Luc. 'Tis past the hour! I fear I shall be chid,
For lo! the sun already darts his rays
Athwart the garden-paths.
Otti. How still! how tranquil!
All rests, except Ottilia! I'll regain
The hateful couch, where still my husband sleeps:
Ere long he sleeps forever! Ha! why steals
Yon boy.——Amazement! Do my eyes deceive me?
Luc. Hist! hist! Estella?
Estella. [Appearing on the terrace of the palace.]
Est. Lucio?
Luc. Ay, the same.
Est. Good! good!
Luc. But pray you bid him speed. So loud
His black Arabian snorts, and paws the earth,
I fear he'll wake the guards.
Est. Farewell, I'll warn him. [Ext. severally.
Otti. [Alone.] 'Twas Lucio, sure!—What business.—Ah, how ready
Is fear to whisper what love hates to hear.
[Estella and Cæsario appear on the terrace.]
See! see! again Estella comes—and with her—
Shame and despair! burst from your sockets eyes,
Since ye dare show me this!—'Tis he! 'Tis he!
Cæsario! on my soul, Cæsario's self——
He bids farewell!—He waves a glittering scarf,
A gift of love, no doubt!—Now to his lips
He glues it!—Blistered be those lips, Cæsario,
Which have so oft sworn faith to me:—She goes——
Egyptian plagues go with her! [Exit Estella.
Cæsa. [Looking back at the palace.] Yet one look,
One grateful blessing for this night of rapture;
Then, shrine of my soul's idol! casket, holding
My heart's most precious gem, awhile farewell!
But, when my foot next bends thy floors, expect
No more this cautious gait, this voice subdued!
Proud and erect, with manly steps and strong,
I'll come a Conqueror and a King, to lead
With sceptred hand forth from her bower my bride,
And bid Castile adore her, like Cæsario.
Farewell, once more farewell!
Otti. [Advancing.] I'll cross his path,
And blast him with a look.
Cæsa. Ottilia?
Otti. What!
Am I then grown so hideous that my sight
Withers the roses on a warrior's cheeks,
And makes his steps recoil! In Moorish battles
He gazed undaunted on death's frightful form,
But shrinks to view a monster like Ottilia.
Cæsa. [Aside.] Confusion! Should her rage alarm the guards.
Otti. Or do I wrong myself? Is still my form
Unchanged, but not thy faith? Speak, traitor, speak!
Cæsa. I own, most dear Ottilia——
Otti. Hark! he owns it!
Hear, Earth and Heaven, he owns it! No excuse!
No varnish, no disguise!—He will not stoop
To use dissembling with a wretch he scorns,
Nor thinks it worth his pains to fool me further!
Proceed, brave sir, proceed! In trivial strain
Tell me how light are lovers' oaths, how fond
Youth's heart of change, how quick love comes and flies;
And own that yours for me is flown for ever.
Then with indifference ask a parting kiss,
Hope we shall still be friends, profess esteem,
Thank me for favours past, and coldly leave me.
Cæsa. How shall I hush this storm? [Aside.]
Otti. Oh! fool, fool, fool!
I thought him absent; thought mid-day would bring
My hero back, and pass'd this sleepless night
In prayers, and sighs, and vows for his return;
While scorned all oaths, forgot all faith, all honour,
Clasped in Estella's wanton arms he lay,
And mock'd the poor, undone, deceiv'd Ottilia!
Cæsa. Estella? [then aside] Blest mistake!
Otti. What! didst thou hope
My rival's name unknown? Oh! well I know it,
Estella! cursed Estella! Still I'll shriek it
Piercing and loud, till Earth, and Air, and Ocean,
Ring with her name, thy guilt, and my despair.
Cæsa. And need thy words, Ottilia, blame my falsehood?
Oh! in each feature of thy beauteous face
I blush to read reproaches far more keen.
Those glittering eyes, though now with lightnings armed,
Which erst were used to pour on blest Cæsario
Kind looks, and fondest smiles, and tears of rapture;
That voice, by wrath untuned, once only breathing
Sounds like the ringdove's, amorous, soft, and sweet;
That snowy breast, now swelled by storms of passion,
But which in happier days by love was heaved,
By love for me!—The least of these, Ottilia,
Gives to my heart a deeper stab than all
Thy words could do, were every word a dagger.
