автордың кітабын онлайн тегін оқу The Complete Poetical Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Vol 2 (of 2)
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THE
COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS
OF
SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE
INCLUDING
POEMS AND VERSIONS OF POEMS NOW
PUBLISHED FOR THE FIRST TIME
EDITED
WITH TEXTUAL AND BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTES
BY
ERNEST HARTLEY COLERIDGE
M.A., HON. F.R.S.L.
IN TWO VOLUMES
VOL. II: DRAMATIC WORKS AND APPENDICES
OXFORD
AT THE CLARENDON PRESS
1912
HENRY FROWDE, M.A.
PUBLISHER TO THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD
LONDON, EDINBURGH, NEW YORK
TORONTO AND MELBOURNE
CONTENTS OF VOL. II
DRAMATIC WORKS
1794
PAGE The Fall of Robespierre.An Historic Drama
4951797
Osorio.A Tragedy
5181800
The Piccolomini; or,
The First Part of Wallenstein. A Drama translated from the German of Schiller.
Preface to the First Edition
598The Piccolomini
600 The Death of Wallenstein.A Tragedy in Five Acts.
Preface of the Translator to the First Edition
724The Death of Wallenstein
7261812
Remorse.Preface
812Prologue
816Epilogue
817Remorse. A Tragedy in Five Acts
8191815
Zapolya.A Christmas Tale in Two Parts.
Advertisement
883Part I. The Prelude, entitled 'The Usurper's Fortune'
884Part II. The Sequel, entitled 'The Usurper's Fate'
901 Epigrams 951An Apology for Spencers
951On a Late Marriage between an Old Maid and French Petit Maître
952On an Amorous Doctor
952'Of smart pretty Fellows,' &c.
952On Deputy ——
953'To be ruled like a Frenchman,' &c.
953On Mr. Ross, usually Cognominated
Nosy 953'Bob now resolves,' &c.
953'Say what you will, Ingenious Youth'
954'If the guilt of all lying,' &c.
954On an Insignificant
954'There comes from old Avaro's grave'
954On a Slanderer
955Lines in a German Student's Album
955[Hippona]
955On a Reader of His Own Verses
955On a Report of a Minister's Death
956[Dear Brother Jem]
956Job's Luck
957On the Sickness of a Great Minister
957[To a Virtuous Oeconomist]
958[L'Enfant Prodigue]
958On Sir Rubicund Naso
958To Mr. Pye
959[Ninety-Eight]
959Occasioned by the Former
959[A Liar by Profession]
960To a Proud Parent
960Rufa
960On a Volunteer Singer
960Occasioned by the Last
961Epitaph on Major Dieman
961On the Above
961Epitaph on a Bad Man (Three Versions)
961To a Certain Modern Narcissus
962To a Critic
962Always Audible
963Pondere non Numero
963The Compliment Qualified
963'What is an Epigram,' &c.
963'Charles, grave or merry,' &c.
964'An evil spirit's on thee, friend,' &c.
964'Here lies the Devil,' &c.
964To One Who Published in Print, &c.
964'Scarce any scandal,' &c.
965'Old Harpy,' &c.
965To a Vain Young Lady
965A Hint to Premiers and First Consuls
966'From me, Aurelia,' &c.
966For a House-Dog's Collar
966'In vain I praise thee, Zoilus'
966Epitaph on a Mercenary Miser
967A Dialogue between an Author and his Friend
967Μωροσοφία
, or Wisdom in Folly
967'Each Bond-street buck,' &c.
968From an Old German Poet
968On the Curious Circumstance, That in the German, &c.
968Spots in the Sun
969'When Surface talks,' &c.
969To my Candle
969Epitaph on Himself
970The Taste of the Times
970On Pitt and Fox
970'An excellent adage,' &c.
971Comparative Brevity of Greek and English
971On the Secrecy of a Certain Lady
971Motto for a Transparency, &c. (Two Versions)
972'Money, I've heard,' &c.
972Modern Critics
972Written in an Album
972To a Lady who requested me to Write a Poem upon Nothing
973Sentimental
973'So Mr. Baker,' &c.
973Authors and Publishers
973The Alternative
974'In Spain, that land,' &c.
974Inscription for a Time-piece
974On the Most Veracious Anecdotist, &c.
974'Nothing speaks but mind,' &c.
975Epitaph of the Present Year on the Monument of Thomas Fuller
975 Jeux d'Esprit 976My Godmother's Beard
976Lines to Thomas Poole
976To a Well-known Musical Critic, &c.
977To T. Poole: An Invitation
978Song, To be Sung by the Lovers of all the noble liquors, &c.
978Drinking
versusThinking
979The Wills of the Wisp
979To Captain Findlay
980On Donne's Poem 'To a Flea'
980[Ex Libris S. T. C.]
981ΕΓΩΕΝΚΑΙΠΑΝ
981The Bridge Street Committee
982Nonsense Sapphics
983To Susan Steele, &c.
984Association of Ideas
984Verses Trivocular
985Cholera Cured Before-hand
985To Baby Bates
987To a Child
987 Fragments from a Notebook, (
circa1796-1798)
988 Fragments.(
For unnamed Fragments see Index of First Lines.)
996Over my Cottage
997[The Night-Mare Death in Life]
998A Beck in Winter
998[Not a Critic—But a Judge]
1000[De Profundis Clamavi]
1001Fragment of an Ode on Napoleon
1003Epigram on Kepler
1004[Ars Poetica]
1006Translation of the First Strophe of Pindar's Second Olympic
1006Translation of a Fragment of Heraclitus
1007Imitated from Aristophanes
1008To Edward Irving
1008[Luther—De Dæmonibus]
1009The Netherlands
1009Elisa: Translated from Claudian
1009Profuse Kindness
1010Napoleon
1010The Three Sorts of Friends
1012Bo-Peep and I Spy—
1012A Simile
1013Baron Guelph of Adelstan. A Fragment
1013 Metrical Experiments 1014An Experiment for a Metre ('I heard a Voice, &c.')
1014Trochaics
1015The Proper Unmodified Dochmius
1015Iambics
1015Nonsense ('Sing, impassionate Soul,' &c.)
1015A Plaintive Movement
1016An Experiment for a Metre ('When thy Beauty appears')
1016Nonsense Verses ('Ye fowls of ill presage')
1017Nonsense ('I wish on earth to sing')
1017'There in some darksome shade'
1018'Once again, sweet Willow, wave thee'
1018'Songs of Shepherds, and rustical Roundelays'
1018A Metrical Accident
1019Notes by Professor Saintsbury
1019APPENDIX I
First Drafts, Early Versions, etc.A. Effusion 35, August 20th, 1795. (First Draft.) [MS. R.]
1021Effusion, p. 96 [1797]. (Second Draft.) [MS. R.]
1021B. Recollection
1023C. The Destiny of Nations. (Draft I.) [Add. MSS. 34,225]
" " " (Draft II.) [
ibid.]
" " " (Draft III.) [
ibid.]
1024 1026 1027D. Passages in Southey's
Joan of Arc(First Edition, 1796) contributed by S. T. Coleridge
1027E. The Rime of the Ancyent Marinere [1798]
1030F. The Raven. [
M. P.March 10, 1798.]
1048G. Lewti; or, The Circassian's Love-Chant. (1.) [B. M. Add. MSS. 27,902.]
1049The Circassian's Love-Chaunt. (2.) [Add. MSS. 35,343.]
1050Lewti; or, The Circassian's Love-Chant. (3.) [Add. MSS. 35,343.]
1051H. Introduction to the Tale of the Dark Ladie. [
M. P.Dec. 21, 1799.]
1051I. The Triumph of Loyalty. An Historic Drama. [Add. MSS. 34,225.]
1069J. Chamouny; The Hour before Sunrise. A Hymn. [
M. P.Sept. 11, 1802.]
1074K. Dejection: An Ode. [
M. P.Oct. 4, 1802.]
1076L. To W. Wordsworth. January 1807
1081M. Youth and Age. (MS. I, Sept. 10, 1823.)
" " (MS. II. 1.)
" " (MS. II. 2.)
1084 1085 1086N. Love's Apparition and Evanishment. (First Draft.)
1087O. Two Versions of the Epitaph. ('Stop, Christian,' &c.)
1088P. [Habent sua Fata—Poetae.] ('The Fox, and Statesman,' &c.)
1089Q. To John Thelwall
1090R. [Lines to T. Poole.] [1807.]
1090APPENDIX II
Allegoric Vision 1091APPENDIX III
Apologetic Preface to 'Fire, Famine, and Slaughter' 1097APPENDIX IV
Prose Versions of Poems, etc.A. Questions and Answers in the Court of Love
1109B. Prose Version of Glycine's Song in
Zapolya 1109C. Work without Hope. (First Draft.)
1110D. Note to Line 34 of the
Joan of ArcBook II. [4
o1796.]
1112E. Dedication. Ode on the Departing Year. [4
o1796.]
1113F. Preface to the MS. of
Osorio 1114APPENDIX V
AdaptationsFrom Fulke Greville, Lord Brooke:
God and the World
weworship still together
1115The
Augurswe of all the world admir'd
1116Of Humane Learning
1116From Sir John Davies: On the Immortality of the Soul
1116From Donne: Eclogue. 'On Unworthy Wisdom'
1117Letter to Sir Henry Goodyere
1117From Ben Jonson: A Nymph's Passion (Mutual Passion)
1118Underwoods, No. VI. The Hour-glass
1119The Poetaster, Act I, Scene i.
1120From Samuel Daniel: Epistle to Sir Thomas Egerton, Knight
1120Musophilus, Stanza
cxlvii 1121Musophilus, Stanzas
xxvii, xxix, xxx 1122From Christopher Harvey: The Synagogue (The Nativity, or Christmas Day.)
1122From Mark Akenside: Blank Verse Inscriptions
1123From W. L. Bowles: 'I yet remain'
1124From an old Play: Napoleon
1124APPENDIX VI
Originals of TranslationsF. von Matthison: Ein milesisches Mährchen, Adonide.
1125Schiller: Schwindelnd trägt er dich fort auf rastlos strömenden Wogen.
1125Im Hexameter steigt des Springquells flüssige Säule.
1125Stolberg: Unsterblicher Jüngling!
1126Seht diese heilige Kapell!
1126Schiller: Nimmer, das glaubt mir.
1127Goethe: Kennst du das Land, wo die Citronen blühn.
1128François-Antoine-Eugène de Planard: 'Batelier, dit Lisette.'
1128German Folk Song: Wenn ich ein Vöglein wär.
1129Stolberg; Mein Arm wird stark und gross mein Muth.
1129Leasing: Ich fragte meine Schöne.
1130Stolberg: Erde, du Mutter zahlloser Kinder, Mutter und Amme!
1130Friederike Brun: Aus tiefem Schatten des schweigenden Tannenhains.
1131Giambattista Marino: Donna, siam rei di morte. Errasti, errai.
1131MS. Notebook: In diesem Wald, in diesen Gründen.
1132Anthologia Graeca:
Κοινῇ πὰρ κλισίῃ ληθαργικὸς ἠδὲ φρενοπλὴξ
1132Battista Guarini: Canti terreni amori.
1132Stolberg: Der blinde Sänger stand am Meer.
1134BIBLIOGRAPHY OF THE POETICAL WORKS OF SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE
1135BIBLIOGRAPHICAL APPENDIX
No. I. Poems first published in Newspapers or Periodicals.
1178No. II. Epigrams and Jeux d'Esprit first published in Newspapers and Periodicals.
1182No. III. Poems included in Anthologies and other Works.
1183No. IV. Poems first printed or reprinted in
Literary Remains, 1836, &c.
1187Poems first printed or reprinted in
Essays on His Own Times, 1850.
1188INDEX OF FIRST LINES
1189ERRATA
On p. 1179, line 7, for Sept. 27, read Sept. 23.
On p. 1181, line 33, for Oct. 9 read Oct. 29.
DRAMATIC WORKS
THE FALL OF ROBESPIERRE[495:1]
AN HISTORIC DRAMA
[First Act by Coleridge: Second and Third by Southey—1794.]
TO
H. MARTIN, ESQ.
OF
JESUS COLLEGE
CAMBRIDGE
Dear Sir,
Accept, as a small testimony of my grateful attachment, the following Dramatic Poem, in which I have endeavoured to detail, in an interesting form, the fall of a man, whose great bad actions have cast a disastrous lustre on his name. In the execution of the work, as intricacy of plot could not have been attempted without a gross violation of recent facts, it has been my sole aim to imitate the empassioned and highly figurative language of the French orators, and to develope the characters of the chief actors on a vast stage of horrors.
Yours fraternally,
S. T. Coleridge.
Jesus College, September 22, 1794.
FOOTNOTES:
There are, I am told, who sharply criticise Our modern theatres' unwieldy size. We players shall scarce plead guilty to that charge, Who think a house can never be too large: Griev'd when a rant, that's worth a nation's ear, 5 Shakes some prescrib'd Lyceum's petty sphere; And pleased to mark the grin from space to space Spread epidemic o'er a town's broad face.— O might old Betterton or Booth return To view our structures from their silent urn, 10 Could Quin come stalking from Elysian glades, Or Garrick get a day-rule from the shades— Where now, perhaps, in mirth which Spirits approve, He imitates the ways of men above, And apes the actions of our upper coast, 15 As in his days of flesh he play'd the ghost:— How might they bless our ampler scope to please, And hate their own old shrunk up audiences.— Their houses yet were palaces to those, Which Ben and Fletcher for their triumphs chose, 20 Shakspeare, who wish'd a kingdom for a stage, Like giant pent in disproportion'd cage, Mourn'd his contracted strengths and crippled rage. He who could tame his vast ambition down To please some scatter'd gleanings of a town, 25 And, if some hundred auditors supplied Their meagre meed of claps, was satisfied, How had he felt, when that dread curse of Lear's Had burst tremendous on a thousand ears, While deep-struck wonder from applauding bands 30 Return'd the tribute of as many hands! Rude were his guests; he never made his bow To such an audience as salutes us now. He lack'd the balm of labour, female praise. Few Ladies in his time frequented plays, 35 [817] Or came to see a youth with awkward art And shrill sharp pipe burlesque the woman's part. The very use, since so essential grown, Of painted scenes, was to his stage unknown. The air-blest castle, round whose wholesome crest, 40 The martlet, guest of summer, chose her nest— The forest walks of Arden's fair domain, Where Jaques fed his solitary vein— No pencil's aid as yet had dared supply, Seen only by the intellectual eye. 45 Those scenic helps, denied to Shakspeare's page, Our Author owes to a more liberal age. Nor pomp nor circumstance are wanting here; 'Tis for himself alone that he must fear. Yet shall remembrance cherish the just pride, 50 That (be the laurel granted or denied) He first essay'd in this distinguished fane, Severer muses and a tragic strain.
Teresa. 'Tis a sweet tale: Such as would lull a listening child to sleep, His rosy face besoiled with unwiped tears. [883] And what became of him?
[956] But folks say, Mævius is no ass! But Mævius makes it clear That he's a monster of an ass, An ass without an ear.
Pluto commanded death to take away Billy—Death made pretences to obey, And only made pretences, for he shot A headless dart that struck nor wounded not. The ghaunt Economist who (tho' my grandam Thinks otherwise) ne'er shoots his darts at random [958] Mutter'd, 'What? put my Billy in arrest? Upon my life that were a pretty jest! So flat a thing of Death shall ne'er be said or sung— No! Ministers and Quacks, them take I not so young.'
Our English poets, bad and good, agree To make the Sun a male, the Moon a she. He drives his dazzling diligence on high, In verse, as constantly as in the sky; And cheap as blackberries our sonnets shew The Moon, Heaven's huntress, with her silver bow; By which they'd teach us, if I guess aright, Man rules the day, and woman rules the night. In Germany, they just reverse the thing; The Sun becomes a queen, the Moon a king. [969] Now, that the Sun should represent the women, The Moon the men, to me seem'd mighty humming; And when I first read German, made me stare. Surely it is not that the wives are there As common as the Sun, to lord and loon, And all their husbands hornéd as the Moon.
[970] Dear Candle, burnt down to a finger-joint, Thy own flame is an epigram of sight; 'Tis short, and pointed, and all over light, Yet gives most light and burns the keenest at the point.
First published by Mr. B. Dobell in the Athenæum, Jan. 6, 1904. This epigram belongs to the same MS. source as the preceding, 'On the Taste of the Times,' and may have been the composition of S. T. C.
[977] Repeating Such verse as Bowles, heart honour'd Poet sang, That wakes the Tear, yet steals away the Pang, Then, or with Berkeley, or with Hobbes romance it, Dissecting Truth with metaphysic lancet. Or, drawn from up these dark unfathom'd wells, In wiser folly chink the Cap and Bells. How many tales we told! what jokes we made, Conundrum, Crambo, Rebus, or Charade; Ænigmas that had driven the Theban mad, And Puns, these best when exquisitely bad; And I, if aught of archer vein I hit, With my own laughter stifled my own wit.
[979] A.
[980] Wooing, retreating, till the swamp beneath him Groans—and 'tis dark!—This woman's wile—I know it! Learnt it from thee, from thy perfidious glances! Black-ey'd Rebecca!
Be proud as Spaniards! Leap for pride ye Fleas! Henceforth in Nature's mimic World grandees. In Phœbus' archives registered are ye, And this your patent of Nobility. No skip-Jacks now, nor civiller skip-Johns, Dread Anthropophagi! specks of living bronze, [981] I hail you one and all, sans Pros or Cons, Descendants from a noble race of Dons. What tho' that great ancestral Flea be gone, Immortal with immortalising Donne, His earthly spots bleached off a Papist's gloze, In purgatory fire on Bardolph's nose.
Eu! Dei vices gerens, ipse Divus, (Speak English, Friend!) the God Imperativus, Here on this market-cross aloud I cry: 'I, I, I! I itself I! [982] The form and the substance, the what and the why, The when and the where, and the low and the high, The inside and outside, the earth and the sky, I, you, and he, and he, you and I, All souls and all bodies are I itself I! All I itself I! (Fools! a truce with this starting!) All my I! all my I! He's a heretic dog who but adds Betty Martin!' Thus cried the God with high imperial tone: In robe of stiffest state, that scoff'd at beauty, A pronoun-verb imperative he shone— Then substantive and plural-singular grown, He thus spake on:—'Behold in I alone (For Ethics boast a syntax of their own) Or if in ye, yet as I doth depute ye, In O! I, you, the vocative of duty! I of the world's whole Lexicon the root! Of the whole universe of touch, sound, sight, The genitive and ablative to boot: The accusative of wrong, the nom'native of right, And in all cases the case absolute! Self-construed, I all other moods decline: Imperative, from nothing we derive us; Yet as a super-postulate of mine, Unconstrued antecedence I assign, To X Y Z, the God Infinitivus!'
And as Nic is too slow To fetch 'em below: [983] And Gifford, the attorney, Won't quicken their journey; The Bridge-Street Committee That colleague without pity, To imprison and hang Carlile and his gang, Is the pride of the City, And 'tis Association That, alone, saves the Nation From Death and Damnation.
I touch this scar upon my skull behind, And instantly there rises in my mind Napoleon's mighty hosts from Moscow lost, Driven forth to perish in the fangs of Frost. [985]For in that self-same month, and self-same day, Down Skinner Street I took my hasty way— Mischief and Frost had set the boys at play; I stept upon a slide—oh! treacherous tread!— Fell smash with bottom bruised, and brake my head! Thus Time's co-presence links the great and small, Napoleon's overthrow, and Snipkin's fall.
The builder left one narrow rent, Two wedded hearts, if ere were such, Contented most in discontent, Still there cling, and try in vain to touch! [1004] O Joy! with thy own joy at strife, That yearning for the Realm above Wouldst die into intenser Life, And Union absolute of Love!
His own fair countenance, his kingly forehead, His tender smiles, Love's day-dawn on his lips, Put on such heavenly, spiritual light, At the same moment in his steadfast eye Were Virtue's native crest, th' innocent soul's Unconscious meek self-heraldry,—to man Genial, and pleasant to his guardian angel. He suffer'd nor complain'd;—though oft with tears [1006] He mourn'd th' oppression of his helpless brethren,— And sometimes with a deeper holier grief Mourn'd for the oppressor—but this in sabbath hours— A solemn grief, that like a cloud at sunset, Was but the veil of inward meditation Pierced thro' and saturate with the intellectual rays It soften'd.
Ye harp-controlling hymns! (or) Ye hymns the sovereigns of harps! What God? what Hero? What Man shall we celebrate? Truly Pisa indeed is of Jove, But the Olympiad (or, the Olympic games) did Hercules establish, The first-fruits of the spoils of war. But Theron for the four-horsed car [1007] That bore victory to him, It behoves us now to voice aloud: The Just, the Hospitable, The Bulwark of Agrigentum, Of renowned fathers The Flower, even him Who preserves his native city erect and safe.
What boots to tell how o'er his grave She wept, that would have died to save; Little they know the heart, who deem Her sorrow but an infant's dream Of transient love begotten; A passing gale, that as it blows Just shakes the ripe drop from the rose— That dies and is forgotten. [1012] O Woman! nurse of hopes and fears, All lovely in thy spring of years, Thy soul in blameless mirth possessing, Most lovely in affliction's tears, More lovely still than tears suppressing.
Songs of Shepherds and rustical Roundelays, Forms of Fancies and whistled on Reeds, Songs to solace young Nymphs upon Holidays Are too unworthy for wonderful deeds— [1019] Round about, hornéd Lucinda they swarméd, And her they informéd, How minded they were, Each God and Goddess, To take human Bodies As Lords and Ladies to follow the Hare.
And thus, my Love! as on the midway Slope Of yonder Hill I stretch my limbs at noon And tranquil muse upon Tranquillity. 30 Full many a Thought uncall'd and undetain'd And many idle flitting Phantasies Traverse my indolent and passive Mind As wild, as various, as the random Gales That swell or flutter on this subject Lute. 35 And what if All of animated Life Be but as Instruments diversly fram'd That tremble into thought, while thro' them breathes One infinite and intellectual Breeze, And all in diff'rent Heights so aptly hung, 40 That Murmurs indistinct and Bursts sublime, Shrill Discords and most soothing Melodies, Harmonious from Creation's vast concent— Thus God would be the universal Soul, [1023] Mechaniz'd matter as th' organic harps 45 And each one's Tunes be that, which each calls I.
Dear native brook! like peace so placidly Smoothing thro' fertile fields thy current meek— Dear native brook! where first young Poesy Star'd wildly eager in her noon-tide dream; [1024] Where blameless Pleasures dimpled Quiet's cheek, 15 As water-lilies ripple thy slow stream! How many various-fated years have past, What blissful and what anguish'd hours, since last I skimm'd the smooth thin stone along thy breast Numb'ring its light leaps! Yet so deep imprest 20 Sink the sweet scenes of childhood, that mine eyes I never shut amid the sunny blaze, But strait, with all their tints, thy waters rise, The crossing plank, and margin's willowy maze, And bedded sand, that, vein'd with various dyes, 25 Gleam'd thro' thy bright transparence to the gaze— Ah! fair tho' faint those forms of memory seem Like Heaven's bright bow on thy smooth evening stream.
The murmuring tide Lull'd her, and many a pensive pleasing dream Rose in sad shadowy trains at Memory's call. 330 She thought of Arc, and of the dingled brook, [1030] Whose waves oft leaping on their craggy course Made dance the low-hung willow's dripping twigs; And where it spread into a glassy lake, Of the old oak which on the smooth expanse, 335 Imag'd its hoary mossy-mantled boughs.
[1048] He went, like one that hath been stunn'd 655 And is of sense forlorn: A sadder and a wiser man He rose the morrow morn.
Under the arms of a goodly oak-tree, There was of Swine a large company. They were making a rude repast, Grunting as they crunch'd the mast. Then they trotted away: for the wind blew high— 5 One acorn they left, ne more mote you spy. Next came a Raven, who lik'd not such folly; He belong'd, I believe, to the witch Melancholy! Blacker was he than the blackest jet; Flew low in the rain; his feathers were wet. 10 He pick'd up the acorn and buried it strait, By the side of a river both deep and great. Where then did the Raven go? He went high and low— O'er hill, o'er dale did the black Raven go! 15 Many Autumns, many Springs; Travell'd he with wand'ring wings; Many Summers, many Winters— I can't tell half his adventures. At length he return'd, and with him a she; 20 And the acorn was grown a large oak-tree. They built them a nest in the topmost bough, And young ones they had, and were jolly enow. But soon came a Woodman in leathern guise: His brow like a pent-house hung over his eyes. 25 He'd an axe in his hand, and he nothing spoke, But with many a hem! and a sturdy stroke, At last he brought down the poor Raven's own oak. His young ones were kill'd, for they could not depart, And his wife she did die of a broken heart! 30 [1049]The branches from off it the Woodman did sever! And they floated it down on the course of the River: They saw'd it to planks, and it's rind they did strip, And with this tree and others they built up a ship. The ship, it was launch'd; but in sight of the land, 35 A tempest arose which no ship could withstand. It bulg'd on a rock, and the waves rush'd in fast— The auld Raven flew round and round, and caw'd to the blast. He heard the sea-shriek of their perishing souls— They be sunk! O'er the top-mast the mad water rolls. 40 The Raven was glad that such fate they did meet, They had taken his all, and Revenge was Sweet!
