenzy of my soul Urge me to curse thee, ay, thee, and thy priesthood. CAZZIVA. It is my duty. MONTEZUMA. What, to blight me thus ? Old man, thou hast undone me, pierced me through And through : I cannot shake it off: it clings Fast to me : I shall bear it to my grave : -- &. 'Tis here, and here ! CAZZIVA. My gracious lord, you 're ill. c2 20 MONTEZUMA, ACT I. MONTEZUMA. To death, sir ; very cold and aching : ah ! I feel as it were useless or impossible To live beyond this hour : tell me all : Whisper it — softly : I shall die for shame : Am I a wretch ? Is 't true that she has sold us ? CAZZIVA. Nay, for the proof — MONTEZUMA. We We quite alone ! is 't true ? CAZZIVA. There is a soldier in the Spanish troop — I 've spoken with him : he hath boasted to me, The princess and 1 pray you, pardon me. MONTEZUMA. Go on ; 1 1 m greedy for it. CAZZIVA. And Sebastian— MONTEZUMA. Is that his name ? CAZZIVA. My liege, he is the man Of whom we spake just now. MONTEZUMA. That's clear : proceed. CAZZIVA. After much questioning, I learn'd the princess And this young Spaniard held most frequent converse ; And, (or my villain lied) he vaunted this : Believe it might be so ; for who can bask SC. II. A TRAGEDY. 21 Beneath the sunshine of a princess 1 favors, And wish to hide his greatness from the world ? MONTEZUMA. Oh, no more ! CAZZIVA. Could I approve your trusts, and keep this from you ? MONTEZUMA. Ye broad plague-breathing no, I'll not — priest, crown me — But with no earthly perishable crown. Plant light, life durable upon my head — Something eternal — I have heard it all, And borne it — am not shatter'd, but still breathe To execute some great and awful Ye naked chasms of voracious earth, Swallow them ! Oh, my brain ! I 'll swear she 's pure. CAZZIVA. Emperor, might I advise MONTEZUMA. Anon : I '11 root them up ; — These men — I 'll crush them — turn them quite to dust : To-morrow — 1 '11 destroy them, and for her ! — CAZZIVA. Please you to hear me. MONTEZUMA. Ay, sir, your advice. CAZZIVA. The princess is betroth'd, my sovereign lord, Unto Zobaya of the imperial family ; The time is apt to consummate 22 MONTEZUMA, ACT I. MONTEZUMA. It is: That is well thought of. Priest, give orders ; Publish it straight: I'll have them join'd to-morrow, To-night, this day. CAZZIVA. To-morrow it were better. MONTEZUMA. So : well, to-morrow be it, ere the dawn. Hark you, priest, let no word be whisper'd, none Touching the emperor's might, his majesty, His race, his blood, high blood — priest, I forgive her. CAZZIVA. Who shall prevent these Spaniards ? MONTEZUMA. I'll bid them to a feast, and poison them : Some will escape ; they shall be scorch'd with flame At night : I'll burn them up — Oh! I'll be busy — ■ I have bethought me of a way to kill. Cazziva ! CAZZIVA. I am here. MONTEZUMA. We'll sacrifice Unto the gods to-morrow : at the dead Of night we'll fire their haunt, and slaughter them: Send to Zobaya ; let my child come hither : No ; bid her remain, and stay my coming. Go, priest, proclaim in Mexico, I stir, Am full of joy, will wear my crown to-morrow;— SC. II. A TRAGEDY. 23 Prophet Cazziva ! Are there no portents in the stars ? Retire, And read the page : and mark, I will have wonders ! Make prophecy of glorious things to be ; Command them in the temples, and the streets, To think, with closed lips, a prayer for freedom, Freedom, and victory, and Montezuma ! [Exeunt separately. 24 MONTEZUMA, ACT II. ACT II.— SCENE I. An Apartment in the Mexican Palace — Mora, reclining on a Couch, and a Female Attendant. MORA. My pretty Zuma ! such a robe as that The sober earth wears after summer : I Will lay my hand upon my heart to warm it When I wrap "'round those garments : come to me. What a sweet maid thou art ! Oh, thou shalt wed The boy who bore the wine-cup yesternight, And got a rare bird's pinion from his lord To crown his clusfring hair. How beautiful Thy tresses are ! and what an arm is here ! Go, go : I cannot bear thy beauty ; I will not sit beside thee : fie upon thee, To shame me ! Nay, no words : I like thy voice, But will not hear it now. Ah, gentle Zuma ! Forsake me for a while ; at dusky eve Remind me, I must put on that cold dress. [Exit Attendant. A timid girl ! I hope he will not come ; It is full noon : I will go seek him then ; He shall not die : whom then shall I betray ? My father ? What shall I become at last ? SC. I. A TRAGEDY. 25 Enter Sebastian. SEBASTIAN. Soft ! she is there, alone — Magnificence is fond of solitude ; For where the multitude of men is not, Eternal nature, on her mountain throne, Reigns over giant rocks and precipices : Diamonds and yellow gold lie silently Couch'd in the lap of earth, pearls, white as truth, Hide in a bed of waters, and we 're told, How fairer nymphs than ever stole a charm Of light or colour from the day, have dwelt In coral cells, or graced the noiseless woods, And loved the emerald spot by quiet fountains. She sleeps, or is as tranquil ; if I sigh, 'Twill spoil the picture of her rest : she stirs, And looks like monumental form, Choicest of beautiful things inanimate, Putting on life. MORA. Who's there? Come, sit by me, Sebastian; I have things to tell you : oh, it grieves me much To say, for they are cruel things, and have, Ere now, cost me some tears. SEBASTIAN. Nay, this is fanciful. MORA. You know, I never weep for wantonness, Nor sigh at noon-tide hours to chill young hopes 26 MONTEZUMA, ACT II. And pleasures. Do I love to mar the beauty Of the rich world, and shadow forms the sun Makes gay and golden ? SEBASTIAN. Princess, how you sigh ! What is your will ? MORA. That you return no more To visit me : that you await no more To mark my coming where of late I came From golden palaces to hear you talk : Oh, what a void is all the fertile world If it must be ! And I will have it so. SEBASTIAN. What mean you now ? Whence is this cruel thought ? Why did you warn me of a thousand perils ? Oh, like a tyrant, to destroy at leisure. MORA. Destroy ! SEBASTIAN. Did I say so ? MORA. Do you reproach me for it ? SEBASTIAN. No : I love thee, Most dearly love thee for thy charities. MORA. Be silent : now you pain me. The air is hot, and the strong beams that dart Into this chamber bring a weariness ; SC. I. A TRAGEDY. 27 My father has been with me ; Yet I am sad as men are without hope. SEBASTIAN. What said your father ? MORA. This, my Sebastian : there 's a foul reproach Gone throughout Mexico : the blood, high blood Of Montezuma is corrupted, canker'd In the eyes of all the world ; and I, and thou, Have done this. SEBASTIAN. Ha! MORA. They rumour that I tell thee The secrets of our nation, of our councils, And when we climb the purple hills together, Or tread the orange groves, or roam the plains, Gardens, and forests, that we league against them : Has it been thus ? SEBASTIAN. False ! False ! MORA. How could I think it was a sin to deem you Generous and brave ; in kindness and in pity To teach you how to know the lion's print Along the tribeful wilderness ; how to make The golden-feather'd eagle quit her home, And bathe her wings in the supernal day-stream ; To snare the fleet and delicate antelope ; To tame the mountain-dog and hunt the cougar ; 28 MONTEZUMA, ACT II. How to distinguish birds of precious dyes ; And above all to shun the glossy charm Of pois'nous fruits ? — How could I think but this was innocent? SEBASTIAN. No more, my princess. MORA. It is an injury to call me traitor Turn not my thoughtst that way at such a moment. SEBASTIAN. Why swells her colourless and beautiful bosom As it would break ? MORA. To-morrow I shall wed. SEBASTIAN. To-morrow ! MORA. Why not ? To-morrow : let that pass. SEBASTIAN. Oh, death ! How stern she is ! To-morrow ! MORA. You know I was betroth'd, and should not tremble To hear that I must wed. SEBASTIAN. What a cold heart She has then if she loves not ! Is 't a dream ? MORA. No : I have pray'd still at the sabbath hour Of evening, to stand opposite the sun, Coil'd like a sparkling serpent on the lake, sc. I. A TRAGEDY. 29 Mid all his cresting clouds and flashing hues, Then listen with wild joy to hear you say, He never set so bravely in Castile : But I must wed, and never see you more, And never hear your voice. SEBASTIAN. How pale and very beautiful she is ! Wed ? Be it : if she do, I 'll have her still ; Honour and life are atoms to her worth. MORA. They say — my heart will burst — if it be true, If I adore thee, and thy land, and race, And cling unto thy fortunes, oh ! so passionately As they do charge me : what a foolish fault To let them spill blood, like my blood, as dear : It were not natural that I should let thee Perish, if I so love thee. SEBASTIAN. She burns, and from her eyes, like weeping suns, Hot passion-drops distil : there is some cause MORA. Horror ! They shall not do this deed. SEBASTIAN. What deed ? MORA. Gods or my fathers ! 'Tis an awful thing To tell: instruct me by some noise mysterious, Or sight remarkable, to do no wrong. SEBASTIAN. Shadows, like prophecies, float dimly by ; I cannot grasp them : ha ! there 's treachery 30 MONTEZUMA, ACT II. Such as before and she is privy to it. MORA. Hist ! hist ! a footstep ! none may see thee here ; At the still hour to-night, I am appointed Alone to watch, and with a virgin hand Feed the pure, ever-burning, consecrated Lights in the temple : it is our religion : Some one comes — Oh ! thafs a horrid thought ! SEBASTIAN. What is a horrid thought ? MORA. No, no, you must not ; ,r Tis death in Mexico to suffer it. SEBASTIAN. In mercy, what ? MORA. Hark ! 'Tis my father's voice ! Oh, I must save you — join me in the temple : You must depart to-night from Mexico. SEBASTIAN. Oh, wherefore ? And thyself MORA. What should I do ? SEBASTIAN. Alas ! she ? s very proud, and loves me not, Else we might fly. MORA. To-night without the temple you shall meet An officer ; obey and follow him : Hence ! for my father's step is at the door. Well then — I am afraid to meet my father ! SC. I. A TRAGEDY. 31 SEBASTIAN. (Apart.) Now what were best ? 1 11 think on 't : (To her.) My protecting ■ MORA. If you but whisper this SEBASTIAN. Wait, while I swear. MORA. Begone, sir. SEBASTIAN. I 1 the temple ? {Exit Sebastian, mora. I have said, the temple. Enter Cazziva. Ha ! the temple ! MORA. Ye, who see me and my soul, forgive me ! [Exit. Enter Montezuma and Zobaya. zobaya (to montezuma, who is gazing after MORA.) Another day will pass ; a brief submission. MONTEZUMA. Some hideous spectre, dancing in the light, Puts forth a blinding hand upon me, thus. cazziva (aside to montezuma.) You beheld the princess ? MONTEZUMA. Say, with whom ? 32 MONTEZUMA,, ACT II. CAZZIVA. I think, Sebastian. MONTEZUMA. Madness ! Priest, begone — We would be private, — yet a word : be mute, Mute as her ceime ; you understand ; if she Can show the white day such an act, 't is monstrous. Leave us now. CAZZIVA. (Apart.) What did she say to him ? [Exit. MONTEZUMA. And they have trampled on us ; Yet we have proudly smiled and suffer'd it ; And they have drain'd our mines of gold and silver ; Wrung, unpermitted, from the voiceless earth A mount of gems, and worn them in our presence ; And they have raised the tone of insolence In royal palaces, and holy temples ; We bore this too, were passive : Oh, but now — ZOBAYA. Emperor ! I have no words ; this catalogue Of mighty wrongs 1 am ashamed to speak : — We 11 have atonement. MONTEZUMA. More, much more. By the hot God of battle, I '11 have vengeance. — Saw you the princess ? ZOBAYA. Not since noon. SC. I A TRAGEDY. 33 MONTEZUMA. Indeed ! So : — that's well : I had fears : your hand, Zobaya ! Is this an honest hand ? ZOBAYA. Else pierce it through, And give the mounting blood back to the Sun, Who fiird my sire's, and Montezuma's veins, With the same glorious current. MONTEZUMA. Well, I '11 make thee Quite mine own : know that at to-morrow's dawn We solemnize the rites. ZOBAYA. Thou hast said it : I love my country and the princess ; let Thy daughter's peace bespeak my gratitude. montezuma (not heeding him). Authority ! whose front was terrible, Has gone by like a vision : where 's my strength ? Are there no cleansing fires in the dense air To scour away this horrible pollution ? ZOIiAYA. Be patient, my great lord and father. MONTUZEMA. Zobaya ! I 've been patient, very patient ; But, sir, my nature 's hot, my bosom yearns To shake concealment, like a viper, off : It preys upon me, eats my living heart. D 34 MONTEZUMA, ACT II. ZOBAYA. Alas ! these starts of desperate passion- MONTEZUMA. Are these men poison-proof, that I must bear it ? Or I a common man ? ZOBAYA. No second sun Shall look upon our shame. MONTEZUMA. 'T is well remember^ : I will bear up against these mighty wrongs. [Speaking low, and gradually relapsing into passion. Our holy altars 1 snow-robed purity Made black and tainted by hot-breathed pollution : And now our temples' 1 deities hurFd down Ha ! you avenged that — you did — you said it — Did you not say so ? ZOBAYA. High and mighty Emperor ! MONTEZUMA. Did you not say a Spanish officer Had cast our idols to the earth ? ZOBAYA. E'en so. MONTEZUMA. Did you not seize the villain by the throat, And strangle him ? ZOBAYA. No : with the iron cross I fell'd the slave,- And dash'd his brains out. SC. I. A TRAGEDY. 35 MONTEZUMA. Noble sir, I thank thee — I breathe more freely : — Ay, a patriot blow. ZOBAYA. 'Twas a rash blow ; \ will rouse them from their sleep : They had died dreaming else. MONTEZUMA. Make preparation. Shall we not burn them at the dead of night ? I dote upon thy valour, my Zobaya : Go, and the name of Country strengthen thee ! ZOBAYA. Trust me, thy godlike vengeance shall be writ In golden syllables. MONTEZUMA. And thou shalt live, Zobaya, there. ZOBAYA. Thy instrument and HeavVs ! [Exit. MONTEZUMA. My hopes are young again : the sun looks out ; The round world jocund laughs ; and, by my soul, My earliest memory cannot trace a day More burning or more beautiful than this : [Enter Cortez. It suits my humour excellently well, For I am hot and lively. Ha ! who's there ? I' th' Gods 1 name, Spaniard ! what brings thee hither ? cortez. My duty to my king. d2 36 MONTEZUMA, ACT II. MONTEZUMA. Were you commanded by your king to break Unbidden on my privacy ? CORTEZ. * Unbidden ? MONTEZUMA. Unbidden and unwish'd for : hear you not ? Your king ! Sir, in whose presence stand you now ? My sceptre has grown out of use, that 's plain ; But I am yet an emperor, or calfd so. CORTEZ. I 'm pleased to hear you say it ; I have need Of your authority. MONTEZUMA. Well sir, go on. CORTEZ. A Spanish officer of note hath been Cruelly butcher'd by a Mexican : — I come to claim the murderer at your hands. MONTEZUMA. Where was this death committed ? CORTEZ. IN YOUR KINGDOM. MONTEZUMA. Oh Earth ! CORTEZ. In European climes, my lord, There Is a law divine, immutable, Graved on the imperishable scroll of ages, SC. I. A TRAGEDY. 