Pardon, my sovereign, that uncalled I come
You see a suppliant from a dying man.
Alfon. Lady, from whom?
Otti. My husband, Marquis Guzman,
Lies on the bed of death, and, stung by conscience,
By me unloads it of this secret guilt!
Those traitor-scrolls, which bore Orsino's name—
Alfon. Say on, say on!
Otti. By Guzman's hand were forged.
Alfon. Forged?—No, no, no! Lady, it cannot be!
Unsay thy words or stab me!
Otti. Gracious Sir,
Look on these papers.
Alfon. Ha!
[After looking at them, drops them, and clasps his hands in agony.]
Amel. Father! dear father!
Alfon. Father! I merit not that name, nor any
Sweet, good, or gracious. Call me villain! fiend!
Suspicious tyrant! treacherous, calm assassin!
Who slew the truest, noblest friend, that ever
Man's heart was blest with!—Ha! why kneels my child?
Amel. For pardon first that I have dar'd deceive thee——
Alfon. Deceive me!
Amel. Next to pay pure thanks to Heaven,
Which grants me to allay my father's anguish
With words of most sweet comfort.
Alfon. Ha! what means't thou?
Amel. Four years are past since first Orsino's sorrows
Struck on my startled ear: that sound once heard,
Ne'er left my ear again, but day and night,
Whether I walked or sate, awake or sleeping,
The captive, the poor captive still was there.
The rain seemed but his tears; his hopeless groans
Spoke in each hollow wind; his nights of anguish
Robbed mine of rest; or, if I slept, my dreams
Showed his pale wasted form, his beamless eye
Fixed on the moon, his meager hands now folded
In dull despair, now rending his few locks
Untimely gray; and now again in frenzy
Dreadful he shrieked; tore with his teeth his flesh;
'Gainst his dark prison-walls dashed out his brains,
And died despairing! From my couch I started;
Sunk upon my knees; I kissed this cross,
——"Captive," I cried, "I'll die or set thee free!"——
Alfon. And didst thou? Bless thee, didst thou?
Amel. Moved by gold,
More by my prayers, most by his own heart's pity,
His jailer yielded to release Orsino,
And spread his death's report.—One night when all
Was hushed, I sought his tower, unlocked his chains,
And bade him rise and fly! With vacant stare,
Bewildered, wondering, doubting what he heard,
He followed to the gate. But when he viewed
The sky thick sown with stars, and drank heaven's air,
And heard the nightingale and saw the moon
Shed o'er these groves a shower of silver light,
Hope thawed his frozen heart; in livelier current
Flowed his grief-thickened blood, his proud soul melted,
And down his furrowed cheeks kind tears came stealing,
Sad, sweet, and gentle as the dews, which evening
Sheds o'er expiring day. Words had he none,
But with his looks he thanked me. At my feet
He sunk; he wrung my hand; his pale lips pressed it;
He sighed, he rose, he fled; he lives, my father!
Alfon. [Kneeling.] Fountain of bliss! words are too poor for thanks;
Oh! deign to read them here!
Amel. Canst thou forgive
My long deceit——
Alfon. Forgive thee? To my heart
Thus let me clasp thee, best of earthly blessings,
Balm of my soul, and saviour of my justice!
Oh! blest were kings, when fraud ensnares their sense,
And passion arms their hands, if still they found
One who like thee dared stand the victim's friend,
Wrest from proud lawless Power his brandished javelin,
And make him virtuous in his own despite!
Enter Ricardo.
Ricar. My liege, your conquering general brave Cæsario,
Draws near the walls.
Alfon. I hasten to receive
The hero and his troops: that duty done,
I'll seek my wronged friend's pardon. Say my child,
Where dwells Orsino?
Amel. In the neighbouring forest
He lives a hermit: Inis knows the place.
Alfon. Ere night I'll seek him there. And now farewell
Ever beloved, but now more loved than ever!
Oh! still as now watch o'er and timely check
My hasty nature; still, their guardian-angel,
Protect my people, e'en from me protect them:
Then, after ages, pondering o'er the page
Which bears my name, shall see, and seen shall bless
That union most beloved of man and heaven,
A patriot monarch, and a people free!
[Exit with Ricardo and attendants.]
Amel. My good kind father! fatal, fatal, secret,
How weigh'st thou down my heart! [Remains buried in thought.]
Otti. I'll haste and calm
My husband's conscience with Orsino's safety.
But when our Spanish beauties throng the ramparts,
Anxious to see, and anxious to be seen,
Why stays Estella from the walls?
Estel. Both duty
And friendship chain me where the princess stays.
Otti. Duty and friendship? trust me, glorious words;—
Yet there's a sweeter—Love! Boasts the gay band,
Which circles brave Cæsario's laurelled car,
No youth who proudly wears Estella's colours,
And knows no glory like Estella's smile?
Estel. Ha! Sure my sight must err?
Otti. [Aside.] She sees and knows it.
Estel. It must be that!—--Princess!
Otti. [Aside.] So so! now flies she
To her she—Pylades for aid and comfort.
Oh most rare sympathy! How the fiend starts!
And, trust me, changes colour!
Amel. Say'st thou? how?
Away, it cannot be!
Estel. Convince thyself then.
Otti. [Aside.] Ay, look your fill! look till your eye-strings break.
For 'tis that scarf; that very, very scarf?——
So now the question comes.
Estel. Forgive me lady,
Nor hold me rude, that much I wish to know,
Whence came the scarf you wear?
Otti. This scarf——Alas!
A paltry toy! a very soldier's present.
Estel. A soldier's!
Otti. Ay. 'Twas sent me from the camp:
But with such bitter taunts on her who wrought it——
Breathed ever mortal man such thoughts of me,
My heart would break or his should bleed for it!
Estel. Say you?
Otti. Nay mark—"Receive, proud fair,"—thus ran the letter—
"This scarf, forced on me by a hand I loath,
With many an amorous word and tasteless kiss!
As I for thee, so burns for me the wanton;
To me as thine, cold is my heart to her;
Nor canst thou more despise the gift than I
Scorn the fond fool who gave it!"——
Amel. Oh! my heart!
Inis. Look to the Princess.
Otti. [Starting.] Ha!
Estel. She faints!
Amel. No, no,
'Tis nothing—mid-day's heat—the o'erpowering sun—
I'll in and rest.
Otti. Princess, permit——
Amel. No lady!
I need no aid of thine—In, in, Estella.
Oh! cruel, false Cæsario!
[Exit with Estella, Inis, and Ladies.]
Otti. [Alone.] Ha! is't so?
And flies my falcon at so high a lure?
The princess! 'tis the princess that he loves!—
And shall I calmly see her bear away
This dear-bought prize, my secret crime's reward,
My lord, my love, my life, my all?——She dies! [Exit.