Almeyda, Queen of Granada: A tragedy, in five acts. By Sophia Lee. As performed at the Theatre Royal, Drury-Lane.

Table of contents

- [frontispiece]

- [titlepage]

- TO MRS. SIDDONS.

- ADVERTISEMENT.

- PROLOGUE.

- CHARACTERS.

- ACT I.

- SCENE I.

- ACT II.

- SCENE. I. A COURT IN THE CASTLE.

- SCENE II. THE APARTMENT OF THE QUEEN.

- ACT III.

- SCENE I. A COURT IN THE CASTLE.

- SCENE II. THE HALL OF AUDIENCE.

- ACT IV.

- SCENE I.

- ACT V.

- SCENE I.

- SCENE II.

- EPILOGUE.

ALMEYDA: A TRAGEDY.

〈◊〉
NON DEFIC•

T ALTER

ALMEYDA, QUEEN OF GRANADA.

A TRAGEDY, IN FIVE ACTS.

BY SOPHIA LEE.

AS PERFORMED AT THE THEATRE ROYAL, DRURY-LANE.

HE CHOSE A MOURNFUL MUSE

SOFT PITY TO INFUSE.—

DRYDEN.

DUBLIN: PRINTED BY BRETT SMITH, FOR MESSRS. P. WOGAN, P. BYRNE, C. BROWN, AND G. FOLINGSBY.

1796.

TO MRS. SIDDONS.

DEAR MADAM,

THE high admiration I ever felt for the superior talents you have so eminently displayed in ALMEYDA, could alone have induced me to venture a second dramatick production. To that admiration, a more intimate knowledge of you, has added an esteem; which is, I flatter myself, reciprocal. Not all the various charms you dignify the Drama with, can equal those of your sympathizing mind, and unassuming manners.—When thus united, they form a character it would be vanity to praise, tho' virtue to delight in. With true gratitude,

I remain, DEAR MADAM,
Your faithfully devoted Humble servant, SOPHIA LEE.
June 3, 1796.

ADVERTISEMENT.

IT was with no less awe than deference I ventured, in the present day, to bring a Tragedy before the Publick. How great, then, must be my gratitude for the liberal acceptation it has met, and the tears with which it has been honoured. I must have wanted taste and feeling, not to have been animated, by the exquisite talents of Mrs. SIDDONS, into an exertion of such as I possess. That I have been the means of displaying, in a new point of view, her various powers, is a most flattering recompence.

The story of ALMEYDA is wholly a fiction; and the incident which produces the catastrophe the only one not my own.—The deep impression made on me, long since, by a similar denouement, in an old play of JAMES SHIRLEY's, determined me to apply it.

The Stage requires a compression and brevity, which seldom improves a play to the reader: I have, therefore, printed ALMEYDA at length, marking by inverted commas the parts omitted in representation.

PROLOGUE.

THE Muses long through many a varying age,

With truth and fiction mix'd, have grac'd the stage.

When weeping Constancy devoted stood,

Or patriot Honour seal'd his faith with blood,

They bade the deep-toned lyre responsive flow,

Sublimed the suffering, and diffused the woe;

Applauding Greece the numbers lov'd to hear,

And her stern warriors gave the graceful tear.

At length her venal train Corruption led,

And, with the Virtues link'd, the muses fled

O'er Albion's happy land they paus'd awhile,

And shed the favouring influence of their smile.

Her HENRYS, HOTSPURS, trod the martial scene,

And sir'd to heroes whom they found but men.

Bold SHAKESPEAR pour'd th' invigorating strain,

And ROWE, and sweeter OTWAY, fill'd the train.

What if the modern bard no more aspire,

To rival OTWAY's sweetness, SHAKESPEAR's fire;

What if no laurel meed his altar claim,

His censer boast no heav'n-enkindled flame,

Yet if beneath the smould'ring vapour shine

But one faint glimmering of the spark divine,

Ah! gently fan the flame! lest fashion's breath

O'er the pale promise send the blast of death;

Nor let the wreath Thalia only wear,

Her sister muse deserves so well to share.

'Tis her's the generous feeling to impart,

That mends the morals while it fills the heart:

Her's are the energies that best inform,

The sighs that animate, and tears that warm.

Within the magic sunshine of her eye,

Truth, Honour, Loyalty, and Valour lie;

All the •ord virtues that our sires approved,

And all that Britons boast, or Britons loved—

Th•n •gainst the charm no more your bosom steel,

But own the manly privilege to feel.

•olly, and Vice, may oft in smiles appear,

But bashful Virtue veils her in a tear.

The bread, loud laugh, the mirth-inspiring jest,

Humour's wild frolic, and gay fancy's feast,

Like brilliant bubbles sparkle o'er the mind,

But burst, and leave no radiant gleam behind;

While the bright pencil of the tragic muse,

Her sacred rainbow draws o'er chilling dews;

And tho' to air the transient glories run,

They give the promise of a golden sun!

The PROLOGUE and EPILOGUE were written by Miss HARRIET LEE.

CHARACTERS.

- Ramirez, King of Castile Mr. AICKIN.

- Abdallah, Regent of Granada Mr. PALMER.

- Alonzo, son of Ramirez Mr. KEMBLE.

- Orasmyn, son of Abdallah, and General of the Moors Mr. WROUGHTON.

- Hamet, Captain of the Moorish Guard Mr. C. KEMBLE.

- Nourassin, a Lord of the Council Mr. CAULFIELD.

- Officers, Guards, &c.

- Almeyda, Queen of Granada Mrs. SIDDONS.

- Victoria, Princess of Castile Mrs. POWEL.

- Abra, sister to Hamet, and attending on the Queen Miss HEARD.

Scene—A Moorish Castle on a bold rock which overhangs the Guadalquiver.

Time from the dawning of one morning to the dawning of the next.

ACT I.

SCENE I.

A Hall in the Castle, of Moorish architecture, with window• of painted glass, in the recesses of the arches low sofas are placed with cushions piled, on one of these VICTORIA slumbers, while RAMIREZ walks in the Hall making notes in his tablets; bright fleecy clouds rise behind the painted glass representing the dawn of day.

RAMIREZ.

REMOVE those lights—the day once more returns,

And nature springs into renew'd existence!

Collects the fragrance breathing o'er her bosom,

And offers up the incense to the morn!

Slow o'er the mazes of the Guadalquiver

Curl the soft mists, that quicken ev'ry odour.