37 Stamp' d on the life and on the heart of man — Blood will have blood ! MONTEZUMA. I know not what you say : Unbridled insolence ! that he should dare CORTEZ. Am I to understand you do decree The murderer to death ? MONTEZUMA. Castilian ! whom ? CORTEZ. My lord, as I have heard, a nobleman, One, more 's the pity, of imperial stock ; His name, Zobaya. MONTEZUMA. So, and heard'st thou why He slew thy countryman ? CORTEZ. No cause, nor consequence, Can sanctify the deed of murder. MONTEZUMA. Hast heard for why he slew thy countryman ? CORTEZ. I scarcely know ; I may, or I may not. MONTEZUMA. Then listen to me : — In Spain you worship Heaven, as we do here ; You have your temples there, as we have here : Your actions do light honour to your faith, And so 'tis trifling this ; yet answer me ; 88 MONTEZUMA, ACT ir. If, in thy city, one from Mexico, Should tread with sacrilegious insolence God's own peculiar residence, making sport Of all that Christians worship and admire ; If this man should stamp upon your relics, Raise the right arm of violence, and there, There, where your holiest memories are enshrined, There, point the finger of derision, more, Drag the illustrious image from its base, And spit and trample on it — tell me, sir, What should a Christian do? [Cortez appears con- founded. He cannot, dare not speak it. Now, i' th' name Of all that either of us loves and honours, Why should a Christian perpetrate those deeds Abroad, he 'd brook not in his native Europe A Mexican should emulate? Fie on't ! Fie on't! cortez. This is not to the purpose. MONTEZUMA. Get thee hence ! CORTEZ. King, ere I leave thee, I must bear thy signet ; The assassin must be given up. MONTEZUMA. God grant I don't go mad in this man's sight! He must ! Nay if he must (Goes to the side, and with a loud voice) Bear back those golden wedges to the treasury, Remember ye ! No more such offerings SC. I. A TRAGEDY. 39 To the Castilian quarters: (to Cortez) like you that? Back with your rich and slavish freight ! (returns.) Oh, must ! There was a Montezuma, such a voice Should startle from his century of sleep, As if the battle-drum had thunder'd o'er him Its last, loud, solemn, dread, eternal beat ! CORTEZ. Emperor of Mexico ! I stand before you The representative of Charles the Fifth MONTEZUMA. Well, sir, away ! CORTEZ. I will not be insulted. MONTEZUMA. Blow it about, ye opposite winds of heaven ! He talks of insult ! Sir, what brought thee hither ? What detains thee here ? CORTEZ. You know I come from the rich shores of Spain, Ambassador. MONTEZUMA. Indeed, ambassador, Thou 'rt well companion^, and sans question, sir, Your hireling crew of riotous followers All come ambassadors. May I inquire Is it for peace ye make so long a journey ? CORTEZ. For peace or war, I am indifferent. MONTEZUMA. Or does your royal master want our gold 40 MONTEZUMA, ACT If. To scatter armed delegates abroad, And sow dissension in blood-thirsty Europe ? To insinuate falsehood with the blush of truth, Make treachery seem beautiful as faith, Heap the vain pile of festering deceit, Till the huge monument invade the skies ? CORTEZ. Blood has been shed in Mexico : And I and justice claim the murderer. MONTEZUMA. What ? Thou wouldst have him in thy grasp to kill : Blood will have blood : you say that is your creed — Thou brand'st him, murderer : be it as thou say'st : He has a talisman to shake thee dead. CORTEZ. What is this thunderbolt ? MONTEZUMA. My PROTECTION. CORTEZ. King, dost thou screen this man ? MONTEZUMA. Avoid my sight ! Hence from my palace ! Hark you, quit my kingdom, If you are not enamour" 1 d of your fate ; For you will meet with such adventures here Think ere too late upon my words : again ! Know yourself better when you talk to kings, And mend your manners — manners — manners ! (Exit Montezuma). cortez. Why then the game is up, and I have come sc. I. A TRAGEDY. 41 Over the seas to dig myself a grave. Is this the vaunted issue of my enterprise ? I might have found as much at home, and spared The scorn that waits to cling to my defeat. But I have reckon'd Fortune's countenance Shall smile on me for ever: why on me More than on Montezuma ? She has shown Herself my lover ; 'tis for me to drive The hesitating maid to her own granting. It is in chances such as these the soul Takes wing, and rises undismay'd, above The assault of earthquakes. My ambition ! Let me consider this : if we permit His rage to gain a point, we are undone. He should be grasp'd, and Ave embrace his power ; He should be caged. Flattery will not do it : — I do not think him brave : it shall be tried. Our valour, not our force, must take him captive, With swarming nations round him : so to-night I '11 ply my friends ; make their hearts grow with wine, And strike my spur into them : I have err'd ; My bolts fall impotent upon his head ; To be secure, the Titan must be chain'd. [Exit. 42 MONTEZUMA, act II. SCENE II. The Interior of the Temple. — Night. Enter Mora and Sebastian. MORA. Hark! SEBASTIAN. Still. MORA. The demon of the night 's abroad Upon his startling wing : hist ! SEBASTIAN. What a soul Thy father has, to fashion this damn'd slaughter ! MORA. These billets take them will preserve you, sir, In your fast travel, as I said before : And so — farewell ! {Retires. SEBASTIAN. Farewell ! Ye crowned columns, Ye breathing arches, ye stupendous images, Which bear this dome upon ye, like a world ; Air, full of heavy night, which I respire Hardly ; thou spirit, whatsoe'er thou art, And where, whose name is based upon this fabric, Burst over and about me, choke, confound me, If I forsake my gallant friends, and fly For melancholy life — no, not to wear JSC. II. A TRAGEDY. 43 The thorny flower of this woman's beauty Next to my heart for ever : 1 11 not do it. MORA. What say you, sir ? Begone ! SEBASTIAN. Now I '11 be doing till I bend or break Her mighty spirit : I '11 tell all to Cortez ; And so she 'It hate me ; well, what hope have I To win her if she love me, she 's so proud ? (In a loud tone.) Farewell ! MORA. Oh thus, in anger ? You '11 betray me. SEBASTIAN. Betray you ? MORA. Yes ; a thousand walls and roofs Speak when thou dost : Oh God ! you will betray me. If one should hear — have you the heart, Sebastian ? SEBASTIAN. Her single prayer in pain stabs like an arrow — Princess, I will not breathe : — how quiet 'tis ! MORA. You are soon calm ; 'tis good to be so kindly Temper'd — we will not think of it : but now — Hush ! heard you not an echo ? SEBASTIAN. Jealous creatures Are tenants near : at times a desolate bird Screams at the gushing wind ; and shy and swifter Things than the light sweep by me, and are gone. 44 MONTEZUMA, ACT II. MORA. You may delay a moment. Can it be, That I shall not behold you, gallant Spaniard, After this hour ? Not once more to the end Of hours, when all are told ? I never will Forget you, yet 'twere sweet to have a gift, Something which was Sebastian's, to look Upon, when it is mine, and never lose The freshness of my thoughts. SEBASTIAN. Imperial Daughter of Montezuma, my own MORA. Well! SEBASTIAN. Mora ! how good you are ! Oh you have been More liberal than the stars, the winds, the flowers ; What under heaven is mine and precious, that You gave me not ? How can I offer you MORA. You mock me, sir ; if I should choose, you must Part with that glittering amulet at your breast : Is it of worth ? You '11 not refuse me, say. SEBASTIAN. This cross ? MORA. If you are grateful, give it me ; I '11 have it always, like a charm, about me ; It is not much to ask, or does not seem so ; I cannot know your thoughts ; perhaps, 'tis dear SC. II. A TKAGEDY. 45 For some sweet cause : well then, I will not rob you. I never sought of you before, and not again Shall I seek any thing {A bell chimes). Now comes the morn. SEBASTIAN. 'Tis pealing in the clouds : the sensible air Doth catch and carry on the warning through The waste paths where the winds ride. No one hears : Light and life are not quicken'd ; there is none Awake, but only we and time, mora. Go then ; Leave me to watch ; you will be gay, and should, For you are young, and brave, and beautiful ; Grief does not sit well on a youthful face : You will be happy, and for the long woes That taint the freshness of another's cheek And prey on other hearts, you will not heed them. Methinks I now could weep, and lay me down For ever on this marble : I am sad To-night. SEBASTIAN. This bauble — I had forgotten it — I have look'd here for memory, and seen Things long past, as they were, and wept. MORA. Why so? SEBASTIAN. This toy shone once upon as soft a bosom, Under a brow as beautiful, and near 46 MONTEZUMA, ACT II. As kind a heart, as that it shall sleep by Henceforth. [He places it on her neck. MORA. For ever. SEBASTIAN. The daughter of a noble family, A fair and blue-eyed girl, born a Castilian, Loved to set forth upon her polish'd neck That simple ornament : she was my sister : One only, very young, and — oh ! her hair Was like the sunbeams, and her voice voluptuous Then was so very sweet you could not bear To listen while she spoke Tears ! for a criminal ! One erring like an angel — she is gone — Forgiv'n now — I cannot talk of this She sold herself to misery and shame, And lived, as wretches do, in fierce enjoyment, In the hot course of desperate delight, And died, as such must die, in shrieking agony. MORA. Oh, do not say so ! would that she had lived ! I could have loved your sister : I will wear This for her sake — and yours : how much I pity her ! SEBASTIAN. She is beyond, below thy pity now ; Dust, which wert beauty ! What art thou but dust ? And yet that all men worship, women envy, Is cursed and wither'd down to thee ! MORA. Sad thought ! SC. II. A TRAGEDY. 47 Enter Cazziva. CAZZIVA. I heard a murmur, as of voices muttering Long and low ; where 's the princess ? If it be — Then "'twould rain blood : it were a sin 'gainst Heaven : Something stirs : look ! Oh Sun ! It is — it is ! — MORA. Sebastian ! SEBASTIAN. Beauteous Mora! MORA. You '11 forget There was one gentle throughout all Mexico, Who for your sake betray'd the councils — hark ! cazziva. Traitress I mora. Was that a step ? SEBASTIAN. The envious night That will not suffer one last hopeless glance Of thy chaste beauty, mocks the startled sense With sounds and shadows in the rustling air: 'Tis nothing. mora. Let us hence : I am sick with dread. SEBASTIAN. Nay, stand thus : you are like the shuddering poplar, And the white gems that hang upon your garments 48 MONTEZUMA, ACT II. Shine through the night, and quiver like the leaves, Which tremble and turn pale when the wind sighs — 'Tis just so, and you smile. MORA. Smile ! Can you think it ? Now SEBASTIAN. I am prepared. MORA. Follow me to the porch, my true Sebastian. Sebastian (aside). I ll straight unto Fernando, that were best ; Best to disclose her father's perfidy: If any ill betide — what ill ? — Her hatred — But I '11 not peril her ; and when 'tis past, It is a virtue, she 'll not scorn me for it. mora. I am quite faint with fear. Come, if you love me. SEBASTIAN. Love you ? mora. Do you not love me ? Is your steed Ready and fleet ? Out of the storm-cloud's bosom The gale doth sob : it is as dark as death. SEBASTIAN. I come. [As they are going, Cazziva advances. CAZZIVA. Halt! traitress! Slave! Awake ye! miscreants! SEBASTIAN. Damnation ! SC. II. A TRAGEDY. 49 CAZZIVA. Monsters ! blots on earth ! both ! viper ! Seducer! ye shall die ! Awake! ho! sacrilege! SEBASTIAN. Be 1 still — dumb — or I '11 strangle thee ! CAZZIVA. Off! help! SEBASTIAN. Devil or spy! phantom or form ! have at thee ! [Stabs him. CAZZIVA. Ruffian ! help ! blood ! [Dies. MORA. Spare — pity — mercy — mercy ! [She staggers against the Scene, which opens, and discovers the consecrated Lights. — The Stage becomes illuminated ; Mora has sunk senseless at the Foot qf the Altar. Sebastian is standing over the Body of the Priest, whom he recognises. SEBASTIAN. High priest ! Cazziva ! [The Curtain Jails. 50 MONTEZUMA, ACT ill. ACT III.— SCENE I. A Room in the Spanish Quarters — Day-break. Cortez, Sebastian, Manuel, Alvarado, Felix, and others, at Table, drinking: CORTEZ. Hush ! ALVARADO. SONG. 1. Did you ever see the white rose blow ? Did you ever see it wither ? If you ever mark'd it well, you know It blooms not two days together. 2. And if the rains beat roughly down, And the strong winds clamour, ever When this rose doth live, its charms are gone, And it wakes from its ruin never. 8. So fair as thou art, fallen shalt thou be, And this dream of life departed — Thy night shall be dark, and, like the rose-tree, Storms may make thee broken-hearted. SC. I. A TRAGEDY. 51 4. I would I could woo thee from thy still shade, Ere thy bright brief existence is over, To bloom in the world, ere thy gay blossoms fade, And pass thy two days with thy lover. CORTEZ. Excellent, Alvarado ; by the mass, I like your song, and yet 'tis melancholy : How strange that it should please ! There 's something, now, stronger than science here : What think you, Felix ? FELIX. Oh, not me, Signor ; I 've no taste for ballads. CORTEZ. Psha ! I pass you by : hast heard it, you ? FIRST SPANIARD. There 's music in it. CORTEZ. Nay, not music only ; Memory, sir : there 's some one here can tell. alvarado {aside to cortez). Go to, go to, Fernando : tax them not, Else we shall hear. CORTEZ. St. Jago ! MANUEL. Ha ! I have it : Now, Felix. e2 52 MONTEZUMA, ACT III. FELIX. I am for you. MANUEL. Prithee, captain ; — ■ 'Twas a rare ditty, — thank you for it, sir — FELIX. Oh, an approved one. MANUEL. Ay, a crimson girl Warbled it richly at Vittoria, One season, in the opera. CORTEZ. Was it thus ? — Drink, sirs, drink. FELIX. 1 11 give you that warm beauty. CORTEZ. Whom ? FELIX. Donna Julia. MANUEL. The coquet actress : They calTd her so. FELIX. With reason ; for I knew A brace of cavaliers who thinn'd for love of her ; And when she slighted both, or jilted them, They fell to tilting for their flesh and spirits : One got a thrust, and so he changed his mind, And t 1 other took advice, and dipp'd i 1 th 1 sea. SC. I. A TRAGEDY. 53 SECOND SPANIARD. He was the wiser. MANUEL. Let's have done with it. ALVARADO. Oh not for me. CORTEZ. Nor me : but look ! the night Dies in the Indian east, and the pale stars Go out, like glow-worms : fill, my gallant comrades, High, till the amber torrent overflow Your crowned goblets ; meet the laughing Hours With sumptuous bowls, and from the wave magnificent Baptize the infant day, and call him Happiness. ALL. Huzza ! [They drink. CORTEZ. I love to see the vehemence of joy Kindle a tempest in the eye : my soul, What a clime is this ! The yellow sun Has sipp'd the wine that sparkles in this cup, And left his light behind. I pledge ye, sirs : But how, Sebastian drinks not. ALVARADO. Faith I he does not. CORTEZ. Now this wo'n't go : he has not graced our banquet Two hours. ALVARADO. Ay, thereabouts. 54 MONTEZUMA, ACT HI. FELIX. By Jupiter ! He did not toast the dark girl of Vittoria : Signor, a word in your ear. [ Whispers Sebastian. Was' t so 9 SEBASTIAN. I know not. MANUEL. No more : 'tis not fair To rate him thus : ye have not noted him ; I '11 wager he has drunk more deep than any man. FIRST SPANIARD. 