High o'er the silver rocks I roved To forget the form I loved In hopes fond fancy would be kind And steal my Mary from my mind T'was twilight and the lunar beam 5 Sailed slowly o'er Tamaha's stream As down its sides the water strayed Bright on a rock the moonbeam playe[d] It shone, half-sheltered from the view By pendent boughs of tressy yew 10 True, true to love but false to rest, So fancy whispered to my breast, So shines her forehead smooth and fair Gleaming through her sable hair I turned to heaven—but viewed on high 15 The languid lustre of her eye [1050] The moons mild radiant edge I saw Peeping a black-arched cloud below Nor yet its faint and paly beam Could tinge its skirt with yellow gleam 20 I saw the white waves o'er and o'er Break against a curved shore Now disappearing from the sight Now twinkling regular and white Her mouth, her smiling mouth can shew 25 As white and regular a row Haste Haste, some God indulgent prove And bear me, bear me to my love Then might—for yet the sultry hour Glows from the sun's oppressive power 30 Then might her bosom soft and white Heave upon my swimming sight As yon two swans together heave Upon the gently-swelling wave Haste—haste some God indulgent prove 35 And bear—oh bear me to my love.
High o'er the rocks at night I rov'd silver Cora Cora Cora Cora
Fernandez. And Don Curio's Gripe too 230 Had lent a guttural Music to your voice, [1069]A sort of bagpipe Buz, that suited well Your dignity of utterance.
'Tis midnight, and small thoughts have I of sleep; 120 Full seldom may my friend such vigils keep! Visit him, gentle Sleep, with wings of healing, And may this storm be but a mountain-birth, May all the stars hang bright above his dwelling, Silent, as though they watch'd the sleeping Earth! 125 With light heart may he rise, Gay fancy, cheerful eyes, And sing his lofty song, and teach me to rejoice! O Edmund, friend of my devoutest choice, O rais'd from anxious dread and busy care, 130 By the immenseness of the good and fair Which thou see'st everywhere, Joy lifts thy spirit, joy attunes thy voice, [1081] To thee do all things live from pole to pole, Their life the eddying of thy living soul! 135 O simple spirit, guided from above, O lofty Poet, full of life and love, Brother and friend of my devoutest choice, Thus may'st thou ever, evermore rejoice!
Eve following eve, Dear tranquil Time, when the sweet sense of Home Becomes most sweet! hours for their own sake hail'd, And more desir'd, more precious, for thy song! 100 In silence list'ning, like a devout Child, [1084] My soul lay passive; by thy various strain Driven as in surges now, beneath the stars, With momentary Stars of my own Birth, Fair constellated Foam still darting off 105 Into the darkness! now a tranquil Sea Outspread and bright, yet swelling to the Moon!
An Air that whizzed
διὰ ἐγκεφάλου
(right across the diameterof my Brain) exactly like a Hummel Bee, alias Dumbeldore,
the gentleman with Rappee Spenser (sic), with bands of Red, and
Orange Plush Breeches, close by my ear, at once sharp and
burry, right over the summit of Quantock [item of Skiddaw 10
(erased)] at earliest Dawn just between the Nightingale that
I stopt to hear in the Copse at the Foot of Quantock, and the
first Sky-Lark that was a Song-Fountain, dashing up and
sparkling to the Ear's eye, in full column, or ornamented Shaft of
sound in the order of Gothic Extravaganza, out of Sight, over 15
the Cornfields on the Descent of the Mountain on the other
side—out of sight, tho' twice I beheld its mute shoot downward in
the sunshine like a falling star of silver:—
Verse, that Breeze mid blossoms straying
Where Hope clings feeding like a Bee.
Both were mine: Life went a Maying
With Nature, Hope, and Poesy,
When I was young.
When I was young! ah woeful When!
Ah for the Change twixt now and then!
This House of Life, not built with hands
Where now I sigh, where once I sung.
In vain I supplicate the Powers above; There is no Resurrection for the Love That, nursed with tenderest care, yet fades away In the chilled heart by inward self-decay. [1088]Like a lorn Arab old and blind 5 Some caravan had left behind That sits beside a ruined Well, And hangs his wistful head aslant, Some sound he fain would catch— Suspended there, as it befell, 10 O'er my own vacancy, And while I seemed to watch The sickly calm, as were of heart A place where Hope lay dead, The spirit of departed Love 15 Stood close beside my bed. She bent methought to kiss my lips As she was wont to do. Alas! 'twas with a chilling breath That awoke just enough of life in death 20 To make it die anew.
Stop, Christian Visitor! Stop, Child of God, Here lies a Poet: or what once was He! [O] Pause, Traveller, pause and pray for S. T. C. [1089] That He who many a year with toil of Breath Found Death in Life, may here find Life in Death. 5
It has been asserted that Sir Isaac Newton's philosophy leads in its consequences to Atheism: perhaps not without reason. For if matter, by any powers or properties given to it, can produce the order of the visible world and even generate thought; why may it not have possessed such properties by inherent right? and where is the necessity of a God? matter is according to the mechanic philosophy capable of acting most wisely and most beneficently without Wisdom or Benevolence; and what more does the Atheist assert? if matter possess those properties, why might it not have possessed them from all eternity? Sir Isaac Newton's Deity seems to be alternately operose and indolent; to have delegated so much power as to make it inconceivable what he can have reserved. He is dethroned by Vice-regent second causes.
For me to discuss the literary merits of this hasty composition were idle and presumptuous. If it be found to possess that impetuosity of Transition, and that Precipitation of Fancy and Feeling, which are the essential excellencies of the sublimer Ode, its deficiency in less important respects will be easily pardoned by those from whom alone praise could give me pleasure: and whose minuter criticisms will be disarmed by the reflection, that these Lines were conceived 'not in the soft obscurities of Retirement, or under the Shelter of Academic Groves, but amidst inconvenience and distraction, in sickness and in sorrow'.[1114:1] I am more anxious lest the moral spirit of the Ode should be mistaken. You, I am sure, will not fail to recollect that among the Ancients, the Bard and the Prophet were one and the same character; and you know, that although I prophesy curses, I pray fervently for blessings. Farewell, Brother of my Soul!
14
Seeing ev'n injustice may be regular;
And no proportion can there be betwixt
10Our actions, which in endless motion are,
And th' ordinances, which are always fix'd:
Ten thousand laws more cannot reach so far
But malice goes beyond, or lives immix'd
So close with goodness, as it ever will
15Corrupt, disguise, or counterfeit it still.
Substitute the following for the fifth to the eighth line.
Erde, du Mutter zahlloser Kinder, Mutter und Amme! Sei mir gegrüsst! Sei mir gesegnet im Feiergesange! Sieh, O Mutter, hier lieg' ich an deinen schwellenden Brüsten! Lieg', O Grüngelockte, von deinem wallenden Haupthaar Sanft umsäuselt und sanft geküsst von thauenden Lüften! 5 Ach, du säuselst Wonne mir zu, und thauest mir Wehmuth In das Herz, dass Wehmuth und Wonn' aus schmelzender Seele Sich in Thränen und Dank und heiligen Liedern ergiessen! Erde, du Mutter zahlloser Kinder, Mutter und Amme! Schwester der allesfreuenden Sonne, des freundlichen Mondes 10 Und der strahlenden Stern', und flammenbeschweiften Kometen, Eine der jüngsten Töchter der allgebärenden Schöpfung, Immer blühendes Weib des segenträufelnden Himmels! Sprich, O Erde, wie war dir als du am ersten der Tage Deinen heiligen Schooss dem buhlenden Himmel enthülltest? 15 [1131]Dein Erröthen war die erste der Morgenröthen, Als er im blendenden Bette von weichen schwellenden Wolken Deine gürtende Binde mit siegender Stärke dir löste! Schauer durchbebten die stille Natur und tausend und tausend Leben keimten empor aus der mächtigen Liebesumarmung. 20 Freudig begrüssten die Fluthen des Meeres neuer Bewohner Mannigfaltige Schaaren; es staunte der werdende Wallfisch Ueber die steigenden Ströme die seiner Nasen entbrausten; Junges Leben durchbrüllte die Auen, die Wälder, die Berge, Irrte blökend im Thal, und sang in blühenden Stauden. 25
English Hexameters, written during a temporary Blindness, in the Year 1799
167
24.
Occasioned by the Last. 'A joke (cries Jack)', &c.
An. Anth., 1800.
24.
Letters from the Lake Poets. . . To Daniel Stuart, 1889.
Poems and Poetical Fragments.
[495:1] First published (as an octavo pamphlet) at Cambridge by Benjamin Flower in 1794: included in Literary Remains, 1836, i. (1)-32. First collected in P. and D. W., 1877-80, in. (1)-39. 'It will be remarked,' writes J. D. Campbell (P. W., 1893, p. 646), 'that neither title-page nor dedication contains any hint of the joint authorship.' On this point Coleridge writes to Southey, September 19, 1794:—'The tragedy will be printed in less than a week. I shall put my name because it will sell at least a hundred copies in Cambridge. It would appear ridiculous to print two names to such a work. But if you choose it, mention it and it shall be done. To every man who praises it, of course I give the true biography of it.' Letters of S. T. C., 1895, i. 85.
ACT I
Scene—The Thuilleries.
Barrere. The tempest gathers—be it mine to seek A friendly shelter, ere it bursts upon him. But where? and how? I fear the Tyrant's soul— Sudden in action, fertile in resource, And rising awful 'mid impending ruins; 5 In splendor gloomy, as the midnight meteor, That fearless thwarts the elemental war. When last in secret conference we met, He scowl'd upon me with suspicious rage, Making his eye the inmate of my bosom. 10 I know he scorns me—and I feel, I hate him— Yet there is in him that which makes me tremble! [Exit.
Enter Tallien and Legendre.
Tallien. It was Barrere, Legendre! didst thou mark him? Abrupt he turn'd, yet linger'd as he went, And towards us cast a look of doubtful meaning. 15
Legendre. I mark'd him well. I met his eye's last glance; It menac'd not so proudly as of yore. Methought he would have spoke—but that he dar'd not— Such agitation darken'd on his brow.
Tallien. 'Twas all-distrusting guilt that kept from bursting 20 Th' imprison'd secret struggling in the face: E'en as the sudden breeze upstarting onwards Hurries the thundercloud, that pois'd awhile Hung in mid air, red with its mutinous burthen.
Legendre. Perfidious Traitor!—still afraid to bask 25 In the full blaze of power, the rustling serpent Lurks in the thicket of the Tyrant's greatness, Ever prepared to sting who shelters him. Each thought, each action in himself converges; And love and friendship on his coward heart 30 Shine like the powerless sun on polar ice; To all attach'd, by turns deserting all, Cunning and dark—a necessary villain!
Tallien. Yet much depends upon him—well you know With plausible harangue 'tis his to paint 35 Defeat like victory—and blind the mob With truth-mix'd falsehood. They led on by him, [497] And wild of head to work their own destruction, Support with uproar what he plans in darkness.
Legendre. O what a precious name is Liberty 40 To scare or cheat the simple into slaves! Yes—we must gain him over: by dark hints We'll shew enough to rouse his watchful fears, Till the cold coward blaze a patriot. O Danton! murder'd friend! assist my counsels— 45 Hover around me on sad Memory's wings, And pour thy daring vengeance in my heart. Tallien! if but to-morrow's fateful sun Beholds the Tyrant living—we are dead!
Tallien. Yet his keen eye that flashes mighty meanings— 50
Legendre. Fear not—or rather fear th' alternative, And seek for courage e'en in cowardice— But see—hither he comes—let us away! His brother with him, and the bloody Couthon, And high of haughty spirit, young St. Just. 55[Exeunt.
Enter Robespierre, Couthon, St. Just, and Robespierre Junior.
Robespierre. What? did La Fayette fall before my power? And did I conquer Roland's spotless virtues? The fervent eloquence of Vergniaud's tongue? And Brissot's thoughtful soul unbribed and bold? Did zealot armies haste in vain to save them? 60 What! did th' assassin's dagger aim its point Vain, as a dream of murder, at my bosom? And shall I dread the soft luxurious Tallien? Th' Adonis Tallien? banquet-hunting Tallien? Him, whose heart flutters at the dice-box? Him, 65 Who ever on the harlots' downy pillow Resigns his head impure to feverish slumbers!
St. Just. I cannot fear him—yet we must not scorn him. Was it not Antony that conquer'd Brutus, Th' Adonis, banquet-hunting Antony? 70 The state is not yet purified: and though The stream runs clear, yet at the bottom lies The thick black sediment of all the factions— It needs no magic hand to stir it up!
Couthon. O we did wrong to spare them—fatal error! 75 Why lived Legendre, when that Danton died? And Collot d'Herbois dangerous in crimes? [498] I've fear'd him, since his iron heart endured To make of Lyons one vast human shambles, Compar'd with which the sun-scorcht wilderness 80 Of Zara were a smiling paradise.
St. Just. Rightly thou judgest, Couthon! He is one Who flies from silent solitary anguish, Seeking forgetful peace amid the jar Of elements. The howl of maniac uproar 85 Lulls to sad sleep the memory of himself. A calm is fatal to him—then he feels The dire upboilings of the storm within him. A tiger mad with inward wounds!—I dread The fierce and restless turbulence of guilt. 90
Robespierre. Is not the Commune ours? The stern tribunal? Dumas? and Vivier? Fleuriot? and Louvet? And Henriot? We'll denounce an hundred, nor Shall they behold to-morrow's sun roll westward.
Robespierre Junior. Nay—I am sick of blood; my aching heart 95 Reviews the long, long train of hideous horrors That still have gloom'd the rise of the Republic. I should have died before Toulon, when war Became the patriot!
Robespierre. Most unworthy wish! He, whose heart sickens at the blood of traitors, 100 Would be himself a traitor, were he not A coward! 'Tis congenial souls alone Shed tears of sorrow for each other's fate. O thou art brave, my brother! and thine eye Full firmly shines amid the groaning battle— 105 Yet in thine heart the woman-form of pity Asserts too large a share, an ill-timed guest! There is unsoundness in the state—To-morrow Shall see it cleans'd by wholesome massacre!
Robespierre Junior. Beware! already do the sections murmur— 110 'O the great glorious patriot, Robespierre— The tyrant guardian of the country's freedom!'
Couthon. 'Twere folly sure to work great deeds by halves! Much I suspect the darksome fickle heart Of cold Barrere!
Robespierre. I see the villain in him! 115
Robespierre Junior. If he—if all forsake thee—what remains?
Robespierre. Myself! the steel-strong Rectitude of soul And Poverty sublime 'mid circling virtues! The giant Victories my counsels form'd Shall stalk around me with sun-glittering plumes, 120 Bidding the darts of calumny fall pointless. [Exeunt caeteri. Manet Couthon.
Couthon (solus). So we deceive ourselves! What goodly virtues Bloom on the poisonous branches of ambition! Still, Robespierre! thou'lt guard thy country's freedom To despotize in all the patriot's pomp. 125 While Conscience, 'mid the mob's applauding clamours, Sleeps in thine ear, nor whispers—blood-stain'd tyrant! Yet what is Conscience? Superstition's dream, Making such deep impression on our sleep— That long th' awakened breast retains its horrors! 130 But he returns—and with him comes Barrere. [Exit Couthon.
Enter Robespierre and Barrere.
Robespierre. There is no danger but in cowardice.— Barrere! we make the danger, when we fear it. We have such force without, as will suspend The cold and trembling treachery of these members. 135
Barrere. 'Twill be a pause of terror.—
Robespierre. But to whom? Rather the short-lived slumber of the tempest, Gathering its strength anew. The dastard traitors! Moles, that would undermine the rooted oak! A pause!—a moment's pause?—'Tis all their life. 140
Barrere. Yet much they talk—and plausible their speech. Couthon's decree has given such powers, that—
Robespierre. That what?
Barrere. The freedom of debate—
Robespierre. Transparent mask! They wish to clog the wheels of government, Forcing the hand that guides the vast machine 145 To bribe them to their duty—English patriots! Are not the congregated clouds of war Black all around us? In our very vitals Works not the king-bred poison of rebellion? Say, what shall counteract the selfish plottings 150 Of wretches, cold of heart, nor awed by fears Of him, whose power directs th' eternal justice? [500] Terror? or secret-sapping gold? The first Heavy, but transient as the ills that cause it; And to the virtuous patriot rendered light 155 By the necessities that gave it birth: The other fouls the fount of the republic, Making it flow polluted to all ages: Inoculates the state with a slow venom, That once imbibed, must be continued ever. 160 Myself incorruptible I ne'er could bribe them— Therefore they hate me.
Barrere. Are the sections friendly?
Robespierre. There are who wish my ruin—but I'll make them Blush for the crime in blood!
Barrere. Nay—but I tell thee, Thou art too fond of slaughter—and the right 165 (If right it be) workest by most foul means!
Robespierre. Self-centering Fear! how well thou canst ape Mercy! Too fond of slaughter!—matchless hypocrite! Thought Barrere so, when Brissot, Danton died? Thought Barrere so, when through the streaming streets 170 Of Paris red-eyed Massacre o'erwearied Reel'd heavily, intoxicate with blood? And when (O heavens!) in Lyons' death-red square Sick Fancy groan'd o'er putrid hills of slain, Didst thou not fiercely laugh, and bless the day? 175 Why, thou hast been the mouth-piece of all horrors, And, like a blood-hound, crouch'd for murder! Now Aloof thou standest from the tottering pillar, Or, like a frighted child behind its mother, Hidest thy pale face in the skirts of—Mercy! 180
Barrere. O prodigality of eloquent anger! Why now I see thou'rt weak—thy case is desperate! The cool ferocious Robespierre turn'd scolder!
Robespierre. Who from a bad man's bosom wards the blow Reserves the whetted dagger for his own. 185 Denounced twice—and twice I saved his life! [Exit.
Barrere. The sections will support them—there's the point! No! he can never weather out the storm— Yet he is sudden in revenge—No more! I must away to Tallien. [Exit. 190
Scene changes to the house of Adelaide.
Adelaide enters, speaking to a Servant.
Adelaide. Didst thou present the letter that I gave thee? Did Tallien answer, he would soon return?
Servant. He is in the Thuilleries—with him Legendre— In deep discourse they seem'd: as I approach'd He waved his hand as bidding me retire: 195 I did not interrupt him. [Returns the letter.
Adelaide. Thou didst rightly. [Exit Servant. O this new freedom! at how dear a price We've bought the seeming good! The peaceful virtues And every blandishment of private life, The father's cares, the mother's fond endearment, 200 All sacrificed to liberty's wild riot. The wingéd hours, that scatter'd roses round me, Languid and sad drag their slow course along, And shake big gall-drops from their heavy wings. But I will steal away these anxious thoughts 205 By the soft languishment of warbled airs, If haply melodies may lull the sense Of sorrow for a while. [Soft music.
Enter Tallien.
Tallien. Music, my love? O breathe again that air! Soft nurse of pain, it sooths the weary soul 210 Of care, sweet as the whisper'd breeze of evening That plays around the sick man's throbbing temples.
SONG[501:1]
Tell me, on what holy ground May domestic peace be found? Halcyon daughter of the skies, 215 Far on fearful wing she flies, From the pomp of scepter'd state, From the rebel's noisy hate.
In a cottag'd vale she dwells List'ning to the Sabbath bells! 220 [502] Still around her steps are seen, Spotless honor's meeker mien, Love, the sire of pleasing fears, Sorrow smiling through her tears, And conscious of the past employ, 225 Memory, bosom-spring of joy.
Tallien. I thank thee, Adelaide! 'twas sweet, though mournful. But why thy brow o'ercast, thy cheek so wan? Thou look'st as a lorn maid beside some stream That sighs away the soul in fond despairing, 230 While sorrow sad, like the dank willow near her, Hangs o'er the troubled fountain of her eye.
Adelaide. Ah! rather let me ask what mystery lowers On Tallien's darken'd brow. Thou dost me wrong— Thy soul distemper'd, can my heart be tranquil? 235
Tallien. Tell me, by whom thy brother's blood was spilt? Asks he not vengeance on these patriot murderers? It has been borne too tamely. Fears and curses Groan on our midnight beds, and e'en our dreams Threaten the assassin hand of Robespierre. 240 He dies!—nor has the plot escaped his fears.
Adelaide. Yet—yet—be cautious! much I fear the Commune— The tyrant's creatures, and their fate with his Fast link'd in close indissoluble union. The pale Convention—
Tallien. Hate him as they fear him, 245 Impatient of the chain, resolv'd and ready.
Adelaide. Th' enthusiast mob, confusion's lawless sons—
Tallien. They are aweary of his stern morality, The fair-mask'd offspring of ferocious pride. The sections too support the delegates: 250 All—all is ours! e'en now the vital air Of Liberty, condens'd awhile, is bursting (Force irresistible!) from its compressure— To shatter the arch chemist in the explosion!
Enter Billaud Varennes and Bourdon l'Oise.
[Adelaide retires.
Bourdon l'Oise. Tallien! was this a time for amorous conference? 255 Henriot, the tyrant's most devoted creature, [503]Marshals the force of Paris: The fierce Club, With Vivier at their head, in loud acclaim Have sworn to make the guillotine in blood Float on the scaffold.—But who comes here? 260
Enter Barrere abruptly.
Barrere. Say, are ye friends to freedom? I am her's! Let us, forgetful of all common feuds, Rally around her shrine! E'en now the tyrant Concerts a plan of instant massacre!
Billaud Varennes. Away to the Convention! with that voice 265 So oft the herald of glad victory, Rouse their fallen spirits, thunder in their ears The names of tyrant, plunderer, assassin! The violent workings of my soul within Anticipate the monster's blood! 270
[Cry from the street of—No Tyrant! Down with the Tyrant!
Tallien. Hear ye that outcry?—If the trembling members Even for a moment hold his fate suspended, I swear by the holy poniard, that stabbed Caesar, This dagger probes his heart! [Exeunt omnes.
FOOTNOTES:
[501:1] This Song was reprinted in Coleridge's Poems of 1796, and later under the title of To Domestic Peace, vide ante, pp. 71, 72.
ACT II
Scene—The Convention.
Robespierre mounts the Tribune. Once more befits it that the voice of Truth, Fearless in innocence, though leaguered round By Envy and her hateful brood of hell, Be heard amid this hall; once more befits The patriot, whose prophetic eye so oft 5 Has pierced thro' faction's veil, to flash on crimes Of deadliest import. Mouldering in the grave Sleeps Capet's caitiff corse; my daring hand Levelled to earth his blood-cemented throne, My voice declared his guilt, and stirred up France 10 To call for vengeance. I too dug the grave Where sleep the Girondists, detested band! Long with the shew of freedom they abused Her ardent sons. Long time the well-turn'd phrase, The high-fraught sentence and the lofty tone 15 [504]Of declamation, thunder'd in this hall, Till reason midst a labyrinth of words Perplex'd, in silence seem'd to yield assent. I durst oppose. Soul of my honoured friend, Spirit of Marat, upon thee I call— 20 Thou know'st me faithful, know'st with what warm zeal I urg'd the cause of justice, stripp'd the mask From faction's deadly visage, and destroy'd Her traitor brood. Whose patriot arm hurl'd down Hébert and Rousin, and the villain friends 25 Of Danton, foul apostate! those, who long Mask'd treason's form in liberty's fair garb, Long deluged France with blood, and durst defy Omnipotence! but I it seems am false! I am a traitor too! I—Robespierre! 30 I—at whose name the dastard despot brood Look pale with fear, and call on saints to help them! Who dares accuse me? who shall dare belie My spotless name? Speak, ye accomplice band, Of what am I accus'd? of what strange crime 35 Is Maximilian Robespierre accus'd, That through this hall the buz of discontent Should murmur? who shall speak?
Billaud Varennes. O patriot tongue Belying the foul heart! Who was it urg'd Friendly to tyrants that accurst decree, 40 Whose influence brooding o'er this hallowed hall, Has chill'd each tongue to silence? Who destroyed The freedom of debate, and carried through The fatal law, that doom'd the delegates, Unheard before their equals, to the bar 45 Where cruelty sat throned, and murder reign'd With her Dumas coequal? Say—thou man Of mighty eloquence, whose law was that?
Couthon. That law was mine. I urged it—I propos'd— The voice of France assembled in her sons 50 Assented, though the tame and timid voice Of traitors murmur'd. I advis'd that law— I justify it. It was wise and good.
Barrere. Oh, wonderous wise and most convenient too! I have long mark'd thee, Robespierre—and now 55 Proclaim thee traitor tyrant! [Loud applauses.
Robespierre. It is well. [505]I am a traitor! oh, that I had fallen When Regnault lifted high the murderous knife, Regnault the instrument belike of those Who now themselves would fain assassinate, 60 And legalise their murders. I stand here An isolated patriot—hemmed around By faction's noisy pack; beset and bay'd By the foul hell-hounds who know no escape From Justice' outstretch'd arm, but by the force 65 That pierces through her breast. [Murmurs, and shouts of—Down with the Tyrant!
Robespierre. Nay, but I will be heard. There was a time When Robespierre began, the loud applauses Of honest patriots drown'd the honest sound. But times are chang'd, and villainy prevails. 70
Collot d'Herbois. No—villainy shall fall. France could not brook A monarch's sway—sounds the dictator's name More soothing to her ear?
Bourdon l'Oise. Rattle her chains More musically now than when the hand Of Brissot forged her fetters; or the crew 75 Of Hébert thundered out their blasphemies, And Danton talk'd of virtue?
Robespierre. Oh, that Brissot Were here again to thunder in this hall, That Hébert lived, and Danton's giant form Scowl'd once again defiance! so my soul 80 Might cope with worthy foes. People of France, Hear me! Beneath the vengeance of the law Traitors have perish'd countless; more survive: The hydra-headed faction lifts anew Her daring front, and fruitful from her wounds, 85 Cautious from past defects, contrives new wiles Against the sons of Freedom.
Tallien. Freedom lives! Oppression falls—for France has felt her chains, Has burst them too. Who traitor-like stept forth Amid the hall of Jacobins to save 90 Camille Desmoulins, and the venal wretch D'Eglantine?
Robespierre. I did—for I thought them honest. And Heaven forefend that Vengeance e'er should strike, Ere justice doom'd the blow.