—All animated beings gladly rise

To their diurnal task.—Man, only man,

That froward fav'rite of indulgent heav'n,

Drops from his weary eye the ungrateful tear,

To blight the coming blessing!—dear Victoria!

Thy watching hath o'erpower'd thee!—soft, my child,

Like this, be all thy slumbers!

Victoria.

Have I slept?

I pray you pardon the unconscious fault

And bless to me the morn. half kneeling.

Ramirez.

May each to come

Breathe only peace upon thee; and restore

Those roses with ring on the shrine of friendship!

Victoria.

Alas! my father, bless too my Almeyda!

That so•itary sov'reign! born to weep

The greatness thousands covet! thro' the night,

Sleepless, and tearful, she has still entreated

That I would win you ever to retain her.

A Moor in name alone, Granada's throne

Charms not her heart—possess'd, and alienate.

Ramirez.

I cannot chuse but blame ev'n thee, my child,

If thou hast sought to win her from her duty.

Victoria.

Nay, rather blame the parents who resign'd her.

Ramirez.

Forbear these rash conclusions—Monarchs oft

I •ust sacrifice each feeling to their duty.

Victoria.

Alas! that aught should break the tie of nature!

The ductile heart, as reason dawns, still takes

A soft impression of the nearest object—

Thus did Almeyda's—yet an infant hostage,

She wak'd to knowledge on a foe's kind bosom.

Her lips first falter'd our Castilian tongue,

And, with becoming gratitude she found

In those who fondly train'd her up to honor,

Each dear, each sacred tie, of love, and nature:

Nor did she mourn her sires, or brother's death,

As she does now to leave us.

Ramirez.

Nor have I,

My daughter, ill-deserv'd this gen'rous fondness,

Since with my children she has shar'd my heart,

—No, tho' to death I hate the Moorish race,

Vindictive, and insatiate—tho' my sword

Ev'n yet could flame amid my country's foes

With energy unbroken, never knew I

To view a tender babe with abhorrence.

—Ah! sweet Almeyda! in this very hall

Thy cries, unconscious of thy fate, assail'd

A heart alive to nature and humanity!

When with the error of soft innocence

Thy little arms clung round thy father's foe.

Victoria.

Was this the castle, where Almanzor chose

To lodge his queen for safety?

Ramirez.

Ay—and wife

Had prov'd his choice, if Heav'n their arms had prosper'd.

—Thou seest—'tis solid as the rock that bears it;

Its proud tow'rs shadow our Castilian plains,

Tho' sever'd from them by the Guadalquiver.

—They since have aw'd their owner.—For that day

Heaven blest the holy valour it inspir'd!

That memorable day gave to our arms,

An host almost unnumber'd, but by slain.

—Flush'd with our conquest, we assail'd this castle,

Which the intimidated queen threw open,

And as an hostage gave us up her daughter.

Victoria.

Oh! mother ill-deserving my Almeyda!

Ramirez.

Erroneous youth still takes the first impression,

Nor looks beyond the surface! Be more wise;

Learn to pierce through the veil of policy,

Undazzled by its colours.—So thy friend

Shall better meet the future.

Victoria.

I attend,

With reverence so profound, each other sense

Is lost in hearing—

Ramirez.

Know the queen thy censure

Condemns unheard, should rather claim thy pity.

Match'd to a monarch weak, vain, cold of heart,

Yet restless tho' inactive—her short life

Pass'd in disquiet; from the hour that call'd her.

Almanzor's crafty brother gain'd the pow'r,

And in the king's name shelter'd every baseness.

Two rising princes scorn'd their uncle's sway,

Alas! perhaps too boldly!—heav'n alone

Can judge the malady that nipp'd their bloom.

—Certain it is, Abdallah never offer'd

A due equiv'lent for our royal hostage

Until she heir'd Granada.

Victoria.

Sweet Almeyda!

Is this the savage trusted with thy welfare?

—Thou too, perhaps, art doom'd by his ambition.

Ramirez.

Not so my daughter.—Politicians ever

Present a puppet to the public eye,

While they, unseen, delight to guide its motions.

—Almeyda thus is needful to her uncle,

Who hopes to find in her a weak, vain woman.

Victoria.

Heav'n, for his punishment, then form'd an angel!

—Who, like Almeyda ever knew to blend

Th' eccentric, noble wildness of the Moor,

With ev'ry polish'd grace of our Castile?

Ramirez.

She is too frank, incautious, and ungovern'd.

More rude than cataracts her passions rage.

Victoria.

Yet still like those, profusely pour upon us

Rich ore, for ever else beyond our reach!

Ramirez.

She must conceal those passions to be great,

Subdue them to be happy. In the mind

All sov'reignty begins, and ends.—Who rules

Impartially the frailties of his nature

Rises almost beyond it, and extends,

Far as his name is known, a willing empire.

Teach thy fair friend, my child, this useful lesson,

And next thy brother—

Victoria.

Ah! alike he needs it!

—I dread the wild concussion of his passions,

When he shall learn you choose the very hour,

In which he bravely fights his country's battles,

To yield the fair, who gives his life a value.

Ramirez.

I therefore choose it. Well I know, his temper

Is, like Almeyda's own, warm and ungovern'd.

Misjudging boy! to fix thy idle heart

On her, forever placed beyond thy reach!

Why saw I not, in childhood, this fond love,

Which, like a blight, clings to my life's best blossom?

—Yet could my son ere hope to wed Almeyda?

Victoria.

Alas, my father, when their love commenc'd,

Almeyda had two brothers; and my mother

Still fondly fancied, by this union, peace

Might one day bless the long contesting nations.

Ramirez.

Romantic dream of youth, and idle passion!

What pow'r can reconcile the cross and crescent?

Victoria.

Frown not, my father, if I further add,

Endear'd to christian laws, and christian manners,

Almeyda were to both an easy convert.

RAMIREZ (sternly.)

Victoria, if thou would'st atone thy fault

In cherishing this weakness, join to soothe

Thy brother's disappointment—Tell Alonzo,

My love for him—my justice—nay, my prudence

Constrain me to resign his heart's sole object.

—Knows he not hardly we maintain our ground

Against these treach'rous neighbours, and must still,

Whate'er the sacrifice, defend our country?

—No news from Murcia yet?—Oh! how I long

To hear the issue of the impending battle!