'Tis so, indeed. CORTEZ. He has been busy then. MANUEL. Mind him not ; 'tis his humour : he is merry With the best, ay, and racier in his mirth, Take one day with another. CORTEZ. I believe you. See, what a pleasant beam steals o'er the cups .' The diamond glance of an arch maiden's eye Is not more penetrating : ha ! how feel ye ? — Charge anew ! Do not your pulses beat Quick time beneath this soul-inspiring lustre ? Do ye not breathe a spirit with the morn, That warms, like blood, and bids ye on to something ? (Enter Officer.) How now ? SC. I. A TRAGEDY. 55 OFFICER. My lord, a servant of the emperor Waits in the court. CORTEZ. Indeed ! Admit him. [Exit Officer. FELIX. Resolve me, Manuel, if this Mexican Be up betimes, or have not slept to-night. MANUEL. Look in his eye. CORTEZ. Now what is this ? Enter Robilda. Well, Mexican. ROBILDA. Montezuma Sends greeting to the Spanish general, and In friendship thus acquaints him, with the hour The princess of this land becomes a bride, And weds a warrior in the capital. The emperor bids Fernando to the temple, And proffers welcome to his chosen friends. Sebastian (starting' up suddenly). Does he send for me — for me — for me ? CORTEZ. Be seated, sir : s'death ! Sebastian, sit. Say that we come upon the instant ; and • You have your answer. [Exit Robilda. Give me a bowl of wine. (Drinks.) By God, well do it. 56 MONTEZUMA, ACT III. (Rises.) Have I not loved ye ? Which of you has founjl me Impatient, proud, false, or forgetful ever ? Now, if there be a breathing man among you, That has come here to shame me and my king — I know not any — witness all I hate him, And cast him, like this empty goblet, from me. MANUEL. Speak plain, Fernando Cortez. ALVARADO. To the point. FELIX. Which is th' ungrateful one ? SEBASTIAN. By Heav'n, himself! CORTEZ. Hear me out. Once in Cholula — 'tis idle This — ye have not forgotten it — and how, By chance, we learn'd what rank hypocrisies Suggest the vacant smoothness of a Mexican. We are resourceless in a mighty empire, Embarrass'd in a stirring multitude Made up of millions, struggling out of wonder, And measuring us now with equal looks : Nay, they have crush' d to death a gallant Spaniard, And with a dangerous spirit shield the murderer. The charm of immortality forsakes us ; And, crowding in the streets, they glare upon us By night at every turn, like wet-lipp^ tigers, Pleased with the insufficient feast of human blood. FELIX. Damn them ! SC. I. A TRAGEDY. 57 MANUEL. What, dare they screen the savage ? ALVARADO. Tear him, the blood-hound, from his master's bosom, And at the temple-gates hew him in pieces ! CORTEZ. That 's a brave thought ; it were an everlasting one To seize not on the murderer. MANUEL and ALVARADO. On whom ? CORTEZ. Montezuma. first spaniard. That were too much. SEBASTIAN. Too much ? for thee : I swear To do it with Fernando Cortez : perish, If ye fail us ! Transport him hither ; Let him reign here, and bring his court amongst us, And we will watch him with a lover's eye. Haste, and you mar the triumph of the slayer, And snatch his gory hand before it reach The shrinking pure one of the Mexican girl. FIRST SPANIARD. How can we take the king against his will ? SEBASTIAN. Can you not put a chain upon the tyrant ? Or wind your fingers in his ebon hair, And drag him hither ? Are ye turn'd to stone ? I Ve got the spell to make ye, monuments, 58 MONTEZUMA, ACT III. Start into frantic life : to-night — to-night — Ye stand betwixt the universal poles, The far extremities of earth and heaven, Directly in the passage of the thunder-bolt. CORTEZ. Sebastian ! SEBASTIAN. Montezuma, in his wrath And deep imaginings, has fix'd at midnight, The blind and taleless midnight, to destroy ye Utterly — to make desolate with flame These halls — to root ye up, and fling abroad The pestilential dust of hated Spaniards. CORTEZ. Break up the feast. MANUEL. Sebastian, is this real ? SEBASTIAN. CORTEZ. Who follows to the temple ? SPANIARDS. Manuel, I swear. AU, all ! CORTEZ. Be desperate : — rivet Montezuma ; And we, not he, are king of Mexico. (Exeunt : rnanent Sebastian and Manuel.) SEBASTIAN. Manuel ! Have you heard ? Not any thing To-night ? What hour is it ? Already morning ? SC. I. A TRAGEDY. 59 'Tis vain : the dreaming world yet knows it not : But when — did it appear I was long absent ? MANUEL. Some did think so. SEBASTIAN. What could I do but slay him ? MANUEL. This marriage is most sudden. SEBASTIAN. Take these gloves. Christ ! They are bloody : off! (Throws them away.) MANUEL. What have you done ? SEBASTIAN. KilTd him outright. MANUEL. Whom ? SEBASTIAN. An idolater. MANUEL. How was it ? SEBASTIAN. In the dark : he stood beside us, Listening, caught every whisper, then o 1 th 1 sudden He shouted in the temple : in my passion I grasp'd him by his loose and shining robes, And smote him with my dagger. MANUEL. But the princess- 60 MONTEZUMA, ACT III. SEBASTIAN. She sunk down : light broke on us : then I saw Cazziva dead. MANUEL. Was 't he ? SEBASTIAN. To avoid suspicion Visiting the princess, I removed the body Near to a distant altar ; wandering thence Through dark and mazy aisles, I trod a path Unknown, and came at last without the portals. [Spanish trumpet sounds. Hark ! Now for this venture. MANUEL. Will you go ? Dare you confront the princess ? SEBASTIAN. Certainly : How can she talk ? There 's no one may accuse : More wine ! (drhiks) we can prevent the marriage : The emperor is an Argus in his palace : Confusion to him ! (drinks) Ha ! I dropped the poniard'. MANUEL. Let us begone. SEBASTIAN. That was amiss ; no matter : Come on, my friend ! [Exeunt. SC. II. A TRAGEDY. 61 SCENE II. The Temple. Chorus of Priests, during which Montezuma, Zobaya, and Mora, enter from the interior. Oh thou most capital, insphered Star ! Which now art coming in thy lucid car, Blending thy deep dies with harmonious strife, That from thy throne of day Dost chase all harm away ; Thou, that careerest high, irradiate with life, Smile on the bridegroom and the bride, In their white nuptial pride, Smile downward in thy loveliness, Our covenant to bless. II. God ! o'er thy clime so beautiful and bright Pause thou, and plume thy wing of parent light, And weep not at thy childrens"* shame and sloth ; Honour the dire delay, Before another day Whole hecatombs of tyrants shall appease thy wrath ; For we will make to-night at length A witness of our strength ; The bridal torch shall shew the slave His victory, or his grave ! 62 MONTEZUMA, ACT III. MONTEZUMA. I bless thee, Mora : good-dispensing angels, That slumber when the world is full of crime, Attend my prayer, and bless ye both, my children : From thy first dawn of beauty I have watch'd My child, as steadfastly as captive men Gaze after hours of the beauteous day : — I weep, but 'tis with joy ; embrace, my son ! She is the ornament and truth of loveliness, Thou art the soul and person of true valour. I bless ye both. ZOBAYA. My fair and gentle bride ! My royal father ! Teach me to bestow The peace and glory you have made me full of: Sweet princess, you are pale. MORA.' Imagine I have said all she might say At such a time, who weds, and denies not : But now — I cannot speak. MONTEZUMA. My gallant child, How faint you are ! MORA. I feel so giddy that But it will soon depart : indeed, you see I smile. MONTEZUMA. Dearest, compose thyself: prince, has the message Which I have sent the Spaniard had an answer ? SC. II. A TEAGEDY. 63 ZOBAYA. He will be here anon. MONTEZUMA. A word with thee : Beautiful Mora ! (Montezuma and Zobaya retire up the stage.) mora (placing her hand upon her breast.) It must be here : They are not by : what can this sinking mean ? I feel as I were dying away like wax. Surely it cannot be : kind God ! let it Not be : it is, and I am bleeding : and So presently shall die. Murderer ! come forth ! (Draws a dagger from beneath her vest.) Oh ! if that horrible death had never chanced ! Why did the assassin leave this reeking witness Upon the floating pavements, which did seem Sinking; with it and me : how lost I was ! And lest the jealous king should see it there, And think — I dare not say — I know not what ; I clasp'd it in the madness of that minute ; And thou hast cut my heart, and loosed my blood. Having kiLTd one already, would 1 st have more prey ? Why did I nestle thee ? Although it weeps Red tears, 'tis but a scratch which I will stanch. (She sees them returning, and replaces the dagger in her bosom.) Ha ! To your sheath : but scar my flesh no deeper : Be still, or kill me ; that I will endure. [The?/ come forward. 64 MONTEZUMA, ACT III. ZOBAYA. What, and revile and taunt them ! Think, my liege, (This were moot sport) on our intent to-night, And calm this spirit. k MONTEZUMA. 'Tis balsam to my soul To bid them here when all the rites are done, And laugh at them : \_A noise within. What voice was that ? Horribly shrill ! and hark ! what uproar ! [A priest rushes in. PRIEST. Horror ! Oh horror ! High avenging Heaven ! MONTEZUMA. What now ? He shrinks from a frail, flitting dream Of shapes, and huge conceptions : lift him up. PRIEST. I see him now, a ghastly murder'd man. ZOBAYA. Stand off, ye ; tell us boldly what affrights thee. PRIEST. As even now I wander 'd the bright pavements, Talking my prayers unto the dizzy galleries, I set my foot against a bloody stone, And fell upon a corse, a lukewarm corse. PRIESTS. Most horrible ! ZOBAYA. What more ? SC. II. A TKAGEDY. 65 PRIEST. I saw his face. And knew him well, the Patriarch Cazziva. PRIESTS. Save us ! Oh sacrilege ! ZOBAYA. Where was it? Speak PRIEST. Yonder — there — there ! ZOBAYA. Shew me : it is your fever. PRIEST. I saw him with these eyes. ZOBAYA. Dead ? PRIEST. At the heart. ZOBAYA. Lead me : what, stabb'd with swords ? PRIEST. Ay, through and through. [Exeunt Zobaya, Priest, and others. MONTEZUMA. Cazziva butcher d ! MORA. It can never be. MONTEZUMA. Perhaps not : who should do it ? Every star Would see and tell of it : there 's no security, F 66 MONTEZUMA, ACT III. For every mute engender^ thing in nature Would have a tongue and say, There stalks the mur- derer ! MORA. That's true. MONTEZUMA. At staring noon and sable midnight The hollow voice would speak him, murderer ! In desert worlds and populous solitudes, The uttering air would spread it like a plague ; Or from yon hallo w'd outraged temple roof, The herald-sheeted lightnings would come down, And, flapping their blue wings along the shrines, Scorch up the murderer, like a sapless reed. MORA. I feel I 'm sinking : mercy ! montezuma. Mora! MORA. By the creating omnipresent Sun, It was not I ! MONTEZUMA. Thou ! MORA. What a silly thought ! You know — you know it was not. MONTEZUMA. Dead ! He dead ! Murder'd ! that is, removed — by whom ? for what ? I pray you put your hand from off my garment — SC. II. . A TRAGEDY. 67 'Tis wearying, love : dead ! who did watch them so — Ha ! and if- Out ! The peering day downright Laughs me to scorn : look up, my bright-hair'd child ! My rose of empire ! my own high-born, pure, And delicate Mora ! All the visible world Can never match my one empyreal girl. Now do not tremble : I will have a blush Lie on that cheek, like innocence : how sleeping Cold thy hand is, and very, very pale, Like a dead hand : why is this ? Kiss me, love. MORA. My father ! [As she goes to embrace him, her scarf Jails aside, and discovers to Montezuma blood upon her . robe : perceiving his eyes fixed upon her bosom, she shrinks back dismayed, and covers it with her hand. MONTEZUMA. What is there ? mora (dreadfully agitated.) Where ? White. MONTEZUMA. Of what colour is your bosom's vest ? MORA. MONTEZUMA. 'Tis as crimson as mine own. MORA. Ah, no. f2 68 MONTEZUMA, ACT in. MONTEZUMA. It is as crimson as a bleeding heart, — It stains your hand : — His blood. MORA. Then 'tis my blood. MONTEZUMA. Oh my sweet child ! MORA. Mine, mine indeed it is — Because I 'm weak : the adder thing has stung me : [Brings forth the poniard, and throws it to the ground. There, that is all : I nursed the iron reptile Like a babe : with its sharp and shining tooth The worm has hurt me — so I bleed — montezuma (regarding the dagger.) Lie there I Thou pufst mine eyes upon the stretch : monster ! I will approach thee : so, — what are thy uses ? Hast thou a principle ? Fix'd, voiceless burthen Upon the floor I tread ; whence are thy terrors ? MORA. Bury it, — give it me. MONTEZUMA. Who stirs ? Who talks ? I know thee now, red-spotted leprosy ! Death's ensigns are upon thee. Crocodil, Weep out thy bloody tears : they shock me : All thy desires, temptations, policies, SC. ii. A TRAGEDY. 69 Substantial aliment, is blood, men's blood : My eye-balls crack to look upon its point. Whence hadst thou it to cherish, meek-eyed girl ! MORA. I found it, sir. MONTEZUMA. And hid it, like a treasure : Oh, charity ! That thou could'st snatch, and wrap From the world's obloquy a tool so infamous ! Look up ! MORA. You see MONTEZUMA. I see — but dare not think On that I see : I will have answer : now Keep thine eye watch on the blue floor of Heav'n : Where lay that weapon ? when didst thou behold it ? Why didst thou lock it fast against thy flesh, And mix thy blood to that perchance it reek'd with When first thou hadst it? Quick ! thou coin'st some tale. MORA. I 've said the truth. MONTEZUMA. Thou hast not spoken, fool. MORA. It was that same — you torture me — that slew him — Close to the altar : that is sure. MONTEZUMA. Enough. 70 MONTEZUMA, ACT ill. MORA. I spoke no word : I said not that : I 'm mad : I know not how, why, where, — it is most true I found it. MONTEZUMA. i. Thou art damn'd ! Come, let us hence : What a lone, mark'd, forlorn, wrung slave am I ! (Rudely to Mora.) Stand by, — be stirring ye ! Let my train on : [ Tumult imtliout. Who have ye ? Insolents ! I had forgot : So : I must welcome them : I 'm in the tone : Rejoice, rejoice, my soul ! Let loose the night, Ye sure slow-wheeling hours ! I see the pyre : I hear the busy crackling flames — rejoice ! Yet I will play with them before I kill. JLnter Cortez, Sebastian, Manuel, Felix, and Alvarado. cortez. My lord, we greet your highness. MONTEZUMA. Sir, I thank ye. CORTEZ. Your highness 1 bidding, and our great respect, Have brought us hither. MONTEZUMA. There's no make-game here To occupy the restlessness of scorn. You may retrace your steps. sc. II. A TRAGEDY. 71 SEBASTIAN (to MANUEL, Seeing MORA.^) Look you. MANUEL. She's melancholy. SEBASTIAN. 1 11 speak to her. MANUEL. Not for the world. SEBASTIAN. You know not How much I love her ! CORTEZ. Now when we received Your gracious summons, king, we thought 't was so Express"^ — the marriage-form stood still for us. MONTEZUMA. 'Tis all complete : I had no other purpose Than to unclasp the girdle of my hate, Which hath restrain'd me night and day for long: I 've sported with ye : thus it is : behold, The bride ! (approaching Sebastian.) And you, who stand apart, as one Of separate ends, unlike these smooth marauders, Bent on a higher privilege than gold, Anticipating some superior gain, Some choice wreck out of the ocean of our griefs, You have been highly favour'd, sir, amongst us,— This is the married maid of Mexico. SEBASTIAN. Manuel, your arm. 72 MONTEZUMA, act ill. MORA. Oh ! cruel, cruel. CORTEZ. Capricious man, give ear ; 'tis I must speak. [Montezuma, in extreme passion, stamps vio- lently and traverses the stage. MORA. Why are you here, Sebastian ? What have you done to keep us both from perishing ? Have you betray 1 d me, or do you mean to die ? CORTEZ. I am not to be cow'd by bursts of temper : I will be heard. MONTEZUMA. Mountainous earth ! You shall not : Sir, as J please. Daughter, get hence! (To Cortez.) You see The girl is timid : now shall you or I Be humorsome and absolute in sooth ? CORTEZ. 