To this in moody murmur and low voice Why didst thou look round? In truth he is my darling. As I went From forth my door, he made a moan in sleep- And what did this man? Ord. With this human hand He gave a substance and reality To that wild fancy of a possible thing.- Why babblest thou of guilt? Though you began this cloudy tale at midnight. Isid. He of whom you tell the tale— Ord. Surveying all things with a quiet scorn, And they between them hatch'd a damned plot What did the Valdez? I am proud of the name Since he dared do it.— [Ordonio grasps his sword, and turns off from Isidore, then after a pause returns. Our links burn dimly. Isid. A dark tale darkly finished! Nay, my lord! Tell what he did. Ord. That which his wisdom prompted VOL. VII. R He made the traitor meet him in this cavern, And here he kill'd the traitor. Isid. No! the fool! Ord. Thou wouldst not then have come, if—- I would have met him arm'd, and scar'd the coward. [Isidore throws off his robe; shows himself armed, and draws his sword. Ord. Now this is excellent and warms the blood! My heart was drawing back, drawing me back With weak and womanish scruples. Now my vengeance And claims that life, my pity robbed her of- Isid. And all my little ones fatherless Die thou first. [They fight, Ordonio disarms Isidore, and in disarming him throws his sword up that recess opposite to which they were standing. Isidore hurries into the recess with his torch, Ordonio follows him; a loud cry of "Traitor! Monster!" is heard from the cavern, and in a moment Ordonio returns alone. Ord. I have hurled him down the chasm! treason for treason. He dreamt of it: henceforward let him sleep, A dreamless sleep, from which no wife can wake him. His dream too is made out-now for his friend. [Exit Ordonio. SCENE II.* The interior Court of a Saracenic or Gothic Castle, with the iron gate of a dungeon visible. Ter. Heart-chilling superstition! thou canst glaze Ev'n pity's eye with her own frozen tear. * See Appendix. p. 403. In vain I urge the tortures that await him: I doubt not, that Ordonio had suborned him But my resolve is fixed! myself will rescue him, Enter Valdez. Val. Still sad?-and gazing at the massive door Of that fell dungeon which thou ne'er had'st sight of, Save what, perchance, thy infant fancy shap'd it When the nurse still'd thy cries with unmeant threats. Now by my faith, girl! this same wizard haunts thee! A stately man, and eloquent and tender— Who then need wonder if a lady sighs Even at the thought of what these stern Dominicans- Doth so o'ertop the height of all compassion, If it were possible I could feel more, Even though the dearest inmates of our household Were doom'd to suffer them. That such things are--Val. Hush, thoughtless woman! Ter. More than a woman's spirit. Val. Nay, it wakes within me No more of this What if Monviedro or his creatures hear us! I dare not listen to you. My honored lord, Ter. Val. -We have mourned for Alvar. Of his sad fate there now remains no doubt. Have I no other son? Ter. Speak not of him! That low imposture! That mysterious picture! Val. Is this well? Ter. Yes, it is truth: saw you his countenance ? How rage, remorse, and scorn, and stupid fear Displaced each other with swift interchanges? O that I had indeed the sorcerer's power.I would call up before thine eyes the image Of my betrothed Alvar, of thy first-born! His own fair countenance, his kingly forehead, His tender smiles, love's day-dawn on his lips! That spiritual and almost heavenly light In his commanding eye-his mien heroic, Virtue's own native heraldry! to man Genial, and pleasant to his guardian angel. Whene'er he gladden'd, how the gladness spread Wide round him! and when oft with swelling tears, Flash'd through by indignation he bewail'd The wrongs of Belgium's martyr'd patriots, Oh, what a grief was there-for joy to envy, Or gaze upon enamor'd! O my father! Recall that morning when we knelt together, Even now, my sire! to thy mind's eye present him, Then bid me (0 thou could'st not) bid me turn Val. Ungrateful woman! I have tried to stifle That thou hast made my son a restless man, And toil to blast his honor? A comfortless old man! Ter. I am old, O grief! to hear Hateful entreaties from a voice we love! Enter a Peasant and presents a letter to Valdez. Val. (reading it.) "He dares not venture hither!" what can this mean? "Lest the Familiars of the Inquisition, That watch around my gates, should intercept him; I hasten to him-for my own sake entreats me To guard from danger him I hold imprison'd He will reveal a secret, the joy of which Will even outweigh the sorrow."-Why what can this be? To have in me a hostage for his safety. Nay, that they dare not! Ho! collect my servants! I will go thither-let them arm themselves. Why [Exit Valdez. Ter. (alone.) The moon is high in heaven and all is hush'd. Yet anxious listener! I have seem'd to hear A low dead thunder mutter thro' the night, As 'twere a giant angry in his sleep. O Alvar! Alvar! that they could return When we saw naught but beauty; when we heard In every gale that breathed, and wave that murmur'd! And the deep sigh seemed to heave up a weight And this majestic Moor, seems he not one [a pause. |