Alhadra. I was a Moresco! 205
They cast me, then a young and nursing mother,
Into a dungeon of their prison house,
Where was no bed, no fire, no ray of light,
No touch, no sound of comfort! The black air,
It was a toil to breathe it! when the door, 210
[[830]] Slow opening at the appointed hour, disclosed
One human countenance, the lamp's red flame
Cowered as it entered, and at once sank down.
Oh miserable! by that lamp to see
My infant quarrelling with the coarse hard bread [215]
Brought daily; for the little wretch was sickly—
My rage had dried away its natural food.[830:1]
In darkness I remained—the dull bell counting,
Which haply told me, that the all-cheering sun
Was rising on our garden. When I dozed, 220
My infant's moanings mingled with my slumbers
And waked 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
That I have struck the innocent babe in anger. 225

Teresa. O Heaven! 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?[830:2]
Great evils ask great passions to redress them, 230
And whirlwinds fitliest scatter pestilence.

Teresa. You were at length released?

Alhadra. Yes, at length
I saw the blessed arch of the whole heaven!
'Twas the first time my infant smiled. No more—
For if I dwell upon that moment, Lady, 235
A trance 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 idiot laugh,
That you would start and shudder!

Teresa. But your husband—

Alhadra. A month's imprisonment would kill him, Lady. 240

Teresa. Alas, poor man!

Alhadra. He hath a lion's courage,
Fearless in act, but feeble in endurance;
Unfit for boisterous times, with gentle heart
He worships nature in the hill and valley,
[[831]] Not knowing what he loves, but loves it all— [245]

Enter Alvar disguised as a Moresco, and in Moorish garments.