'Tis come to that. MONTEZUMA. Beware how far you tempt me. CORTEZ. It weighs not with me; I've consider'd it. — Will you give audience ? MONTEZUMA. To a renegade ? CORTEZ. Monarch, my blood is hot. sc. II. A TRAGEDY. 73 MONTEZUMA. Mine is the lightning! SEBASTIAN. Where have ye hid the slave that fell'd our countryman ? MONTEZUMA. I '11 crush thee ! slave ? SEBASTIAN. Assassin ! dog ! and slave ! montezuma (with agony.) Oh! SEBASTIAN. We have come to tear him limb from limb, If fires can search him out, or swords can rend — We '11 have his heart. MONTEZUMA. I will not talk with thee. SEBASTIAN. Thou darest not talk with me, nor one of us. We know thy trusts ; a heavy curse is on them : To-night — Night could not shut down in her casket The secret, and we not know it : — ay, start — Thou would'st have scathed us in the dead of night. MORA. I dream ! COKTEZ. We know it all ; thou seest we know it : — * All thy demoniac hopes are ravelling fast — I blow them to the morning winds, like down. SEBASTIAN. Hear'st thou that ? Tell me, stand'st thou in amaze. Or terror, or remorse, or hopelessness ? 74 MONTEZUMA, ACT III. Oh shame, that ever man below the fortune, Which settles upon some particular head The pearl of unaccountable dominion, Should have such righteous cause To wrest from kings their perilous prerogative, And trumpet in the ears of majesty, Tliou art a traitor I MONTEZUMA. Go on. CORTEZ. Montezuma ! Now by my sword, there is no faith between us. MONTEZUMA. I do not reckon there was ever. CORTEZ. I Thought so. I should have known thy method better : Once I was taught, that was in Cholula : Twice I am taught, and this in Mexico : I am accomplish^ now. Have you no thought How you may expiate (there 's no offence) How you may still be king, or less, or nothing ? MONTEZUMA. I have to learn all that. CORTEZ. 'Tis thus : remove — (you understand some measure, Some palpable security, is needful : Likely it may not please, — but who 's in fault ?) Remove your seat of government, your officers, And every circumstance of kingly power, Yourself, and vises of authority, SC. II. A TRAGEDY. 75 Away from that ancestral fort, wherein You practise and defend your treacheries. MONTEZUMA. I am attentive. CORTEZ. Well : — you have assign'd us Castles in Mexico, broad and together. Display the imperial standard on their towers ; Command, and be obey'd. We are your servants. SEBASTIAN. I will go search the aisles to find Zobaya, And drag him forth, and slay him in the daylight. MANUEL. Ay, let us do it. MORA. Stay ! Ye have no hearts. MONTEZUMA. A moment — patience ! Good, my lords, Castilians,— Oh, ye consummate cheats ! perfectest villains ! Spoilers ! blood-lappers ! executioners ! My soul doth toil and tire with ye, things ! I 'm weary at the sound of my own voice, Wherewith I tell ye I am sick of ye. Touch not my kinsman's life, and so an end — Lay down the law. CORTEZ. Comply upon the instant : Come with us straight, we will not hurt the prince, MONTEZUMA. What, shall I dwindle down to this ? Henceforth I have no glory of a king, save only 76 MONTEZUMA, ACT ill. A pale reflection from illustrious deeds, Done yesterday, which have outlived me, though I live. I '11 not go with ye. SEBASTIAN. Bear ye this ? He trifles with us : seize him instantly, Or stab him to the heart. MORA. Off! What desp'rate thought has arm'd thee with a naked Sword ? Strike — thou art so fond of blood — me first ! I have deserved to die since yesterday, So strike at both together, and but once ! SEBASTIAN. I would thou wert my mistress ! MORA. My dear father ! MONTEZUMA. Thou art of all my plagues the blistering one. Out of my reach ! If he do come back soon, They '11 shed his blood : I '11 sign my shame before. [ Advances solemnly to Cortez. Into thy hands I do commit myself: If thou play false, my wrong be on thy children ; Order the rest : the pain of this is gone. CORTEZ. Please you to follow us. MONTEZUMA. 'Tis very well. [Exeunt Cortez, Felix, and Alvarado, with Montezuma. SC. II. A TRAGEDY. 77 SEBASTIAN. I feel a painful joy ; a quickening sense Of mirth ; a bounding of the heart ; a spirit In my blood : would that I were busy ! MANUEL. Why do you stay ? To gaze upon her thus ? You look as you could dare — if so, "'twere easy. Sebastian {eagerly.) What ? I do think it were : {Grasps the hand of 'Mora.) Bride ! {To Manuel.) Did you ever See such a beauty ? MORA. Hence ! MANUEL. Force her away. SEBASTIAN. There is no other hope : I will, by Heaven ! MORA. What wouldst thou ? Calmly — now I fear thee : mercy ! SEBASTIAN. Away ! away ! MORA. You will not kill me — will you ? Spare me ! I will forgive ye all : oh, whither ? — Help ye ! SEBASTIAN. Advance a pace, thou robed priest, 1 11 scatter thee, like ashes. MORA. Let me kneel : 78 MONTEZUMA, ACT III. What must I do ? I will not struggle with ye — Ye dare not hurt me — loose me — I will follow — Help ! Merciful God ! Is there none ? [They drag her across the Stage. Enter Zobaya and Mexicans: by a sudden effort she re- leases herself from Sebastian, and rushes into the arms of Zobaya. My husband, save me ! Oh, for this I love thee ! [The Priests and others gather around them: the Spaniards remain fixed and in disap- pointment. The Curtain drops. ACT IV. A TRAGEDY. 79 ACT IV.— SCENE I. Montezuma's Residence in the Spanish Quarters. Enter Sebastian and Manuel. MANUEL. But will you hear me ? SEBASTIAN. No : I 'm desperate. MANUEL. You are already in the king's apartment ; Do pause. SEBASTIAN. I tell thee, Manuel, I hate And love this girl to death : nothing is left But this — I '11 claim her as my wife. MANUEL. And then SEBASTIAN. Well ! What should he do then, but trample on her ? And when the spirit 's wounded, mine she will be In spite, or love. If I were moderate now, I could aiFord such admirable argument — But I am wild with my own certainty. MANUEL. If he should doubt 80 MONTEZUMA, ACT iv. SEBASTIAN. Oh, he suspects too much : I '11 turn a heathen, if he '11 give her to me : Doubt ! Friend, I '11 quarrel with thee for that word. I tell thee 'tis an excellent plan ; he '11 credit it ; And so, in consequence, will drive the princess Into these arms by his own cruelty. Wouldst have me crouch before th' insulting maid That 's won my heart, and now has wed another ? Wed ! — If my scheme end in her death or madness, Before this night — I care not : by the Virgin, I feel she shall be mine, or MANUEL. Here's the king: I cannot hope for the success I wish you. [Exit Manuel. Enter Montezuma. Methought, sir, I was free to think, to sleep : I 'd be alone. SEBASTIAN. My lord MONTEZUMA. I '11 spare the rest : thy captain sent thee. SEBASTIAN. It were best to hear me. MONTEZUMA. A noble gentleman ! Doth he will that I Concede some trifling matter to his hands ? Teach me what further benefit he contemplates. SC. I. A TRAGEDY. 81 SEBASTIAN. You 've misconceived. MONTEZUMA. What is 't? SEBASTIAN. I '11 not delay ; You shall know all : I want my right — your daughter— MONTEZUMA. Hold, sir ! (Aside.) Big heart, if ever, now be still ! Down ! Let each separate fibre be all sense, That I may learn about her treacheries. (7b him.) There is an usage here the men of Mexico Treat with a strict observance ; in discourse Of Gods, and kings like Gods (I mention it Lest you should err), when they do talk upon The titled family of Montezuma, They syllable all names religiously : — You may proceed. SEBASTIAN. Be patient while I speak then. MONTEZUMA. How ! doth he stipulate ? — Just as it likes me. SEBASTIAN. Say you will hear me out ; promise me that. MONTEZUMA. Reptile ! thou hast wound me in thy slimy toil. What, if thy words drop more malignant juice Than lurks within the teeth of serpent creatures ; What, if thy talk be hissing like a snake, And every breath thou vomit'st be a pest, G 82 MONTEZUMA, ACT IV. How can I choose but hear thee ? Well thou know'st Were I as yesterday SEBASTIAN. The princess Mora, MONTEZUMA. Again ? the princess Mora ! What of her ? SEBASTIAN. Sire ! she should have denied to marry now. MONTEZUMA. Denied ! her sovereign and country, and Her father ? Should a child deny her father ? Go on ; I 'm curious to learn. SEBASTIAN. The princess Had not the choice to wed. I see thee shrink ; How can I keep the secret and have justice ? Because — because already wedded. montezuma (meditating.) I cannot think : he must be mad. SEBASTIAN. I pray you — MONTEZUMA. Abhorred slanderer ! Do I not see This is the coinage of thy quenchless hate ? Blacker than aconite — thou heed'st not that, So it be bitter. SEBASTIAN. Thou may'st trust to it. MONTEZUMA. Could such disgraceful faith inhabit here, SC. I. A TRAGEDY. 83 These nails should, like a poniard, rip my breast : Thou lie ! to tamper thus. Whom in this world But one should Mora marry? SEBASTIAN. Would you see him ? MONTEZUMA. Why ay, could this thing be, which never might, Give him unto me, and my look shall kill, Like a sharp knife, so she were free again ; Free as all think — and I — tell me, where is he ? sebasttan. Here ! montezuma. Ah ! [He stands appalled. SEBASTIAN. A virgin child ! A pagan ! and a Mexican ! But now my wife ! my faith ! my king ! my country ! Awake ! to do me right : he is entranced : This must breed excellent hate. montezuma (in a low tone.) His wife ! it is impossible. SEBASTIAN. What dost thou read with such irregular glance ? Canst thou perceive thy destiny in the winds ? MONTEZUMA. The air which I respire must surely be The same that's coffiVd up in sepulchres With dead men, fathers, and young children, Rotting together under monumental marble, 'Tis so foul : I can't breathe enough for life ; g 2 84 MONTEZUMA, ACT IV. I do not feel as if I had a heart, But eolid as rock. Did you say any thing ? SEBASTIAN. Not now, my lord. «. MONTEZUMA. Would I were dead, indeed ! Ye multitudinous, invisible fiends, Which never wrought in all your torturings So monstrous and unnatural a truth, Until this hour, to damn your victim with ; Will ye not kill me quite ? — -In mercy do it ; My heart won't Hrecilh- SEBASTIAN. Am T to have my wife ? MONTEZUMA. I '11 think upon it : the truth of this were fiercest. Where were her father's gods ? Oh, worst impiety ! What place ? What hour ? What means ? What sanc- tuary ? SEBASTIAN. By the light of the last moon, that is now Gone out of heaven ; at the midnight hour ; A holy Catholic priest ; and mine she is — Mine, by the Christian's tie. MONTEZUMA. The Christian's tie ? What may that be ? SEBASTIAN. Thy daughter is a Christian. Smile not, nor shake thy head, for this is fast SC. I. A TRAGEDY. 85 Reality ; nothing like dreams is like it. She has forsworn thine altars, spurn'd thy faith, And, disenthralls from heathenish pollution, She boasts the holiest ensign at her bosom, And weeps and prays o'er such a thing as this. [Produces a Cross. MONTEZUMA. Am I alive ? What is 't ? — A cross, I see — Have ye not set it up and bid us worship ? Oh, but we bore not that ; bethink yourself! {Apart.) He tells me true, and if true, then — what then? I view, as from on high, this linked ruin. Who hath betray'd our councils ? Who hath marred The retribution ? Who hath leagued to stab Cazziva, at the altar, dead ? Why, who WatcrTd last night in the temple ? I know more, Much more than he hath told me, or 'twere politic He should: — Vm stung, and cannot live long time ! SEBASTIAN. This will suffice : he 's much affected by it. I will not now press further on your highness. montezuma (not heeding him). The dagger in her bosom ! Let me die If she prove not a murderess and a harlot. Oh ! I could weep for her : weep, hypocrite ! I hate her worse than sin. Vengeance is in the storm, and in the earthquake ; And mounts upon the white waves, and cries out; And, wrapp'd in robes of lightning, comes abroad With winds from highest heaven. But infidelity 5 86 MONTEZUMA, ACT IV. Incest, and massacre, and, worst, last curse ! Filial ingratitude, stir up men's minds To task the righteous minister. Enter Robilda. Well, what ? Pay no respect, but to the point ; who sent thee ? robilda. My lord, the princess Mora. MONTEZUMA. Ha ! the Christian Mora ? So, what says the traitress ? ROBILDA. More than she said she loolc'd. MONTEZUMA. What look'd she then? I care not what : speak quick — I want to answer, Not to hear thee. ROBILDA. She said, I know not wherefore, Some shun, some point at me : I 'm miserable ; I have no refuge 'gainst this cruel scorn : He whom they call my husband frowns upon me. Say to my father, I will come and clasp My arms around his neck ; say, I will kiss His feet ; and ask his blessing ere I grieve To death. MONTEZUMA. This is all ? ROBILDA. ■All. SC. I. A TRAGEDY. 87 MONTEZUMA. I charge thee, slave, Report my words : this scorpion — no, I mean The princess — shame seal up her lips for ever, So she may shape no breath to lies again ! Omnipotence above the clouds, Parch up the freshness of young life within her ! Thou quick'ning and eternal Sun ! my prayer Is, that thou gather thy remotest beams, Minutest fires, and atoms of thine element, Into thy firm imperishable orb Of active light ; then strike into her eye-balls The power of thy glory like hot arrows, And blind her for the measure of her life To come ! I know — I know — words are but breath ; I know my curse shall cling, and cling unto her Like Fear to Valour. Get thee hence ; I will That none hold converse with the princess : publish it. ROBILDA. If I do tell her this 'twill surely kill her. MONTEZUMA. Bring me that news ; tell me that she is dead, I 'll give thee, man, a crown of gold to wear ; I ll clothe thee in such garments as no eye Shall bear to look upon. Who merits death, If not the Spaniard's wife ? Who merits death, If not the smooth betrayer of her country? Who merits death, if not the Christian Mora ? ROBILDA. Is she all these ? 88 MONTEZUMA, ACT IV. MONTEZUMA. Have I not spoken, sir, And imprecated vengeance for this cause ? Begone ! No words ! Hie thee unto the princess, And say, my curse is on her, and about her. [Exit Robilda. My curse ! upon my child ? — one beautiful child ? Am I a man — a father ? No ; a rightful judge, Commission , d by my gods to punish crime. Specious life ! full of woes — how welcome To lose thee ! perhaps soon ; yet I'll not leave A monument of my disgrace all public Upon the earth, and in the city — no ; then how ? [He retires up the Stage absorbed in thought. SEBASTIAN. There 's no more to be done 'twixt thee and me. I leave thee thus, to seek the princess ; spurn'd As she is, she cannot fail to welcome me. But, prosper me in this, my wakeful spirit, And all to come of life shall be reproachless, When hopes are crown'd which keep me still a villain ! [Exit Sebastian. MONTEZUMA. My brain swims round, and in this reel of thought Nature's first instincts struggle into form, Shape after shape, eclipsing one another ; It is the mind's dim midnight, And long sepulchred images are about, Like echoes of what have been, to be again. How tranquil all things are ! no movement shocks me : sc. I. A TRAGEDY. 