Barrere. Traitor, thou didst. Yes, the accomplice of their dark designs, 95 Awhile didst thou defend them, when the storm Lower'd at safe distance. When the clouds frown'd darker, Fear'd for yourself and left them to their fate. Oh, I have mark'd thee long, and through the veil Seen thy foul projects. Yes, ambitious man, 100 Self-will'd dictator o'er the realm of France, The vengeance thou hast plann'd for patriots Falls on thy head. Look how thy brother's deeds Dishonour thine! He the firm patriot, Thou the foul parricide of Liberty! 105
Robespierre Junior. Barrere—attempt not meanly to divide Me from my brother. I partake his guilt, For I partake his virtue.
Robespierre. Brother, by my soul, More dear I hold thee to my heart, that thus With me thou dar'st to tread the dangerous path 110 Of virtue, than that Nature twined her cords Of kindred round us.
Barrere. Yes, allied in guilt, Even as in blood ye are. O, thou worst wretch, Thou worse than Sylla! hast thou not proscrib'd, Yea, in most foul anticipation slaughter'd 115 Each patriot representative of France?
Bourdon l'Oise. Was not the younger Caesar too to reign O'er all our valiant armies in the south, And still continue there his merchant wiles?
Robespierre Junior. His merchant wiles! Oh, grant me patience, heaven! 120 Was it by merchant wiles I gain'd you back Toulon, when proudly on her captive towers Wav'd high the English flag? or fought I then With merchant wiles, when sword in hand I led Your troops to conquest? fought I merchant-like, 125 Or barter'd I for victory, when death Strode o'er the reeking streets with giant stride, And shook his ebon plumes, and sternly smil'd Amid the bloody banquet? when appall'd The hireling sons of England spread the sail 130 [507] Of safety, fought I like a merchant then? Oh, patience! patience!
Bourdon l'Oise. How this younger tyrant Mouths out defiance to us! even so He had led on the armies of the south, Till once again the plains of France were drench'd 135 With her best blood.
Collot d'Herbois. Till once again display'd Lyons' sad tragedy had call'd me forth The minister of wrath, whilst slaughter by Had bathed in human blood.
Dubois Crancé. No wonder, friend, That we are traitors—that our heads must fall 140 Beneath the axe of death! when Caesar-like Reigns Robespierre, 'tis wisely done to doom The fall of Brutus. Tell me, bloody man, Hast thou not parcell'd out deluded France, As it had been some province won in fight, 145 Between your curst triumvirate? You, Couthon, Go with my brother to the southern plains; St. Just, be yours the army of the north; Meantime I rule at Paris.
Robespierre. Matchless knave! What—not one blush of conscience on thy cheek— 150 Not one poor blush of truth! most likely tale! That I who ruined Brissot's towering hopes, I who discover'd Hébert's impious wiles, And sharp'd for Danton's recreant neck the axe, Should now be traitor! had I been so minded, 155 Think ye I had destroyed the very men Whose plots resembled mine? bring forth your proofs Of this deep treason. Tell me in whose breast Found ye the fatal scroll? or tell me rather Who forg'd the shameless falsehood?
Collot d'Herbois. Ask you proofs? 160 Robespierre, what proofs were ask'd when Brissot died?
Legendre. What proofs adduced you when the Danton died? When at the imminent peril of my life I rose, and fearless of thy frowning brow, Proclaim'd him guiltless?
Robespierre. I remember well 165 The fatal day. I do repent me much That I kill'd Caesar and spar'd Antony. [508]But I have been too lenient. I have spared The stream of blood, and now my own must flow To fill the current. [Loud applauses. Triumph not too soon, 170 Justice may yet be victor.
Enter St. Just, and mounts the Tribune.
St. Just. I come from the Committee—charged to speak Of matters of high import. I omit Their orders. Representatives of France, Boldly in his own person speaks St. Just 175 What his own heart shall dictate.
Tallien. Hear ye this, Insulted delegates of France? St. Just From your Committee comes—comes charg'd to speak Of matters of high import, yet omits Their orders! Representatives of France, 180 That bold man I denounce, who disobeys The nation's orders.—I denounce St. Just. [Loud applauses.
St. Just. Hear me! [Violent murmurs.
Robespierre. He shall be heard!
Bourdon l'Oise. Must we contaminate this sacred hall With the foul breath of treason?
Collot d'Herbois. Drag him away! 185 Hence with him to the bar.
Couthon. Oh, just proceedings! Robespierre prevented liberty of speech— And Robespierre is a tyrant! Tallien reigns, He dreads to hear the voice of innocence— And St. Just must be silent!
Legendre. Heed we well 190 That justice guide our actions. No light import Attends this day. I move St. Just be heard.
Freron. Inviolate be the sacred right of man. The freedom of debate. [Violent applauses.
St. Just. I may be heard then! much the times are chang'd, 195 When St. Just thanks this hall for hearing him. Robespierre is call'd a tyrant. Men of France, Judge not too soon. By popular discontent Was Aristides driven into exile, Was Phocion murder'd. Ere ye dare pronounce 200 [509] Robespierre is guilty, it befits ye well, Consider who accuse him. Tallien, Bourdon of Oise—the very men denounced, For that their dark intrigues disturb'd the plan Of government. Legendre the sworn friend 205 Of Danton, fall'n apostate. Dubois Crancé, He who at Lyons spared the royalists— Collot d'Herbois—
Bourdon l'Oise. What—shall the traitor rear His head amid our tribune—and blaspheme Each patriot? shall the hireling slave of faction— 210
St. Just. I am of no one faction. I contend Against all factions.
Tallien. I espouse the cause Of truth. Robespierre on yester morn pronounced Upon his own authority a report. To-day St. Just comes down. St. Just neglects 215 What the Committee orders, and harangues From his own will. O citizens of France I weep for you—I weep for my poor country— I tremble for the cause of Liberty, When individuals shall assume the sway, 220 And with more insolence than kingly pride Rule the Republic.
Billaud Varennes. Shudder, ye representatives of France, Shudder with horror. Henriot commands The marshall'd force of Paris. Henriot, 225 Foul parricide—the sworn ally of Hébert, Denounced by all—upheld by Robespierre. Who spar'd La Valette? who promoted him, Stain'd with the deep dye of nobility? Who to an ex-peer gave the high command? 230 Who screen'd from justice the rapacious thief? Who cast in chains the friends of Liberty? Robespierre, the self-stil'd patriot Robespierre— Robespierre, allied with villain Daubigné— Robespierre, the foul arch-tyrant Robespierre. 235
Bourdon l'Oise. He talks of virtue—of morality— Consistent patriot! he Daubigné's friend! Henriot's supporter virtuous! preach of virtue, Yet league with villains, for with Robespierre Villains alone ally. Thou art a tyrant! 240 I stile thee tyrant, Robespierre! [Loud applauses.
Robespierre. Take back the name. Ye citizens of France— [Violent clamour. Cries of—Down with the Tyrant!
Tallien. Oppression falls. The traitor stands appall'd— Guilt's iron fangs engrasp his shrinking soul— He hears assembled France denounce his crimes! 245 He sees the mask torn from his secret sins— He trembles on the precipice of fate. Fall'n guilty tyrant! murder'd by thy rage How many an innocent victim's blood has stain'd Fair freedom's altar! Sylla-like thy hand 250 Mark'd down the virtues, that, thy foes removed, Perpetual Dictator thou might'st reign, And tyrannize o'er France, and call it freedom! Long time in timid guilt the traitor plann'd His fearful wiles—success emboldened sin— 255 And his stretch'd arm had grasp'd the diadem Ere now, but that the coward's heart recoil'd, Lest France awak'd should rouse her from her dream, And call aloud for vengeance. He, like Caesar, With rapid step urged on his bold career, 260 Even to the summit of ambitious power, And deem'd the name of King alone was wanting. Was it for this we hurl'd proud Capet down? Is it for this we wage eternal war Against the tyrant horde of murderers, 265 The crownéd cockatrices whose foul venom Infects all Europe? was it then for this We swore to guard our liberty with life, That Robespierre should reign? the spirit of freedom Is not yet sunk so low. The glowing flame 270 That animates each honest Frenchman's heart Not yet extinguish'd. I invoke thy shade, Immortal Brutus! I too wear a dagger; And if the representatives of France, Through fear or favour, should delay the sword 275 Of justice, Tallien emulates thy virtues; Tallien, like Brutus, lifts the avenging arm; Tallien shall save his country. [Violent applauses.
Billaud Varennes. I demand The arrest of all the traitors. Memorable Will be this day for France.
Robespierre. Yes! Memorable 280 This day will be for France—for villains triumph.
Lebas. I will not share in this day's damning guilt. Condemn me too. [Great cry—Down with the Tyrants!
(The two Robespierres, Couthon, St. Just, and Lebas are led off.)
ACT III
Scene continues.
Collot d'Herbois. Caesar is fall'n! The baneful tree of Java, Whose death-distilling boughs dropt poisonous dew, Is rooted from its base. This worse than Cromwell, The austere, the self-denying Robespierre, Even in this hall, where once with terror mute 5 We listen'd to the hypocrite's harangues, Has heard his doom.
Billaud Varennes. Yet must we not suppose The tyrant will fall tamely. His sworn hireling Henriot, the daring desperate Henriot, Commands the force of Paris. I denounce him. 10
Freron. I denounce Fleuriot too, the mayor of Paris.
Enter Dubois Crancé.
Dubois Crancé. Robespierre is rescued. Henriot at the head Of the arm'd force has rescued the fierce tyrant.
Collot d'Herbois. Ring the tocsin—call all the citizens To save their country—never yet has Paris 15 Forsook the representatives of France.
Tallien. It is the hour of danger. I propose This sitting be made permanent. [Loud applauses.
Collot d'Herbois. The National Convention shall remain Firm at its post. 20
Enter a Messenger.
Messenger. Robespierre has reach'd the Commune. They espouse The tyrant's cause. St. Just is up in arms! St. Just—the young ambitious bold St. Just Harangues the mob. The sanguinary Couthon Thirsts for your blood. [Tocsin rings. 25
Tallien. These tyrants are in arms against the law: Outlaw the rebels.
Enter Merlin of Douay.
Merlin. Health to the representatives of France! I past this moment through the arméd force— They ask'd my name—and when they heard a delegate, 30 Swore I was not the friend of France.
Collot d'Herbois. The tyrants threaten us as when they turn'd The cannon's mouth on Brissot.
Enter another Messenger.
Second Messenger. Vivier harangues the Jacobins—the Club Espouse the cause of Robespierre. 35
Enter another Messenger.
Third Messenger. All's lost—the tyrant triumphs. Henriot leads The soldiers to his aid.—Already I hear The rattling cannon destined to surround This sacred hall.
Tallien. Why, we will die like men then. The representatives of France dare death, 40 When duty steels their bosoms. [Loud applauses.
Tallien (addressing the galleries). Citizens! France is insulted in her delegates— The majesty of the Republic is insulted— Tyrants are up in arms. An arméd force Threats the Convention. The Convention swears 45 To die, or save the country! [Violent applauses from the galleries.
Citizen (from above). We too swear To die, or save the country. Follow me. [All the men quit the galleries.
Enter another Messenger.
Fourth Messenger. Henriot is taken! [Loud applauses. Three of your brave soldiers Swore they would seize the rebel slave of tyrants, Or perish in the attempt. As he patroll'd 50 The streets of Paris, stirring up the mob, They seiz'd him. [Applauses.
Billaud Varennes. Let the names of these brave men Live to the future day.
Enter Bourdon l'Oise, sword in hand.
Bourdon l'Oise. I have clear'd the Commune. [Applauses. Through the throng I rush'd, Brandishing my good sword to drench its blade 55 Deep in the tyrant's heart. The timid rebels Gave way. I met the soldiery—I spake Of the dictator's crimes—of patriots chain'd In dark deep dungeons by his lawless rage— Of knaves secure beneath his fostering power. 60 I spake of Liberty. Their honest hearts Caught the warm flame. The general shout burst forth, 'Live the Convention—Down with Robespierre!' [Applauses.
(Shouts from without—Down with the Tyrant!)
Tallien. I hear, I hear the soul-inspiring sounds, France shall be saved! her generous sons attached 65 To principles, not persons, spurn the idol They worshipp'd once. Yes, Robespierre shall fall As Capet fell! Oh! never let us deem That France shall crouch beneath a tyrant's throne, That the almighty people who have broke 70 On their oppressors' heads the oppressive chain, Will court again their fetters! easier were it To hurl the cloud-capt mountain from its base, Than force the bonds of slavery upon men Determined to be free! [Applauses. 75
Enter Legendre—a pistol in one hand, keys in the other.
Legendre (flinging down the keys). So—let the mutinous Jacobins meet now In the open air. [Loud applauses. A factious turbulent party Lording it o'er the state since Danton died, And with him the Cordeliers.—A hireling band Of loud-tongued orators controull'd the Club, 80 And bade them bow the knee to Robespierre. Vivier has 'scaped me. Curse his coward heart— This fate-fraught tube of Justice in my hand, I rush'd into the hall. He mark'd mine eye That beam'd its patriot anger, and flash'd full 85 With death-denouncing meaning. 'Mid the throng He mingled. I pursued—but stay'd my hand, Lest haply I might shed the innocent blood. [Applauses.
Freron. They took from me my ticket of admission— Expell'd me from their sittings.—Now, forsooth, 90 Humbled and trembling re-insert my name. But Freron enters not the Club again 'Till it be purged of guilt:—'till, purified Of tyrants and of traitors, honest men May breathe the air in safety. 95 [Shouts from without.
Barrere. What means this uproar! if the tyrant band Should gain the people once again to rise— We are as dead!
Tallien. And wherefore fear we death? Did Brutus fear it? or the Grecian friends Who buried in Hipparchus' breast the sword, 100 And died triumphant? Caesar should fear death, Brutus must scorn the bugbear.
(Shouts from without—Live the Convention!—Down with the Tyrants!)
Tallien. Hark! again The sounds of honest Freedom!
Enter Deputies from the Sections.
Citizen. Citizens! representatives of France! Hold on your steady course. The men of Paris 105 Espouse your cause. The men of Paris swear They will defend the delegates of Freedom.
Tallien. Hear ye this, Colleagues? hear ye this, my brethren? And does no thrill of joy pervade your breasts? My bosom bounds to rapture. I have seen 110 The sons of France shake off the tyrant yoke; I have, as much as lies in mine own arm, Hurl'd down the usurper.—Come death when it will, I have lived long enough. [Shouts without.
Barrere. Hark! how the noise increases! through the gloom 115 Of the still evening—harbinger of death, Rings the tocsin! the dreadful generale Thunders through Paris— [Cry without—Down with the Tyrant!
Enter Lecointre.
Lecointre. So may eternal justice blast the foes Of France! so perish all the tyrant brood, 120 [515] As Robespierre has perish'd! Citizens, Caesar is taken. [Loud and repeated applauses. I marvel not that with such fearless front He braved our vengeance, and with angry eye Scowled round the hall defiance. He relied 125 On Henriot's aid—the Commune's villain friendship, And Henriot's boughten succours. Ye have heard How Henriot rescued him—how with open arms The Commune welcom'd in the rebel tyrant— How Fleuriot aided, and seditious Vivier 130 Stirr'd up the Jacobins. All had been lost— The representatives of France had perish'd— Freedom had sunk beneath the tyrant arm Of this foul parricide, but that her spirit Inspir'd the men of Paris. Henriot call'd 135 'To arms' in vain, whilst Bourdon's patriot voice Breathed eloquence, and o'er the Jacobins Legendre frown'd dismay. The tyrants fled— They reach'd the Hôtel. We gather'd round—we call'd For vengeance! Long time, obstinate in despair, 140 With knives they hack'd around them. 'Till foreboding The sentence of the law, the clamorous cry Of joyful thousands hailing their destruction, Each sought by suicide to escape the dread Of death. Lebas succeeded. From the window 145 Leapt the younger Robespierre, but his fractur'd limb Forbade to escape. The self-will'd dictator Plunged often the keen knife in his dark breast, Yet impotent to die. He lives all mangled By his own tremulous hand! All gash'd and gored 150 He lives to taste the bitterness of death. Even now they meet their doom. The bloody Couthon, The fierce St. Just, even now attend their tyrant To fall beneath the axe. I saw the torches Flash on their visages a dreadful light— 155 I saw them whilst the black blood roll'd adown Each stern face, even then with dauntless eye Scowl round contemptuous, dying as they lived, Fearless of fate! [Loud and repeated applauses.
Barrere mounts the Tribune. For ever hallowed be this glorious day, 160 When Freedom, bursting her oppressive chain, Tramples on the oppressor. When the tyrant [516] Hurl'd from his blood-cemented throne, by the arm Of the almighty people, meets the death He plann'd for thousands. Oh! my sickening heart 165 Has sunk within me, when the various woes Of my brave country crowded o'er my brain In ghastly numbers—when assembled hordes, Dragg'd from their hovels by despotic power, Rush'd o'er her frontiers, plunder'd her fair hamlets, 170 And sack'd her populous towns, and drench'd with blood The reeking fields of Flanders.—When within, Upon her vitals prey'd the rankling tooth Of treason; and oppression, giant form, Trampling on freedom, left the alternative 175 Of slavery, or of death. Even from that day, When, on the guilty Capet, I pronounced The doom of injured France, has faction reared Her hated head amongst us. Roland preach'd Of mercy—the uxorious dotard Roland, 180 The woman-govern'd Roland durst aspire To govern France; and Petion talk'd of virtue, And Vergniaud's eloquence, like the honeyed tongue Of some soft Syren wooed us to destruction. We triumphed over these. On the same scaffold 185 Where the last Louis pour'd his guilty blood, Fell Brissot's head, the womb of darksome treasons, And Orleans, villain kinsman of the Capet, And Hébert's atheist crew, whose maddening hand Hurl'd down the altars of the living God, 190 With all the infidel's intolerance. The last worst traitor triumphed—triumph'd long, Secur'd by matchless villainy—by turns Defending and deserting each accomplice As interest prompted. In the goodly soil 195 Of Freedom, the foul tree of treason struck Its deep-fix'd roots, and dropt the dews of death On all who slumber'd in its specious shade. He wove the web of treachery. He caught The listening crowd by his wild eloquence, 200 His cool ferocity that persuaded murder, Even whilst it spake of mercy!—never, never Shall this regenerated country wear The despot yoke. Though myriads round assail, And with worse fury urge this new crusade 205 [517] Than savages have known; though the leagued despots Depopulate all Europe, so to pour The accumulated mass upon our coasts, Sublime amid the storm shall France arise, And like the rock amid surrounding waves 210 Repel the rushing ocean.—She shall wield The thunder-bolt of vengeance—she shall blast The despot's pride, and liberate the world!
FINIS
OSORIO
A TRAGEDY[518:1]
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
[Not in MSS.]
Osorio, 1797.
Remorse.
Velez
=
Marquis Valdez, Father to the two brothers, and Doña Teresa's Guardian.
Albert
=
Don Alvar, the eldest son.
Osorio
=
Don Ordonio, the youngest son.
Francesco
=
Monviedro, a Dominican and Inquisitor.
Maurice
=
Zulimez, the faithful attendant on Alvar.
Ferdinand
=
Isidore, a Moresco Chieftain, ostensibly a Christian.
Naomi
=
Naomi.
Maria
=
Doña Teresa, an Orphan Heiress.
Alhadra, wife of
Ferdinand=
Alhadra, Wife of Isidore.
Familiars of the Inquisition.
Moors, Servants, &c.
Time. The reign of Philip II., just at the close of the civil wars against the Moors, and during the heat of the persecution which raged against them, shortly after the edict which forbad the wearing of Moresco apparel under pain of death.
FOOTNOTES:
[518:1] First published in 1873 by Mr. John Pearson (under the editorship of R. H. Shepherd): included in P. and D. W. 1877-80, and in P. W. 1893.
Four MSS. are (or were) extant, (1) the transcript of the play as sent to Sheridan in 1797 (MS. I); (2) a contemporary transcript sent by Coleridge to a friend (MS. II); (3) a third transcript (the handwriting of a 'legal character') sold at Christie's, March 8, 1895 (MS. III); (4) a copy of Act I in Coleridge's handwriting, which formerly belonged to Thomas Poole, and is now in the British Museum (MS. P.). The text of the present issue follows MS. I. The variants are derived from MSS. I, II as noted by J. Dykes Campbell in P. W. 1893, from a MS. collation (by J. D. Campbell) of MS. III, now published for the first time, and from a fresh collation of MS. P.
Osorio was begun at Stowey in March, 1797. Two and a half Acts were written before June, four and a half Acts before September 13, 1797. A transcript of the play (MS. I) was sent to Drury Lane in October, and rejected, on the score of the 'obscurity of the last three acts', on or about December 1, 1797. See 'Art.' Coleridge, Osorio and Remorse, by J. D. Campbell, Athenaeum, April 8, 1890.
In the reign of Philip II shortly after the civil war against the Moors, and during the heat of the Persecution which raged against them. Maria an orphan of fortune had been espoused to Albert the eldest son of Lord Velez, but he having been supposed dead, is now addressed by Osorio the brother of Albert.
In the character of Osorio I wished to represent a man, who, from his childhood had mistaken constitutional abstinence from vices, for strength of character—thro' his pride duped into guilt, and then endeavouring to shield himself from the reproaches of his own mind by misanthropy.
Don Garcia (supposed dead) and Valdez father of Don Ordoño, and Guardian of Teresa di Monviedro. Don Garcia eldest son of the Marquis di Valdez, supposed dead, having been six years absent, and for the last three without any tidings of him.
Teresa Senñora [sic] di Monviedro, an orphan lady, bequeathed by both Parents on their death-bed to the wardship of the Marquis, and betrothed to Don Garcia—Gulinaez a Moorish Chieftain and ostensibly a new Christian—Alhadra his wife. MS. III.
For the Preface of MS. I, vide Appendices of this edition.
LINENOTES:
Osorio A Tragedy—Title] Osorio, a Dramatic Poem MS. II: Osorio, The Sketch of a Tragedy MS. III.
ACT THE FIRST[519:1]
Scene—The sea shore on the coast of Granada.
Velez, Maria.
Maria. I hold Osorio dear: he is your son, And Albert's brother.
Velez. Love him for himself, Nor make the living wretched for the dead.
Maria. I mourn that you should plead in vain, Lord Velez! But Heaven hath heard my vow, and I remain 5 Faithful to Albert, be he dead or living.
Velez. Heaven knows with what delight I saw your loves; And could my heart's blood give him back to thee I would die smiling. But these are idle thoughts! Thy dying father comes upon my soul 10 With that same look, with which he gave thee to me: [520] I held thee in mine arms, a powerless babe, While thy poor mother with a mute entreaty Fix'd her faint eyes on mine: ah, not for this, That I should let thee feed thy soul with gloom, 15 And with slow anguish wear away thy life, The victim of a useless constancy. I must not see thee wretched.
Maria. There are woes Ill-barter'd for the garishness of joy! If it be wretched with an untired eye 20 To watch those skiey tints, and this green ocean; Or in the sultry hour beneath some rock, My hair dishevell'd by the pleasant sea-breeze, To shape sweet visions, and live o'er again All past hours of delight; if it be wretched 25 To watch some bark, and fancy Albert there; To go through each minutest circumstance Of the bless'd meeting, and to frame adventures Most terrible and strange, and hear him tell them: (As once I knew a crazy Moorish maid, 30 Who dress'd her in her buried lover's cloaths, And o'er the smooth spring in the mountain cleft Hung with her lute, and play'd the selfsame tune He used to play, and listen'd to the shadow Herself had made); if this be wretchedness, 35 And if indeed it be a wretched thing To trick out mine own death-bed, and imagine That I had died—died, just ere his return; Then see him listening to my constancy; And hover round, as he at midnight ever 40 Sits on my grave and gazes at the moon; Or haply in some more fantastic mood To be in Paradise, and with choice flowers Build up a bower where he and I might dwell, And there to wait his coming! O my sire! 45 My Albert's sire! if this be wretchedness That eats away the life, what were it, think you, If in a most assur'd reality He should return, and see a brother's infant Smile at him from my arms? [Clasping her forehead. [521] O what a thought! 50 'Twas horrible! it pass'd my brain like lightning.
Velez. 'Twere horrible, if but one doubt remain'd The very week he promised his return.
Maria. Ah, what a busy joy was ours—to see him After his three years' travels! tho' that absence 55 His still-expected, never-failing letters Almost endear'd to me! Even then what tumult!
Velez. O power of youth to feed on pleasant thoughts Spite of conviction! I am old and heartless! Yes, I am old—I have no pleasant dreams— 60 Hectic and unrefresh'd with rest.
Maria (with great tenderness). My father!
Velez. Aye, 'twas the morning thou didst try to cheer me With a fond gaiety. My heart was bursting, And yet I could not tell me, how my sleep Was throng'd with swarthy faces, and I saw 65 The merchant-ship in which my son was captured— Well, well, enough—captured in sight of land— We might almost have seen it from our house-top!
Maria (abruptly). He did not perish there!
Velez (impatiently). Nay, nay—how aptly thou forgett'st a tale 70 Thou ne'er didst wish to learn—my brave Osorio Saw them both founder in the storm that parted Him and the pirate: both the vessels founder'd. Gallant Osorio! [Pauses, then tenderly. O belov'd Maria, Would'st thou best prove thy faith to generous Albert 75 And most delight his spirit, go and make His brother happy, make his agéd father Sink to the grave with joy!
Maria. For mercy's sake Press me no more. I have no power to love him! His proud forbidding eye, and his dark brow 80 Chill me, like dew-damps of the unwholesome night. My love, a timorous and tender flower, Closes beneath his touch.