—The rising sun gleams on the Moorish helms,

And gives a trembling lustre to yon fields!

—Th' appointed moment comes to sign the treaty.

I see Almeyda too, but dare not meet her;

Far be it from me to offend her feelings,

Or sacrifice my own—bid her adieu!

Exit Ramirez.

ALMEYDA (entering on the other side.)

During this trying interval, Victoria,

I had prepar'd myself to meet the King,

And now with breathless fear impatient sought him.

Ah, wherefore flies he then? Still he relents not?

—Thou, or I greatly err, hast sued in vain—

Hast sued a Sov'reign might remain in bonds,

And yield dominion for implicit duty

—Well then I bow disdainful to my fate—

Yet have a care, Ramirez, thy proud heart

May one day feel the pang that pierces mine.

Victoria.

What means my dear Almeyda?

Almeyda.

Ah! Alonzo!

Thou wilt not thus resign—thou wilt not scorn me,

—Amid the rage of arms—the din of battle

Almeyda's sighs shall still be heard, still felt,

And counteract all policy—alas!

〈…〉 may err, and ev'n Alonzo

May bid the eagle glory chace the dove,

And see the victim flutter to the ground.

—Alonzo leads the war, and quite forgets me!

Victoria.

Gentle Almeyda—govern these wild transports,

Which ever warp your judgment—

Almeyda.

Do not hope it—

Nor venture to decide a lover's conduct—

〈◊〉 tranquil blood flows equal thro' thy veins,

Like the clear riv'let thro' the grassy vale,

While mine, impetuous as the bounding billows,

Swells to my heart, thence rapidly returns

And in the tumult swallows up wreck'd reason!

—Hadst thou, like me, been bosom'd among strangers,

And giv'n thy soul in recompence for love,

When found thyself torn from this happy home,

To waste a gaudy life in cold indifference,

Like mine thy aching sense would swell to anguish,

Like mine in tears would drown thee.

Victoria.

Yet believe

Alonzo's love unblemished as his honor,

And rather praise than blame his sense of duty.

Almeyda.

Why wilt thou shame my cheek?—Alas! Victoria,

Had I rememb'red mine, ne'er had I shed

These burning drops—ev'n at this awful hour

When from the grave my ancestors demand me,

To all the pride, and pow'r of purple empire,

My heart flies back to hover near my love,

And envies ev'ry slave, who daily sees him.

Victoria.

This is alike erroneous—darling friend,

With steadier eye survey the past and future—

So shall your mind extract repose from reason.

Almeyda.

Away with •eason! melancholy hermit!

Who idle eyes the storm, then, vainly active,

Collects, and treasures, ev'ry wreck of passion!

—I shall have hopeless years enough for reason,

And give this hour to love.—Oh! say Victoria,

—And yet I dread to hear—is the King fixed

To ratify the peace?

Victoria.

He has no choice—

The rights of nations and his country's welfare,

Oblige him to restore you.—

Almeyda.

Rather say,

He has no heart—nor feels for my affliction—

—Ah! if the rights of nations were his rule,

Why did he subjugate a Monarch's daughter?

Why win her easy heart by gracious treatment?

Until secure of silent, anxious, duty,

He gave the Moors a Queen—himself a slave.—

Victoria.

Wherefore reproach my father with his virtues?

He conquer'd for his country—that loved cause

Induc'd him first to keep, and now to yield you.

—Rather admire th' impartiality

Which ranked you with his children in his heart.

—Perhaps ev'n deeper motives sway'd his conduct;

—Perhaps he stood between you and an uncle,

Who views with jealous eyes your right of empire.

Almeyda.

Nay, now Ramirez speaks from prejudice.

Whom should I trust if not my father's brother?

Victoria.

In Heav'n, and your integrity; but never

In this vindictive, subtle, savage Moor.

—Without he is as specious as the mountain,

Whose rich fertility delights each gazer,

But, oh! volcanos rage within! and gath'ring

Each noisome vapour of the o'ercharg'd earth,

Forth unsuspected bursts the flaming deluge,

Felt soon as seen—ev'n to annihilation!

Almeyda.

Alas! and is it thus? To such a wretch

Must I be render'd up, in ignorance,

To learn the science of hypocrisy—

With worldly art to arrange each little sentence,

And preconcert each action?—Never more

Shall I enjoy the sweets of confidence,

Or find in love a pleasure.—Never more

Shall thy harmonious voice, Alonzo, charm me;

Or thine, dear rigid friend, reproving, soothe.

VICTORIA —(taking her hand.)

Yet shall the vows that bound our youthful hearts

Remain inviolate.

Almeyda.

And shall Alonzo's?

Ah, no! for nature here makes a distinction;

Forms man's large heart for many a various duty,

And blends his passion into a republic—

While woman, born for love and softness only,

Delights to feel love's absolute dominion!

—Then tell thy brother— Confused shouts heard.

Victoria.

Look up, dear Almeyda!

Revive, and speak thy purpose.

ALMEYDA —(leaning on her and fluttered.)

Tell thy brother,

Almeyda will not bind him by one vow;

Nor claim one sacrifice.—Pleas'd to have lov'd,

Pleas'd to have been belov'd—to that remembrance

She consecrates each future throb of passion;

And if she dares imagine yet a joy,

'Twould be to know him blest, she might have made so.

Victoria.

My father comes.—Oh! now, my best Almeyda!

Now be yourself, and dignify the moment.

ALMEYDA (faintly.)

'Tis not in dying we must shew our courage;

Ah, no! 'tis in the fearful preparation—

Enter RAMIREZ, attended.

Health to my benefactor! glorious title,

More dear than that of father!—He but gives

A vulgar being, while the man who rears

Our virtues to existence, is next Heav'n,

The worshipp'd of our reason.

Ramirez.

Rise, Almeyda

Queen of Granada, rise! we gladly hail thee.

Thy kinsman comes to invest thee with dominion,

And give thee to an eager nation's eyes.—

I glory, thus accomplish'd, to return thee.

Almeyda.

Ah! reconcile me to my fate by coldness.

—Know all the danger of this tender flatt'ry!

Ramirez.

In the poor word adieu, I sum each wish

Affection ever form'd, in blessing virtue.

Farewel, at once—I yield thee to thy duty!

—Call into action ev'ry latent pow'r,

Reign o'er thyself—so shalt thou bless thy people.

ALMEYDA —(flying towards them).