89 Confused atoms, silent substances, By nature ever still, are stiller now. Tranquillity, thou pale-eyed consequence — Of what f It is the deed I meditate : I will become a part of the most infinite air, Or else subside into— who waits upon me ? What living man may tell ? Enter Slave. slave. Did you not call, my lord ? MONTEZUMA. I did; approach, And let us whisper : hither comes lord Cortez. Enter Cortez. Presently we will talk. [ To the Slave, who withdraws. (To Cortez.) You honor me; I did not think the proud Fernando would have visited so soon This my poor dwelling : will you sit ? CORTEZ. Although no strong necessity commanded That I obtrude thus early on your presence 1 MONTEZUMA. Yet you had come (I do beseech your pardon), Out of the love you bear me. Sir, for this In all things I am bound to act your pleasure. CORTEZ. It pleases me 90 MONTEZUMA, act IV, To see you calm, my lord, and temperate : I do desire a most dispassionate ear To my discourse. Shall I proceed? MONTEZUMA. Immediately : I have been school'd for rashness, and have learn'd At this late hour to better my behaviour. What would you say ? CORTEZ. My cares and policies Embrace your interests as mine own : I trust You 11 grant me that. MONTEZUMA. Sir, I 'm convinced of it. CORTEZ. Then, emperor, in a word, the unforgotten Unexpiated slaughter of my countryman, Doth move his friends to murmur at their chief; And further, the neglect of chastisement Hath since embolden'd your presuming people To overt acts of hostile insolence : A Spaniard is not safe to walk your streets, And take the air with Mexicans, they grow So valiant : this will end in rank disloyalty : Some plan must be contrived and executed For yours, and our salvation. MONTEZUMA. You Ve considered What that may be — consult for me, command me, I breathe but for your service. SCI. A TRAGEDY. 91 cortez {aside). How subdued By wholesome rigour his impatient spirit ! Accept my thanks : one way there is MONTEZUMA, Pronounce it: You say it is of special benefit To both of us. CORTEZ. Truly ; sire, this it is : Convene the lords and populace of Mexico, 'Twere fittest in the public square ; thyself Preside : there, in the view of all thy subjects, Kneeling submit th' imperial diadem To me, as to my lord the king of Spain, And in capacity of his ambassador, I will recrown thee. MONTEZUMA. (Speaking' deliberately.) And so wear my crown As feudatory of another sovereign ; Is that your meaning ? CORTEZ. Ay, Montezuma. MONTEZUMA. Let thy will be done. CORTEZ. I 'm grateful for this prompt and fit compliance. When shall your highness' pleasure be perform'd ? MONTEZUMA. To-NIGHT. 92 MONTEZUMA, ACT IV. CORTEZ. To-night, my lord ? MONTEZUMA. To-night, or never In this world ; and in the world beyond us, Kingdoms and crowns are not : they are but bubbles, Borne on the floods of time, and dissipate Into the breathless ocean of eternity. So see it be to-night. CORTEZ. The hour, my lord ? MONTEZUMA. That one before the midnight let it be. Now it is done, which may not be forgotten, It shall be instantly proclaim^. Any thing further ? CORTEZ. Nothing: had you been ever thus considerate — MONTEZUMA. Thou splendid robber ! say, I am considerate ! Say, I am mad, and let thee strip me naked ! Where are my palaces of gold and silver ? My ivory thrones ? My diamond-fretted monuments ? I saw, and knew thee not, honor'd and fear'd thee. Knave ! thou hast cheated me of victory. Give me the empire ; give me my fair child ; Give me back all myself, my rest, my reason, And World ! Judge thou, which of us both shall conquer. Oh God ! oh God ! I pray you, pardon me : I dream'd last night I was a king ; to-day, When I awoke, I found myself a beggar, And that has spoird my temper : pardon me. SC. I. A TRAGEDY. 93 CORTEZ. You will not fail to do ■ MONTEZUMA. I 'm pledged. CORTEZ. Farewell ! When next we meet, I trust our purposes Will be made evident to all the world. MONTEZUMA. Of that I am assured - CORTEZ. Farewell, till night. [Exit Cortez. MONTEZUMA. I am alone again, to perpetrate A deed most prudent, just, and merciful. I have consider'd what befits my state ; Nothing but death can cleanse me. I am foul And spotted over like a Beast : Hither, thou slave ! Slave comes forward. I had a daughter ; Stars, Which hang their lamps over the chastest coronal Of sovereign mountains, never saw such purity. She is no more : her virtue was my daughter ; That being dead, I have none left to love. Dost thou wait ? Go unto the prince Zobaya — Bid him command my people to assemble — Reach me my tablets ; I cannot tell thee wherefore. Something is on the earth, a counterfeit, A lie, that shall not be, when I am gone, 94 MONTEZUMA, ACT iv. To sow corruption on my glorious name, Which I, by dying well, shall save from worms. Give me — (Writes.) I pray you, doth my right hand tremble? — No ! Then be sure I have o^rcome the tyrant. [ Writes and speaks at intervals. Let them make exhibition of a slave ! Why am / chosen from the multitude Of craven hearts, which suck humility Ev'n with their mother's milk, from cowardice Of puling infancy, manhood's disgrace, And age's shifting, cringing sycophancy ? Oh, the abomination of this spectacle ! When I am past, and have outrun calamity, Will they not make them weapons out of stones, And plunge the monsters into pits, and bruise them Till they die ? Yes, my nation will avenge me. Most living men are born slaves ; most men die so : It is the charter of their life ; but I Will perish, fond of death, which is my freedom ; And from my trampled dust shall spring a power To rouse the dullest bondsman in the land From vassalage to vengeance. It is over ; Here ! bear these tokens to the prince, and mark, More than I have said, say thou. Montezuma Will do in this as doth beseem a kina\ Begone ! [Exit Slave. I marvel that I am so calm. My soul doth pause, like the high tempest ; and SC. I. A TRAGEDY. 95 Within me, it is as the hollow rest And quiet of the air before convulsion : 'Tis surely that : I shall awake again, And find all tumult, and my spirit rending : But for a moment, then I shall be nothing. Doth any wait ? Without ! Enter another Slave. Why come ye thus, One by one ? I have need of more than millions To do me service. Is thy name Zelisco ? SLAVE. Ay, my king. MONTEZUMA. (Taking him by the hand.) Fare-you-well, my faithful servant. Answer me not ; I see you have no health ; Else "'tis the wan reflection of my face I mark in yours, and think you are in sickness. SLAVE. My beauteous child is dead. MONTEZUMA. Fie ! do not weep : It is not like a man ; — I have no child. SLAVE. Alas ! alas ! my babe was foully murder'd ; — A fierce Castilian smote it with a sword, Because its mother — MONTEZUMA. Would not be his Mora ! Let us not speak of this ; — thy child is dead, 96 MONTEZUMA, ACT IV. Therefore no more ! I have a craving thirst. — I call'd for thee — fetch me a cup of wine — Not yet : I walk'd abroad this morn before The sun-light : look ! In yonder gardens shone Blossoms upon the bosom of the earth, Like stars of many colours : there were some Beside the stream, two paces from a cedar. I stood, and gazed at them : so gloriously They wore the morning dew upon their heads, As if they were crown'd queens of all the flowers : Robed were they in the purple, and anon, When the slow lazy breeze came muttering by, The frail stems bow'd, and dipp'd their long black leaves, Like hair, below the water. SLAVE. Oh, my lord — MONTEZUMA. Silence ! I know in each particular bud There lies, shut up, like honey in the bee, A drop of death ; — pluck me a score of them, And shed their juice into my wine. SLAVE. My God ! 'Tis mortal poison. MONTEZUMA. It is saving health, Or — do I bid thee drink it? Slave, begone ! [Exit Slave. Now let me listen : I could love to hear SC. I. A TRAGEDY. 97 Some cheering sound : hark ! Then the boatman sang — I heard the splash of oars upon the lake, And now, I think, the dancers on the hill Shout. No : how noiseless ! This is horrid silence ! If I might hear the whirlwind or the thunder — 'Twere good : no voice ! no echo ! I '11 to bed ! [Goes to the casement. Yon splendid orb flames down the regal dome ; An hour or two, and he will sink behind The mountain-girdle of the earth : the God Is throughout all the world, and not a cloud Flecks the magnificent red vault of heaven. Beautiful Planet ! I have worshipp'd always, And praised and offer'd in thy glorious temples : — To-night thou shalt descend, and be ensepulchred ; To-morrow thou shalt rise, and be a miracle : But I, which am a sun in Mexico, Shall set with gloomy haste in storm for ever. So then farewell, thou Sun ! Ah, never more Shall I proclaim thy rising with loud hymn ; Yet thou wilt come, and scatter virgin light Over the land, in thy meridian noon, But Montezuma will have pass"^ away; And thou wilt linger in the golden air For many a lovely, after-eventide, To gladden every soul but Montezuma. Re-enter Slave with a goblet. Farewell, farewell ! I shall not see thee more. Hast thou obey'd me ? H 98 MONTEZUMA, ACT IV. SLAVE. Faithfully, alas ! This draught is mightier than the mightiest will ; 'Twill quench a human life in just eight hours. MONTEZUMA. Ay, that must be after the birth of morn. I thank you, sir. slave (throws himself at the feet o/'montezuma.^) My king, my absolute master, I am thy deathful minister ; oh, crush me ! I dare not live the wicked thing I am. MONTEZUMA. Arise ! Men's destinies are with the Gods, Not in each other's hands : no more, I charge thee — Wear thou a chain of gold : I could e'en weep To make so poor a gift, but ah ! Zelisco, Thou hast the chiefest part of all my riches : Go, and perform thy latest act of duty ; Send me some officers : go, — not a word ! [Exit Slave. The wronger and the wrong' d, the monarch and The traitor, friend and foe, parent and child, We tread upon the verge of the black desert Betwixt us and the everlasting Paradise Of souls : the giddy thought cannot attain So far, unto that wonderful empyrean. Oh I am blind and weary with long gazing Upon that shadowless night, and void immensity ! I know that / must end : She will not undergo the consciousness, sc. I. A TRAGEDY. 99 But as a hollow fruit shakes down to earth, So shall she drop when the quick blast doth visit her. I would that I might die too o' th 1 sudden ; My soul, it is a fearful apprehension. Enter Officers. Good morrow, sirs : they come to say 'tis time. Swim not, my brain ; they are my officers. OFFICER. Your majesty MONTEZUMA. / did ; I want ye : Reptile Horror ! How thou dost creep about me ! hither ! thou ! (Takes him aside.) Softly: when didst thou do a murder last ? OFFICER. My lord ! MONTEZUMA. Thou darest not tell me, in thy life thou hast not Bathed thy strong hand in blood, and never wiped it Till it was dry ; I '11 not believe thee, man : Why thou hast cut the veins of small white infants, Of beauteous girls, and more such delicate victims : — Yet I say not that thou hast stabVd the innocent : Mark that : confess ! OFFICER. It was my office once To slay such culprits as were judged in law. MONTEZUMA. Return to that: I have a deed to do, h 2 100 MONTEZUMA, ACT IV. A very pious, honourable deed, Which being done should make thee, wert thou ranker Than the graved mould, wholesome and white like snow. (To the other Officer, who retires.) List, if there be a footstep to disturb us : — Let me take hold upon thy raiment: — err not ! Thou know^t within the melancholy grove Girt by the walls of the imperial palace, A tardy, deep, and sullen current rolls Unwillingly : thou may'st have sat upon Its banks, and seen its glassy face made black By tall pines which lean over it and talk, And trees that weep into its stream : no secret Beneath that solitary water's wave Can the bright eye discern : the lights in heaven See not what 's done under the strict embrace Of those protecting boughs — you wander, sir. OFFICER. Indeed, my lord, I know the place. MONTEZUMA. To-night, When all is hush'd and quiet in the city, At the mid season of this coming night, Enter the palace of the kings of Mexico ; She will not sleep, tear her away from silence : Thither transport the young and beautiful wretch, Lower than the last creeping water next The earth, plunge Ha ! slave ! Thou — Thou know^t my wish, and more than that I know, Yet wish most fervently : let it be done. SC. I. A TRAGEDY. 101 OFFICER. On whom, my lord ? MONTEZUMA. Canst thou not spare me that ? I dare not murmur, Heav'n ! I have a child — OFFICER. The princess Mora ! MONTEZUMA. Thou hast said : there is But one who owns that name and title, which The Gods keep from the vile in after-times ! I, and the Gods that made her, want her dead ; It is a glorious thing to be our minister : Remember ! Do not spill her blood ! oh, that Were infamous ! At midnight let her drown ; Watch ye by torchlight that she yield her strength, And die at last what hast thou heard ? OFFICER. My lord, I am instructed, and shall carefully Perform. MONTEZUMA. Well : oh, be secret, like the hours, Which know their offices, and do, but tell not. OFFICER. Most strictly. MONTEZUMA. And more fatal than — this cup : Having once clutch'd thy victim, sure to kill. 102 MONTEZUMA, ACT IV. OFFICER. Even so. MONTEZUMA. Then farewell : but dread not, swerve not, For thou shalt scare the nestled - vulture forth From bowering heights, to flap her wings, and cry Unto the midnight heavens bitterly ; Think it not ominous, for thou shalt hear The plumed heron dash out of the waters ; And haply, for I know his court is there, The sov'reign eagle may forsake his mount, And trace a magic circle right above ye, Then scream and go off to the stars : fear nothing — These things are in the course of nature, sir ; Or if not, then the deed ye do is mighty, And must be done in spite of prodigies. Farewell ! [Exeunt Officers. They 're gone : — (grasping the goblet.) — Oh, welcome, welcome, more than ease — Thou life-conferring, bright, omnipotent chalice, Be good to me : do not afflict me much : I love thee, but I fear thee : — (drinks) — icy draught ! Now rush unto my couch, and sleep away From time : until the hour — my soul ! I fly from thee. [Exit SC. II. A TRAGEDY. 