Velez. You wrong him, maiden. You wrong him, by my soul! Nor was it well To character by such unkindly phrases 85 The stir and workings of that love for you Which he has toil'd to smother. 'Twas not well— Nor is it grateful in you to forget His wounds and perilous voyages, and how With an heroic fearlessness of danger 90 He roamed the coast of Afric for your Albert. It was not well—you have moved me even to tears.
Maria. O pardon me, my father! pardon me. It was a foolish and ungrateful speech, A most ungrateful speech! But I am hurried 95 Beyond myself, if I but dream of one Who aims to rival Albert. Were we not Born on one day, like twins of the same parent? Nursed in one cradle? Pardon me, my father! A six years' absence is an heavy thing; 100 Yet still the hope survives——
Velez (looking forwards). Hush—hush! Maria.
Maria. It is Francesco, our Inquisitor; That busy man, gross, ignorant, and cruel!
Enter Francesco and Alhadra.
Francesco (to Velez). Where is your son, my lord? Oh! here he comes.
Enter Osorio.
My Lord Osorio! this Moresco woman 105 (Alhadra is her name) asks audience of you.
Osorio. Hail, reverend father! What may be the business?
Francesco. O the old business—a Mohammedan! The officers are in her husband's house, And would have taken him, but that he mention'd 110 Your name, asserting that you were his friend, [524] Aye, and would warrant him a Catholic. But I know well these children of perdition, And all their idle fals[e]hoods to gain time; So should have made the officers proceed, 115 But that this woman with most passionate outcries, (Kneeling and holding forth her infants to me) So work'd upon me, who (you know, my lord!) Have human frailties, and am tender-hearted, That I came with her.
Osorio. You are merciful. [Looking at Alhadra. 120 I would that I could serve you; but in truth Your face is new to me.
[Alhadra is about to speak, but is interrupted by
Francesco. Aye, aye—I thought so; And so I said to one of the familiars. A likely story, said I, that Osorio, The gallant nobleman, who fought so bravely 125 Some four years past against these rebel Moors; Working so hard from out the garden of faith To eradicate these weeds detestable; That he should countenance this vile Moresco, Nay, be his friend—and warrant him, forsooth! 130 Well, well, my lord! it is a warning to me; Now I return.
Alhadra. My lord, my husband's name Is Ferdinand: you may remember it. Three years ago—three years this very week— You left him at Almeria.
Francesco (triumphantly). Palpably false! 135 This very week, three years ago, my lord! (You needs must recollect it by your wound) You were at sea, and fought the Moorish fiends Who took and murder'd your poor brother Albert.
[Maria looks at Francesco with disgust and horror. Osorio's appearance to be collected from the speech that follows.
[12]
mine] my Remorse, 1813.
[29]
him] him Remorse.
[40]
Or hover round, as he at midnight oft Remorse.
[50]
my] my Remorse. Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[60]
dreams] fancies Remorse.
[74]
Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[76]
And most delight his spirit, go, make thou Remorse.
[93]
my father] Lord Valdez Remorse.
[96]
dream] hear Remorse.
[101-5]
[108]
Erased MS. III.
[114]
Have learnt by heart their falsehoods to gain time. Corr. in MS. III.
[118-20]
[127-8]
[133]
Is Isidore. (Ordonio starts) Remorse.
[135]
Stage-direction (triumphantly) om. Remorse.
Francesco (to Velez and pointing to Osorio). What? is he ill, my lord? How strange he looks! 140
Velez (angrily). You started on him too abruptly, father! The fate of one, on whom you know he doted.
Osorio (starting as in a sudden agitation). O heavens! I doted! [Then, as if recovering himself. Yes! I doted on him!
[Osorio walks to the end of the stage. Velez follows soothing him.
Maria (her eye following them). I do not, cannot love him. Is my heart hard? Is my heart hard? that even now the thought 145 Should force itself upon me—yet I feel it!
Francesco. The drops did start and stand upon his forehead! I will return—in very truth I grieve To have been the occasion. Ho! attend me, woman!
Alhadra (to Maria). O gentle lady, make the father stay 150 Till that my lord recover. I am sure That he will say he is my husband's friend.
Maria. Stay, father, stay—my lord will soon recover.
[Osorio and Velez returning.
Osorio (to Velez as they return). Strange! that this Francesco Should have the power so to distemper me. 155
Velez. Nay, 'twas an amiable weakness, son!
Francesco (to Osorio). My lord, I truly grieve——
Osorio. Tut! name it not. A sudden seizure, father! think not of it. As to this woman's husband, I do know him: I know him well, and that he is a Christian. 160
Francesco. I hope, my lord, your sensibility Doth not prevail.
Osorio. Nay, nay—you know me better. You hear what I have said. But 'tis a trifle. I had something here of more importance. [Touching his forehead as if in the act of recollection. [526] Hah! The Count Mondejar, our great general, 165 Writes, that the bishop we were talking of Has sicken'd dangerously.
Francesco. Even so.
Osorio. I must return my answer.
Francesco. When, my lord?
Osorio. To-morrow morning, and shall not forget How bright and strong your zeal for the Catholic faith. 170
Francesco. You are too kind, my lord! You overwhelm me.
Osorio. Nay, say not so. As for this Ferdinand, 'Tis certain that he was a Catholic. What changes may have happen'd in three years, I cannot say, but grant me this, good father! 175 I'll go and sift him: if I find him sound, You'll grant me your authority and name To liberate his house.
Francesco. My lord you have it.
Osorio (to Alhadra). I will attend you home within an hour. Meantime return with us, and take refreshment. 180
Alhadra. Not till my husband's free, I may not do it. I will stay here.
Maria (aside). Who is this Ferdinand?
Velez. Daughter!
Maria. With your permission, my dear lord, I'll loiter a few minutes, and then join you.
[Exeunt Velez, Francesco, and Osorio.
Alhadra. Hah! there he goes. A bitter curse go with him. 185 A scathing curse!
[Alhadra had been betrayed by the warmth of her feelings into an imprudence. She checks herself, yet recollecting Maria's manner towards Francesco, says in a shy and distrustful manner
You hate him, don't you, lady!
Maria. Nay, fear me not! my heart is sad for you.
Alhadra. These fell Inquisitors, these sons of blood! As I came on, his face so madden'd me That ever and anon I clutch'd my dagger 190 And half unsheathed it.
Maria. Be more calm, I pray you.
Alhadra. And as he stalk'd along the narrow path Close on the mountain's edge, my soul grew eager. 'Twas with hard toil I made myself remember That his foul officers held my babes and husband. 195 To have leapt upon him with a Tyger's plunge And hurl'd him down the ragged precipice, O—it had been most sweet!
Maria. Hush, hush! for shame. Where is your woman's heart?
Alhadra. O gentle lady! You have no skill to guess my many wrongs, 200 Many and strange. Besides I am a Christian, And they do never pardon, 'tis their faith!
Maria. Shame fall on those who so have shown it to thee!
Alhadra. I know that man; 'tis well he knows not me! Five years ago, and he was the prime agent. 205 Five years ago the Holy Brethren seized me.
Maria. What might your crime be?
Alhadra. Solely my complexion. They cast me, then a young and nursing mother, Into a dungeon of their prison house. There was no bed, no fire, no ray of light, 210 No touch, no sound of comfort! The black air, [528] It was a toil to breathe it! I have seen The gaoler's lamp, the moment that he enter'd, How the flame sunk at once down to the socket. O miserable, by that lamp to see 215 My infant quarrelling with the coarse hard bread Brought daily: for the little wretch was sickly— My rage had dry'd away its natural food! In darkness I remain'd, counting the clocks[528:1] Which haply told me that the blessed sun 220 Was rising on my garden. When I dozed, My infant's moanings mingled with my dreams And wak'd me. If you were a mother, Lady, I should scarce dare to tell you, that its noises And peevish cries so fretted on my brain 225 That I have struck the innocent babe in anger!
Maria. O God! it is too horrible to hear!
Alhadra. What was it then to suffer? 'Tis most right That such as you should hear it. Know you not What Nature makes you mourn, she bids you heal? 230 Great evils ask great passions to redress them, And whirlwinds fitliest scatter pestilence.
Maria. You were at length deliver'd?
Alhadra. Yes, at length I saw the blessed arch of the whole heaven. 'Twas the first time my infant smiled! No more. 235 For if I dwell upon that moment, lady, A fit comes on, which makes me o'er again All I then was, my knees hang loose and drag, And my lip falls with such an ideot laugh That you would start and shudder!
Maria. But your husband? 240
Alhadra. A month's imprisonment would kill him, lady!
Maria. Alas, poor man!
Alhadra. He hath a lion's courage, [529] But is not stern enough for fortitude. Unfit for boisterous times, with gentle heart He worships Nature in the hill and valley, 245 Not knowing what he loves, but loves it all!
[Enter Albert disguised as a Moresco, and in Moorish garments.
Albert (not observing Maria and Alhadra). Three weeks have I been loitering here, nor ever Have summon'd up my heart to ask one question, Or stop one peasant passing on this way.
Maria. Know you that man?
Alhadra. His person, not his name. 250 I doubt not, he is some Moresco chieftain Who hides himself among the Alpuxarras. A week has scarcely pass'd since first I saw him; He has new-roof'd the desolate old cottage Where Zagri lived—who dared avow the prophet 255 And died like one of the faithful! There he lives, And a friend with him.
Maria. Does he know his danger So near this seat?
Alhadra. He wears the Moorish robes too, [530] As in defiance of the royal edict.
[Alhadra advances to Albert, who has walked to the back of the stage near the rocks. Maria drops her veil.
Alhadra. Gallant Moresco! you are near the castle 260 Of the Lord Velez, and hard by does dwell A priest, the creature of the Inquisition.
Albert (retiring). You have mistaken me—I am a Christian.
Alhadra (to Maria). He deems that we are plotting to ensnare him. Speak to him, lady! none can hear you speak 265 And not believe you innocent of guile.
[Albert, on hearing this, pauses and turns round.
Maria. If aught enforce you to concealment, sir!
Alhadra. He trembles strangely.
[Albert sinks down and hides his face in his garment [robe Remorse].
Maria. See—we have disturb'd him. [Approaches nearer to him. I pray you, think us friends—uncowl your face, For you seem faint, and the night-breeze blows healing. 270 I pray you, think us friends!
Albert (raising his head). Calm—very calm; 'Tis all too tranquil for reality! And she spoke to me with her innocent voice. That voice! that innocent voice! She is no traitress! It was a dream, a phantom of my sleep, 275 A lying dream. [He starts up, and abruptly addresses her. Maria! you are not wedded?
Maria (haughtily to Alhadra). Let us retire. [They advance to the front of the stage.
Alhadra. He is indeed a Christian. [531] Some stray Sir Knight, that falls in love of a sudden.
Maria. What can this mean? How should he know my name? It seems all shadowy.
Alhadra. Here he comes again. 280
Albert (aside). She deems me dead, and yet no mourning garment! Why should my brother's wife wear mourning garments? God of all mercy, make me, make me quiet! [To Maria. Your pardon, gentle maid! that I disturb'd you. I had just started from a frightful dream. 285
Alhadra. These renegado Moors—how soon they learn The crimes and follies of their Christian tyrants!
Albert. I dreamt I had a friend, on whom I lean'd With blindest trust, and a betrothéd maid Whom I was wont to call not mine, but me, 290 For mine own self seem'd nothing, lacking her! This maid so idoliz'd, that trusted friend, Polluted in my absence soul and body! And she with him and he with her conspired [532] To have me murder'd in a wood of the mountains: 295 But by my looks and most impassion'd words I roused the virtues, that are dead in no man, Even in the assassins' hearts. They made their terms, And thank'd me for redeeming them from murder.
Alhadra (to Maria). You are lost in thought. Hear him no more, sweet lady! 300
Maria. From morn to night I am myself a dreamer, And slight things bring on me the idle mood. Well, sir, what happen'd then?
Albert. On a rude rock, A rock, methought, fast by a grove of firs Whose threaddy leaves to the low breathing gale 305 Made a soft sound most like the distant ocean, I stay'd as tho' the hour of death were past, And I were sitting in the world of spirits, For all things seem'd unreal! There I sate. The dews fell clammy, and the night descended, 310 Black, sultry, close! and ere the midnight hour A storm came on, mingling all sounds of fear That woods and sky and mountains seem'd one havock! The second flash of lightning show'd a tree Hard by me, newly-scathed. I rose tumultuous: 315 My soul work'd high: I bared my head to the storm, And with loud voice and clamorous agony Kneeling I pray'd to the great Spirit that made me, Pray'd that Remorse might fasten on their hearts, And cling, with poisonous tooth, inextricable 320 As the gored lion's bite!
Maria. A fearful curse!
Alhadra. But dreamt you not that you return'd and kill'd him? Dreamt you of no revenge?
Albert (his voice trembling, and in tones of deep distress). She would have died, Died in her sins—perchance, by her own hands! [533] And bending o'er her self-inflicted wounds 325 I might have met the evil glance of frenzy And leapt myself into an unblest grave! I pray'd for the punishment that cleanses hearts, For still I loved her!
Alhadra. And you dreamt all this?
Maria. My soul is full of visions, all is wild! 330
Alhadra. There is no room in this heart for puling love-tales. Lady! your servants there seem seeking us.
Maria (lifts up her veil and advances to Albert). Stranger, farewell! I guess not who you are, Nor why you so address'd your tale to me. Your mien is noble, and, I own, perplex'd me 335 With obscure memory of something past, Which still escap'd my efforts, or presented Tricks of a fancy pamper'd with long-wishing. If (as it sometimes happens) our rude startling, While your full heart was shaping out its dream, 340 Drove you to this, your not ungentle wildness, You have my sympathy, and so farewell! But if some undiscover'd wrongs oppress you, And you need strength to drag them into light, The generous Velez, and my Lord Osorio 345 Have arm and will to aid a noble sufferer, Nor shall you want my favourable pleading. [Exeunt Maria and Alhadra.
Albert (alone). 'Tis strange! it cannot be! my Lord Osorio! Her Lord Osorio! Nay, I will not do it. I curs'd him once, and one curse is enough. 350 [534]How sad she look'd and pale! but not like guilt, And her calm tones—sweet as a song of mercy! If the bad spirit retain'd his angel's voice, Hell scarce were hell. And why not innocent? Who meant to murder me might well cheat her. 355 But ere she married him, he had stain'd her honour. Ah! there I am hamper'd. What if this were a lie Fram'd by the assassin? who should tell it him If it were truth? Osorio would not tell him. Yet why one lie? All else, I know, was truth. 360 No start! no jealousy of stirring conscience! And she referr'd to me—fondly, methought! Could she walk here, if that she were a traitress? Here where we play'd together in our childhood? Here where we plighted vows? Where her cold cheek 365 Received my last kiss, when with suppress'd feelings She had fainted in my arms? It cannot be! 'Tis not in nature! I will die, believing That I shall meet her where no evil is, No treachery, no cup dash'd from the lips! 370 I'll haunt this scene no more—live she in peace! Her husband—ay, her husband! May this Angel New-mould his canker'd heart! Assist me, Heaven! That I may pray for my poor guilty brother!
END OF ACT THE FIRST.
FOOTNOTES:
[519:1] For Act I, Scene 1 (ll. 1-118) of Remorse, vide post, pp. 820-3.
[528:1] With lines 219-21 compare Fragments from a Notebook, No. 17, p. 990.
LINENOTES:
Before 1: ACT THE FIRST (The Portrait and the Picture). Corr. in MS. III.
Scene—The sea shore, &c.] Scene—The Sea shore on the coast of Granada, in the Seigniory of the Marquis Valdez. Valdez Teresa corr. in MS. III. [For Velez, Maria, Osorio, Albert, Francesco, read Valdez, Teresa, Ordonio, Alvar, Isidore throughout, Remorse.
Before 1, Scene II.: Enter Teresa and Valdez. Remorse.
Osorio] Ordoño] corr. in MS. II.
[2]
Albert's] Garcia's corr. in MS. III.
[12]
mine] my Remorse, 1813.
[29]
him] him Remorse.
[40]
Or hover round, as he at midnight oft Remorse.
[50]
my] my Remorse. Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[51-2]
Erased MS. III.
[52-3]
Valdez. A thought? even so! mere thought! an empty thought. The very week he promised his return—
Remorse.
an empty thought That boasts no neighbourhood with Hope or Reason
Corr. in MS. III.
[54-7]
Ter. Was it not then a busy joy? to see him, After those three years' travels! we had no fears— The frequent tidings, the ne'er failing letter, Almost endeared his absence! yet the gladness, The tumult of our joy! What then, if now—
Marginal correction in MS. III, Remorse.
[60]
dreams] fancies Remorse.
[61]
Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[62-8]
Erased MS. III.
[62-73]
Vald. The sober truth is all too much for me! I see no sail which brings not to my mind The home-bound bark, in which my son was captured By the Algerine—to perish with his captors!
Ter. Oh no! he did not!
Vald. Captured in sight of land! From yon Hill-point, nay, from our castle watch-tower We might have seen—
Ter. His capture, not his death.
Vald. Alas! how aptly thou forgett'st a tale Thou ne'er didst wish to learn! my brave Ordonio Saw both the pirate and his prize go down, In the same storm that baffled his own valour, And thus twice snatched a brother from his hopes.
Marginal correction in MS. III, Remorse.
[74]
Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[76]
And most delight his spirit, go, make thou Remorse.
[78]
with] in Remorse.
[93]
my father] Lord Valdez Remorse.
[96]
dream] hear Remorse.
[101-5]
Erased MS. III.
Vald. (looking forward). Hush! 'tis Monviedro.
Ter. The Inquisitor—on what new scent of blood?
Enter Monviedro with Alhadra.
Mon. Peace and the truth be with you! Good my Lord. My present need is with your son. We have hit the time. Here comes he! Yes, 'tis he.
Enter from the opposite side Don Ordonio
My Lord Ordonio, this Moresco woman
MS. III, Remorse.
[108]
Erased MS. III.
[109]
The] Our MS. III.
[108-31]
Mon. My lord, on strong suspicion of relapse To his false creed, so recently abjured, The secret servants of the Inquisition Have seized her husband, and at my command To the supreme tribunal would have led him, But that he made appeal to you, my lord, As surety for his soundness in the faith. Tho' lesson'd by experience what small trust The asseverations of these Moors deserve, Yet still the deference to Ordonio's name, Nor less the wish to prove, with what high honour The Holy Church regards her faithful soldiers, Thus far prevailed with me that—
Ord. Reverend father, I am much beholden to your high opinion, Which so o'erprizes my light services. [then to Alhadra I would that I could serve you; but in truth Your face is new to me.
Mon. My mind foretold me That such would be the event. In truth, Lord Valdez, 'Twas little probable, that Don Ordonio, That your illustrious son, who fought so bravely Some four years since to quell these rebel Moors, Should prove the patron of this infidel! The warranter of a Moresco's faith!
Remorse.
[114]
Have learnt by heart their falsehoods to gain time. Corr. in MS. III.
[118-20]
who (you know, &c., . . . with her Erased MS. III. The stage-direction (Alhadra here advances towards Ordonio) is inserted at the end of Francesco's speech.
[140]
Francesco (. . . Osorio) om. Remorse.
[151]
Till that] Until Remorse.
[157]
Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[161]
I hope, my lord, your merely human pity MS. III, Remorse.
[173]
was] was Remorse.
[176]
Myself I'll sift him Remorse.
[180]
Attributed to Valdez in Remorse.
[186]
The stage-direction, Alhadra had been, &c., was interpolated by S. T. C. in MS. III, and 'distrustful' is written 'mistrustful'. It is omitted in Remorse.
[192]
stalk'd] walk'd Remorse.
[195]
Interpolated by S. T. C.
That his vile Slaves, his pitiless officers Held in their custody my babes and husband.
MS. III.
[201]
'(ironically)' only in MS. II.
[207]
Solely my complexion] I was a Moresco Remorse.
[210]
There] Where Remorse.
[219]
the dull bell counting Remorse.
[220]
blessed] all-cheering. Remorse.
[227]
God] Heaven Remorse.
[233]
deliver'd] released Corr. in MS. III, Remorse.
[237]
fit] trance Remorse.
[243]
Fearless in act, but feeble in endurance Corr. in MS. III, Remorse.
[247-9]
Between 250 and 263
Before stage-direction affixed to 259.
[262]
the creature] a brother Corr. in MS. III.
[266]
Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[275-6]
[281]
She deems me dead yet wears no mourning garments Remorse.
[286-7]
[293]
Polluted] Dishonour'd MS. III, Remorse. [In MS. III S. T. C. substituted 'Polluted' for 'Dishonoured.'
Affixed to 296 During this speech Alhadra returns, and unobserved by Alvar and Teresa scans the picture, and in dumb show compares it with the countenance of Alvar. Then conceals it in her robe. MS. III.
[300]
Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[305]
threaddy] thready Remorse.
[322]
him] them Remorse.
[330]
all is] all as MS. III, Remorse.
[340]
While] Whilst Remorse.
[359]
Interpolated by S. T. C. MS. III.
[363]
Could she walk here, if she had been a traitress Remorse.
ACT THE FIRST[519:1]
Thy dying father comes upon my soul 10
All past hours of delight; if it be wretched 25
And hover round, as he at midnight ever 40
O what a thought! 50
Yes, I am old—I have no pleasant dreams— 60
Velez (impatiently). Nay, nay—how aptly thou forgett'st a tale 70
Would'st thou best prove thy faith to generous Albert 75
With an heroic fearlessness of danger 90
A most ungrateful speech! But I am hurried 95
My Lord Osorio! this Moresco woman 105
And would have taken him, but that he mention'd 110
[127-8]
om. MS. III.
[133]
Is Isidore. (Ordonio starts) Remorse.
[135]
Stage-direction (triumphantly) om. Remorse.
[138-9]
You were at sea, and there engaged the pirates, The murderers doubtless of your brother Alvar!
Remorse.
[139]
The stage-direction Maria looks, &c., om. Remorse.
[140]
Francesco (. . . Osorio) om. Remorse.
[141]
Val. You pressed upon him too abruptly father Remorse.
[143]
Ord. O heavens! I?—I doted?—Remorse. Stage-directions (starting, &c.), (Then, as, &c.) om. Remorse.
Before 144 stage direction ends at 'follows' Remorse.
[144]
Stage-direction (her eye, &c.) om. Remorse.
[151]
Till that] Until Remorse.
Stage-direction before 154 om. Remorse.
[154]
Ordonio (as they return to Valdez). Remorse.
[157]
Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[159]
do] do Remorse.
[161]
I hope, my lord, your merely human pity MS. III, Remorse.
[162-72]
Nay, nay . . . Ferdinand om. Remorse.
[173]
was] was Remorse.
[176]
Myself I'll sift him Remorse.
[178]
[Francesco's speech 'My lord you have it' is thus expanded]:—
Monviedro. Your zeal, my lord, And your late merits in this holy warfare Would authorize an ampler trust—you have it.
Remorse.
[179]
Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[180]
Attributed to Valdez in Remorse.
[184]
I'll loiter yet awhile t'enjoy the sea breeze. Remorse.
[186]
The stage-direction, Alhadra had been, &c., was interpolated by S. T. C. in MS. III, and 'distrustful' is written 'mistrustful'. It is omitted in Remorse.
[187]
The line was originally written:—
Nay, nay, not hate him. I try not to do it;
and in this form it stands in the Poole MS. MSS. II, III have the line as amended, but have also this stage-direction '(perceiving that Alhadra is conscious she has spoken imprudently)'; and MS. II has the word me underlined.
Oh fear not me! my heart is sad for you
Remorse.
[188]
In Poole MS. this line was originally—
These wolfish Priests! these lappers-up of Blood.
[192]
stalk'd] walk'd Remorse.
[193]
on] by Remorse.
[195]
Interpolated by S. T. C.
That his vile Slaves, his pitiless officers Held in their custody my babes and husband.
MS. III.
[195]
foul officers] familiars Remorse.
[197]
ragged] rugged Remorse.
[201]
'(ironically)' only in MS. II.
[202]
And they do] And Christians Remorse.
[207]
Solely my complexion] I was a Moresco Remorse.
[210]
There] Where Remorse.
[212-14]
It was a toil to breathe it! When the door, Slow opening at the appointed hour, disclosed One human countenance, the lamp's red flame Cowered as it entered, and at once sank down
Remorse.
[219]
the dull bell counting Remorse.
[220]
blessed] all-cheering. Remorse.
[221]
my] our Remorse.
[222]
dreams] slumbers Remorse.
[227]
God] Heaven Remorse.
[233]
deliver'd] released Corr. in MS. III, Remorse.
[237]
fit] trance Remorse.
[243]
Fearless in act, but feeble in endurance Corr. in MS. III, Remorse.
[247-9]
MS. III erased: om. Remorse.
Between 249-50
Teresa. (starting). This sure must be the man (to Alhadra) Know you that man?
Corr. in MS. III.
Between 250 and 263
Ter. Know you that stately Moor?
Alhad. I know him not: But doubt not he is some Moresco chieftain, Who hides himself among the Alpujarras.
Ter. The Alpujarras? Does he know his danger, So near this seat?
Alhad. He wears the Moorish robes too, As in defiance of the royal edict.
[Alhadra advances to Alvar, who has walked to the back of the stage near the rocks. Teresa drops her veil.
Alhad. Gallant Moresco! An inquisitor, Monviedro, of known hatred to our race—
Remorse.
[254-7]
His ends, his motives, why he shrinks from notice And spurns all commune with the Moorish chieftain, Baffles conjecture—
Corr. in MS. III.
Before stage-direction affixed to 259.
Teresa. Ask of him whence he came? if he bear tidings Of any Christian Captive—if he knows—
Corr. in MS. III.
[259]
Philip the Second had forbidden under pain of death the Moorish Robes MS. II: Phillip (sic) the Second had prohibited under pain of death all the Moorish customs and garments MS. III.
[262]
the creature] a brother Corr. in MS. III.
