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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

ERRATA

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:

[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.]

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.

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.

[[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.

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.

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.