Tear out this heart! but do not, do not quit me!

Oh! do not snap at once each link in life,

And leave me solitary in creation!

Ramirez.

Afflict us not with such a vain request.

Ev'n now our troops evacuate the castle,

And thine assume each post.—Abdallah waits

To pass one gate until I quit the other.

—Farewel, Almeyda! grace thy glorious fortune.

ALMEYDA sinks under the regal Canopy, in tears.—The Moorish Music sounds, and a long train entering do her homage, and arrange on each side; last comes ABDALLAH, with the Diadem borne before him.

ABDALLAH —(doing homage).

Fair daughter of Almanzor! thus his brother

Hails thy return to freedom and dominion—

Thus tenders thee thy rich inheritance!

And thus, the formal task of duty ended,

Clasps thee with kindred, sympathising love:

Bids those bright eyes shake off the lucid drops,

And beam with all their own unequall'd lustre.

Almeyda.

Alas! already he begins to flatter. aside.

—I were not worthy of your tender'd love,

My princely uncle, could I thus forget

At once the friends who rear'd me—

ABDALLAH —(with a fierce irony).

Friends do you call them?

You are too young thus nicely to distinguish.

Give not the crafty foe such undue honour.

Call those, indeed, your friends, who now surround you;

Call the fierce soldiers too your friends, who spread

In proud array o'er yonder pleasant plain;—

Nor think him less your friend, whose policy

Fomented the rebellion, which oblig'd

Ramirez to restore you

Almeyda.

Oh! my heart!

Alonzo's absence then I owe to you!— aside.

Noble Abdallah! be but gentle with me,

And I will meekly bear ev'n reprehension.

—All are my friends, who only wish to serve me;

Yet, let me add, I hardly owe those more

Who give my crown, than he who form'd me for it.

Abdallah.

Curse on his polish'd arts! they've made thee subtle;

And I must deeply probe thy nature's weakness,

Ere yet thou charm'st each hearer.— (aside.) Fair Almeyda!

Emancipate thy soul from this fond bondage:

Live to Granada, and forget Castile!

—No more repeat, with cherish'd latent love,

Names we were born to hate; but seek to win,

By partial kindness, those, who ever dread

The empire of a woman.

Almeyda.

Have I empire?

Ah! no; for in the hour that ought to give it,

I first experience bondage. Stay, Ramirez,

King of Castile! Oh! hear me, and return!

Again receive—protect me! Bind these hands,

But give my heart its freedom! Dear Victoria

Fix not thy tearful eyes upon these walls,

Lest I renounce all duties, and all ties,

To dwell with thee and friendship! Noble lords,

Pardon, I pray, frank nature's ebullition,

And see ev'n virtue in the eager transport.

—The love, I thus avow, was fairly won,

By equal love, and ever-lib'ral treatment.

Be like Castile indulgent, and this heart

Alike will glow with gratitude to you;

Will proudly cherish ev'ry regal virtue,

Shut out regret for all which it resigns,

Nor own, ev'n to itself, it wants a joy,

While yet a duty claims it.

Abdallah.

This is reason—

There spoke the royal heiress of Almanzor,

And no Castilian slave.

Almeyda.

Still must I struggle— aside.

Abdallah.

Why do those beauteous eyes still seek the ground?

Oh! raise them, and survey the golden future.

Thou know'st not yet the pleasures of dominion!

—Be willing to be happy, and each means,

Indulgent Heav'n, in plenitude of pow'r,

E'er gave humanity, is thine—For thee,

Rich nature crowns this land with varying beauty;

And lab'ring art here fixes his perfection.

The sea wafts hither every foreign treasure,

And pale-eyed science waits to tell their value.

—For thee, the poet's light hand sweeps the lyre,

With melody unequall'd. Happy thousands

But wait to view thee, and to want a wish;

While those inur'd to mis'ry, in thy coming,

Find an uncertain hope that soothes each pain.

—Oh! new to life; accept, enjoy its blessings!

Come forth, and he ador'd! My son awaits thee:

Thy father's vet'rans, under his command,

Impatiently require their blooming queen.

ALMEYDA. —(giving him her hand.)

Conduct me wheresoe'er my duty calls.

And, oh! may no unbidden pang intrude,

To dim with tears these gildings of my fortune!

Exeunt, the Music sounding,

ACT II.

SCENE. I. A COURT IN THE CASTLE.

Enter ABDALLAH and ORASMYN.

ABDALLAH.

WHEN wilt thou learn, my son, to guard thy heart,

Which speaks but too expressively by glances?

—I would not wish the council to discern

They but propose our pleasure.—

Orasmyn.

Pray you, pardon,

If ardent nature stifles feebler reason.

—Could I behold Almeyda, and restrain

This glow of transport, ne'er could I deserve

Th• bliss our prophet promises the faithful.

—No, not himself▪ though Heav'n inspir'd, ere fancied

So exquisite a beauty! Yet that charm,

Nature's prime gift to woman, in Almeyda.

Is lost—absorpt in mind!—

Abdallah.

Check not thy transport;

For tho' to others I would have thee silent,

To me be wholly frank; and thus reward me

For all my anxious, fond solicitude,

Thro' many a long, long year. I own, I fear'd

That haughtiness, ill-suited to her years,

Would strike thee with displeasure.

Orasmyn.

Call not thus

The sacred consciousness that waits on beauty,

And awes the wishes it awakes! I ever

Disdain'd our narrow laws, which make the sex

Domestic, artificial beings merely.—

—No! 'tis a character refin'd, decided,

That greatly charms the soul, and charms for ever!

—Why knew I not before she was unequall'd?

ABDALLAH —(smiling scarcastically).

Perchance ev'n now I know it not; yet hear

These youthful flights well pleas'd: for thus each lover

Adorns his fancy's choice.

Orasmyn.

But who can boast

A choice like mine? Nor did ev'n I suspect,

Indulgent Heav'n in prodigality,

Had center'd all perfections in one woman.—

I came prepared by rigid rules to judge her—

Her before whom all rules, all modes, must vanish!

—For, oh! when first my eyes beheld the queen,

My heart avow'd her empire ere my tongue.

I wond'ring gaz'd! and, gazing more, more wonder'd!

Ethereal loveliness informs her frame,

And beams in living glory from her eyes!

Yet o'er these charms sublime, meek modesty

Draws a transparent veil of wand'ring graces,

As fleecy clouds flit o'er the noon day sun,

And leave us opportunity to gaze,

Upon an orb too bright else for beholding!