[263]
Albert (retiring)] advancing as if to pass them Corr. in MS. III. Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[264]
Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[266]
Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[275-6]
om. Remorse.
[277]
Stage-direction They advance . . . followed by Alvar Corr. in MS. III: om. Remorse.
[277]
Alhadra (with bitter scorn). Corr. in MS. III.
[278-80]
om. Remorse.
Prefixed to 279. Alhadra walks away to the back of the stage, to the part where Alvar had first placed himself, stoops in the act of taking up a small Picture, looks at it and in dumb show appears as talking to herself. Corr. in MS. III.
[279-80]
Maria. This cannot be the Moor the Peasant spoke of Nor face, nor stature squares with his description.
Alhadra. A painted tablet which he held and por'd on Caught my eye strangely, and as I disturb'd him He hid it hastily within his sash, Yet when he started up (if my sight err'd not) It slipt unnotic'd by him on the Sand.
Corr. in MS. III.
[281]
She deems me dead yet wears no mourning garments Remorse.
[283]
om. Remorse.
[284]
gentle maid] noble dame Remorse.
[286-7]
om. Remorse.
Between 285 and 288
Ter. Dreams tell but of the past, and yet, 'tis said They prophesy—
Alv. The Past lives o'er again In its effects, and to the guilty spirit, The ever frowning [guilty MS. III] Present is its image.
Ter. Traitress! [guilty MS. III] (then aside) What sudden spell o'er-masters me? Why seeks he me, shunning the Moorish woman.
Corr. in MS. III: Remorse.
[293]
Polluted] Dishonour'd MS. III, Remorse. [In MS. III S. T. C. substituted 'Polluted' for 'Dishonoured.'
[294-5]
Fear, following guilt, tempted to blacker guilt, And murderers were suborned against my life
Remorse.
Affixed to 296 During this speech Alhadra returns, and unobserved by Alvar and Teresa scans the picture, and in dumb show compares it with the countenance of Alvar. Then conceals it in her robe. MS. III.
[300]
Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[305]
threaddy] thready Remorse.
[322]
him] them Remorse.
[323]
Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[324]
sins] guilt Remorse.
[330]
all is] all as MS. III, Remorse.
[332]
MS. III erased.
[332]
foll.
Alhadra (aside).
I must reserve all knowledge of this Table Till I can pierce the mystery of the slander— Form, Look, Features,—the scar below the Temple All, all are Isidore's—and the whole Picture— (then to Alvar.) On matter of concerning Import . . . . . . I would discourse with you: Thou hast ta'en up thy sojourn in the Dell, Where Zagri liv'd—who dar'd avow the Prophet, And died like one of the Faithful—there expect me.
Addition on margin of MS. III.
[332]
om. Remorse.
[340]
While] Whilst Remorse.
[359]
Interpolated by S. T. C. MS. III.
[363]
Could she walk here, if she had been a traitress Remorse.
ACT THE SECOND
Scene the First.—A wild and mountainous country. Osorio and Ferdinand are discovered at a little distance from a house, which stands under the brow of a slate rock, the rock covered with vines.
Ferdinand and Osorio.
Ferdinand. Thrice you have sav'd my life. Once in the battle You gave it me, next rescued me from suicide, When for my follies I was made to wander With mouths to feed, and not a morsel for them. Now, but for you, a dungeon's slimy stones 5 Had pillow'd my snapt joints.
Osorio. Good Ferdinand! Why this to me? It is enough you know it.
Ferdinand. A common trick of gratitude, my lord! Seeking to ease her own full heart.
Osorio. Enough. A debt repay'd ceases to be a debt. 10 You have it in your power to serve me greatly.
Ferdinand. As how, my lord? I pray you name the thing! I would climb up an ice-glaz'd precipice To pluck a weed you fancied.
Osorio (with embarrassment and hesitation). Why—that—lady—
Ferdinand. 'Tis now three years, my lord! since last I saw you. 15 Have you a son, my lord?
Osorio. O miserable! [Aside. Ferdinand! you are a man, and know this world. [536] I told you what I wish'd—now for the truth! She lov'd the man you kill'd!
Ferdinand (looking as suddenly alarmed). You jest, my lord?
Osorio. And till his death is proved, she will not wed me. 20
Ferdinand. You sport with me, my lord?
Osorio. Come, come, this foolery Lives only in thy looks—thy heart disowns it.
Ferdinand. I can bear this, and anything more grievous From you, my lord!—but how can I serve you here?
Osorio. Why, you can mouth set speeches solemnly, 25 Wear a quaint garment, make mysterious antics.
[Ferdinand. I am dull, my lord! I do not comprehend you.
Osorio. In blunt terms] you can play the sorcerer. She has no faith in Holy Church, 'tis true. Her lover school'd her in some newer nonsense: 30 Yet still a tale of spirits works on her. She is a lone enthusiast, sensitive, Shivers, and cannot keep the tears in her eye. Such ones do love the marvellous too well Not to believe it. We will wind her up 35 With a strange music, that she knows not of, With fumes of frankincense, and mummery— Then leave, as one sure token of his death, That portrait, which from off the dead man's neck I bade thee take, the trophy of thy conquest. 40
Ferdinand (with hesitation). Just now I should have cursed the man who told me You could ask aught, my lord! and I refuse. But this I cannot do.
Osorio. Where lies your scruple?
Ferdinand. That shark Francesco.
Osorio. O! an o'ersiz'd gudgeon! I baited, sir, my hook with a painted mitre, 45 And now I play with him at the end of the line. Well—and what next?
Ferdinand (stammering). Next, next—my lord! You know you told me that the lady loved you, Had loved you with incautious tenderness. That if the young man, her betrothéd husband, 50 Return'd, yourself, and she, and an unborn babe, Must perish. Now, my lord! to be a man!
Osorio (aloud, though to express his contempt he speaks in the third person). This fellow is a man! he kill'd for hire One whom he knew not—yet has tender scruples. [Then turning to Ferdinand. Thy hums and ha's, thy whine and stammering. 55 Pish—fool! thou blunder'st through the devil's book, Spelling thy villany!
Ferdinand. My lord—my lord! I can bear much, yes, very much from you. But there's a point where sufferance is meanness! I am no villain, never kill'd for hire. 60 My gratitude——
Osorio. O! aye, your gratitude! 'Twas a well-sounding word—what have you done with it?
Ferdinand. Who proffers his past favours for my virtue Tries to o'erreach me, is a very sharper, [538] And should not speak of gratitude, my lord! 65 I knew not 'twas your brother!
Osorio (evidently alarmed). And who told you?
Ferdinand. He himself told me.
Osorio. Ha! you talk'd with him? And those, the two Morescoes, that went with you?
Ferdinand. Both fell in a night-brawl at Malaga.
Osorio (in a low voice). My brother!
Ferdinand. Yes, my lord! I could not tell you: 70 I thrust away the thought, it drove me wild. But listen to me now. I pray you, listen!
Osorio. Villain! no more! I'll hear no more of it.
Ferdinand. My lord! it much imports your future safety That you should hear it.
Osorio (turning off from Ferdinand). Am I not a man? 75 'Tis as it should be! Tut—the deed itself Was idle—and these after-pangs still idler!
Ferdinand. We met him in the very place you mention'd, Hard by a grove of firs.
Osorio. Enough! enough!
Ferdinand. He fought us valiantly, and wounded all; 80 In fine, compell'd a parley!
Osorio (sighing as if lost in thought). Albert! Brother!
Ferdinand. He offer'd me his purse.
Osorio. Yes?
Ferdinand. Yes! I spurn'd it. He promis'd us I know not what—in vain! Then with a look and voice which overaw'd me, He said—What mean you, friends? My life is dear. 85 I have a brother and a promised wife Who make life dear to me, and if I fall That brother will roam earth and hell for vengeance. There was a likeness in his face to yours. I ask'd his brother's name; he said, Osorio, 90 Son of Lord Velez! I had well-nigh fainted! At length I said (if that indeed I said it, And that no spirit made my tongue his organ), That woman is now pregnant by that brother, And he the man who sent us to destroy you, 95 [539] He drove a thrust at me in rage. I told him, He wore her portrait round his neck—he look'd As he had been made of the rock that propp'd him back; Ay, just as you look now—only less ghastly! At last recovering from his trance, he threw 100 His sword away, and bade us take his life— It was not worth his keeping.
Osorio. And you kill'd him? O blood-hounds! may eternal wrath flame round you! He was the image of the Deity. [A pause. It seizes me—by Hell! I will go on! 105 What? would'st thou stop, man? thy pale looks won't save thee! [Then suddenly pressing his forehead. Oh! cold, cold, cold—shot thro' with icy cold!
Ferdinand (aside). Were he alive, he had return'd ere now. The consequence the same, dead thro' his plotting!
Osorio. O this unutterable dying away here, 110 This sickness of the heart! [A pause. What if I went And liv'd in a hollow tomb, and fed on weeds? Ay! that's the road to heaven! O fool! fool! fool! [A pause. What have I done but that which nature destin'd Or the blind elements stirr'd up within me? 115 If good were meant, why were we made these beings? And if not meant——
Ferdinand. How feel you now, my lord?
[Osorio starts, looks at him wildly, then, after a pause, during which his features are forced into a smile.
Nay, be his friend—and warrant him, forsooth! 130
Francesco (triumphantly). Palpably false! 135
Francesco (to Velez and pointing to Osorio). What? is he ill, my lord? How strange he looks! 140
Alhadra (to Maria). O gentle lady, make the father stay 150
Should have the power so to distemper me. 155
I know him well, and that he is a Christian. 160
How bright and strong your zeal for the Catholic faith. 170
I cannot say, but grant me this, good father! 175
Meantime return with us, and take refreshment. 180
Alhadra. Hah! there he goes. A bitter curse go with him. 185
That ever and anon I clutch'd my dagger 190
That his foul officers held my babes and husband. 195
You have no skill to guess my many wrongs, 200
Five years ago, and he was the prime agent. 205
There was no bed, no fire, no ray of light, 210
O miserable, by that lamp to see 215
Which haply told me that the blessed sun 220
And peevish cries so fretted on my brain 225
What Nature makes you mourn, she bids you heal? 230
'Twas the first time my infant smiled! No more. 235
Maria. But your husband? 240
Alhadra. His person, not his name. 250
Where Zagri lived—who dared avow the prophet 255
Alhadra. Gallant Moresco! you are near the castle 260
Speak to him, lady! none can hear you speak 265
It was a dream, a phantom of my sleep, 275
Alhadra. Here he comes again. 280
I had just started from a frightful dream. 285
Whom I was wont to call not mine, but me, 290
To have me murder'd in a wood of the mountains: 295
Alhadra (to Maria). You are lost in thought. Hear him no more, sweet lady! 300
Whose threaddy leaves to the low breathing gale 305
And cling, with poisonous tooth, inextricable 320
Maria. My soul is full of visions, all is wild! 330
While your full heart was shaping out its dream, 340
Who meant to murder me might well cheat her. 355
Yet why one lie? All else, I know, was truth. 360
[6]
Had been my bed and pillow Remorse.
[12]
And how, my Lord, I pray you to name Remorse.
[17]
this world] mankind Remorse.
Between 24 and 26
[27-8]
[31]
on] upon Remorse.
Between 40 and 41
[47]
Isidore. Why—why, my lord! Remorse.
Between 50 and 53
[55-6]
After 63 Ord. Virtue—Remorse.
[66]
Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[75]
Am not I a man? Remorse.
[81]
Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[93]
his] its Remorse.
[98]
him] his Remorse.
[100]
last] length Remorse.
[106]
Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[111]
Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[117]
Isidore. You are disturb'd, my lord Remorse.
Osorio. A gust of the soul! i'faith, it overset me. O 'twas all folly—all! idle as laughter! Now, Ferdinand, I swear that thou shalt aid me. 120
Ferdinand (in a low voice). I'll perish first! Shame on my coward heart, That I must slink away from wickedness Like a cow'd dog!
Osorio. What dost thou mutter of?
Ferdinand. Some of your servants know me, I am certain.
Osorio. There's some sense in that scruple; but we'll mask you. 125
Ferdinand. They'll know my gait. But stay! of late I have watch'd A stranger that lives nigh, still picking weeds, Now in the swamp, now on the walls of the ruin, Now clamb'ring, like a runaway lunatic, Up to the summit of our highest mount. 130 I have watch'd him at it morning-tide and noon, Once in the moonlight. Then I stood so near, I heard him mutt'ring o'er the plant. A wizard! Some gaunt slave, prowling out for dark employments.
Osorio. What may his name be?
Ferdinand. That I cannot tell you. 135 Only Francesco bade an officer Speak in your name, as lord of this domain. So he was question'd, who and what he was. This was his answer: Say to the Lord Osorio, 'He that can bring the dead to life again.' 140
Osorio. A strange reply!
Ferdinand. Aye—all of him is strange. [541] He call'd himself a Christian—yet he wears The Moorish robe, as if he courted death.
Osorio. Where does this wizard live?
Ferdinand (pointing to a distance). You see that brooklet? Trace its course backward thro' a narrow opening 145 It leads you to the place.
Osorio. How shall I know it?
Ferdinand. You can't mistake. It is a small green dale Built all around with high off-sloping hills, And from its shape our peasants aptly call it The Giant's Cradle. There's a lake in the midst, 150 And round its banks tall wood, that branches over And makes a kind of faery forest grow Down in the water. At the further end A puny cataract falls on the lake; And there (a curious sight) you see its shadow 155 For ever curling, like a wreath of smoke, Up through the foliage of those faery trees. His cot stands opposite—you cannot miss it. [542]Some three yards up the hill a mountain ash Stretches its lower boughs and scarlet clusters 160 [543] O'er the new thatch.
Osorio. I shall not fail to find it.
[Exit Osorio. Ferdinand goes into his house.
Scene changes.
The inside of a cottage, around which flowers and plants of various kinds are seen.
Albert and Maurice.
Albert. He doth believe himself an iron soul, And therefore puts he on an iron outward And those same mock habiliments of strength Hide his own weakness from himself.
Maurice. His weakness! 165 Come, come, speak out! Your brother is a villain! Yet all the wealth, power, influence, which is yours You suffer him to hold!
Albert. Maurice! dear Maurice! That my return involved Osorio's death I trust would give me an unmingl'd pang— 170 Yet bearable. But when I see my father Strewing his scant grey hairs even on the ground Which soon must be his grave; and my Maria, Her husband proved a monster, and her infants [544] His infants—poor Maria!—all would perish, 175 All perish—all!—and I (nay bear with me!) Could not survive the complicated ruin!
Maurice (much affected). Nay, now, if I have distress'd you—you well know, I ne'er will quit your fortunes! true, 'tis tiresome. You are a painter—one of many fancies— 180 You can call up past deeds, and make them live On the blank canvas, and each little herb, That grows on mountain bleak, or tangled forest, You've learnt to name—but I——
Albert. Well, to the Netherlands We will return, the heroic Prince of Orange 185 Will grant us an asylum, in remembrance Of our past service.
Maurice. Heard you not some steps?
Albert. What if it were my brother coming onward! Not very wisely (but his creature teiz'd me) I sent a most mysterious message to him. 190
Maurice. Would he not know you?
Albert. I unfearingly Trust this disguise. Besides, he thinks me dead; And what the mind believes impossible, The bodily sense is slow to recognize. Add too my youth, when last we saw each other; 195 Manhood has swell'd my chest, and taught my voice A hoarser note.
Maurice. Most true! And Alva's Duke Did not improve it by the unwholesome viands He gave so scantily in that foul dungeon, During our long imprisonment.
Enter Osorio.
Albert. It is he! 200
Maurice. Make yourself talk; you'll feel the less. Come, speak. [545] How do you find yourself? Speak to me, Albert.
Albert (placing his hand on his heart). A little fluttering here; but more of sorrow!
Osorio. You know my name, perhaps, better than me. I am Osorio, son of the Lord Velez. 205
Albert (groaning aloud). The son of Velez!
[Osorio walks leisurely round the room, and looks attentively at the plants.
Maurice. Why, what ails you now?
[Albert grasps Maurice's hand in agitation.
Maurice. How your hand trembles, Albert! Speak! what wish you?
Albert. To fall upon his neck and weep in anguish!
Osorio (returning). All very curious! from a ruin'd abbey Pluck'd in the moonlight. There's a strange power in weeds 210 When a few odd prayers have been mutter'd o'er them. Then they work miracles! I warrant you, There's not a leaf, but underneath it lurks Some serviceable imp. There's one of you, Who sent me a strange message.
Albert. I am he! 215
Osorio. I will speak with you, and by yourself.
[Exit Maurice.
Osorio. 'He that can bring the dead to life again.' Such was your message, Sir! You are no dullard, But one that strips the outward rind of things!
Albert. 'Tis fabled there are fruits with tempting rinds 220 That are all dust and rottenness within. Would'st thou I should strip such?
Osorio. Thou quibbling fool, What dost thou mean? Think'st thou I journey'd hither To sport with thee?
Albert. No, no! my lord! to sport [546] Best fits the gaiety of innocence! 225
Osorio (draws back as if stung and embarrassed, then folding his arms). O what a thing is Man! the wisest heart A fool—a fool, that laughs at its own folly, Yet still a fool! [Looks round the cottage. It strikes me you are poor!
Albert. What follows thence?
Osorio. That you would fain be richer. Besides, you do not love the rack, perhaps, 230 Nor a black dungeon, nor a fire of faggots. The Inquisition—hey? You understand me, And you are poor. Now I have wealth and power, Can quench the flames, and cure your poverty. And for this service, all I ask you is 235 That you should serve me—once—for a few hours.
Albert (solemnly). Thou art the son of Velez! Would to Heaven That I could truly and for ever serve thee!
Osorio. The canting scoundrel softens. [Aside. You are my friend! 'He that can bring the dead to life again.' 240 Nay, no defence to me. The holy brethren Believe these calumnies. I know thee better. [Then with great bitterness. Thou art a man, and as a man I'll trust thee!
Albert. Alas, this hollow mirth! Declare your business!
Osorio. I love a lady, and she would love me 245 But for an idle and fantastic scruple. Have you no servants round the house? no listeners? [Osorio steps to the door.
Albert. What! faithless too? false to his angel wife? To such a wife? Well might'st thou look so wan, Ill-starr'd Maria! Wretch! my softer soul 250 Is pass'd away! and I will probe his conscience.
Osorio (returned). In truth this lady loved another man, But he has perish'd.
Albert. What? you kill'd him? hey?
Osorio. I'll dash thee to the earth, if thou but think'st it, Thou slave! thou galley-slave! thou mountebank! 255 I leave thee to the hangman!
Albert. Fare you well! I pity you, Osorio! even to anguish! [Albert retires off the stage.
Osorio (recovering himself). 'Twas ideotcy! I'll tie myself to an aspen, And wear a Fool's Cap. Ho! [Calling after Albert.
Albert (returning). Be brief, what wish you?
Osorio. You are deep at bartering—you charge yourself 260 At a round sum. Come, come, I spake unwisely.
Albert. I listen to you.
Osorio. In a sudden tempest Did Albert perish—he, I mean, the lover— The fellow——
Albert. Nay, speak out, 'twill ease your heart To call him villain! Why stand'st thou aghast? 265 Men think it natural to hate their rivals!
Osorio (hesitating and half doubting whether he should proceed). Now till she knows him dead she will not wed me!
Albert (with eager vehemence). Are you not wedded, then? Merciful God! Not wedded to Maria?
Osorio. Why, what ails thee? Art mad or drunk? Why look'st thou upward so? 270 Dost pray to Lucifer, prince of the air?
Albert. Proceed. I shall be silent. [Albert sits, and leaning on the table hides his face.
Osorio. To Maria! Politic wizard! ere you sent that message, You had conn'd your lesson, made yourself proficient In all my fortunes! Hah! you prophesied 275 A golden crop!—well, you have not mistaken— Be faithful to me, and I'll pay thee nobly.
Albert (lifting up his head). Well—and this lady!
Osorio. If we could make her certain of his death, She needs must wed me. Ere her lover left her, 280 She tied a little portrait round his neck Entreating him to wear it.
Albert (sighing). Yes! he did so!
Osorio. Why, no! he was afraid of accidents, Of robberies and shipwrecks, and the like. In secrecy he gave it me to keep 285 Till his return.
Albert. What, he was your friend then?
Osorio (wounded and embarrassed). I was his friend. [A pause. Now that he gave it me This lady knows not. You are a mighty wizard— Can call this dead man up—he will not come— 290 He is in heaven then!—there you have no influence— Still there are tokens; and your imps may bring you Something he wore about him when he died. And when the smoke of the incense on the altar Is pass'd, your spirits will have left this picture. 295 What say you now?
Albert (after a long pause). Osorio, I will do it.
Osorio. Delays are dangerous. It shall be to-morrow In the early evening. Ask for the Lord Velez. I will prepare him. Music, too, and incense, All shall be ready. Here is this same picture— 300 And here what you will value more, a purse. Before the dusk——
Albert. I will not fail to meet you.
Osorio. Till next we meet, farewell!
Albert (alone, gazes passionately at the portrait). And I did curse thee? At midnight? on my knees? And I believed Thee perjured, thee polluted, thee a murderess? 305 O blind and credulous fool! O guilt of folly! Should not thy inarticulate fondnesses, Thy infant loves—should not thy maiden vows, Have come upon my heart? And this sweet image Tied round my neck with many a chaste endearment 310 And thrilling hands, that made me weep and tremble. Ah, coward dupe! to yield it to the miscreant Who spake pollutions of thee! I am unworthy of thy love, Maria! Of that unearthly smile upon those lips, 315 Which ever smil'd on me! Yet do not scorn me. I lisp'd thy name ere I had learnt my mother's!
Enter Maurice.
Albert. Maurice! that picture, which I painted for thee, Of my assassination.
Maurice. I'll go fetch it.
Albert. Haste! for I yearn to tell thee what has pass'd. 320
[Maurice goes out.
Albert (gazing at the portrait). Dear image! rescued from a traitor's keeping, I will not now prophane thee, holy image! To a dark trick! That worst bad man shall find A picture which shall wake the hell within him, And rouse a fiery whirlwind in his conscience! 325
END OF ACT THE SECOND.
LINENOTES:
Before 1
A wild and mountainous Country. Ordonio and Isidore are discovered, supposed at a little distance from Isidore's house.
Ord. Here we may stop: your house distinct in view, Yet we secured from listeners.
Isid. Now indeed My house! and it looks cheerful as the clusters Basking in sunshine on yon vine-clad rock That overbrows it! Patron! Friend! Preserver! Thrice have you sav'd my life.
Remorse.
[6]
Had been my bed and pillow Remorse.
[12]
And how, my Lord, I pray you to name Remorse.
[14]
Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[17]
this world] mankind Remorse.
[19]
Stage-direction om. Remorse.
Between 24 and 26
Why you can utter with a solemn gesture Oracular sentences of deep no-meaning
Remorse.
[27-8]
The words in square brackets are interpolated in MS. I. They are in their place, as here, in MSS. II, III, and in Remorse.
[31]
on] upon Remorse.
[34-5]
And such do love the marvellous too well Not to believe it. We will wind up her fancy
Remorse.
Between 40 and 41
Isid. Will that be a sure sign?
Ord. Beyond suspicion. Fondly caressing him, her favour'd lover, (By some base spell he had bewitched her senses.) She whisper'd such dark fears of me forsooth, As made this heart pour gall into my veins, And as she coyly bound it round his neck, She made him promise silence; and now holds The secret of the existence of this portrait Known only to her lover and herself. But I had traced her, stolen unnotic'd on them, And unsuspected saw and heard the whole.
Remorse.
[41]
Isid. But now, &c. Remorse.
[44-7]
om. Remorse.
[47]
Isidore. Why—why, my lord! Remorse.
Between 50 and 53
Return'd, yourself, and she, and the honour of both Must perish. Now though with no tenderer scruples Than those which being native to the heart, Than those, my lord, which merely being a man—
Remorse.
Stage-direction before 53 om. Remorse.
[55-6]
These doubts, these fears, thy whine, thy stammering— Pish, fool! thou blund'rest through the book of guilt
Remorse.
After 63 Ord. Virtue—Remorse.
[64]
Isid. Tries to o'erreach me, &c. Remorse.
[66]
Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[68]
And those, the two Morescoes who were with you? Remorse.
[75]
Am not I a man? Remorse.
[81]
Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[84]
which] that Remorse.
[93]
his] its Remorse.
[94]
That woman is dishonoured Remorse.
[98]
him] his Remorse.
[100]
last] length Remorse.
[103]
Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[104]
He was his Maker's image undefac'd Remorse.
[106]
Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[111]
Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[113]
Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[117]
Isidore. You are disturb'd, my lord Remorse.
After 117 Ord. (starts). A gust, &c. Remorse.
[121-3]
Shame . . . dog om. Remorse.
Between 125 and 140.
Isidore. They'll know my gait: but stay! last night I watched A stranger near the ruin in the wood, Who as it seemed was gathering herbs and wild flowers. I had followed him at distance, seen him scale Its western wall, and by an easier entrance Stole after him unnoticed. There I marked, That mid the chequer work of light and shade, With curious choice he plucked no other flowers, But those on which the moonlight fell: and once I heard him muttering o'er the plant. A wizard— Some gaunt slave prowling here for dark employment.
Ordonio. Doubtless you question'd him?
Isidore. 'Twas my intention, Having first traced him homeward to his haunt. But lo! the stern Dominican, whose spies Lurk everywhere, already (as it seemed) Had given commission to his apt familiar To seek and sound the Moor; who now returning, Was by this trusty agent stopped midway. I, dreading fresh suspicion if found near him In that lone place, again concealed myself; Yet within hearing. So the Moor was question'd, And in your name, as lord of this domain, Proudly he answered, 'Say to the Lord Ordonio,
Remorse.
[143]
robe] robes Remorse.
