[[62]]
there Editions 2, 3, 1829.
[[80, 81]]
Teresa. O Grief . . . we love! om. Edition 1.
Scene III
The mountains by moonlight. Alhadra alone in a Moorish dress.
Alhadra. Yon hanging woods, that touch'd by autumn seem
As they were blossoming hues of fire and gold
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, 5
(Strange! very strange!) the screech-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? 10
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 15
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! [20]
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!