Abdallah.

I could grow once again a boy to hear thee—

Graces I could perceive—not perfect beauty—

Orasmyn.

Beauty's an indeterminate idea

Till fix'd by love—whose ever-pow'rful magic

Awakens a new being—love, when heav'n

Leaves to the vulgar sense its work imperfect,

Illumes our sight to trace the angel there.

—Thro' love we share our Maker's great prerogative,

Creating ev'ry charm, and then approving!

—Yet when she spoke, I half forgot her beauty—

Oh! with what melting harmony she won,

The very air to silence; no rude breath

Dar'd blend with her's, but nature's self stood hush'd

Awe-struck, ev'n as Orasmyn—

Abdallah.

Be warn'd in time

Against a rev'rence so profound; for women

(Capricious still and wayward) often scorn

Who grasps with trembling hand the fancied setter;

While with distinguishing regard, they view

The bolder man, who wears it as an ornament.

ORASMYN (disdainfully)

How should this gen'ral censure touch Almeyda?

Abdallah.

Nay then thou lov'st indeed if thou hast found

Already she is peerless—I have done—

E'en win her thy own way; but win her quickly.

To match thee with Almeyda, and exalt thee

To empire in her right, has been I own

The object of my life—nor should I think

That life itself too dear to crown my purpose.

—In the bold outline of my policy,

I heeded not, 'tis true, the glowing colours

Fond fancy gives her fav'rites—yet those tints

Complete life's picture well—to see thee great

Was all I ask'd but to behold thee happy

Leaves me without a wish!

Orasmyn.

Still in this,

As in each incident of various life,

I owe much to my father! yet for once

This heart asserts a right to guide itself—

Nor would obtrude too early on Almeyda,

passion she might doubt.—

Abdallah.

Again thou err'st—

But could'st thou win my judgment to approve

This idle scruple, it were now too late.—

The Council know my thoughts, and have ere this

Propos'd thee to the Queen.

Orasmyn.

Presumptuous!—rash!—

Abdallah.

Judicious rather!—see'st thou not the prudence

To bind her to compliance, e'er she knows

The pow'r, the pride, the pleasure of dominion?

Orasmyn.

But what can bind the heart, save its own choice?

I would have woo'd her with watchful eyes,

Such unremitting tender, prompt, affection,

As might have won her of herself, and crown'd

The future days of both with happiness.

—Oh! never let ambition tie the knot,

Pure love alone can hallow!

Abdallah.

Would 'twere tied,

Tho' all this wooing follow'd—son, I tell thee,

Essential is the diff'rence of her state,

Immured within this castle, where I reign—

While thou without maintain'st a like controul,

And an obsequious council speak our will,

To the elation of unbounded pow'r,

The sweets of flatt'ry, and the charm of fondness,

The glowing grace of popularity!—

Almeyda wants not shrewdness soon to learn,

If she would see Granada, she must wed thee.

ORASMYN (turning sorrwfully from him.)

More changeable than are the vernal clouds,

Which borrow heav'n's own hues one hour to charm us,

And e'er the next burst in a gloomy deluge,

Is the fond happiness a lover fancies!

—Oh, I do fear me, mine is gone already!

Did she not bear an elevated mind,

She might unconscious share a common fate

And so perhaps might I—content to lose

Our lives in apathy, and call it duty.

—But well Almeyda knows the rights of sex,

Of rank, and all the heart's refin'd distinctions,

Nor did she meet in mine one uncongenial.

—Pardon, my Lord, those vain regrets—I'll quell them,

And once more wait thee. Exit.

Abdallah.

It is ever so,

Still in fruition are our wishes punished.

—Orasmyn, I would have thee wed thy cousin,

But why this adoration?—when I see her,

The spirits of the dead arise before me,

And wither all my projects, all my pow'rs!

—Wherefore should man invent a hell hereafter?

Alas! guilt makes one here! and he who sins,

Tho' never mortal eye, or voice reprove him,

Finds in his bosom every fiend that peoples

The dark profound—in her I see her brothers—

Yet must she be Orasmyn's bride, or—nothing. Exit.

SCENE II. THE APARTMENT OF THE QUEEN.

Enter ALMEYDA followed by ABRA.

Almeyda.

"Are these the charms of empire? Have we "pow'r

"To give that happiness, we ne'er must know?

"—The meanest slave attending on our person,

"Makes her heart's free election, and adorns

"With life's first charm a poor, and vulgar home!

"—While rank, that splendid misery to woman,

"Enchains us to the car of victor man;

"And barter'd now by policy, now honor,

"We buy an enemy, or we fix a friend!"

—Marry Orasmyn—no ambitious uncle;

Nor he, nor thou, shall thus controul my will,

Nor ev'n your instrument the servile council.

—I was devoted thus—allotted—wedded—

Giv'n, like the mere incumbrance of my crown,

•'er yet I wore it—tell me gentle maid,

(For all can tell me of my wayward fate

More than I know myself) was I not giv'n,

Long since to this young Prince?

Abra.

Gracious lady,

So much your people tender Prince Orasmyn,

They much desire the union—

Almeyda.

Then Orasmyn,

And his more crafty father, have seduced

My people from their duty.—

Abra.

Dare I add,

Since youth's fair promise ripen'd into manhood,

Orasmyn still has ris'n in fame, in virtue!

Your friends all love—your enemies all fear him.

ALMEYDA (sighing,)

And so e'er long may I—

Abra.

Oh! do not wrong him!—

Ne'er has the Prince disgraced your own great lineage

By one invidious, sordid, selfish, action.

He feels a brave contempt of mortal praise,

Ev'n with a mighty av'rice of desert—

To him the faulty fly, secure to find

Th' indulgence he requires not—while the wretched

Freely demand his pity and protection—

—His gitfs forerun his promise.

ALMEYDA (disdainfully).

Well thou speak'st it!

"Abra.

Believe me, madam, when you better know "him,

"I shall be but your echo. In my eyes,

"(And can I give the prince a nobler praise?)

"In character as features he is like you.

"Almeyda.

Indeed, I own, I see not the resemblance,

"And, but for vanity, should call thee partial.

Abra.

Yet am I merely just—Though were I more,

In me it would be gratitude. My brother

Owes to Orasmyn a distinguished fortune—

Almeyda.