103 SCENE II. The Court of a Public Building, with the Streets of Mexico in Perspective. Soldiers in the Back-ground : in Front, Zobaya reading Tablets, and a Messenger : at a little Distance from them, Robilda. zobaya. As doth beseem a king ! You bring ill tidings : I have heard you : Robilda, if she come I will not talk with her ; prevent her, sir. Now, I warm with resentment, well I know The king will act as doth become his station ; — But he 's alone : alone ? To arms ! to arms ! Soldiers ! and patriots ! Fellow-countrymen ! Out with bright swords, and throw away the sheaths ! Deliver us from shame ! Elate your crests, And further than the heart of every foe Speed your death-dealing javelins ! This night They drag the emperor, the betray'd majesty Of regions that adore the Sun, from darkness And vile captivity to infamy, The worst that can be : now be Mexicans ! Honour your king, and love your families : Redeem the homes you and your fathers dwelt in : Restore the great Gods to their holy places. And there is left what is most worth defending ; Save blood that is not spilt ! Save life, not sprung 104 MONTEZUMA, ACT lv. Yet from the womb to perish of a dagger : Save from pollution all that remains chaste, And from unholy touch what 's undefiled ! I call upon ye, as ye are human men, To snatch revenge for things spoilt and destroy'd, Utterly shamed, dismay 'd, and burnt to ashes. I have determined what and where our hopes are — Then ships which float upon the lake must be Inflamed or sunk, and I will see to it : It shall be done by night ; whence I '11 return To meet my king, and wither his oppressor. Meantime, Otumba, you shall have confounded The Spaniard in his castle, and laid waste The earth it loaded, then we'll join our strength And chase away, like straws before the wind, The tyrants we have cursed, and borne with still. You are as mighty as your cause ! Be rash, And show like fire that scares the wolves : strike home, And strike for ever till they fall ! Then wash The streets clear of their blood, and live in peace Immortally ! ROBILDA. My lord, she comes, the princess. ZOBAYA. I will not be perplex'd. Exalt your standards. Enter Mora. MORA. Halt, every one ! My lord, my husband, stay ! I 'm breathless : I have kept pace with the winds : SC. II. A TRAGEDY. 105 And what a desert have I traversed with them ! I cannot stand : the air swims round about me, Stopping my breath, and wildering my brain : Let me rest here : it is my husband's breast On which I lay my head : speak to me softly. ZOBAYA. Go from me : we don't know each other. MORA. What! I do not know thou art my gracious lord Zobaya ? Know'st thou not I am thy wife ? A bride of sighs and tears : that 's not my work That had been very fond, and am most faithful. ZOBAYA. Ha! MORA. Am I not thy wife ? Am I not faithful ? Kill me, if I am not ; or say I am not, And I will kill myself. ZOBAYA. Hearken thou, Mora ! Thou, the Christian Mora ! MORA. I will not hearken if thou call me so. The Christian Mora ! 'Twas my father's word When he did curse me : thou hast learn'd it too. Why dost thou call me Christian, and not curse me ? ZOBAYA. I will not curse thee ; for my grief and shame Are mightier than my curse with the world's father. 106 MONTEZUMA, act I v. MORA. Cold-hearted man, say thou didst love me once — And swear it by the pure divinity Of the Sun, thy God, and my God — swear, swear it — Or by the Moon, when 'tis as white as truth — By the young stars, and crystal empery — By the crown'd majesty of my great father — By every thing in nature beautiful Swear — else I '11 not trust thee : thou didst never Love me, not when thou wed'st me. ZOBAYA. I wed thee, Mora, For the high interests of Mexico, To link and prosper the imperial family, And to perpetuate the heaven-born race Of Montezuma ; and most true it is, I held thine honour dearer than thyself ; Yet was I thy true friend ; of all the world Thy betroth'd husband was thy friend, believe it : Of this enough — for mine integrity, And good account with men — now I abjure thee ! MORA. Hear me — ZOBAYA. Nay, let me say, for present time, And time to come, all I may ever say ; Thou, the cold proselyte of another faith, Stoop'dst down beside me, with a matchless front Of insolent smoothness, with a honey 'd falsehood SC. II. A TRAGEDY. 107 Ripe on thy specious lip, And gavest me a poor remnant of a wife And love, which was pretence, or pillaged Property of a slave, and he a Spaniard ! Ay, bow thy head ; the guilty should be humble, And ever let the traitor stand abash'd, And blush to earth. MORA. I will speak : thou art false — To me and all, Zobaya : thou hast done Too much, sir, for the vile worm to bear ; and But that thou hast confounded me with pain, And agony which clings to every nerve, I 'd tell thee what a slanderer thou art. ZOBAYA. So : I deserve it. MORA. I am innocent Of all the wickedness the cradled babe May be condemn'd for capital offence Hereafter, if you say that I am guilty : See, I am innocent ; for if to droop Be infamous, why should it not be sure And rev'rend sign of unimpeachable purity, To look bold in the face of my accuser ? ZOBAYA. Thy father's curse is law unalterable, MORA. If my own father be unnatural, 108 MONTEZUMA, ACT IV. Will you, my husband, shelter under that Which is his fault ? Unless perchance you seek Some plea to libel me, and cast me from you. ZOBAYA. I do not, princess. MORA. Days will be, Zobaya, You shall not know such comfort as I draw From my own heart's acquittal : your crime shall live, When all the vain reproof I bear, be only Consider' d in the penance ye shall feel. ZOBAYA. Till then, farewell ! Pursue me not again : Never more let us meet : I counsel thee, Forsake the palace of thy fathers ; die, (Pray it be soon) better than thou hast lived, Somewhere remote, where none may see thee die, Or scorn thee when thou art dead. MORA. Oh, pity me ! ZOBAYA. Leave me. MORA. I cannot ; I am weak ; I will not Lose my last hope. zobaya (disengaging himself from her.) Nay then ; I must be free. mora (following him.) I will cling fast in death. SC. II. A TRAGEDY. 109 ZOBAYA. Away — my soldiers ! March to the temple ! Shelter there till even : On! [Exit Zobaya with Mexicans. Mora staggers a few paces, and falls senseless. (Enter Sebastianj^tow the city.) SEBASTIAN. Who are they light enough of heart for this ? Mexicans ! Ay, as the great planet rolls Over their region, they adore the power That generates and ripens all for us. [Comes forward. How stands the brilliant consequence I claim Of fate ? Remote, or near ? I do not think She laughs amid the crowd : [sees Mora. Ha! 'tis the princess : Quite fallen ! Is this well ? I hear no breathing : Still ! Pale ! And if I touch her, yet she stirs not : Mora ! Oh, villain ! Mora ! I '11 not lay My withering hand upon thee. Speak ! Cold too ? Was ever such a fiend ? If it be Mora! Mother of God ! She 's dead. moija (recovering.) Who 's here with me ? SEBASTIAN. She breathes ! she speaks ! Mora ! MORA. It is broad day, 110 MONTEZUMA, ACT IV. And I have slept till now on the bare earth ? How "s this ? Oh, misery ! SEBASTIAN. It should be thus : She 's desolate enough : yet do I fear — Fear what ? To prosper when my travail 's o'er ? I know — it is expectancy so ripe, 'Tis worse than dread : my pulses throb : I sicken When the thought comes, she's mine, or maybe — nay — MORA. I will not ask again what is my crime : I 'm innocent of any, and much wrong'd : (Suddenly.) But will ye see it done, ye wisest Gods ? SEBASTIAN. Sorrow is like a tempest-cloud at noon, And oft the sleeping lightning of revenge Hides in the vaporous folds. Why weepest thou ? MORA. Begone ! As all the world from me, so I From thee am separate ! [She retires to a farther part of the stage, and talks as to herself. I '11 not endure : Zobaya dare to spurn me ! All the city Dare so to slander me ! Can I not vex them ? What should I do ? SEBASTIAN. Talk with me : tell me all. MORA. Canst thou by saying merely, It shall not be, SC. II. A TRAGEDY. 1 1 1 Make that which is, as it had never been ? Make thyself innocent, and me unsuffering ? SEBASTIAN. I cannot : I can weep all my life with thee. MORA. Weep ! and alone : think'st thou I am so poor To weep the dull day through, and the long night, That am abused ? i" would I were a God, Or strong man at the head of mighty armies, With fire in my right hand, and spear and target — So speed me Heaven, as I would burn this land up With crackling flame, and sweep before my chariot The multitude of liars, that hath drank My fame, and blood — i" am so wrathful. SEBASTIAN. Would'st thou have vengeance ? Say on whom. MORA. On thee First. SEBASTIAN. Cruel Mora ! Heav'n is my judge, And by the Christian's Heav'n, I swear I love thee. MORA. Go on ; I 'm sure "'tis false ; or, if not false, I hate thee, so I may, or may not hear thee, Just as my humour is. SEBASTIAN. I love thee better (Scorn me as thou wilt) better than all things, Except humanity, and so thou hatest me. 112 MONTEZUMA, act IV. MORA. What dost thou mean? Didst thou not worm from me, And then betray SEBASTIAN. Didst thou account me, Mora, So selfish, to hold fast my life, and leave My friends, so many bold and liberal men, To die by such a heartless treachery As that thou warn'dst me of ? MORA. I had not warn'd thee Else. SEBASTIAN. Therefore I deceived thee. MORA. Me, thou lov'dst ? SEBASTIAN. Now tell me, princess ; Tell truly, should not one so mean as I am, And one so estimable as thou art, Or any other twain beside ourselves, Perish and turn to dust, rather than all Of them ? MORA. That's true, indeed. SEBASTIAN. But, listen to me : There is no solitary good on earth I follow like thee, Mora. Oh, thy voice sc. II. A TRAGEDY. 113 Is sweeter to my soul than music, born Under the star-light o 1 clear nights, when winds Are full of song, and sweep along the chords Of harps iEolian. Wilt thou not forgive me That with unhallow , d force (shame follow me !) I would have dragg'd thee once away, and slain More holy men, if some had dared to cross me ? I was quite wilder'd then : but then, my princess, 'Twas the exceeding love I bore thee — ~ MORA. Peace ! Thou art the cause. SEBASTIAN. Consume me for it ! Tell me, What keen-edged lie use they to stab thine honour ? That 's thy wrong — is 't not thy white fame they spoil ? MORA. They charge me — Oh, how false they are ! they say — I cannot utter it. SEBASTIAN. They should be chaff Sprinkled along the course of the east wind, And swept off with its wings. How I abhor them ! But thy wise father MORA. Hold ! No more ! no more ! SEBASTIAN. Thy husband 114 MONTEZUMA, ACT IV. MORA. No ! He shall not be my husband : I am an outcast. [She leans on him, and weeps. SEBASTIAN. Thy falling tear-drops sear like melted lead. Look up : nay, droop not thus ; they cannot reach thee. 1 11 swear thou art more lovely than the Star Which shines at even, and more holy than The silver-shafted Moon. MORA. I have no race, no country, and no home. I suffer this for thy sake, oh, Sebastian ! SEBASTIAN. Oh Mora ! Mora ! there are happy lands — Come with me, where the sun rains milder light Than from the yellow skies of Mexico. Come, I have friends shall be thy friends, a father Shall be to thee a father, kinder too Than one you must not think of more ; and / — I will not lose an hour of day or darkness Out of thy sight. MORA. You make me weep to hear you. SEBASTIAN. Beautiful Mora ! on some foreign mead, (What is there but despair in Mexico ?) Let us sit down, and weave the fruitful hours Into a jocund life, as wanton girls Twine wreaths from blossoms : will it not be sweet ? SC. II. A TRAGEDY. 115 We '11 go to Castile, or we '11 not dwell here ; I shall die broken-hearted at thy feet. MORA. Pity me, pity me — I thought you false — I am so faint and fearful — SEBASTIAN. Be mine own : Can you not love me ? I will ever think Of what you were, and are, and what I am. Shall we not go together ? We will go Over the quick waves lightly ; love, we'll travel Faster than they, or any cloud that sails f th' air. MORA. Dear Sebastian ! say not so. I speak, and know not what—No, I will never — SEBASTIAN. To-night you shall have rest, and I will watch you, Within the Spaniard's palace : twilight comes. Her sense is gone : one long, one lingering kiss — The first — there is that fragrance on her lips, Which never leaves red roses when they die. Let us away: before the morning wakes, We will depart, to reach the ocean shore. Our tall ships ride in the bay. Are you so ill ? I will support you, Sweet ! Wear this ; 'twill screen you : So [Throws his Cloak around her. MORA. Whither ? i2 116 MONTEZUMA, ACT IV. SEBASTIAN. Ha ! there is a star abroad Already: look, my peerless Love ! step bolder mora (faintly.) No — no — Sebastian. [She sinks upon his shoulder. SEBASTIAN. She V mine : I 've won the imperial Beauty. [Exeunt. ACTV. A TRAGEDY. 117 ACT V. SCENE I. The grand Square of Mexico. — The Mexican Nobility and Populace assembled. Montezuma {seated) : Cortez, Felix, Alvarado, and some Spaniards. MONTEZUMA. Throw wide the portals that contain the Empire, And let all nations in : I look beyond them ; The mighty dead are waiting for me. Have I done all things well that I shall dare To come amongst them ? The perceptible awe That fastens on me ! I shall lose myself: Slow breeze, I die too soon without thee ; speed ! I thank my God for the sweet breath of life : The dim roar gathering out of crowds on crowds, A mist of sound, keeps night awake : behold ! The populous ocean hath waslVd unto me ; Methinks I am a Rock, the constant surge Chafes at but wears not ; when the drunken seas Lift up and charge my tempest-stricken brow, I am eternal, still, let what may, be : Where is my crown ? cortez {speaking to alvarado.) Ay, scorn, or worse ; I 'll have him here, or nowhere. ( To Montezuma.) Emperor, are the patricians met ? 118 MONTEZUMA, ACT V. MONTEZUMA. I think so. CORTEZ. Where 's your family ? montezuma {pointing to the people.) Around me. CORTEZ. Nay, where 's Zobaya ? MONTEZUMA. Something's left to hope; I know not where he is. CORTEZ. Is 't fit the heir Of Mexico should live in ignorance By whose consenting he shall govern here ? What keeps him back ? MONTEZUMA. I bid him come : Zobaya ! I am full of thee : I think it is as present As the night : ha ! or else he must be — dead ! CORTEZ. What holds him from submission to his king ? (A Voice from the Crowd.) His duty to his country ! CORTEZ. Treason ! MONTEZUMA. (Clasping his hands, and stifling his exultation.) Thanks ! Arrest the slave ! (One is brought forward.) Zelisco ? Let him pass : SC. I. A TRAGEDY. 119 Now, by my faith, a most impertinent knave : Room for him ! my great heart ! My lord Fernando, Are we not friends ? (To the people.) Silence ! I want to speak : (To Cortez.) Will you stand by me, sir? You do not doubt me ? ■ Now, I am ready. COJtTEZ. I trust all to you. ♦ MONTEZUMA. I know that my avenger is at hand ; I shall die on a bed as sweet as Bridal ones : Not a breath ? Then I am with ye, Countrymen ! Land of the fruit and flower ! Golden Mexico ! Bower of young virgins ! Aiery of valour ! Thou Spear and Target ! thou Ray, and thou Rainbow .' And thou too, City like a plume ! thou Cedar ! Thou Gem in ocean's dress ! Created Babe Above the earth, dropp'd gently through the air, And laid to nurse upon the waters ! Thou, Mine own ! my native Land ! my Mexico ! I '11 sell thee for a blazing Marygold To wear about my temples at noon-day. I hear you murmur : no, you dare not murmur. This man doth make it thunder at his will, And he is choleric. You will not murmur ; I that am born above ye, and set over ye, The glory of my justice is your anchor : Shew me among ye one that is ashamed ? Who 's here that thinks I shall bring scorn upon him ? 