[144]
Stage-direction, a] the Remorse.
[147]
You cannot err. It is a small green dell Remorse.
[121-3]
Between 125 and 140.
[143]
robe] robes Remorse.
[147]
You cannot err. It is a small green dell Remorse.
Between 158 and 205:
Stage-direction preceding 162:
[167-8]
[184-7]
[200]
After Enter Osorio.
Be quick Remove these tablets—quick conceal it—
Corr. in MS. III.
Stage-directions (groaning, &c.) before 206, and (Albert, &c.) after 206 om. Remorse.
[215]
Who] Hath Remorse.
[224]
No, no!] O no! Remorse.
[225]
fits] suits Remorse.
[230-3]
[235]
And for the boon I ask of you but this Remorse.
After 242 Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[247]
Have you no servants here, &c.? Remorse.
[252]
Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[255-9]
[267]
Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[270]
What, art thou mad? Why look'st thou upward so? Remorse.
[278]
Stage-direction om. Remorse. Well—and this lady! Pray, proceed my lord MS. III. erased.
[282]
Stage-direction om. Remorse.
Before and after 287 Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[290]
this] the Remorse.
[296]
Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[300-2]
[305]
Thee perjur'd, thee a traitress! Thee dishonour'd! Remorse.
Between 312 and 313:
Affixed to 318-19 omitted.
[321]
image] portrait Remorse.
ACT THE SECOND
Now, but for you, a dungeon's slimy stones 5
A debt repay'd ceases to be a debt. 10
Ferdinand. 'Tis now three years, my lord! since last I saw you. 15
Osorio. And till his death is proved, she will not wed me. 20
Her lover school'd her in some newer nonsense: 30
I bade thee take, the trophy of thy conquest. 40
I baited, sir, my hook with a painted mitre, 45
That if the young man, her betrothéd husband, 50
I am no villain, never kill'd for hire. 60
And should not speak of gratitude, my lord! 65
Osorio (turning off from Ferdinand). Am I not a man? 75
Ferdinand. He fought us valiantly, and wounded all; 80
I ask'd his brother's name; he said, Osorio, 90
And he the man who sent us to destroy you, 95
At last recovering from his trance, he threw 100
It seizes me—by Hell! I will go on! 105
Osorio. O this unutterable dying away here, 110
Or the blind elements stirr'd up within me? 115
Osorio. There's some sense in that scruple; but we'll mask you. 125
'He that can bring the dead to life again.' 140
Trace its course backward thro' a narrow opening 145
Between 158 and 205:
Ordonio (in retiring stops suddenly at the edge of the scene, and then turning round to Isidore). Ha! Who lurks there! Have we been overheard? There where the smooth high wall of slate-rock glitters——
Isidore. 'Neath those tall stones, which propping each the other, Form a mock portal with their pointed arch? Pardon my smiles! 'Tis a poor idiot boy, Who sits in the sun, and twirls a bough about, His weak eyes seeth'd in most unmeaning tears. And so he sits, swaying his cone-like head, And, staring at his bough from morn to sun-set, See-saws his voice in inarticulate noises.
Ordonio. 'Tis well! and now for this same wizard's lair.
Isidore. Some three strides up the hill, a mountain ash Stretches its lower boughs and scarlet clusters O'er the old thatch.
Ordonio. I shall not fail to find it. [Exeunt Ordonio and Isidore.
Scene II.
The inside of a Cottage, around which flowers and plants of various kinds are seen. Discovers Alvar, Zulimez and Alhadra, as on the point of leaving.
Alhadra (addressing Alvar). Farewell then! and though many thoughts perplex me, Aught evil or ignoble never can I Suspect of thee! If what thou seem'st thou art, The oppressed brethren of thy blood have need Of such a leader.
Alvar. Nobly minded woman! Long time against oppression have I fought, And for the native liberty of faith Have bled and suffered bonds. Of this be certain: Time, as he courses onward, still unrolls The volume of concealment. In the future, As in the optician's glassy cylinder, The indistinguishable blots and colours Of the dim past collect and shape themselves, Upstarting in their own completed image To scare or to reward. I sought the guilty, And what I sought I found: but ere the spear Flew from my hand, there rose an angel form Betwixt me and my aim. With baffled purpose To the Avenger I leave Vengeance, and depart!
Whate'er betide, if aught my arm may aid, Or power protect, my word is pledged to thee: For many are thy wrongs, and thy soul noble. Once more, farewell. [Exit Alhadra. Yes, to the Belgic states We will return. These robes, this stained complexion, Akin to falsehood, weigh upon my spirit. Whate'er befall us, the heroic Maurice Will grant us an asylum, in remembrance Of our past services.
Zulimez. And all the wealth, power, influence which is yours, You let a murderer hold?
Alvar. O faithful Zulimez! That my return involved Ordonio's death, I trust, would give me an unmingled pang, Yet bearable:—but when I see my father Strewing his scant grey hairs, e'en on the ground, Which soon must be his grave, and my Teresa— Her husband proved a murderer, and her infants His infants—poor Teresa!—all would perish, All perish—all; and I (nay bear with me) Could not survive the complicated ruin!
Zulimez. Nay now! I have distress'd you—you well know, I ne'er will quit your fortunes. True, 'tis tiresome: You are a painter, one of many fancies! You can call up past deeds, and make them live On the blank canvass! and each little herb, That grows on mountain bleak, or tangled forest, You have learnt to name— Hark! heard you not some footsteps?
Alvar. What if it were my brother coming onwards? I sent a most mysterious message to him.
Enter Ordonio.
Alvar. It is he!
Ordonio (to himself as he enters). If I distinguished right her gait and stature, It was the Moorish woman, Isidore's wife, That passed me as I entered. A lit taper, In the night air, doth not more naturally Attract the night flies round it, than a conjuror Draws round him the whole female neighbourhood. [Addressing Alvar. You know my name, I guess, if not my person.
Remorse.
[For lines 31-46 of Remorse, Act II, Scene II, vide supra Osorio, Act II, Scene II, lines 169-84.]
Stage-direction preceding 162:
Albert and an old servant both drest as Morescoes. Corr. in MS. III.
[162-6]
MS. III erased.
[167-8]
And all the wealth, power, influence, which is yours You let a murderer hold!
Albert. O faithful Ali
Corr. in MS. III.
[184-7]
Albert. Yes to the Netherlands We will return, these robes this stained complexion Akin to Falsehood, weigh upon my spirit What e'er befal us, the heroic Maurice Will grant us an asylum, in remembrance Of our past service.
Corr. in MS. III.
[200]
After Enter Osorio.
Be quick Remove these tablets—quick conceal it—
Corr. in MS. III.
[201-3]
om. MS. III.
Stage-directions (groaning, &c.) before 206, and (Albert, &c.) after 206 om. Remorse.
[206]
Zul. (to Alvar). Why, &c. Remorse.
[208]
in anguish] forgiveness Remorse.
[209-10]
Ord. (returning and aloud).
Plucked in the moonlight from a ruin'd abbey— Those only, which the pale rays visited! O the unintelligible power of weeds,
Remorse.
[215]
Who] Hath Remorse.
[216]
Ord. With you, then, I am to speak. [Haughtily waving his hand to Zulimez. And mark you, alone.
[Exit Zulimez.
Remorse.
[224]
No, no!] O no! Remorse.
[225]
fits] suits Remorse.
Before 226 Ord. (aside). O what a, &c. Remorse.
[228]
Yet still a fool! [Looks round the cottage. You are poor!
Remorse.
[230-3]
The Inquisition, too—You comprehend me? You are poor, in peril. I have wealth and power
Remorse.
[235]
And for the boon I ask of you but this Remorse.
[237]
Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[239]
Ord. The slave begins to soften. [aside. You are my friend
Remorse.
After 242 Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[244]
Alv. (aside). Alas! &c. Remorse.
[247]
Have you no servants here, &c.? Remorse.
[252]
Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[255-9]
Insolent slave! how dar'dst thou— [Turns abruptly from Alvar, and then to himself. Why! What's this? 'Twas idiocy! I'll tie myself to an aspen, And wear a fool's cap—
Alvar. Fare thee well— I pity thee, Ordonio, even to anguish. [Alvar is retiring.
Ordonio. Ho! [Calling to Alvar.
Alvar. Be brief, &c.
Remorse.
[267]
Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[268]
Stage-direction om. Remorse. God] Heaven Remorse.
[270]
What, art thou mad? Why look'st thou upward so? Remorse.
[272]
Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[278]
Stage-direction om. Remorse. Well—and this lady! Pray, proceed my lord MS. III. erased.
[282]
Stage-direction om. Remorse.
Before and after 287 Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[290]
this] the Remorse.
[296]
Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[297]
Ordonio. We'll hazard no delay. Be it to-night, Remorse.
[300-2]
(For I have arranged it—music, altar, incense) All shall be ready. Here is this same picture, And here, what you will value more, a purse. Come early for your magic ceremonies.
Remorse.
[303]
Exit Ordonio. Alvar (alone, indignantly flings the purse away and gazes, &c. Remorse.
[305]
Thee perjur'd, thee a traitress! Thee dishonour'd! Remorse.
Between 312 and 313:
Who spake pollution of thee! barter for life This farewell pledge, which with impassioned vow I had sworn that I would grasp—ev'n in my death-pang!
Remorse.
Affixed to 318-19 omitted.
(Ali re-enters).
Ali! new Hope, new joy! A life thrills thro' me As if renew'd from Heaven! Bring back that tablet Restor'd to me by a fortunate Star. This picture Of my assassination will I leave As the token of my Fate:— Haste, for I yearn to tell thee what has pass'd [Exit Ali.
MS. III.
318-20 and stage-directions [Maurice, &c.; (gazing, &c.) om. Remorse.
[321]
image] portrait Remorse.
[324]
shall] will Remorse.
ACT THE THIRD
Scene the First.—A hall of armory, with an altar in the part farthest from the stage.
Velez, Osorio, Maria.
Maria. Lord Velez! you have ask'd my presence here, And I submit; but (Heaven bear witness for me!) My heart approves it not! 'tis mockery!
[Here Albert enters in a sorcerer's robe.
Maria (to Albert). Stranger! I mourn and blush to see you here [551]On such employments! With far other thoughts 5 I left you.
Osorio (aside). Ha! he has been tampering with her!
Albert. O high-soul'd maiden, and more dear to me Than suits the stranger's name, I swear to thee, I will uncover all concealed things! Doubt, but decide not! Stand from off the altar. 10
[Here a strain of music is heard from behind the scenes, from an instrument of glass or steel—the harmonica or Celestina stop, or Clagget's metallic organ.
Albert. With no irreverent voice or uncouth charm I call up the departed. Soul of Albert! Hear our soft suit, and heed my milder spells: So may the gates of Paradise unbarr'd Cease thy swift toils, since haply thou art one 15 Of that innumerable company, Who in broad circle, lovelier than the rainbow, Girdle this round earth in a dizzy motion, With noise too vast and constant to be heard— Fitliest unheard! For, O ye numberless 20 And rapid travellers! what ear unstun'd, What sense unmadden'd, might bear up against The rushing of your congregated wings? Even now your living wheel turns o'er my head! Ye, as ye pass, toss high the desart sands, 25 That roar and whiten, like a burst of waters, A sweet appearance, but a dread illusion, To the parch'd caravan that roams by night. And ye build up on the becalmed waves That whirling pillar, which from earth to heaven 30 Stands vast, and moves in blackness. Ye too split The ice-mount, and with fragments many and huge, Tempest the new-thaw'd sea, whose sudden gulphs Suck in, perchance, some Lapland wizard's skiff. Then round and round the whirlpool's marge ye dance, 35 Till from the blue-swoln corse the soul toils out, And joins your mighty army. Soul of Albert! [552] Hear the mild spell and tempt no blacker charm. By sighs unquiet and the sickly pang Of an half dead yet still undying hope, 40 Pass visible before our mortal sense; So shall the Church's cleansing rites be thine, Her knells and masses that redeem the dead.
THE SONG
(Sung behind the scenes, accompanied by the same instrument as before.)
Hear, sweet spirit! hear the spell Lest a blacker charm compel! 45 So shall the midnight breezes swell With thy deep long-lingering knell. And at evening evermore In a chapel on the shore Shall the chanters sad and saintly, 50 Yellow tapers burning faintly, Doleful masses chant for thee, Miserere, Domine!
Hark! the cadence dies away On the quiet moonlight sea, 55 The boatmen rest their oars, and say, Miserere, Domine! [A long pause.
Osorio. This was too melancholy, father!
Velez. Nay! My Albert lov'd sad music from a child. Once he was lost; and after weary search 60 We found him in an open place of the wood, To which spot he had follow'd a blind boy Who breathed into a pipe of sycamore Some strangely-moving notes, and these, he said, Were taught him in a dream; him we first saw 65 Stretch'd on the broad top of a sunny heath-bank; And, lower down, poor Albert fast asleep, His head upon the blind boy's dog—it pleased me To mark, how he had fasten'd round the pipe A silver toy, his grandmother had given him. 70 [553] Methinks I see him now, as he then look'd. His infant dress was grown too short for him, Yet still he wore it.
Albert (aside). My tears must not flow— I must not clasp his knees, and cry, my father!
Osorio. The innocent obey nor charm nor spell. 75 My brother is in heaven. Thou sainted spirit Burst on our sight, a passing visitant! Once more to hear thy voice, once more to see thee, O 'twere a joy to me.
Albert (abruptly). A joy to thee! What if thou heard'st him now? What if his spirit 80 Re-enter'd its cold corse, and came upon thee, With many a stab from many a murderer's poniard? What if, his steadfast eye still beaming pity And brother's love, he turn'd his head aside, Lest he should look at thee, and with one look 85 Hurl thee beyond all power of penitence?
Velez. These are unholy fancies!
Osorio (struggling with his feelings). Yes, my father! He is in heaven!
Albert (still to Osorio). But what if this same brother Had lived even so, that at his dying hour The name of heaven would have convuls'd his face 90 More than the death-pang?
Maria. Idly-prating man! He was most virtuous.
Albert (still to Osorio). What if his very virtues Had pamper'd his swoln heart, and made him proud? And what if pride had duped him into guilt, Yet still he stalk'd, a self-created God, 95 Not very bold, but excellently cunning; And one that at his mother's looking-glass, Would force his features to a frowning sternness? Young lord! I tell thee, that there are such beings,— [554] Yea, and it gives fierce merriment to the damn'd, 100 To see these most proud men, that loathe mankind, At every stir and buz of coward conscience, Trick, cant, and lie, most whining hypocrites! Away! away! Now let me hear more music. [Music as before.
Albert. The spell is mutter'd—come, thou wandering shape, 105 Who own'st no master in an eye of flesh, Whate'er be this man's doom, fair be it or foul, If he be dead, come quick, and bring with thee That which he grasp'd in death; and if he lives, Some token of his obscure perilous life. 110 [The whole orchestra crashes into one chorus.
Wandering demon! hear the spell Lest a blacker charm compel!
[A thunder-clap. The incense on the altar takes fire suddenly.
Maria. This is some trick—I know, it is a trick. [555] Yet my weak fancy, and these bodily creepings, Would fain give substance to the shadow.[555:1]
Velez (advancing to the altar). Hah! 115 A picture!
Maria. O God! my picture?
Albert (gazing at Maria with wild impatient distressfulness). Pale—pale—deadly pale!
Maria. He grasp'd it when he died. [She swoons. Albert rushes to her and supports her.
Albert. My love! my wife! Pale—pale, and cold! My love! my wife! Maria!
[Velez is at the altar. Osorio remains near him in a state of stupor.
Osorio (rousing himself). Where am I? 'Twas a lazy chilliness. 120
Velez (takes and conceals the picture in his robe). This way, my son! She must not see this picture. Go, call the attendants! Life will soon ebb back!
[Velez and Osorio leave the stage.
Albert. Her pulse doth flutter. Maria! my Maria!
Maria (recovering—looks round). I heard a voice—but often in my dreams, I hear that voice, and wake; and try, and try, 125 To hear it waking—but I never could! And 'tis so now—even so! Well, he is dead, Murder'd perhaps! and I am faint, and feel As if it were no painful thing to die!
Albert (eagerly). Believe it not, sweet maid! believe it not, 130 Beloved woman! 'Twas a low imposture Framed by a guilty wretch.
Maria. Ha! who art thou?
Albert (exceedingly agitated). My heart bursts over thee!
Maria. Didst thou murder him? [556] And dost thou now repent? Poor troubled man! I do forgive thee, and may Heaven forgive thee! 135
Albert (aside). Let me be gone.
Maria. If thou didst murder him, His spirit ever, at the throne of God, Asks mercy for thee, prays for mercy for thee, With tears in heaven!
Albert. Albert was not murder'd. Your foster-mother——
Maria. And doth she know aught? 140
Albert. She knows not aught—but haste thou to her cottage To-morrow early—bring Lord Velez with thee. There ye must meet me—but your servants come.
Maria (wildly). Nay—nay—but tell me! [A pause—then presses her forehead. Ah! 'tis lost again! This dead confused pain! [A pause—she gazes at Albert. Mysterious man! 145 Methinks, I cannot fear thee—for thine eye Doth swim with pity—I will lean on thee. [Exeunt Albert and Maria.
Re-enter Velez and Osorio.
Velez (sportively). You shall not see the picture, till you own it.[556:1]
Osorio. This mirth and raillery, sir! beseem your age. I am content to be more serious.[556:2] 150
Velez. Do you think I did not scent it from the first? An excellent scheme, and excellently managed. 'Twill blow away her doubts, and now she'll wed you, I'faith, the likeness is most admirable. I saw the trick—yet these old eyes grew dimmer 155 With very foolish tears, it look'd so like him!
Osorio. Where should I get her portrait?
Velez. Get her portrait? Portrait? You mean the picture! At the painter's— No difficulty then—but that you lit upon A fellow that could play the sorcerer, 160 With such a grace and terrible majesty, It was most rare good fortune. And how deeply He seem'd to suffer when Maria swoon'd, And half made love to her! I suppose you'll ask me Why did he so?
Osorio (with deep tones of suppressed agitation). Ay, wherefore did he so? 165
Velez. Because you bade him—and an excellent thought! A mighty man, and gentle as he is mighty. He'll wind into her confidence, and rout A host of scruples—come, confess, Osorio!
Osorio. You pierce through mysteries with a lynx's eye, 170 In this, your merry mood! you see it all!
Velez. Why, no!—not all. I have not yet discover'd, At least, not wholly, what his speeches meant. Pride and hypocrisy, and guilt and cunning— Then when he fix'd his obstinate eye on you, 175 And you pretended to look strange and tremble. Why—why—what ails you now?
Osorio (with a stupid stare). Me? why? what ails me? A pricking of the blood—it might have happen'd At any other time. Why scan you me?
Velez (clapping him on the shoulder). 'Twon't do—'twon't do—I have lived too long in the world. 180 His speech about the corse and stabs and murderers, Had reference to the assassins in the picture: That I made out.
Osorio (with a frantic eagerness). Assassins! what assassins!
Velez. Well-acted, on my life! Your curiosity Runs open-mouth'd, ravenous as winter wolf. 185 I dare not stand in its way. [He shows Osorio the picture.
Osorio. Dup'd—dup'd—dup'd! [558] That villain Ferdinand! (aside).
Velez. Dup'd—dup'd—not I. As he swept by me——
Osorio. Ha! what did he say?
Velez. He caught his garment up and hid his face. It seem'd as he were struggling to suppress—— 190
Osorio. A laugh! a laugh! O hell! he laughs at me!
Velez. It heaved his chest more like a violent sob.
Osorio. A choking laugh! [A pause—then very wildly. I tell thee, my dear father! I am most glad of this!
Velez. Glad!—aye—to be sure.
Osorio. I was benumb'd, and stagger'd up and down 195 Thro' darkness without light—dark—dark—dark— And every inch of this my flesh did feel As if a cold toad touch'd it! Now 'tis sunshine, And the blood dances freely thro' its channels! [He turns off—then (to himself) mimicking Ferdinand's manner.[558:1] 'A common trick of gratitude, my lord! 200 Old Gratitude! a dagger would dissect His own full heart,' 'twere good to see its colour!
Velez (looking intently at the picture). Calm, yet commanding! how he bares his breast, Yet still they stand with dim uncertain looks, As penitence had run before their crime. 205 A crime too black for aught to follow it Save blasphemous despair! See this man's face— With what a difficult toil he drags his soul To do the deed. [Then to Osorio. O this was delicate flattery To poor Maria, and I love thee for it! 210
Osorio (in a slow voice with a reasoning laugh). Love—love—and then we hate—and what? and wherefore? Hatred and love. Strange things! both strange alike! What if one reptile sting another reptile, Where is the crime? The goodly face of Nature Hath one trail less of slimy filth upon it. 215 [559] Are we not all predestined rottenness And cold dishonor? Grant it that this hand Had given a morsel to the hungry worms Somewhat too early. Where's the guilt of this? That this must needs bring on the idiotcy 220 Of moist-eyed penitence—'tis like a dream!
Velez. Wild talk, my child! but thy excess of feeling [Turns off from Osorio. Sometimes, I fear, it will unhinge his brain!
Osorio. I kill a man and lay him in the sun, And in a month there swarm from his dead body 225 A thousand—nay, ten thousand sentient beings In place of that one man whom I had kill'd. Now who shall tell me, that each one and all, Of these ten thousand lives, is not as happy As that one life, which being shov'd aside 230 Made room for these ten thousand?[559:1]
Velez. Wild as madness!
Osorio. Come, father! you have taught me to be merry, And merrily we'll pore upon this picture.
Velez (holding the picture before Osorio). That Moor, who points his sword at Albert's breast——
Osorio (abruptly). A tender-hearted, scrupulous, grateful villain, 235 Whom I will strangle!
Velez. And these other two——
Osorio. Dead—dead already!—what care I for the dead?
Velez. The heat of brain and your too strong affection For Albert, fighting with your other passion, Unsettle you, and give reality 240 To these your own contrivings.
Osorio. Is it so? You see through all things with your penetration. [560] Now I am calm. How fares it with Maria? My heart doth ache to see her.
Velez. Nay—defer it! Defer it, dear Osorio! I will go. [Exit Velez. 245
Osorio. A rim of the sun lies yet upon the sea— And now 'tis gone! all may be done this night!
Enter a Servant.
And there (a curious sight) you see its shadow 155
Stretches its lower boughs and scarlet clusters 160
Albert. It is he! 200
I am Osorio, son of the Lord Velez. 205
Albert. I am he! 215
Albert. 'Tis fabled there are fruits with tempting rinds 220
Best fits the gaiety of innocence! 225
And for this service, all I ask you is 235
'He that can bring the dead to life again.' 240
Osorio. I love a lady, and she would love me 245
Ill-starr'd Maria! Wretch! my softer soul 250
To call him villain! Why stand'st thou aghast? 265
Art mad or drunk? Why look'st thou upward so? 270
In all my fortunes! Hah! you prophesied 275
She needs must wed me. Ere her lover left her, 280
In secrecy he gave it me to keep 285
Can call this dead man up—he will not come— 290
Is pass'd, your spirits will have left this picture. 295
All shall be ready. Here is this same picture— 300
Thee perjured, thee polluted, thee a murderess? 305
Tied round my neck with many a chaste endearment 310
Of that unearthly smile upon those lips, 315
Albert. Haste! for I yearn to tell thee what has pass'd. 320
[5]
employments] employment Remorse.
[10]
Stand ye from the altar Remorse.
[21]
unstun'd] unstunn'd Remorse.
[29]
build up] upbuild Remorse.
[37]
[Here behind the scenes a voice sings the three words, 'Hear, sweet Spirit.' Remorse.
After 43 Song.—Behind the scenes, &c. Remorse.
[50]
chanters] chaunter Remorse.
[58-74]
[61]
of] in Remorse.
[70-72]
[79]
Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[87]
Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[91-2]
[96]
excellently] exquisitely Remorse.
Between 104 and 105
[106]
an eye of flesh] a human eye Remorse.
After 110 The whole music clashes into a Chorus Remorse.
[140-3]
After 146
Osorio. There is a man, once a Moresco chieftain, One Ferdinand.
Servant. He lives in the Alpuxarras, Beneath a slate rock.
Osorio. Slate rock?
Servant. Yes, my lord! 250 If you had seen it, you must have remember'd The flight of steps his children had worn up it With often clambering.
Osorio. Well, it may be so.
Servant. Why, now I think on't, at this time of the year 'Tis hid by vines.
Osorio (in a muttering voice). The cavern—aye—the cavern. He cannot fail to find it. [To the Servant. 255 Where art going? You must deliver to this Ferdinand A letter. Stay till I have written it. [Exit the Servant.
Osorio (alone). The tongue can't stir when the mouth is fill'd with mould. A little earth stops up most eloquent mouths, 260 And a square stone with a few pious texts Cut neatly on it, keeps the earth down tight.
Scene changes to the space before the castle.
Francesco and a Spy.
Francesco. Yes! yes! I have the key of all their lives. If a man fears me, he is forced to love me. And if I can, and do not ruin him, 265 He is fast bound to serve and honour me!
[Albert enters from the castle, and is crossing the stage.
Spy. There—there—your Reverence! That is the sorcerer.
[Francesco runs up and rudely catches hold of Albert. Albert dashes him to the earth. Francesco and the Spy make an uproar, and the servants rush from out the castle.
Francesco. Seize, seize and gag him! or the Church curses you!
[The servants seize and gag Albert.
Enter Velez and Osorio.
Osorio (aside). This is most lucky!
Francesco (inarticulate with rage). See you this, Lord Velez? Good evidence have I of most foul sorcery, 270 And in the name of Holy Church command you To give me up the keys—the keys, my lord! Of that same dungeon-hole beneath your castle. This imp of hell—but we delay enquiry Till to Granada we have convoy'd him. 275
Osorio (to the Servants). Why haste you not? Go, fly and dungeon him! Then bring the keys and give them to his Reverence.