He meanly, therefore, placed thee near our person,

A busy advocate.—Retire, and leave me, Exit Abra.

I am environ'd by such sycophants—

And unobserv'd can scarcely breathe a sigh!

Thinks he by little arts like these to win me?

—No! were my heart not wholly thine, Alonzo,

Th' aspiring, selfish lover, ne'er should gain it.

—Yet much I dread Abdallah. On his brow

Lives a black penetration, which deep-pierces

Thro' virtue's thin and variable complexion,

Extracting oft, in blushes, the soul's meaning.

—Ah, wherefore breaks he on me?

Enter ABDALLAH.

Abdallah.

Sweet Almeyda!

Swift are the feet of those who bear glad tidings.

Already hath the council's wise proposal,

—Already hath thy gracious silence reach'd me.—

—Blest beyond fathers, in a son, 'tis thou,

Thou only, who canst bless me with a daughter!

Almeyda.

Silence, my lord, implies not a decision.—

••rn in affliction, and in slav'ry nurtur'd—

The world, and all its ways, to me unknown,

I must have time to learn the needful science.

Abdallah.

Thou shalt escape the deep, laborious study;

Enjoy the sweets of life, with care unmix'd;

Become at once the idol of Orasmyn,

And of a joyful people!

Almeyda.

I want fancy,

To tinge the picture with so rich a colour.

—Rais'd on a sudden to a fearful height,

I view, uncertain which to choose, the paths

That wind around me in the world's vast maze.

Abdallah.

Orasmyn's hand will guide—his heart sustain thee.

"—Would I were not his sire! for then, Almeyda,

"I might unblushing dwell upon his merits;

"Number the virtues, that from rea•on's dawn,

"Found in his heart their home, while, true to glory,

"He, with unequall'd fame, hath fought—hath conquer'd"!

Almeyda.

—Orasmyn's merits, time, my lord, will teach me.—

Seek not at once to snatch me from myself.

—Were I to wed, while hardly yet enfranchis'd,

'Twould mark a latent weakness in my nature,

Or a determin'd selfishness in thine.

Abdallah.

Ay; were thy spouse ignoble—unbelov'd.

But with my son, dishonour ne'er was nam'd!

He was thy father's choice—his eye's last object.

When life receded fast, he call'd Orasmyn;

Then, with parental fondness, wrung his hand,

And charg'd him to entender his Almeyda.—

—Me he conjured to see his will obey'd,

And guard you both.—

Almeyda.

Alas! so well to guard us!

As may complete thy will no less than his. aside.

Kings can give crowns, my lord, and sires commands,

Yet nature sometimes gives the heart a pow'r

To rest self-poiz'd, ev'n as the globe we tread on,

Dependant on no breath but our Creator's.

ABDALLAH —(fiercely).

"Yet man incens'd, on this wide globe can spread

"A ruin nature shrinks from; stain her blooms

"With human blood, and load the vernal gales

"With groans but mock'd by winter's rudest howlings.

"Nay, start not, princess! 'tis thyself has taught me

"To threat by implication.

Almeyda.

"Savage tyrant!

"Victoria! oh, Victoria! well thou spok'st him. aside.

Abdallah.

But see, thy lover! And at his approach

My swelling heart o'erflows with tenderness!

How could I cherish, worship, love Almeyda,

Would she but deign alike to bend her nature!

ORASMYN —(entering, kneels).

Say, will my sov'reign pardon, if I press

Unlicens'd on her leisure; break thro' forms

Cold hearts impos'd, to level with themselves

More gen'rous natures, thus again to tender

A homage circles never knew to pay—

A vow imprinted here?

Almeyda.

Orasmyn, rise!

The pageant's o'er; and this devotion, mock'ry.

Orasmyn.

If to behold Almeyda, and adore her;

To see in fancy's eye the world created,

And, in herself, the first, the only woman;

In each new glance to find a nameless charm,

And in each sigh to breathe a new infection:

If this offend, ah, who shall gain her favour?

Almeyda.

A flame at once so prudent and so sudden

Confided to the council, ere its object,

May well surprize—

Orasmyn.

Forgive the interruption—

And know, Almeyda! hardly wouldst thou scorn

Such intervention, more than would Orasmyn.

—Yet, by thy own pure nature, deign to judge

Of his before thee! sanction but his service;

Allow him time to win upon thy favour,

And, by the holy warmth that prompts the vow,

Thy will shall guide him!

Almeyda.

Wherefore trust to time?

This moment stamps the passion and its motive.

—I would like you be guarded, prudent, selfish;

Preserve a silence might ensure my safety,

And rest upon the future—But my soul

Disdains the mean, the temporising wisdom,

Nor knows to tremble in the cause of truth.

—Vie with me, princes, in sincerity!

Hence with inflated phrase! and plainly say,

It is my diadem, not me, you woo.

Abdallah.

Were that Orasmyn's object, he might

wear it.

Who shall oppose his will? A feeble woman!

Of little estimation in society,

And less in empire—

Orasmyn.

Spare me, Sir! oh! spare me

The deep disgrace of this ungovern'd passion!

Almeyda.

Ev'n in his insolence I praise his candour;

And most despise who makes the most professions.

to Orasmyn.

Abdallah.

Yet, hear me, princess! nor incense a nature

That deigns once more to struggle with its fierceness.

"His only fault, Orasmyn owes to thee:

"A fond, a foolish passion, chills his pow'rs,

"And leaves him but the semblance of himself.

"Had he thus trembled in the battle's front,

"Applauding nations ne'er had throng'd to see him,

"Nor hadst thou worn the crown thou vaunt'st so bravely!

—Droop not, my son, beneath a woman's frown.

Tomorrow, and perhaps the fair one sues!

Such is their weak, their fluctuating natures.

Ev'n now this proud one shrinks! Upon her cheek

The rose of youth is blanch'd. Princess! farewell;

Remember, I or hate, or love, with ardour!

'Tis yet within thy pow'r to fix the feeling. Exit.

Almeyda.

Alas! what pow'r can change it? Lost Almeyda!

ORASMYN (irresolutely)

How shall a heart ill-understood, abhorr'd,

Win on thy confidence, or guide thy councils?

By heav'n! I melt in womanish lamentings,

Thus innocently to excite thy hatred!

Yet, hear me! be advis'd; disguise thy feelings.

Thy safety rests in quitting this lone fortress!