120 MONTEZUMA, ACT v. I say, that man of ye doth strive against me. Am I the only rebel in my country ? Who 's base, and thinks I will degrade the emperor ? Let him stand forth, and sacrifice himself! Who dares to breathe that I will yield my Crown ? CORTEZ. Thou dost not mean it : but, no more of this ; It is not to the point. MONTEZUMA. Well, to the point ; (In a loud tone to the people.) He wants to take my Crown from me ! cortez. How's this ? MONTEZUMA. I have a word for thee : when thou earnest hither, Thou, and the rest, we guess*^ not what ye were : How should we ? Now, we know not what ye are. We thought ye might be Gods : we heard The death-drums ever rattling about ye : Your dress, your speech, we could not understand ; And so we said, If you are stern divinities, Lo ! we prepare a human sacrifice : If you are gentle deities, we lay Incense, and variegated plumes before you : If you are men, like to ourselves, we send You meat, and bread, and fruit to nourish you. We met the stranger at our gates, and which Among you was not welcomed like a brother ? Ye hunger'd ; with what joy we feasted you ! SC. I. A TRAGEDY. 121 Shelterless were ye ; gave we not a home ? Are ye not satisfied ? Well then, be rich ! Here 's gold and silver for ye ; drain the mines ; Leave not an ingot ! — Is an ingot left? Stands there the house in Mexico unstripp'd To feed your appetites ? What would you further ? Well, ye shall search ; ye did, and just like lightning, Withering what ye look'd upon. At Cholula, Six thousand of my subjects ye consumed By fire and sword. Temples and Palaces Burn'd and gave light to ye. In Mexico, Ye massacred ; your blood was spilt, my people ; Those inarticulate Columns know it all — The shrieks, and deaths, and agony ! Huge forms Like that, and my own lofty dwelling-place Are conscious of it : yon ambitious Tower Look'd down upon it. The innocent Lake shrunk back ; The astonish'd Air flew to the extremest Heav'n, And told of shrieks, and deaths, and agony ! Tyrant, thy frown is vain : you adore our Temple ; It is the palace where God keeps his images. It was but yesterday that one of these Made riot at our altars, raising high A senseless cross upon the ruins of gods ; Gods and men are alike to savages ! Is our high-priest dead ? They stabVd him in the temple. I have come here to speak, and I will speak. My People, he would make me silent ! Is it Your will that I proceed ? Ye wave your hands ; Yet wherefore so ? Do ye not know these things ? 122 MONTEZUMA, ACT v. CORTEZ. By Heav'ns, there shall not be another syllable : One word, and you die. MONTEZUMA. Here! At your peril ! If you do love your emperor, listen now — He wants to take the crown from me ! Here it is ! (Holding" it up.) This is the crown of Mexico ! Shall I let him have it ? CORTEZ. Madman, forbear ! MONTEZUMA. Madman, thou ! Dost thou not feel my presence ? The emperor is talking with his subjects. Do ye consent that I shall yield my crown ? — They will not have it so ; then what can J ? CORTEZ. They will, they shall : make bondsmen of their children And set their lands afloat upon the seas, Rather than I, Fernando Cortez, be Their fool, or thine : I will disgrace thee first. MONTEZUMA. Oh, never more. CORTEZ. King ; I will bind thee here, Here on thy throne ; so they may laugh at thee : I '11 slay the tenth man of them all, and thee ; Acknowledge thee a vassal. MONTEZUMA. Thee a villain ! SC. I. A TRAGEDY. 123 CORTEZ. I will not drag thee down. Keep back the crowd. Bring fetters for the king, and tie him fast ; Chains ! do ye hear? Chains ! chains ! zobaya (rushing up the stage.) Chains adamantine ! And quivers full of arrows! — (to some without) — Halt there ! [Standing by the side of the king, his hand upon the throne. Now, what '5 the business ? cortez {sarcastically.) You are a soldier, sir ! ZOBAYA. You know me : few words ! What do you wait for ? By my red weapon, the imperial diadem Sleeps on a cushion ! Give me hold : who forbids f Strike all the drums ! (To Montezuma.) My lord! (Placing the crown on the head of Montezuma.) The king is crown'd ! cortez (in a low tone to alvarado.) Retreat ! Enter Manuel in haste. MANUEL. Fernando! succour! cortez. Speak it ! what ? MANUEL. We are assaulted, and give ground. 124 MONTEZUMA, act v. CORTEZ. By Hell ! We come ! Send the artillery on board The brigantines, and batter down the city. ZOBAYA. t. Stand to your ground : an hour ago the lake Blushed at your burning ships. CORTEZ. Thou liest! — (To the Spaniards) — Away! zobaya (interposing.) No, not afoot! (To those without.) Extend your lines, and make A wall of arms ! Behold ! a thousand men At every pass ! Break through them, if thou canst. CORTEZ. Despair ! Be thou the first [Makes a thrust at Zobaya, who Jells him dead. ZOBAYA. To strike ! mexicans. Revenge ! [Tumult: Montezuma rises on his throne.—? The Scene closes. SC. II. A TRAGEDY. 125 SCENE II. An Apartment in the Mexican Palace. Enter Mora. The difficult air stifles me : I pray to HeaVn that I may keep my sense : Patience ! what brings me hither ? Grant me that : Is it my fault that he should think me fair ? And make me what ? oh, what ? I rush'd away, For all at once a thought came, like a whirlwind, And then I could feel utterly what I was Come I not out under the garish stars To look for thunderbolts ? I know not else : Where am I ? What are all things here ? the void I live in ? There is nothing seen nor thought of In this place : I have lost my reason in it : Breath ! breath ! / am a buried thing alive ! If (suddenly) — All but that ! I will not have my pray'r ! I will be mad ! I must die raving mad ! I know not what I am, nor what I talk. Why the world is Out ! "'tis a beastly world! I II die : I '11 live : there is no other life But death for me. Teach me to get it Enter Robilda. Ha! 126 MONTEZUMA, ACT v. Is 't there ? Hast thou a knife about thee ? Why, I think you are my father's slave poor girl ! ROBILDA. I pity her from my soul. MORA. I want thee gone ; I want myself to go : I thought to hide From all of ye. (Approaching' him.) Tell me if I do weep For many, many years, dost think that I Can make a fountain of my tears to drown My shame? ROBILDA. Lie down, and sleep. MORA. And never wake : How sweet that sleep is ! There is no spell In downy pillows if we sleep so soundly : I 'm hollow at the heart, and at the brain Fever'd : I cannot lie down to a sleep That 's full of dreams. ROBILDA. How sad she talks ! MORA. Hist ! Silence Is King here : He, you know, keeps no court ; I Will wed with him. Ha ! will you dare to come ? Begone ! I am a high offender, and will not Be judged by thee. ROBILDA. Sweet princess, there are none SC. II. A TRAGEDY. 127 To judge thee here : all are met in the city. She hears, but apprehends not. mora (throwing open the doors which lead into the gardens.) Quick ! unbar The gates that lead up to the throne of Death : I will go sit upon the step, and watch him ; Perchance, he '11 deign to look upon me : ah ! Chill comes his breath ; it fills the room apace ; If any one be near me, he 's in peril. I see a thousand lamps which burn around A broad black canopy, and one pale gem ; — — The phantom lord doth frown : what pomp 's about him ! Low whispers ! He is in council on the affairs Of men. Hush ! I '11 steal silently, and listen. Hush ! hush ! [Exit, through the doors. Enter Officers. ROBILDA. What news ? Come any of you from the congress ? FIRST OFFICER. No : from the sacred presence some hours since. ROBILDA. Listen ! the air is full of conversation. FIRST OFFICER. We hear the clamour of the multitude, And distant thunder, though the night is fair. ROBILDA. Silence ! A cry ! FIRST OFFICER. Of joy, is't not? 128 MONTEZUMA, ACT V. ROBILDA. What would ye ? FIRST OFFICER. Talk with the princess Mora : sir, we have The emperor's authority for it. [Robilda points to the doors. OFFICERS. Save you ! [Exeunt, through them. ROBILDA. Good night ! [Exit. SCENE III. The Mexican Palace. A grand Flight of Steps, ascending to aRange of Columns. Montezuma sitting, attended by a Soldier. MONTEZUMA. Such universal peril doth abound, And such a cry of terror and pursuit, The Voice spreads nowhere, and the wither 1 d arm Of majesty is a contempt : kind soldier, The power that 's absolute in the throng and battle, Shall honour thee for this before all men. I pray thee, leave me. soldier (offering water.) Cool thy parched lips. MONTEZUMA. I take it of thee, and with many thanks. SC. III. A TRAGEDY. 129 {Raising 1 it to his mouth) — I cannot : ——pour it on the ground : Are we not slaves ? Where are the Spaniards ? Tell me. SOLDIER. Buried in earth and sea. MONTEZUMA. Dead ? Every one ? SOLDIER. A few MONTEZUMA. Alive ? I guess thou art a rebel : What's here to do ? Be swift : what hour is it ? SOLDIER Midnight. Past ? MONTEZUMA. SOLDIER. Yes. MONTEZUMA. 'Tis very dark : I think A star hath shot away from us : go thou. [Exit Soldier. Lightly, O Night ; ye spirit-touching winds, Quench not the flaming urn : I am not dying Oh, God forgive me, there 's the cause within. Hadst thou been willing I should pass this hour, I might have met the next like Montezuma : Ha! Is the slaving tyrant made a slave ? The rapid conqueror down his slippery path Gone headlong from the conquer'd ? Cold, cold air ! 130 MONTEZUMA, ACT v. Empire of Mexico, thou great and free ! Methinks I see thee now, like a white virgin, Sceptred and wing'd, perch'd on the point sublimest Of the world : Ah ! faint heart ! Why must I perish ? What is 't to think, to act, if not to know ? It is our ignorance which makes us mortal : Where must we look for knowledge ? Shall we bid The blue skies be transparent, and inform us ? Or does the order of all circumstance Lie in the deeps, which if they roll away May leave us the true knowledge of ourselves ? Can it be in the earth ? (Stamps.) Break, and discover ! Alas, for me too late : yet I ll not wish 'Twere otherwise : I murder'd my own murder'd A daughter, like the day, but wanton : Oh ! Not yet, mine enemy death, though I 'm weary. A little while ; I know the pedestal Whereon I sit : I know ye, pillars, shining White, like a robed and religious senate ; [Rises. Let me go nearer than your mute assembly, To press my velvet floors and beds of gossamer : To die is comfortable to me as To sleep, so I will do it royally. [He is ascending' the steps : a scream without. Horrible ! From the gory earth the angel Of war shrieks to all quarters of pale Heav'n. Beyond me is a sea of molten brass, And men as multitudinous as waves, Boiling away, and — gulf them ! who can stem The tide ? My Gods, it is a victory: SC. III. A TRAGEDY. 131 I '11 strike another blow, honor thy creed, Fell Spaniard ! we'll have blood for blood ! (Rushes suddenly to the front of the Stage.) Earth's light- nings Have struck me blind and mad ! What 's that I saw ? I cannot think but I am already dead, For I have caught a glimpse of things unearthly: I 'm blasted like a leaf ! a voice (without.) Off! Mercy! MONTEZUMA. Hear That cry ! 'tis from the grave. Enter Mora, wildly; she rushes to Montezuma, and lays hold upon his garment, looking at the same time to- wards the point of the Stage at which she entered. He averts his head. mora. Away! away! Who art thou ? Hide me : look for them — in vain ! Crowds bear upon them : they are gone : gone — whither? No matter, I am saved — saved — ha ! ha ! ha ! . MONTEZUMA. Oh! MORA. Bind my hair ; it drops upon my neck Like threads of fire ; breathe upon my forehead ; Just cool my burning temples ; wipe mine eyes — k2 132 MONTEZUMA, ACT V. How kind ! I love thee dearly: what ? a king? [ Touching his diadem. Lend me thy robe, I am a royal girl ! MONTEZUMA. I — MORA. Speak ! I gasp to hear thee : sure thou art Some when I draw my hand thus 'cross my brow, I know the golden glory of thy head : I feel a strange delight to hold thee to me ; Without doubt I have had a dream about thee : A flood of reasonable thoughts flows too fast here : I pray to know if thou be what thou seemest — I feel all that thou art — My father ! [She looks at him timidly as she repeats this : he turns to her : she utters faintly — Father ! — and prostrates herself before him. MONTEZUMA. Thou rosy spectre ! If, as I believe, Thou com'st to warn me, I will go with thee. If, as I do not think, thy lustrous image Is the best nature of the dust I spurn, And nothing is in this sublime disorder But a mere consequence of human woe, Then will I tread upon thee straight, and kill thee. MORA. Father, I come to thee for safety. MONTEZUMA. Ye Gods, I am betray'd ! The serpent lives. sc. in. A TRAGEDY. 133 mora (baring her arm.) Look, sir ! the cruel gripe hath pierced me through : They dragg'd me to a pit strong murderers, and I So weak ! I saw the brim, and stood upon it : Then, then I was to die: oh, wonderful! The wrathful clouds spoke out, the glorious skies Open'd and shower 1 d down fire ; men did shriek Aloud, " The enemy /" The walls of Mexico Fell down, and I stood over my tormentors : One in his fright rolPd down the gulf, the rest Clothed them in dust, but I spread out my wings, And flew above the earth unto my father. I have some pain : if they did wound mine arm, It is not there ; some one hath touch' d my heart. MONTEZUMA. Prepare, my sword : now will I slay thee. MORA. Under thy curse I wither'd ; strike, 'tis mercy Under thy hand to die : pity me, sir ; It was not so, it was not so, indeed. MONTEZUMA. Indeed, thou art a specious worthless thing — Fool ! I have read thy secret through and through. MORA. If I have any such, it hath no name ; What I have done or borne with who shall tell thee ? It may be something, is, in part, mine own, Which being done, I sicken at myself, And hate one out of many men ; and scorn The rest ; yet I am guiltless ; it is thou, the king, 134 MONTEZUMA, ACT v. And they, thy people, which shall answer it : Thou know'st it not : I '11 hold my breath, and die ; Or thrust a dagger through my lips, and bleed To death without a groan : thou shalt not know it. t, MONTEZUMA. Thou hast done well to damn thyself; for this, Thou shalt not live a minute : look ! look there ! [Pointing to the cross upon her neck: the moon shines out. MORA. Mark me ! A power is keeping watch for justice : Behold me steadfastly : I cannot hide : I will not : Now, what 's the matter ? Father ! MONTEZUMA. Parricide ! Christian ! and harlot ! wedded to a slave ? Ah ! whither went thy brave and beautiful spirit ? Married fie ! To a dog ? And turn'd a Christian ? And base enough to bear thy foreign creed Where every eye may read it, on thy breast ? Thy breast ! That breast ! And what a fiend thou art, To blast me with it ! Never speak again : What had I done that thou should'st rob me of thee ? I will go home, and ask them for my child : Where is my child ? Where? MORA. Where? MONTEZUMA. Oh, Mora! Mora! SC. III. A TRAGEDY. 