Otti. Thou prince of hypocrites!
Cæsa. Think'st thou I flatter!
Then trust thyself—[leading her to a fountain.]
View on this watery mirror
Thine angel-form reflected—Lovely shade,
Bid this indignant fair confess, how vain
Estella's charms were to contend with thine!
And yet—oh madman! at Estella's feet
Breathing my vows, these eyes forgot these lips,
Than roses sweeter, redder—Oh! I'll gaze
No more, for gazing I detest myself.
Otti. This subtile snake, how winds he round my heart!
Oh didst thou speak sincerely.
Cæsa. At thy feet,
Adored Ottilia! lo! I kneel repentant.
Couldst thou forgive—Vain man, it must not be.
Forgive the fool, who for a lamp's dull gleaming
Scorn'd the sun's noon-tide splendour? for a pebble
Who gave a diamond worth a monarch's ransom?
No, no, thou canst not.
Otti. Cannot? Oh Cæsario,
Thou lov'st no longer, or thou ne'er couldst doubt
I can, I must forgive thee!—— [falling on his bosom]
Cæsa. Best Ottilia,
No seraph's song e'er bore a sweeter sound
Breathed in the ear of some expiring saint,
Than pardon from thy lips.
Otti. Those lips again
Thus seal it!—--Yet to prove thy faith, I ask—
Cæsa. What can Ottilia ask, and I deny?
Otti. The scarf you wear.——
Cæsa. [Starting.] Ottilia!
Otti. Well I know
It was Estella's gift. I'll therefore wear it,
And with her jealous pangs repay my own.
Give me that scarf.
Cæsa. And can Ottilia wish
So mean a triumph?
Otti. Ha! beware, Cæsario!
My foot is on thy neck, and should I find
Thy head a snake's I'll crush it! quick! the scarf!
Am I refused?
Cæsa. Ottilia, be persuaded.
More nobly use thy power.
Otti. [Suffocated with rage.] The scarf! the scarf!
Cæsa. I value not the toy, nor her who gave it.
Then wherefore triumph o'er a fallen foe?
It must not be——Hark! footsteps!—Sweet, farewell!
Ere night we meet again.—— [Going.]
Otti. Yes, go, perfidious!
But know, ere night, thy head shall grace the scaffold!
Cæsa. [Returning.] Saidst thou——
Otti. Last night my husband's dreams revealed
A secret.
Cæsa. [Starting.] How? thy husband? Marquis Guzman?
Otti. He spoke of plots—of soldiers brib'd——
[looking round mysteriously, and pointing to the lower part of the palace.]
Of vaults
Beneath the royal chamber—Wherefore tell I
To thee a tale thou know'st thyself full well?
I'll tell it to the king—— [Going.]
Cæsa. Ottilia, stay!
Otti. The scarf.
Cæsa. [Giving it.] 'Tis thine!—--My life is in thy hands.
Be secret, and I live thy slave forever. [Exit.
Otti. [Alone.] 'Tis plain! 'tis plain! traitor, thou lov'st her still!
Am I forsaken then? Oh shame, shame, shame!
Forsaken too by one, for whom last night
I dared a deed which——Ha! the palace opens,
And lo! Estella with the princess comes.
I'll hence, but soon returning make my rival
Feel what I suffer now. Thus fell Megæra;
Tears from her heart one of those snakes which gnaw it,
To throw upon some wretch; and when it stings him,
Wild laughs the fiend to see his pangs, well knowing
How keen those pangs are, since she feels the same. [Exit.
Amelrosa, Estella, Inis, and ladies, appear on the terrace of the palace.
Amel. Forth, forth my friends! the morn will blush to hear
Our tardy greeting [descending.] Gently, winds, I pray ye,
Breathe through this grove; and thou, all-radiant sun,
Woo not these bowers beloved with kiss too fierce.
Oh! look, my ladies, how yon beauteous rose,
O'er charged with dew, bends its fair head to earth,
Emblem of sorrowing virtue! [to Inis] would'st thou break it?
See'st not its silken leaves are stain'd with tears?
Ever, my Inis, where thou find'st these traces,
Show thou most kindness, most respect. I'll raise it,
And bind it gently to its neighbour rose;
So shall it live, and still its blushing bosom
Yield the wild bee, its little love, repose.
Inis. Its love? Can flowers then love?