[The Servants hurry off Albert. Osorio goes up to Francesco, and pointing at Albert.
Osorio (with a laugh). 'He that can bring the dead to life again.'
Francesco. What? did you hear it?
Osorio. Yes, and plann'd this scheme To bring conviction on him. Ho! a wizard, 280 Thought I—but where's the proof! I plann'd this scheme. The scheme has answer'd—we have proof enough.
Francesco. My lord, your pious policy astounds me. I trust my honest zeal——
Osorio. Nay, reverend father! It has but raised my veneration for you. 285 But 'twould be well to stop all intertalk Between my servants and this child of darkness.
Francesco. My lord! with speed I'll go, make swift return, And humbly redeliver you the keys. [Exit Francesco.
Osorio (alone). 'The stranger, that lives nigh, still picking weeds.' 290 And this was his friend, his crony, his twin-brother! O! I am green, a very simple stripling— The wise men of this world make nothing of me. By Heaven, 'twas well contrived! And I, forsooth, I was to cut my throat in honour of conscience. 295 And this tall wizard—ho!—he was to pass For Albert's friend! He hath a trick of his manner. He was to tune his voice to honey'd sadness, [562] And win her to a transfer of her love By lamentable tales of her dear Albert, 300 And his dear Albert! Yea, she would have lov'd him. He, that can sigh out in a woman's ear Sad recollections of her perish'd lover, And sob and smile with veering sympathy, And, now and then, as if by accident, 305 Pass his mouth close enough to touch her cheek With timid lip, he takes the lover's place, He takes his place, for certain! Dusky rogue, Were it not sport to whimper with thy mistress, Then steal away and roll upon my grave, 310 Till thy sides shook with laughter? Blood! blood! blood! They want thy blood! thy blood, Osorio!
[END OF ACT THE THIRD.]
FOOTNOTES:
[555:1] In MS. II this speech is crossed out, and on the blank page opposite the following is written in Coleridge's hand:—
'Instead of Maria's portrait, Albert places on the altar a small picture of his attempted assassination. The scene is not wholly without poetical merit, but it is miserably undramatic, or rather untragic. A scene of magic is introduced in which no single person on the stage has the least faith—all, though in different ways, think or know it to be a trick——consequently, &c.' P. W., 1893, p. 494, Editor's Note.
In MS. III the following stage-direction is written (in S. T. C.'s handwriting) on the page opposite to lines 113-15:—
'Albert has placed on the altar a small picture representing the attempt to assassinate him, instead of the portrait of Maria which Osorio had given him.'
[556:1] In MS. II Coleridge has written opposite this:—'Velez supposes the picture is an innocent contrivance of Osorio's to remove Maria's scruples: Osorio, that it is the portrait of Maria which he had himself given the supposed Wizard.' P. W., 1893, p. 495, Editors Note.
In MS. III Coleridge wrote on the opposite page:—'Velez supposes the picture which represents the attempt to assassinate Albert, to have been a mere invention contrived by Osorio with the most innocent intentions. Osorio supposes it of course, to be the portrait of Maria which he had restored to Albert!'
[556:2] The transcriber of MS. I had here written 'superstitious', which is marked through with ink, and 'serious' is substituted, in Coleridge's own hand. In MS. II 'superstitious' is left undisturbed. P. W., 1893, p. 495, Editor's Note. In MS. III 'serious' is erased and 'superstitious' is superscribed.
[558:1] In MS. II Coleridge has written opposite this:—'Osorio immediately supposes that this wizard whom Ferdinand had recommended to him, was in truth, an accomplice of Ferdinand, to whom the whole secret had been betrayed.' P. W., 1893, p. 496, Editor's Note.
[559:1] Opposite the passage in MS. II the following is written in the transcriber's hand:—
Ce malheur, dites-vous, est le bien d'un autre être— De mon corps tout sanglant, mille insectes vont naître. Quand la mort met le comble aux maux que j'ai souffert, Le beau soulagement d'être mangé de vers! Je ne suis du grand tout qu'une faible partie— Oui; mais les animaux condamnés à la vie Sous les êtres sentants nés sous la mème loi Vivent dans la douleur, et meurent comme moi.
Désastre de Lisbonne. P. W., 1893, p. 491, Editor's Note.
LINENOTES:
Before 1
ACT III.
Scene 1.—A Hall of armory, with an altar at the back of the stage. Soft music from an instrument of glass or steel. Valdez, Ordonio, and Alvar in a Sorcerer's robe, are discovered.
Ord. This was too melancholy, father. Val. Nay,My Alvar lov'd sad music from a child.
Once he was lost; and after weary search
We found him in an open place in [of
Osor.] the wood,
To which spot he had followed a blind boy,
Who breath'd into a pipe of sycamore
Some strangely-moving notes: and these, he said,
Were taught him in a dream. Him we first saw
Stretch'd on the broad top of a sunny heath-bank;
And lower down poor Alvar, fast asleep,
His head upon the blind boy's dog. It pleas'd me
To mark how he had fasten'd round the pipe
A silver toy his
grandmother had
Osor.grandam had late given him.
Methinks I see him now as he then look'd—
His infant dress was grown too short for him,
Osor.Even so!—He had outgrown his infant dress,
Yet still he wore it.
Alv. (aside). My tears must not flow!I must not clasp his knees, and cry, My father!
Enter Teresa and attendants.
Remorse.
[These lines with the variants as noted above are included in Osorio, Act III, lines 58-74.]
After 3 stage-direction om. Remorse.
Between 3 and 4
Ordonio. Believe you then no preternatural influence?Believe you not that spirits throng around us?
I thought you held that spirits throng'd around us?
Corr. in MS. III.
Ter. Say rather that I have imagined it A possible thing; and it has sooth'd my soul As other fancies have; but ne'er seduced me To traffic with the black and frenzied hope, That the dead hear the voice of witch or wizard.
Remorse.
[4]
you] you Remorse.
[5]
employments] employment Remorse.
[9]
things] guilt Remorse.
[10]
Stand ye from the altar Remorse.
After 10 [Here, &c. . . . scene Remorse.
[13]
spells] spell Remorse.
[21]
unstun'd] unstunn'd Remorse.
After 23 [Music Remorse.
[29]
build up] upbuild Remorse.
[37]
[Here behind the scenes a voice sings the three words, 'Hear, sweet Spirit.' Remorse.
After 43 Song.—Behind the scenes, &c. Remorse.
[50]
chanters] chaunter Remorse.
[58-74]
are printed as ll. 1-17, Act III, Sc. i Remorse.
[61]
of] in Remorse.
[70-72]
A silver toy his grandam had late given him, Methinks I see him now as he then look'd— Even so!—He had outgrown his infant dress,
Remorse, Act III, ll. 13-15.
[79]
Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[87]
Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[88-9]
But what if he had a brother, Who had lived even so
Remorse.
[91-2]
Valdez. Idly prating man! Thou hast guess'd ill: Don Alvar's only brother Stands here before thee—a father's blessing on him! He is most virtuous.
Remorse.
[96]
excellently] exquisitely Remorse.
Between 104 and 105
[Music again.
Teresa. 'Tis strange, I tremble at my own conjectures! But whatso'er it mean, I dare no longer Be present at these lawless mysteries, This dark provoking of the hidden Powers! Already I affront—if not high Heaven— Yet Alvar's memory!—Hark! I make appeal Against the unholy rite, and hasten hence To bend before a lawful shrine, and seek That voice which whispers, when the still heart listens, Comfort and faithful hope! Let us retire.
Alv. (to Teresa). O full of faith and guileless love, thy spirit Still prompts thee wisely. Let the pangs of guilt Surprise the guilty: thou art innocent!
[Exeunt Teresa and Attendant. Music as before.
Remorse.
[106]
an eye of flesh] a human eye Remorse.
[108]
come quick] O come Remorse.
[109]
and if he lives] but if he live Remorse.
After 110 The whole music clashes into a Chorus Remorse.
[111]
demon] demons Remorse.
113 foll. For the rest of Act III, as published in Remorse, vide post pp. 851-8. According to the Editor of Osorio as first published in 1873, 'The rest of this Act is entirely different in the published Remorse.' This statement needs qualification. The remainder of Act III of Osorio was rewritten, much was omitted, much added, and the 'dramatic ordonnance' of this part of the play was remodelled on a different plan, but the following lines 174-82, 195-202, 210-31 and 246-7 were included, with certain alterations, in Remorse. See Remorse, Act III, Scene II, ll. 64-71, 79-87, 94-114 and 185-6.
[140-3]
And . . . come MS. III erased.
After 146
Doth swim with love and pity—Well Ordonio O my foreboding Spirit, he suborn'd thee, And thou didst spare his life
Corr. in MS. III.
[299]
interpolated by S. T. C. MS. III.
ACT THE FOURTH
Scene the First.—A cavern, dark except where a gleam of moonlight is seen on one side of the further end of it, supposed to be cast on it from a cranny [crevice Remorse] in a part of the cavern out of sight.
[Ferdinand alone, an extinguished torch in his hand.
Ferdinand. Drip! drip! drip! drip!—in such a place as this It has nothing else to do but drip! drip! drip! I wish it had not dripp'd upon my torch. Faith 'twas a moving letter—very moving! His life in danger—no place safe but this. 5 'Twas his turn now to talk of gratitude! And yet—but no! there can't be such a villain. It cannot be! Thanks to that little cranny [563] Which lets the moonlight in! I'll go and sit by it. To peep at a tree, or see a he-goat's beard, 10 Or hear a cow or two breathe loud in their sleep, 'Twere better than this dreary noise of water-drops!
[He goes out of sight, opposite to the patch of moonlight, [and returns. Remorse] returns after a minute's elapse in an ecstasy of fear.
A hellish pit! O God—'tis like my night-mair! I was just in!—and those damn'd fingers of ice Which clutch'd my hair up! Ha! what's that? it moved! 15
[Ferdinand stands [motionless MS. III erased] staring at another recess in the cavern. In the mean time Osorio enters with a torch and hollas to him [halloes to Isidore Remorse].
Ferdinand. I swear, I saw a something moving there! The moonshine came and went, like a flash of lightning. I swear, I saw it move!
[Osorio goes into the recess, then returns, and with great scorn.
Osorio. A jutting clay-stone Drips on the long lank weed that grows beneath; [564] And the weed nods and drips.
Ferdinand (forcing a faint laugh). A joke to laugh at! 20 It was not that which frighten'd me, my lord!
Osorio. What frighten'd you?
Ferdinand. You see that little cranny? But first permit me, [Lights his torch at Osorio's, and while lighting it. (A lighted torch in the hand Is no unpleasant object here—one's breath Floats round the flame, and makes as many colours 25 As the thin clouds that travel near the moon.)[564:1] You see that cranny there?
Osorio. Well, what of that?
Ferdinand. I walk'd up to it, meaning to sit there. [565] When I had reach'd it within twenty paces—— [Ferdinand starts as if he felt the terror over again. Merciful Heaven! Do go, my lord! and look. 30
[Osorio goes and returns.
Osorio. It must have shot some pleasant feelings thro' you?
Ferdinand. If every atom of a dead man's flesh Should move, each one with a particular life, Yet all as cold as ever—'twas just so! Or if it drizzled needle-points of frost 35 Upon a feverish head made suddenly bald—
Osorio (interrupting him). Why, Ferdinand! I blush for thy cowardice. It would have startled any man, I grant thee. But such a panic.
Ferdinand. When a boy, my lord! I could have sat whole hours beside that chasm, 40 Push'd in huge stones and heard them thump and rattle Against its horrid sides; and hung my head Low down, and listen'd till the heavy fragments Sunk, with faint crash, in that still groaning well, Which never thirsty pilgrim blest, which never 45 A living thing came near; unless, perchance, Some blind-worm battens on the ropy mould, Close at its edge.
Osorio. Art thou more coward now?
Ferdinand. Call him that fears his fellow-men a coward. I fear not man. But this inhuman cavern 50 It were too bad a prison-house for goblins. Besides (you'll laugh, my lord!) but true it is, My last night's sleep was very sorely haunted[565:1] [566] By what had pass'd between us in the morning. I saw you in a thousand hideous ways, 55 And doz'd and started, doz'd again and started. I do entreat your lordship to believe me, In my last dream——
Osorio. Well?
Ferdinand. I was in the act Of falling down that chasm, when Alhadra Waked me. She heard my heart beat!
Osorio. Strange enough! 60 Had you been here before?
Ferdinand. Never, my lord! But my eyes do not see it now more clearly Than in my dream I saw that very chasm.
[Osorio stands in a deep study—then, after a pause.
Osorio. There is no reason why it should be so. And yet it is.
Ferdinand. What is, my lord?
Osorio. Unpleasant 65 To kill a man!
Ferdinand. Except in self-defence.
Osorio. Why that's my case: and yet 'tis still unpleasant. At least I find it so! But you, perhaps, Have stronger nerves?
Ferdinand. Something doth trouble you. How can I serve you? By the life you gave me, 70 By all that makes that life of value to me, My wife, my babes, my honour, I swear to you, Name it, and I will toil to do the thing, If it be innocent! But this, my lord! Is not a place where you could perpetrate, 75 No, nor propose a wicked thing. The darkness (When ten yards off, we know, 'tis chearful moonlight) Collects the guilt and crowds it round the heart. It must be innocent.
Osorio. Thyself be judge. [Osorio walks round the cavern—then looking round it. One of our family knew this place well. 80
Ferdinand. Who? when? my lord.
Osorio. What boots it who or when? Hang up the torch. I'll tell his tale to thee.
[They hang [up] their torches in some shelf of [on some ridge in Remorse] the cavern.
Osorio. He was a man different from other men, And he despised them, yet revered himself.[567:1]
Ferdinand. What? he was mad?
Osorio. All men seem'd mad to him, 85 [568] Their actions noisome folly, and their talk— A goose's gabble was more musical. Nature had made him for some other planet, And press'd his soul into a human shape By accident or malice. In this world 90 He found no fit companion!
Ferdinand. Ah, poor wretch! Madmen are mostly proud.
Osorio. He walk'd alone, And phantasies, unsought for, troubled him. Something within would still be shadowing out All possibilities, and with these shadows 95 His mind held dalliance. Once, as so it happen'd, A fancy cross'd him wilder than the rest: To this in moody murmur, and low voice, He yielded utterance as some talk in sleep. The man who heard him—— Why didst thou look round? 100
Ferdinand. I have a prattler three years old, my lord! In truth he is my darling. As I went From forth my door, he made a moan in sleep— But I am talking idly—pray go on! And what did this man?
Osorio. With his human hand 105 He gave a being and reality To that wild fancy of a possible thing. Well it was done. [Then very wildly. Why babblest thou of guilt? The deed was done, and it pass'd fairly off. And he, whose tale I tell thee—dost thou listen? 110
Ferdinand. I would, my lord, you were by my fireside! I'd listen to you with an eager eye, Tho' you began this cloudy tale at midnight. But I do listen—pray proceed, my lord!
Osorio. Where was I?
Ferdinand. He of whom you tell the tale— 115
Osorio. Surveying all things with a quiet scorn [569] Tamed himself down to living purposes, The occupations and the semblances Of ordinary men—and such he seem'd. But that some over-ready agent—he—— 120
Ferdinand. Ah! what of him, my lord?
Osorio. He proved a villain; Betray'd the mystery to a brother villain; And they between them hatch'd a damnéd plot To hunt him down to infamy and death To share the wealth of a most noble family, 125 And stain the honour of an orphan lady With barbarous mixture and unnatural union. What did the Velez? I am proud of the name, Since he dared do it.
[Osorio grasps his sword and turns off from Ferdinand, then, after a pause, returns.
[299]
interpolated by S. T. C. MS. III.
ACT THE THIRD
On such employments! With far other thoughts 5
Stand from off the altar. 10
Fitliest unheard! For, O ye numberless 20
Ye, as ye pass, toss high the desart sands, 25
Then round and round the whirlpool's marge ye dance, 35
Of an half dead yet still undying hope, 40
Shall the chanters sad and saintly, 50
Once he was lost; and after weary search 60
Osorio. The innocent obey nor charm nor spell. 75
Lest he should look at thee, and with one look 85
Yet still he stalk'd, a self-created God, 95
Yea, and it gives fierce merriment to the damn'd, 100
Albert. The spell is mutter'd—come, thou wandering shape, 105
Some token of his obscure perilous life. 110
Mysterious man! 145
I was to cut my throat in honour of conscience. 295
[5-6]
[12]
MS. III erased.
[16]
I swear that I saw something Remorse.
[33]
move] creep Remorse.
[35]
if] had Remorse.
[41]
thump] strike Corr. in MS. III, Remorse.
[49]
fellow-men] fellow man Remorse.
[52]
laugh] smile Remorse.
[56]
om. Remorse.
[62]
my] mine Remorse.
[65]
Abhorrent from our nature, Remorse.
[77]
yards] strides Remorse.
[80]
Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[86-7]
[91-2]
[104]
go on] proceed Remorse.
[105]
his] this Remorse.
[120]
some] same Remorse.
[125-7]
Osorio. Our links burn dimly.
Ferdinand. A dark tale darkly finish'd! Nay, my lord! 130 Tell what he did.
Osorio (fiercely). That which his wisdom prompted. He made the traitor meet him in this cavern, And here he kill'd the traitor.
Ferdinand. No!—the fool. He had not wit enough to be a traitor. Poor thick-eyed beetle! not to have foreseen 135 That he, who gull'd thee with a whimper'd lie To murder his own brother, would not scruple To murder thee, if e'er his guilt grew jealous And he could steal upon thee in the dark!
Osorio. Thou would'st not then have come, if——
Ferdinand. O yes, my lord! 140 I would have met him arm'd, and scared the coward!
[Ferdinand throws off his robe, shows himself armed, and draws his sword.
Osorio. Now this is excellent, and warms the blood! My heart was drawing back, drawing me back [570] With womanish pulls of pity. Dusky slave, Now I will kill thee pleasantly, and count it 145 Among my comfortable thoughts hereafter.
Ferdinand. And all my little ones fatherless! Die thou first.
[They fight. Osorio disarms Ferdinand, and in disarming him, throws his sword up that recess, opposite to which they were standing.
Ferdinand (springing wildly towards Osorio). Still I can strangle thee!
Osorio. Nay, fool! stand off. I'll kill thee—but not so! Go fetch thy sword.
[Ferdinand hurries into the recess with his torch. Osorio follows him, and in a moment returns alone.
Osorio. Now—this was luck! No bloodstains, no dead body! 150 His dream, too, is made out. Now for his friend.[570:1] [Exit.
Scene changes to the court before the Castle of Velez.
Maria and her Foster-Mother.
Maria. And when I heard that you desired to see me, I thought your business was to tell me of him.
Foster-Mother. I never saw the Moor, whom you describe.
Maria. 'Tis strange! he spake of you familiarly 155 [572] As mine and Albert's common foster-mother.
Foster-Mother. Now blessings on the man, whoe'er he be, That join'd your names with mine! O my sweet lady, As often as I think of those dear times When you two little ones would stand at eve, 160 On each side of my chair, and make me learn All you had learnt in the day; and how to talk In gentle phrase, then bid me sing to you, 'Tis more like heaven to come, that what has been!
Maria. O my dear mother! this strange man has left me 165 Wilder'd with wilder fancies than yon moon Breeds in the love-sick maid—who gazes at it Till lost in inward vision, with wet eye She gazes idly! But that entrance, mother!
Foster-Mother. Can no one hear? It is a perilous tale! 170
Maria. No one.
Foster-Mother. My husband's father told it me, Poor old Leoni. Angels rest his soul! He was a woodman, and could fell and saw With lusty arm. You know that huge round beam Which props the hanging wall of the old chapel? 175 Beneath that tree, while yet it was a tree, He found a baby wrapt in mosses, lined With thistle-beards, and such small locks of wool As hang on brambles. Well, he brought him home, And rear'd him at the then Lord Velez' cost. 180 And so the babe grew up a pretty boy. A pretty boy, but most unteachable— And never learnt a prayer, nor told a bead, But knew the names of birds, and mock'd their notes, And whistled, as he were a bird himself. 185 And all the autumn 'twas his only play To get the seeds of wild flowers, and to plant them With earth and water on the stumps of trees. A friar who gather'd simples in the wood, A grey-hair'd man—he loved this little boy, 190 [573] The boy loved him—and, when the friar taught him, He soon could write with the pen; and from that time Lived chiefly at the convent or the castle. So he became a very learned youth. But O! poor wretch—he read, and read, and read, 195 Till his brain turn'd—and ere his twentieth year, He had unlawful thoughts of many things. And though he pray'd, he never loved to pray With holy men, nor in a holy place. But yet his speech, it was so soft and sweet, 200 The late Lord Velez ne'er was wearied with him, And once as by the north side of the chapel They stood together, chain'd in deep discourse, The earth heav'd under them with such a groan, That the wall totter'd, and had well-nigh fall'n 205 Right on their heads. My lord was sorely frighten'd; A fever seiz'd him; and he made confession Of all the heretical and lawless talk Which brought this judgment: so the youth was seiz'd And cast into that hole. My husband's father 210 Sobb'd like a child—it almost broke his heart. And once as he was working in the cellar, He heard a voice distinctly; 'twas the youth's, Who sung a doleful song about green fields, How sweet it were on lake or wild savannah 215 To hunt for food, and be a naked man, And wander up and down at liberty. He always doted on the youth, and now His love grew desperate; and defying death, He made that cunning entrance I described: 220 And the young man escaped.
Maria. 'Tis a sweet tale: Such as would lull a list'ning child to sleep, His rosy face besoil'd with unwiped tears. And what became of him?
Foster-Mother. He went on shipboard With those bold voyagers, who made discovery 225 Of golden lands; Leoni's younger brother Went likewise, and when he return'd to Spain, He told Leoni that the poor mad youth, [574] Soon after they arrived in that new world, In spite of his dissuasion seized a boat, 230 And all alone set sail by silent moonlight, Up a great river, great as any sea, And ne'er was heard of more; but 'tis supposed He liv'd and died among the savage men.
Enter Velez.
Velez. Still sad, Maria? This same wizard haunts you. 235
Maria. O Christ! the tortures that hang o'er his head, If ye betray him to these holy brethren!
Velez (with a kind of sneer). A portly man, and eloquent, and tender! In truth, I shall not wonder if you mourn That their rude grasp should seize on such a victim. 240
Maria. The horror of their ghastly punishments Doth so o'ertop the height of sympathy, That I should feel too little for mine enemy— Ah! far too little—if 'twere possible, I could feel more, even tho' my child or husband 245 Were doom'd to suffer them! That such things are——
Velez. Hush! thoughtless woman!
Maria. Nay—it wakes within me More than a woman's spirit.
Velez (angrily). No more of this— I can endure no more.
Foster-Mother. My honour'd master! Lord Albert used to talk so.
Maria. Yes! my mother! 250 These are my Albert's lessons, and I con them With more delight than, in my fondest hour, I bend me o'er his portrait.
Velez (to the Foster-Mother). My good woman, You may retire. [Exit the Foster-Mother. Velez. We have mourn'd for Albert. [575] Have I no living son?
Maria. Speak not of him! 255 That low imposture—my heart sickens at it, If it be madness, must I wed a madman? And if not madness, there is mystery, And guilt doth lurk behind it!
Valdez. Is this well?
Maria. Yes! it is truth. Saw you his countenance? 260 How rage, remorse, and scorn, and stupid fear, Displac'd each other with swift interchanges? If this were all assumed, as you believe, He must needs be a most consummate actor; And hath so vast a power to deceive me, 265 I never could be safe. And why assume The semblance of such execrable feelings?
Velez. Ungrateful woman! I have tried to stifle An old man's passion! Was it not enough That thou hast made my son a restless man, 270 [576] Banish'd his health and half-unhinged his reason, But that thou wilt insult him with suspicion, And toil to blast his honour? I am old— A comfortless old man! Thou shalt not stay Beneath my roof!
[Francesco enters and stands listening.
Velez. Repent and marry him— 275 Or to the convent.
Francesco (muttering). Good! good! very good!
Maria. Nay, grant me some small pittance of my fortune, And I will live a solitary woman, Or my poor foster-mother and her grandsons May be my household.
Francesco (advancing). I abhor a listener; 280 But you spoke so, I could not choose but hear you. I pray, my lord! will you embolden me To ask you why this lady doth prefer To live in lonely sort, without a friend Or fit companion?
Velez. Bid her answer you. 285
Maria. Nature will be my friend and fit companion. [Turns off from them. [577] O Albert! Albert! that they could return, Those blessed days, that imitated heaven! When we two wont to walk at evening-tide; When we saw nought but beauty; when we heard 290 The voice of that Almighty One, who lov'd us, In every gale that breath'd, and wave that murmur'd! O we have listen'd, even till high-wrought pleasure Hath half-assumed the countenance of grief, And the deep sigh seem'd to heave up a weight 295 Of bliss, that press'd too heavy on the heart.
Francesco. But in the convent, lady, you would have Such aids as might preserve you from perdition. There you might dwell.
Maria. With tame and credulous faith, Mad melancholy, antic merriment, 300 Leanness, disquietude, and secret pangs! O God! it is a horrid thing to know That each pale wretch, who sits and drops her beads Had once a mind, which might have given her wings Such as the angels wear!
Francesco (stifling his rage). Where is your son, my lord? 305
Velez. I have not seen him, father, since he left you.
Francesco. His lordship's generous nature hath deceiv'd him! That Ferdinand (or if not he his wife) I have fresh evidence—are infidels. We are not safe until they are rooted out. 310
Maria. Thou man, who call'st thyself the minister Of Him whose law was love unutterable! Why is thy soul so parch'd with cruelty, That still thou thirstest for thy brother's blood?