And ev'ry hour thou stay'st in it, distracts me.

Almeyda.

Who shall endue thee with the grace of truth,

Or give me faith to trust thee? Well I see,

One is to terrify, and one to soothe me!

"—Tho' had indulgent nature crown'd thy youth

"With ev'ry charm and virtue giv'n to man,

"Yet left thee still the son of fierce Abdallah,

"Ev'n tho' the earth I stand on yawn'd a grave,

"That grave should be my choice rather than thee!

—Have I for this renounc'd each tender tye,

Of bleeding love, and ever faithful friendship?

—Not thus Alonzo woo'd—Victoria won me!

No sighs, no tears, no honors, no despair!

No threat of misery, no dread of bondage,

No sound of death e'er mingled with his passion!

—His polish'd heart felt and inspir'd a love,

Which, far outswelling this world's narrow bound,

Both may delight to bear into a better!

Orasmyn.

Th' unwary flight expounds a mystery

My shallow sense o'erlook'd. Oh! well I see

Why thou wouldst not do justice to Orasmyn.

—Yet, oh! I pity, far more than I blame thee!

Hide from all eyes, but chiefly from my father's,

Th' unsanction'd prepossession! Ruin—murder,

A thousand ills, I will not shock thy sense with,

Lurk in the thought of love, and of Alonzo!

—Born to adore, to follow, to protect thee!

Think not Orasmyn will desert himself,

To force a heart upon thee!—Oh, farewell!

I cannot coin in words my soul's soft meaning! Exit.

Almeyda.

There is a glowing grandeur in this prince,

Worthy a better sire! But, oh, Alonzo!

Ne'er shalt thou know the shadow of a rival,

Ev'n tho' alone I breast the beating storm,

And fall the single object of its rage!

ACT III.

SCENE I. A COURT IN THE CASTLE.

Enter ABDALLAH, followed by an officer.

ABDALLAH.

COMMAND a council? without my concurrence

Already dares she queen it? Haste! and say

You found me indispos'd; and wave the meeting.

—While to the lords you urge—not my excuse,

But frame one from Almeyda.—

Shouldst thou suggest an intellectual wand'ring,

Which makes her say and unsay, it were apt.

Thou art discerning, and do'st understand me—

She is too young to follow her own guidance,

While that of others wrings her! Exit Officer.

Have I waded

Thro' many an artifice, and many an horror,

Seen time and circumstance mature my views,

To let a haughty, foolish woman, cross me?

—Hah!—might I not improve my own suggestion,

And work her high-wrought passions into phrenzy?

Enter HAMET.

Hamet.

My Lord, ev'n now, a young Castilian presses

Importunately to address the queen—

I heeded well your wish, and studious sought

To learn his embassy; but, or prepared,

By those who sent him, or his own discretion,

He foil'd my skill.

Abdallah.

Thou win'st for life my favour—

Search, and some curious billet, love-inscrib'd

Will tell the mighty secret.—

Hamet.

Nought is found,

Above his own degree—nor arms, nor letters—

Save but a ring; which he at first deliver'd;

The guard incautious sent it to the Queen,

Who wills to see him.

Abdallah.

Ah! there's more in this!—

Careful conceal that I have been inform'd,

And lead Almeyda to the hall of audience.

There, thro' the secret lattice, I may hear,

A tale of import—be thyself at hand—

—Now, now, Orasmyn, comes thy fortune's crisis.

Exeunt severally.

SCENE II. THE HALL OF AUDIENCE.

Enter ALMEYDA, gazing on a ring.

Almeyda.

Oh! fond memorial of delightful days,

For ever vanish'd! in this little mirror

A thousand fairy visions pass along,

Of love, and bliss!—upon Alonzo's hand,

Mine playful fix'd thee!—ah! why art thou here?

—Com'st thou the pledge of safety and of triumph,

Or the cold legacy of parting nature?

—Oh! still belov'd tho' in the grave I seek thee,

Thus I accept thy gift!—a bridal token!—

Attends the messenger?

ALONZO (entering disguised.)

He waits thy pleasure.—

ALMEYDA (starting.)

Support me heav'n! for ah! that voice should claim,

Long, long, acquaintance with this beating heart!

"—But the charm'd sense in many a various visage,

"Traces a likeness to the one ador'd,

"And hears in ev'ry voice the darling sound!"

Alonzo.

Almeyda!

ALMEYDA —(fainting.)

Oh grief!—Oh agony!—oh nameless horror!

Alonzo.

Lift up thine eyes, my soul! and, like Alonzo,

From this embrace derive a new existence!

ALMEYDA (springing from him in terror.)

"How com'st thou here? What evil genius led thee

"To cross yon fatal river?"

Alonzo.

"He who led

"Leander, through the deep in midnight horror,

"—But in his welcome, be forgot his danger"—

Almeyda.

"Ah! thine is yet unknown"—fly, haste, oh leave me!

Where waits thy train?

Alonzo.

Amid the slaughter'd Murcians.

Pride, pomp, and glory, yield to my Almeyda!

In vain would time, or distance, wrest her from me,

She, she alone can shield me in the war,

Or nerve my arm at the fierce battle's onset.

—I knew untold her danger—knew her fate

Requir'd a desperate conquest! that atchiev'd,

I breath'd not till I should o'ertake my father!

—Judge of my feelings when I cross'd his train,

Retiring from this castle—duty—honour

Renown itself gave way to love, and thee—

—I left my officers the pleasing task

T• announce my triumph; and in mean disguise

Unaided and alone, thus reach'd thy presence.

—Ah wherefore reach'd it? Since thine eye repels me?

No more the fond companion to my childhood,

No more the worship'd idol of my youth!

Queen of Granada, now thou stand'st before me!

Almeyda.

Oh, hours! oh, days! which never must return

When thus thy accents charm'd me!—my Alonzo,

Thou think'st thou see'st me on my father's throne,

Whole nations smiling when I deign to smile,

Or at my frown dismay'd—how would'st thou feel

If this bright vision vanish'd—if these halls,

O'er-arch'd with gilded roofs, and gaudy sculpture,

Presented only an imperial prison?

"How, if the radiant ensigns of dominion,

"Shrunk into chains?—Alas! more truly such,

"Than e'er I wore when in thy father's palace!"

—Here in Granada—mid my royal kindred,

By councils flatter'd, and an army hail'd!

Almeyda, is a solitary wretch,

No being sympathizes with save you—

You, only you, of all the vast creation!