Amel. Oh! what cannot?
There's nothing lives, in air, on earth, in ocean,
But lives to love! for when the Great Unknown
Parted the elements, and out of chaos
Formed this fair world with one blest blessing word,
That word was Love? Angels, with golden clarions,
Prolonged in heavenly strain the heavenly sound:
The mountain-echoes caught it: the four winds
Spread it, rejoicing o'er the world of waters;
And since that hour, in forest, or by fountain,
On hill or moor, whate'er be Nature's song,
Love is her theme, Love! universal Love!
Est. See, lady where the king——
Amel. I haste to meet him.
Enter Alfonso, and attendants.
Amel. [Kneeling.] My father! my dear father!
Alfon. Heaven's best dews
Fall on thy beauteous head, my Amelrosa,
And be each drop a blessing!—Cheered by morning
Fair smile the skies; but nothing smiles on me,
Till I have seen thee well, and know thee happy.
Amel. And I were happy, if my eyes perceived not
Tears clouding thine. Oh! what has power to grieve thee
On this proud day, when rich in spoils and glory
Cæsario brings thee back thy conquering troops,
That brave young warrior? Spite of Moorish hosts,
And all their new-found engines of destruction,
Sulphureous mines and mouths of iron thunder,
He forced their gates! He leap'd their flaming gulphs!
Pale as their banner'd crescent fled the Moors,
And proudly streamed our flag o'er Algesiras!
Alfon. And with them fled—Oh! have I words to speak it?
Thy brother, Amelrosa!
Amel. How! my brother?
Alfon. Oh! 'tis too true. He thinks I live too long,
So joined the Moors to hurl me from my throne,
Guided their councils, sharpened their resentment,
And, when they fled, fled with them.
Amel. Powers of mercy!
Can there be hearts so black!
Alfon. Poor wretched man,
Where shall I turn me? where, since lust of power
Makes a son faithless, find a friend that's true?
Where fly for comfort?——
Amel. To this heart, my father!
This heart, which, while it throbs, shall throb to love thee.
Stream thy dear eyes? my hand shall dry those tears;
Aches thy poor head? My bosom shall support it!
And when thou sleep'st, I'll watch thy dreams, and pray——
"Changed be to joy the sorrow which afflicts
My king, my father, my soul's best friend!"—
Alfon. My child! my comfort!—Yes, yes! here's the chain,
The only chain that binds me to existence—
And should that break too—should'st thou e'er deceive me—
Oh! should'st thou, Amelrosa.
Amel. Doubts my father?
Alfon. No, no!—Nay, droop not. By my soul, I think thee
As free from guile, as yon blue vault from clouds,
And clear as rain-drops ere they touch the earth!
Nor love I mean suspicion:—where I give
My heart I give my faith, my whole firm faith,
And hold it base to doubt the thing I value.
Amel. Then why that wronging thought?
Alfon. By fear 'twas prompted;
By fear to lose, but not by doubt to keep.
And well my heart may fear. Think, think how keenly
Ingratitude has wrung that trusting heart!
Think that my faithless son but rends anew
A wound scarce fourteen years had healed.
Amel. Orsino.
Alfon. He! he! that man—Oh! how I loved that man!
And yet that man betrayed me!
Amel. Is that certain?
Might not deception——? Slander loves the court,
And slippery are the heights of royal favour.
Who stumbles, falls; who falls, finds none to raise him.
Alfon. Nay, but I saw the writings; 'twas his hand,
His very hand, nor dared he disavow it:
For when I taxed him with his guilt, and showed him
His letters to the Moor, awhile he eyed me
In sullen silence, then contemptuous smiled,
And coldly bade me treat him as I list.
Arraigned, no plea excused his dark offence;
Condemned to die, no word implored for pardon:
But my heart pleaded stronger than all words!
I saved his life, yet bade him live a prisoner
Or clear himself from guilt.
Amel. And did he never——
Alfon. Without one word or look, one tear or sigh,
He turned away, and silent sought the dungeon
Where three years since he died——Ah! said I, died?
No, no, he lives! lives in my memory still,
Such as in youth's fond dreams my fancy formed him,
Virtuous and brave, faithful, sincere and just;
My friend? my guide?—a Phœnix among men!
How now? What haste brings fair Ottilia hither?
Enter Ottilia, wearing the scarf.