Velez (rapidly). Father! I have long suspected it—her brain— 315 Heed it not, father!
Francesco. Nay—but I must heed it.
Maria. Thou miserable man! I fear thee not, Nor prize a life which soon may weary me. Bear witness, Heav'n! I neither scorn nor hate him— 320 But O! 'tis wearisome to mourn for evils, Still mourn, and have no power to remedy! [Exit Maria.
Francesco. My lord! I shall presume to wait on you To-morrow early.
Velez. Be it so, good father! [Exit Francesco.
Velez (alone). I do want solace, but not such as thine! 325 The moon is high in heaven, and my eyes ache, But not with sleep. Well—it is ever so. A child, a child is born! and the fond heart Dances! and yet the childless are most happy.
[Scene changes to the mountains by moonlight. Alhadra alone in a Moorish dress, her eyes fixed on the earth. Then drop in one after another, from different parts of the stage, a considerable number of Morescoes, all in their Moorish garments. They form a circle at a distance round Alhadra. After a pause one of the Morescoes to the man who stands next to him.
First Moresco. The law which forced these Christian dresses on us, 330 'Twere pleasant to cleave down the wretch who framed it.
Second. Yet 'tis not well to trample on it idly.
First. Our country robes are dear.
Second. And like dear friends, May chance to prove most perilous informers.
[A third Moresco, Naomi, advances from out the circle.
Naomi. Woman! may Alla and the prophet bless thee! 335 We have obey'd thy call. Where is our chief? And why didst thou enjoin the Moorish garments?
Alhadra (lifting up [raising Remorse] her eyes, and looking round on the circle). Warriors of Mahomet, faithful in the battle, My countrymen! Come ye prepared to work An honourable deed? And would ye work it 340 In the slave's garb? Curse on those Christian robes! They are spell-blasted; and whoever wears them, His arm shrinks wither'd, his heart melts away, And his bones soften!
Naomi. Where is Ferdinand?
Alhadra (in a deep low voice). This night I went from forth my house, and left 345 His children all asleep; and he was living! And I return'd, and found them still asleep— But he had perish'd.
All. Perished?
Alhadra. He had perish'd! Sleep on, poor babes! not one of you doth know That he is fatherless, a desolate orphan! 350 Why should we wake them? Can an infant's arm [580] Revenge his murder?
One to Another. Did she say his murder?
Naomi. Murder'd? Not murder'd?
Alhadra. Murder'd by a Christian!
[They all, at once, draw their sabres.
Alhadra (to Naomi, who on being addressed again advances from the circle). Brother of Zagri! fling away thy sword: This is thy chieftain's! [He steps forward to take it. Dost thou dare receive it? 355 For I have sworn by Alia and the prophet, No tear shall dim these eyes, this woman's heart Shall heave no groan, till I have seen that sword Wet with the blood of all the house of Velez!
Enter Maurice.
All. A spy! a spy! [They seize him.
Maurice. Off! off! unhand me, slaves! 360
[After much struggling he disengages himself and draws his sword.
Naomi (to Alhadra). Speak! shall we kill him?
Maurice. Yes! ye can kill a man, Some twenty of you! But ye are Spanish slaves! And slaves are always cruel, always cowards.
Alhadra. That man has spoken truth. Whence and who art thou?
Maurice. I seek a dear friend, whom for aught I know 365 The son of Velez hath hired one of you To murder! Say, do ye know aught of Albert?
Alhadra (starting). Albert?—three years ago I heard that name Murmur'd in sleep! High-minded foreigner! Mix thy revenge with mine, and stand among us. 370
[Maurice stands among the Morescoes.
Alhadra. Was not Osorio my husband's friend?
Old Man. He kill'd my son in battle; yet our chieftain Forced me to sheathe my dagger. See—the point Is bright, unrusted with the villain's blood!
Alhadra. He is your chieftain's murderer!
Naomi. He dies by Alla!
All (dropping on one knee). By Alla! 375
Alhadra. This night a reeking slave came with loud pant, Gave Ferdinand a letter, and departed, Swift as he came. Pale, with unquiet looks, He read the scroll.
Maurice. Its purport?
Alhadra. Yes, I ask'd it. He answer'd me, 'Alhadra! thou art worthy 380 A nobler secret; but I have been faithful To this bad man, and faithful I will be.' He said, and arm'd himself, and lit a torch; Then kiss'd his children, each one on its pillow, And hurried from me. But I follow'd him 385 At distance, till I saw him enter there.
Naomi. The cavern?
Alhadra. Yes—the mouth of yonder cavern. After a pause I saw the son of Velez Rush by with flaring torch; he likewise enter'd— There was another and a longer pause— 390 And once, methought, I heard the clash of swords, And soon the son of Velez reappear'd. He flung his torch towards the moon in sport, And seem'd as he were mirthful! I stood listening Impatient for the footsteps of my husband! 395
Maurice. Thou called'st him?
Alhadra. I crept into the cavern: [582] 'Twas dark and very silent. [Then wildly. What said'st thou? No, no! I did not dare call, Ferdinand! Lest I should hear no answer. A brief while, Belike, I lost all thought and memory 400 Of that for which I came! After that pause, O God! I heard a groan!—and follow'd it. And yet another groan—which guided me Into a strange recess—and there was light, A hideous light! his torch lay on the ground— 405 Its flame burnt dimly o'er a chasm's brink. I spake—and while I spake, a feeble groan Came from that chasm! It was his last! his death groan!
Maurice. Comfort her, comfort her, Almighty Father!
Alhadra. I stood in unimaginable trance 410 And agony, that cannot be remember'd, Listening with horrid hope to hear a groan! But I had heard his last—my husband's death-groan!
Naomi. Haste! let us go!
Alhadra. I look'd far down the pit. My sight was bounded by a jutting fragment, 415 And it was stain'd with blood! Then first I shriek'd! My eyeballs burnt! my brain grew hot as fire! And all the hanging drops of the wet roof Turn'd into blood. I saw them turn to blood! And I was leaping wildly down the chasm 420 When on the further brink I saw his sword, And it said, Vengeance! Curses on my tongue! The moon hath moved in heaven, and I am here, And he hath not had vengeance! Ferdinand! Spirit of Ferdinand! thy murderer lives! 425 Away! away! [She rushes off, all following.
END OF THE FOURTH ACT
FOOTNOTES:
[564:1] The square brackets (which appear in both MSS.) seem to indicate that these words were an 'aside'. P. W. 1893, p. 499. Editor's Note.
[565:1] Against this passage Coleridge has written in MS. II:—'This will be held by many for a mere Tragedy-dream—by many who have never given themselves the trouble to ask themselves from what grounds dreams pleased in Tragedy, and wherefore they have become so common. I believe, however, that in the present case, the whole is here psychologically true and accurate. Prophetical dreams are things of nature, and explicable by that law of the mind in which where dim ideas are connected with vivid feelings, Perception and Imagination insinuate themselves and mix with the forms of Recollection, till the Present appears to exactly correspond with the Past. Whatever is partially like, the Imagination will gradually represent as wholly like—a law of our nature which, when it is perfectly understood, woe to the great city Babylon—to all the superstitions of Men!' P. W., 1893, p. 499.
[567:1] Against this passage Coleridge writes in MS. II:—'Under the mask of the third person Osorio relates his own story, as in the delusion of self-justification and pride, it appeared to himself—at least as he wished it to appear to himself.' P. W., 1893, p. 499.
'Osorio darkly, and in the feeling of self-justification, tells what he conceives of his own character and actions—speaking of himself in the third person.' MS. III.
[570:1] Against this line Coleridge writes in MS. II:—'Osorio has thrust Ferdinand down the chasm. I think it an important instance how Dreams and Prophecies coöperate to their own completion.' P. W., 1893, p. 501.
LINENOTES:
[1-3]
Erased MS. III.: om. Remorse.
This ceaseless dreary sound of
water drops
dropping water—
I would they had not fallen upon my Torch!
Corr. in MS. III.
[5-6]
In inverted commas. Remorse.
[8]
cannot] can not Remorse. cranny] crevice Remorse.
[12]
MS. III erased.
Between 11 and 13
(
a)
Any thing but this crash of water drops!
These dull abortive sounds that fret the silence
With puny thwartings and mock opposition!
So beats the death-watch to a sick man's ear
Remorse.
(
b)
Anything but this
crash of water-drops
noise
At broken measure
scoffing
mocking
intervals—
Their discontinuous, interruptive sound
These
With
dull abortive &c.
MS. III erased.
Affixed to variant (a) of l. 12 '—this at all events is the final result of this correction.' S. T. C.
[13]
A hellish pit! O God—'tis that I dreamt of! Corr. in MS. III: A hellish pit! The very same I dreamt of! Remorse.
[131]
Stage-direction om. Remorse.
Between 143 and 145.
Affixed to 147.
[150]
Now] So MS. III.
[155]
Maria. 'Tis strange] Teresa. 'Tis said MS. III.
[165-6]
[170]
Foster-Mother] Selma Corr. in MS. III.
[180]
Velez] Valdez Corr. in MS. III.
[201]
Velez] Valdez Corr. in MS. III.
[212]
And once as he was working near this dungeon Corr. in MS. III.
[221]
Maria] Teresa Corr. in MS. III.
[226]
Leoni's] Sesina's Corr. in MS. III.
Between 248 and 255:
[256]
That low imposture! That mysterious picture! Remorse. it] this Remorse.
Between 262 and 268:
[274-86]
After 276 And all his wealth perhaps come to the Church MS. III. erased.
[289]
evening-tide] eventide Remorse.
[296-334]
[337]
the] these Remorse.
[342]
spell-blasted] spell-blasted Remorse.
[345]
Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[352]
One to Another] One Morescoe (to another). Remorse.
[359]
house] sons MS. III. Wet with the life-blood of the son of Valdez Remorse.
[360-70]
[373-80]
[375]
Stage-direction All (kneeling). Remorse.
[384]
its] their Corr. in MS. III.
[386]
there] there Remorse.
[397]
Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[402]
God] Heaven Remorse.
[405]
hideous] hideous Remorse.
[414]
go] onward Remorse.
[421]
his] the MS. III.
After 425
His life in danger—no place safe but this. 5
To peep at a tree, or see a he-goat's beard, 10
Affixed to 13 'You mean like the dream presented to my mind when under the influence of the night-mare. This is most ludicrously expressed.' C. Ll[oyd]
[16]
I swear that I saw something Remorse.
[18]
In the stage-direction the last four words are omitted Remorse.
[19]
Drips] Drops Remorse.
Between 19 and 31.
Isidore. A jest to laugh at! It was not that which scar'd me, good my lord.
Ordonio. What scar'd you, then?
Isidore. You see that little rift? But first permit me! [Lights his torch at Ordonio's, and while lighting it. (A lighted torch in the hand Is no unpleasant object here—one's breath Floats round the flame, and makes as many colours As the thin clouds that travel near the moon.) You see that crevice there? My torch extinguished by these water drops, And marking that the moonlight came from thence
,
I stept in to it, meaning to sit there; But scarcely had I measured twenty paces— My body bending forward, yea, o'erbalanced Almost beyond recoil, on the dim brink Of a hugh chasm I stept. The shadowy moonshine Filling the void so counterfeited substance, That my foot hung aslant adown the edge. Was it my own fear? Fear too hath its instincts! (And yet such dens as these are wildly told of, And there are beings that live, yet not for the eye) An arm of frost above and from behind me Pluck'd up and snatched me backward. Merciful Heaven! You smile! alas, even smiles look ghastly here! My lord, I pray you, go yourself and view it.Remorse.
[33]
move] creep Remorse.
[35]
if] had Remorse.
[37-9]
Ordonio. Why, Isidore, I blush for thy cowardice. It might have startled, I grant you, even a brave man for a moment—
Remorse.
[41]
thump] strike Corr. in MS. III, Remorse.
[42]
and] then Remorse.
[44]
Sunk with a faint splash in that groaning Corr. in MS. III. Sunk] Sank Remorse.
[49]
fellow-men] fellow man Remorse.
[52]
laugh] smile Remorse.
Between 54 and 57:
O sleep of horrors! Now run down and stared at By forms so hideous that they mock remembrance— Now seeing nothing and imagining nothing, But only being afraid—stifled with fear! While every goodly or familiar form Had a strange power of breathing terror round me! I saw you in a thousand fearful shapes; And I entreat your lordship to believe me,
Remorse.
[56]
om. Remorse.
[62]
my] mine Remorse.
[64]
Ord. (after a pause). I know not why it should be! yet it is—
Remorse.
[65]
Abhorrent from our nature, Remorse.
[67-70]
Ord. Why that's my case! and yet the soul recoils from it— 'Tis so with me at least. But you, perhaps, Have sterner feelings?
Isid. Something troubles you. How shall I serve you?
Remorse.
[77]
yards] strides Remorse.
[80]
Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[82]
the] thy Remorse.
Between 84 and 88
Isid. (aside). He? He despised? Thou'rt speaking of thyself! I am on my guard however: no surprise [Then to Ordonio.
Remorse.
[86-7]
om. Remorse.
[91-2]
Isidore. Of himself he speaks. [Aside. Alas! poor wretch! Mad men, &c.
Remorse.
[93]
phantasies] phantom thoughts Remorse.
[104]
go on] proceed Remorse.
[105]
his] this Remorse.
[106]
being] substance Remorse.
[108]
Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[120]
some] same Remorse.
[121-2]
He proved a traitor, Betrayed the mystery to a brother traitor
Remorse.
[125-7]
om. Remorse.
[131]
Stage-direction om. Remorse.
Between 143 and 145.
With weak and womanish scruples. Now my vengeance Beckons me onwards with a warrior's mien, And claims that life, my pity robb'd her of— Now will I kill thee, thankless slave, and count it
Remorse.
Affixed to 147.
Ferdinand on hearing the threat of Osorio feels a momentary horror at the consequences of his being killed, and in tones of mingled fear and sorrow—
And all my little ones fatherless!
then bursting into indignation 'Die thou first', MS. III.
After 147
[They fight. Ordonio disarms Isidore, and in disarming him throws his sword up that recess opposite to which they were standing. Isidore hurries into the recess with his torch, Ordonio follows him; a loud cry of 'Traitor! Monster!' is heard from the cavern, and in a moment Ordonio returns alone.
Ordonio. I have hurl'd him down the chasm! treason for treason. He dreamt of it, henceforward let him sleep, A dreamless sleep, from which no wife can wake him. His dream too is made out—Now for his friend. [Exit. Ordonio.
Remorse.
[148-51]
om. Remorse.
[150]
Now] So MS. III.
Affixed to 150. 'Ferdinand's death is not sufficiently explained to the Audience. There should be a struggling behind the scene, as if Osorio had taken him unawares, and was hurrying him down the Precipice. An exclamation or even groans would add still more to the interest of the scene.' MS. III erased.
[152-234]
om. Remorse. vide ante The Foster-Mother's Tale: a Dramatic Fragment, pp. 182-4.
Between 152 and 246:
Scene II
The interior Court of a Saracenic or Gothic Castle with the iron gate of a dungeon visible.
Teresa. Heart-chilling Superstition! thou canst glaze Ev'n Pity's eye with her own frozen tear. In vain I urge the tortures that await him: Even Selma, reverend guardian of my childhood, My second mother, shuts her heart against me! Well, I have won from her what most imports The present need, this secret of the dungeon Known only to herself.—A Moor! a Sorcerer! No, I have faith, that nature ne'er permitted Baseness to wear a form so noble. True, I doubt not, that Ordonio had suborned him To act some part in some unholy fraud; As little doubt, that for some unknown purpose He hath baffled his suborner, terror-struck him, And that Ordonio meditates revenge! But my resolve is fixed! myself will rescue him, And learn if haply he knew aught of Alvar.
Enter Valdez.
Valdez. Still sad?—and gazing at the massive door Of that fell dungeon which thou ne'er had'st sight of, Save what, perchance, thy infant fancy shap'd it When the nurse still'd thy cries with unmeant threats. Now by my faith, girl! this same wizard haunts thee! A stately man, and eloquent and tender— Who then need wonder if a lady sighs Even at the thought of what these stern Dominicans—
Teresa. The horror of their ghastly punishments Doth so o'ertop the height of all compassion, That I should feel too little for mine enemy, If it were possible I could feel more, Even though the dearest inmates of our household Were doom'd to suffer them. That such things are—
Remorse.
[155]
Maria. 'Tis strange] Teresa. 'Tis said MS. III.
[157]
Foster-Mother] Selma Corr. in MS. III.
[165-6]
O honor'd Selma! this strange man has left me Wilder'd with stranger fancies than yon moon
Corr. in MS. III.
[169]
She gazes idly!
Ter. But that entrance, Selma
Corr. in MS. III.
[170]
Foster-Mother] Selma Corr. in MS. III.
[171]
Maria] Teresa. Foster-Mother] Selma Corr. in MS. III.
[172]
Leoni] Sesina Corr. in MS. III.
[180]
Velez] Valdez Corr. in MS. III.
[201]
Velez] Valdez Corr. in MS. III.
[212]
And once as he was working near this dungeon Corr. in MS. III.
[221]
Maria] Teresa Corr. in MS. III.
[226]
Leoni's] Sesina's Corr. in MS. III.
[228]
Leoni] Sesina Corr. in MS. III.
Between 248 and 255:
What if Monviedro or his creatures hear us! I dare not listen to you.
Teresa. My honoured lord, These were my Alvar's lessons, and whene'er I bend me o'er his portrait, I repeat them, As if to give a voice to the mute image.
Valdez. ——We have mourned for Alvar. Of his sad fate there now remains no doubt. Have I no other son?
Remorse.
[256]
That low imposture! That mysterious picture! Remorse. it] this Remorse.
Between 262 and 268:
O that I had indeed the sorcerer's power.— I would call up before thine eyes the image Of my betrothed Alvar, of thy first-born! His own fair countenance, his kingly forehead, His tender smiles, love's day-dawn on his lips! That spiritual and almost heavenly light In his commanding eye—his mien heroic, Virtue's own native heraldry! to man Genial, and pleasant to his guardian angel. Whene'er he gladden'd, how the gladness spread Wide round him! and when oft with swelling tears, Flash'd through by indignation, he bewail'd The wrongs of Belgium's martyr'd patriots, Oh, what a grief was there—for joy to envy, Or gaze upon enamour'd! O my father! Recall that morning when we knelt together, And thou didst bless our loves! O even now, Even now, my sire! to thy mind's eye present him, As at that moment he rose up before thee, Stately, with beaming look! Place, place beside him Ordonio's dark perturbed countenance! Then bid me (Oh thou could'st not) bid me turn From him, the joy, the triumph of our kind! To take in exchange that brooding man, who never Lifts up his eye from the earth, unless to scowl.
Remorse.
[274-86]
(Thou shalt not stay . . . companion) om. Remorse.
Between 274-87:
Teresa. O grief! to hear Hateful intreaties from a voice we love!
Enter a Peasant and presents a letter to Valdez.
Valdez (reading it). 'He dares not venture hither!' Why what can this mean? 'Lest the Familiars of the Inquisition, That watch around my gates, should intercept him; But he conjures me, that without delay I hasten to him—for my own sake entreats me To guard from danger him I hold imprison'd— He will reveal a secret, the joy of which Will even outweigh the sorrow.'—Why what can this be? Perchance it is some Moorish stratagem, To have in me a hostage for his safety. Nay, that they dare not! Ho! collect my servants! I will go thither—let them arm themselves. [Exit Valdez.
Teresa (alone). The moon is high in heaven, and all is hush'd. Yet anxious listener! I have seem'd to hear A low dead thunder mutter thro' the night, As 'twere a giant angry in his sleep. O Alvar! Alvar! &c.
Remorse.
After 276 And all his wealth perhaps come to the Church MS. III. erased.
[289]
evening-tide] eventide Remorse.
[296-334]
om. Remorse.
After 296
[A pause. And this majestic Moor, seems he not one Who oft and long communing with my Alvar, Hath drunk in kindred lustre from his presence, And guides me to him with reflected light? What if in yon dark dungeon coward treachery Be groping for him with envenomed poniard— Hence womanish fears, traitors to love and duty— I'll free him. [Exit Teresa.
Scene III
The mountains by moonlight. Alhadra alone in a Moorish dress.
Alhadra. Yon hanging woods, that touch'd by autumn seemAs they were blossoming hues of fire and gold;
The hanging Act V, l. 41.
The flower-like woods, most lovely in decay,
The many clouds, the sea, the rock, the sands,
Lie in the silent moonshine: and the owl,
(Strange! very strange!) the scritch-owl only wakes!
Sole voice, sole eye of all this world of beauty!
Unless, perhaps, she sing her screeching song
To a herd of wolves, that skulk athirst for blood.
Why such a thing am I?—Where are these men?
I need the sympathy of human faces,
To beat away this deep contempt for all things,
Which quenches my revenge. O! would to Alla,
The raven, or the sea-mew, were appointed
To bring me food! or rather that my soul
Could drink in life from the universal air!
It were a lot divine in some small skiff
Along some Ocean's boundless solitude,
To float for ever with a careless course,
And think myself the only being alive.
[Vide post Osorio, Act V, ll. 39-56.]My children!—Isidore's children!—Son of Valdez,
This hath new strung mine arm. Thou coward tyrant!
To stupify a woman's heart with anguish,
Till she forgot—even that she was a mother!
[She fixes her eye on the earth. Then drop in one after another, from different parts of the stage, a considerable number of Morescoes, all in Moorish garments and Moorish armour. They form a circle at a distance round Alhadra, and remain silent till Naomi enters.
Remorse.
[337]
the] these Remorse.
[342]
spell-blasted] spell-blasted Remorse.
[345]
Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[348]
All] All Morescoes. Remorse.
[352]
One to Another] One Morescoe (to another). Remorse.
[353]
Murder? Not murder'd? Remorse.
After 353 [Stage-direction] Alhadra (to Naomi, who advances from the circle). Remorse.
[359]
house] sons MS. III. Wet with the life-blood of the son of Valdez Remorse.
After 359
Enter Warville. MS. III.
[A pause. Ordonio was your chieftain's murderer
Remorse.
[360-70]
Erased MS. III.
[360-75]
om. Remorse.
[373-80]
Erased MS. III.
[375]
Stage-direction All (kneeling). Remorse.
After 375 Alhadra. This night your chieftain armed himself Remorse.
Affixed to 375 (not in S. T. C.'s handwriting) and erased:
Naomi.
Proceed, proceed, Alhadra.
Alhadra.
Yestermorning He stood before our house, startful and gloomy, And stirr'd up fierce dispute with Ferdinand, I saw him when the vehement Gripe of Conscience Had wrenched his features to a visible agony. When he was gone Ferdinand sighed out 'Villain' And spake no other word.
Warville (mournfully).
The brother of Albert.
MS. III erased.
[Note.—Warville was a character introduced into the deleted passage 360-70, the name being always altered by S. T. C. to 'Maurice'.]
[376-84]
om. Remorse.
[384]
its] their Corr. in MS. III.
[386]
there] there Remorse.
[388]
a pause] a while Remorse.
[397]
Stage-direction om. Remorse.
[399]
A brief while] A little while Corr. in MS. III erased.
[402]
God] Heaven Remorse.
[404]
light] light Remorse.
[405]
hideous] hideous Remorse.
[407]
while] whilst Remorse.
[409]
Erased MS. III. Naomi. Comfort her, Alla! Remorse.
[414]
go] onward Remorse.
[421]
his] the MS. III.
After 425
All. Away! away! [She rushes off, all following her.
Remorse.
ACT THE FIFTH
Scene the First.—The Sea Shore.
Naomi and a Moresco.
To peep at a tree, or see a he-goat's beard, 10
Which clutch'd my hair up! Ha! what's that? it moved! 15
Merciful Heaven! Do go, my lord! and look. 30
Or if it drizzled needle-points of frost 35
I could have sat whole hours beside that chasm, 40
Which never thirsty pilgrim blest, which never 45
I fear not man. But this inhuman cavern 50
I saw you in a thousand hideous ways, 55
Osorio. Strange enough! 60
Osorio. Unpleasant 65
Is not a place where you could perpetrate, 75
One of our family knew this place well. 80
By accident or malice. In this world 90
Why didst thou look round? 100
Osorio. With his human hand 105
But that some over-ready agent—he—— 120
Ferdinand. A dark tale darkly finish'd! Nay, my lord! 130
Ferdinand. O yes, my lord! 140
Now I will kill thee pleasantly, and count it 145
Osorio. Now—this was luck! No bloodstains, no dead body! 150
Maria. 'Tis strange! he spake of you familiarly 155
Maria. O my dear mother! this strange man has left me 165
Foster-Mother. Can no one hear? It is a perilous tale! 170
And rear'd him at the then Lord Velez' cost. 180
But yet his speech, it was so soft and sweet, 200
And cast into that hole. My husband's father 210
He made that cunning entrance I described: 220
With those bold voyagers, who made discovery 225
I could feel more, even tho' my child or husband 245
Maria. Speak not of him! 255
Maria. Yes! it is truth. Saw you his countenance? 260
Velez. Repent and marry him— 275
Velez. Bid her answer you. 285
And the deep sigh seem'd to heave up a weight 295
Naomi. Woman! may Alla and the prophet bless thee! 335
An honourable deed? And would ye work it 340
Alhadra (in a deep low voice). This night I went from forth my house, and left 345
That he is fatherless, a desolate orphan! 350
Dost thou dare receive it? 355
All (dropping on one knee). By Alla! 375
He answer'd me, 'Alhadra! thou art worthy 380
And hurried from me. But I follow'd him 385
Impatient for the footsteps of my husband! 395
Belike, I lost all thought and memory 400
A hideous light! his torch lay on the ground— 405
Alhadra. I stood in unimaginable trance 410
And I was leaping wildly down the chasm 420
Spirit of Ferdinand! thy murderer lives! 425