135 MORA. Is this a Christian's habit ? Do I speak, Or pray, or move, just in no other sort Than as a Christian doth ? What am I Thou thyself art not ? or being otherwise, First didst not make me ? Ay, to the very truth Of what I am ? MONTEZUMA. (Pointing- to the cross.) Why there it is. MORA. (Displaying it.) What's this? MONTEZUMA. Thou mountain of iniquity ! Base thing ! Tear off the cross, then swear thou art not Christian : The babbling symbol talks of thy apostacy, And when thou pleadest not so, says, thou liest ! MORA. What dost thou mean ? MONTEZUMA. Is 't not thy god ? By it, thou art a Christian. MORA. By my soul, No ! By the unborn day, and as I hope To die, I speak the truth. MONTEZUMA. How can it be ? Away ! Away ! He hath confess'd. 136 MONTEZUMA, ACT v. MORA. Confess'd ! Who hath confess'd? To whom? What? Answer me ! MONTEZUMA. 'Tis vain : he hath discover 1 d unto me. MORA. Discover'd ! What ? I hum : oh God ! MONTEZUMA. Sebastian — mora (in a calm voice, hut stifled horror.) Well! MONTEZUMA. He hath disclosed it. MORA. What should he disclose ? MONTEZUMA. Thou art his wife. MORA. Not his wife. MONTEZUMA. Daughter ! Daughter ! MORA Not his wife. MONTEZUMA. Peace ! When thou didst stand a bride, Zobaya's bride, before the holy altars, Then thou wert Peace! The Spaniard hath told aU— SC. III. A TRAGEDY. 137 A Christian, and a Christian's wedded wife. Ha ! Turn'd to stone ? 'Tis time to die. MORA. My brain ! Did he say that ? MONTEZUMA. Ay. MORA. Strike thou ! It is he Who kills : — (kneels) — Avenge me ! MONTEZUMA. Never say I slew thee. I will make cold thy lips, and pale thy cheek ; Thou darest not call a curse upon my head : I sent them thither : I — I bid them do it Against the world. MORA. The world had suffer'd it ; Against high Heav'n they could not : Why dost thou know that I am innocent? His wife ? His fiend ! 'Tis certain I 've a haunt Next to his heart, and I am first of all The thoughts he has, which is a thought like fire, Watching by night, burning by day and night : — He said it for revenge, which he hath got ; For worse, 'tis done, of which I am the consequence : The bitterness of sorrow, when he thirsteth, Give him to drink, my God ! MONTEZUMA. Art thou not 138 MONTEZUMA, ACT v. MORA. No, I am not MONTEZUMA. Ah! MORA. Droop not, but mark, my father ; I would not do so much by my own God ; Down to the dust, — (dashes the cross to the ground) — be never known from it ! I would thou hadst a life, thus would I trample it. MONTEZUMA. How beautiful thou art now ! Come more near : Thou 'rt brave and bright all over ; not his wife ? MORA. Ask higher, and thou shalt be answer'd. MONTEZUMA. Too — Too much : what ! Not a Christian ? MORA. As I live. MONTEZUMA. I am an earth-born slave, mould'ring to that Which I am come of: I do think the dust Is ill-conceal'd within me ; nay, is uppermost. Stand off, thou pure thing, fit to walk the light, And tread upon the excellent paths, on which Fine spirits travel ; pass me by, I J)ray, For I am base, and cannot bear thy presence. SC. ill. A TRAGEDY. 139 MORA. Alas ! Alas ! MONTEZUMA. Thou shalt have sweet revenge : I '11 die for thee. Away ! or do not weep : I feel the chill hand that shall touch me last, Lying upon my veins ; cold, cold I am ! MORA. What fate is this ? MONTEZUMA. I am quite blighted by a venomous frost, Ready to breathe my soul — if thou wilt kneel A minute thus — away in thy embrace. MORA. Nay, you are well, only the nightly wind Hath shook his icy wing above you. MONTEZUMA. Sweet ! I am poison'd. MORA. Oh no : unsay it : quick ! Swear It is not thus, for on my sinful soul The crime is mine : poison'd ! Oh, no — say, no. MONTEZUMA. 'Tis thus : I speak, and I expire. MORA. Clasp me ; Breathe death into me : I shall never die — MONTEZUMA, Pure thou art. 140 MONTEZUMA, ACT v. MORA. Pure ! My everlasting life ! He calls me pure ! — Untie my silken zone. MONTEZUMA. Bless thee, my poor child ! I have much oppress'd thee. mora (suddenly.) Heaven and earth ! I am the wretch of all That stagger round the world. [She stands motionless with horror. MONTEZUMA. In pity, do not thus : watch by me, dearest : Awake ! I cannot keep my soul from fleeing [Jails. Hard pillow for my head ! Come, kiss me, love ; Innocent girl, embrace me : oh, I faint ! I know ye all about me : there's my child : I have lived sometime slave, I die an emperor : I see, and try to touch thee : hark ! Soft music ! Speak to me, for I know thee — Mora ! [dies. Enter Zobaya (exclaiming.) Follow the rest with hounds ! light up the hills ! Destroy the dykes ! invite the floods abroad ! Much more than brave ye are, my Mexicans ! [Sees Montezuma lifeless at the feet of 'Mora. Oh, an immortal thing ! mora (recovering from her stupefaction.) Take off these chains I Somebody set me free : I '11 not escape. zobaya. Is this well done, Mora ? SC. ill. A TRAGEDY. 141 MORA. A man murder'd ? And I stand here in peril ? I say thou Art guilty : — (going up to him) — Do I know thee ? ZOBAYA. All a ruin. MORA. Thou art the king of crime ! The majesty Of blood hath made thy fine vest crimson, that Is royal : — (pointing to his sword) — there 's thy sceptre : Death's thy queen : Do call me Adamant, I pray thee do But I have lost my diadem : didst thou meet me Clad like a daughter of blue heaven ? Ah me ! (Looking on the body.) What 's this ? I never saw the dead before. How wan 'tis ! How serene ! Make me like it : Can one not catch the beautiful disease ? [Stooping and kissing it. Ah, what a nameless sense ! Again ! Again ! The Mexicans are seen pouring through the columns: they rush down the steps, the foremost dragging Sebastian in chains, and exclaiming, The Destroyer ! At sight of the Emperor they let fall the fetters of Sebastian : he advances slowly towards Mora, unpercevved by her. mora (rising and motioning zobaya to approach her : he stands fixed, with his arms folded.) Come you : come hither : throw a pall about me : 142 MONTEZUMA. ACT v. You know not how I 'm hurt : indeed there 's breath In that : I 'm sad : I have done nothing good : I weep — I weep — I 'm cold — will no one tell me If this be death ? Oh ! Where is the world ? [She turns and sees Sebastian, who stretches out his arms towards her: she utters a piercing scream, and falls into them dead ! sebastian. Tell it of me ! [The curtain drops. POEMS. POEMS. MUSIC. Thou beauty ! what is all the world to thee ? Come, with the night- wind murmuring, to me : Oh ! born not of the earth, and not to breathe Thy charm in bright society ! The heath, At constellated midnight, the rose-bow'r Is all thy pleasure, and thy palace-home ; Thy ling'rirjg is about the purple dome ; Thy travel is athwart the waveless seas ; Thou lov'st the gentle rivers and the trees ; The stillest and the coolest, is thine hour. Passionate Music ! Round about the spheres Suspend thy lute and harp, thy smiles and tears ; And in thy march, omnipotent, aloud Peal thy sublimer organs from the cloud : Come gracefully ! And for my soul to sip, Give me the breathing of thy parted lip ; 146 POEMS. Under the starlight let me hear thy voice. For I was born thy lover, and rejoice To mark thee in the multitude of woods, And on the brink of the eternal floods, And underneath the white sun of the night, Where thou art soft and sweetest as the light. I pray thee come, if by the lone sea-shore Thou bendest o'er the waters, and the sand Is smooth beneath thy small and magic hand ; And if thy charm is floating on the deep, Or through the sparry caverns, full of sleep, Breathless and calm, like sleep for evermore. Celestial Music ! how I love thy form, Bowing as doth the meek flower to the storm ! Thy shining arms cast upwards, and thine eye Beaming like Noon, oh immortality ! Sweep the loud lyre, and while thy garments blue Like air, and lighter than the dawn, and few, Entangle the wild winds, sing thou of joy, And passion and the brave Dardanian boy, With her who walk'd the world without a peer, And was, to him who died of her, how dear ! Stand tiptoe on the rock, and I will lie Down at thy feet, and love thy minstrelsy ; And dream of all the gorgeous things that were Under the shadow of thy golden hair. POEMS. 147 THE MOUNTAIN-KING. Art thou come to visit me ? And wilt thou never stray from me ? A mortal maid may never seem To love a shadow and a dream ; But by my heart, which is thine own, I cannot love another one. Scorching eyes and lustrous hair, And the crown that blazes there, And thy robe of rainbow blue, And thy immortal presence too, And thy fire-embroider'd vest, And thy invulnerable breast, And all the wonder that 's about thee Tell me, — I can't live without thee. By the dew-drops which adorn Thy girdle, and the saffron morn Is fond of; by thy sandal shoe Laced with light, and by the woe Thou workest me, thou fairy thing ! And by thy dark imagining, And by the wild and wicked pow'r Thou usest at the midnight hour ; And by the quickness of thy flight, And by the beautiful delight l2 148 POEMS. And mischief, in thy speaking glance; Oh ! by thy glorious countenance. And by thy life which cannot die ; By thy intolerable majesty ; By all I see, and hear, and feel, Thou art the King of Allan Hill ! Show to me thy spirits rare, And where the crystal blossoms are; Take me where the mountain breeze Dwells, and the embowering trees Have golden fruit, and leaves of light, And never comes the charmless night To chase the heavenly things away That haunt the realms of endless day ; Show me where the treasures sleep In the brown Earth's bosom deep ; Blood-red rubies, sapphires blue, And emeralds of the ocean hue; And clasp me with a diamond zone — Of all the riches give me one Gay jewel — fairy Monarch ! now Bear me to thy mountain brow, Wreath thine arms about me, Fay ! Spread out thy wings, and fly away ! POEMS. 149 CHARLES I. DEMANDING THE FIVE MEMBERS. He bravely came into the midst, the King — With his pale front of deep imagining, And sate among them ; there beside his throne Stood his fair sister's son, and silently, With head of waving ringlets ; not so He, First in the sullen multitude, alone With undoff'd plume : then in the hollow tone Of majesty he spoke, and rising high, Demanded the five members : All was still, Save the quick throb of pulse and stifled breath, Like tremulous life anticipating death ; And silence gave denial ; the proud will Of royal Charles quaiFd to the awful voice — Fame shook affrighted Thrones, and Freedom lisp'd, Rejoice. 150 POEMS. MAGIC. There's a voice in the murmur of waves, To my fancy more tender and dear Than all the rich treasures of sound — It speaks more delight to mine ear. In the calm trackless vestige of night As she trips o'er each summit away, In the stream of her silver robe's light, Is more joy than the proud march of day. There 's a spell in the still eVning hour, In the purple that mantles the sky, When the wild bosom thrills to its power, And pants with the charm of its die. POEMS. 151 €o £op6ia. Farewell ! a word which hath been, and must be. Byron. I cannot say farewell, farewell, A word to both so big with sorrow ; I have not heart to ring the knell Of bliss to-day that hath no morrow : For we shall neither either see, Save in the hour of minstrelsy. My lips are parch'd, my head swims round, I feel from Hope for ever parted ; And, while thou sobb'st that fatal sound, I seem like one quite broken-hearted : For what is night or day to me, Without thy strains of minstrelsy ? Thou weep'st — nay, love, that scalding tear Those silken eyelids shall not pass ; I '11 kiss it off — By Heavens, I swear I ne'er did kiss a lovelier lass ! By Heavens, I swear thy kiss to me Glues in its honey'd minstrelsy ! 152 POEMS. I know that I shall wildly sip, As I have wildly sipp'd before, The joy that burns on many a lip, Where fragrant poison sparkles o'er ; But thine alone shall ever be My theme of glorious minstrelsy. Haply some liberal blue-eyed Swede Might learn to love, and love to bless — Alas ! too soon my heart may feed On beauty and on happiness. Yet deem not, pensive Dane, that she Shall steal one note of minstrelsy. And in my own more brilliant land There 's many a maid, however coy, ChiseFd by Nature's wanton hand In all the lineaments of joy, Yea, lovely as thyself to see, Yet lacks thy soul of minstrelsy. The calm and concentrated mien, The thousand nameless charms of sense, The tender tone, the eye serene, Where dignity is eloquence, Are there — but nowhere should I find Thy poetry and romance of mind. The British maid is wise as fair, , Well versed in deep philosophy, POEMS. 153 Minerva's own especial care ; But, Love, she lacks the energy That inspiration will impart — The mighty madness of the heart ! And so farewell, my minstrel Bride, I feel that thou wilt think of me ; And, let whatever may betide, My sweetest thoughts will rest on thee, And hail thee still my Muse of fire, To strike with holier aim my lyre. And yet, and yet, I cannot breathe That deep and death-bed word to thee, And draw the dagger from its sheath, To stab young Hope in memory ! My heart is cold — I reck not why — Thou know'st how well we loved — and so good bye. l^aterskfan, Oct. 1821. 154 POEMS. STRANGE NOTIONS. I love the friendship of the stars by night ; I love the honeysuckle shade by day ; I love the company of the liberal wind ; I love the courtesy of forest trees ; I love the distant sound of harp and song ; I love the evening blush of the broad sea ; I love a soft bed by a haunted stream ; I love the moon's kiss on the quivering wave ; I love the words that fall from the loose boughs ; I love the twilight visions of gone ages ; I love a coral branch and the red rose ; I love a white hand and a fringed blue eye ; I love the diamond light of pity's tear ; I love to see a little child asleep ; I love the silence of my midnight chamber ; I love the lamp that is expiring there ; I love the volumes that are shut till morn ; / love the thought that comes in loneliness ; I love the apprehension of all these ; I love to sleep away the sight of men; I love to wake, and find myself alone ! 7 POEMS. 155 Daybreak. Open thy casement, Beauty, lo ! The fountains of the morning flow : The golden rivers of the light Stream through thy bow'r, Beauty bright ! Ah, linger not ; until I see Thy glory, 'tis no morn to me. Beautiful girl ! I'll wind a sparkling wreath About thy brows, and taste thy fragrant breath. Come forth ! I will not wander, love ; The crown I offer thee is wove Of blossoms the immortal Sun Hath kiss'd and left his kiss upon ; Such jewels are mine own to give, As girdled maids have not who live For ever in the sea deep, and I swear To sow them in thy young and yellow hair. Answer me : now thy curtains blue Like heaven roll away, and true To me, thy lover, are those eyes Of light ; the maid Morn waking lies On amber pillows; stand awhile, And listen, with that holy smile, How wantonly the breezes fleet and far Chase the coy music of my wild guitar. 156 POEMS. THE VOW. J^lflfty from f^atrmkbtrt ! now Hearken to thy poet's vow ; Cease thy pretty foreign prattle, Nicht verstehen thy tittle tattle; This shall be thy lover's lay, Je vous aime en verite ! By the tear that dims thine eye, By the music of thy sigh, By the graces which have crown'd thee, By the loves which play around thee, By that mouth like Cupid's bow, Fiora bella ti amo ! By thy desperate joys and pains, By the soul that fills thy veins, By that face so sparkling fair, By the blood that mantles there, By the heart I read and know, Zu>7) jU/8,