Alonzo.

Whom can'st thou fear, my love, when I am near thee?

Almeyda.

Heav'ns think'st thou for myself, I feel this pang?

For thee, for thee, alone, my nature shudders!

"Life has no charm but what your presence gives it,

"Nor death a fear but that your danger causes!"

—And, ah! that danger fearfully appals me!

Cold chills ev'n at this moment counteract,

The joy, the tender joy, I take to see thee!

Alonzo.

Art thou not sov'reign? Who shall over-rule thee?

Almeyda.

That tyrant who alone permitted thee,

To cross this fatal barrier; which alive

Thou never shalt repass!—thou hast not known him,

"Cow'rs not the dove whene'er the vulture hovers,

"And shrink not I before the fierce Abdallah?

"Ere yet he knew my soul's most tender part

"Ere thy name reach'd him how has he appall'd me

"—I would have been thy fortune, my Alonzo,

"But was ordain'd thy sate!"

Alonzo.

Were this fear just,

(Tho' surely 'tis thy fancy's wild creation)

Yet were I safe—alone, and unsuspected,

Have I approach'd thee; and alike unknown

May I retreat—recall once more my father;

Assert the pow'r our victory has given us,

And dictate to this insolent Abdallah!

ABDALLAH (rushing on with guards.)

Arrest this slave! we'll see who henceforth dictates!

ALMEYDA (clasping his knees.)

Ere yet you speak!—"Ere yet that dreadful voice,

"Denounces all your aspect threatens, pause!

"Oh, pause! and listen to the voice of nature!"

Thro' me Almanzor calls; through me he bids,

Ev'n from the grave commands thee to be humane!

Abdallah.

Would'st thou arrest the sentence on these lips,

Avow at once compliance with my will—

—Wilt thou divide thy throne with my Orasmyn,

And shun to death this minion?

Alonzo.

Sweet Almeyda,

Degrade not me by this humiliation!—

—I was not born to supplicate a tyrant;

Who poorly plays upon thy sex's weakness.

—Abdallah knows too well the rights of nations,

A father's feelings and a King's resentment,

To dare assail my life.—

Abdallah.

Ah! say'st thou, youth?

Art thou so new to life, univers'd in policy,

To think the world need witness our decrees?

Thou, thou thyself, hast shewn me all my pow'r,

Did I not learn from thy own lips, ev'n now,

Unknown, and unassisted, thou art here?

Here, in Granada's confines—in a fortress,

Where tongueless ministers perform my will,

Amid the murky horrors of the night,

And hollow rocks inter the nameless victim!

—Ev'n now death yawns beneath thy feet, a word,

A look, of mine, consigns thee to oblivion!

Almeyda.

While I survive?—Ah! how dar'st thou presume it?

—His name—his fate, should echo thro' the world—

To his dear mem'ry, I'd devote my days,

And live but to avenge him.—

Abdallah.

Thou too brave me!

Know thou shalt live in vain—thy feeble voice

Tho' truth-inspir'd, as was the Dardan maids,

Like her's shall cry unheeded; nor can aught,

Save him, or thee, but instant, prompt, obedience.

Almeyda.

Oh! my too timid he art!—speak, lov'd Alonzo—

There is a brutal fierceness in his nature,

Which mine was born to shrink from!—busy fancy,

Fills up the bloody outline he has drawn,

And sees thee breathless!—murder'd!—

Alonzo.

Thus behold me—

Ere to prolong an ignominious being,

I urge thee to debase a noble nature,

Or break a vow to me indissoluble!

ABDALLAH (to the guards.)

Drag hence this slave—untold ye know the rest.

[Alonzo is dragg'd off and Almeyda falls at the feet of Abdallah.]

Almeyda.

"Oh! yet have mercy!—hear in time my cries!"— She rises with majesty.

Insulting tyrant!—dread my desperation!

If thy malignity assail a life,

To which that wildly throbbing in this bosom,

Is valueless, nor fear, nor pride, shall bound me;

I will not rest, till I have found a means

To make my vengeance like thine own—consummate.

Abdallah.

Thou art too kind to warn me of thy purpose—

"Learn first by what enchantment thou shalt pass

"The bounds my pow'r prescribes thee—in these chambers

"Unpitied—unassisted—shalt thou rage,

"Till thou hast found some surer way to move me.

—The officer on guard?

Enter HAMET, and afterwards ABRA.

Hamet, approach—

Thou know'st my temper—if thy life be dear

Guard well the Queen's apartment; nor allow

One being to pass out—not ev'n herself—

—Reasons too cogent for thy knowledge, urge,

This seemingly strict measure—

Almeyda.

"You are human!

"Oh, hear! yet hear one word."—

ABDALLAH (fiercely to Hamet.)

"Have I not spoke?" Hamet retires.

Thou see'st my pow'r—

Almeyda.

Burst, burst, at once my heart!

This conflict is too mighty!—do not leave me,

(sees Abdallah returning.)

For dreadful as the sight is, I can never,

Never, survive the moment of thy going—

"—As yet he breathes—as yet my soul dares cherish

"The feeble hope that binds her down to suffer?

"—Harsh as thou look'st—yet nature must have giv'n "thee,

"Affections, in their turn, as exquisite,

"As those that rend these heartstrings"—can'st thou then▪

Oh! can'st thou blight my youth, with such a sorrow?

—Precipitate me early to the grave,

And mark life's little interval with frenzy?

—Speak, tell me, thou wilt save him?

ORASMYN (speaks entering.)

That sweet voice,

Strikes on the heart thy cruelty has chill'd,

And, like the lyre of Orpheus, charms the dead!

—In tears Almeyda?—Wherefore this prostration?

ALMEYDA (with frenzy.)

—He's murder'd!—lost! no earthly pow'r can save him▪

The fiat is pronounc'd, and he must perish!—

—Ah! is it you Orasmyn?—give me language,

May touch•t his human rock into a heart!

Orasmyn.

Allow me to partake, to soothe, this anguish—

Oh! give me but to know its secret cause!

Almeyda.

Thou soothe it?—Thou partake it?—Mighty Alla!

This is but a refinement on misfortune—

Thou, thou thyself art its first cause—thy love,

Thy selfish, thy ambitious love, undoes me!

Fly, save him, save him—bring him instant hither,

E're yet the life-blood blacken in his cheek,

E're yet those eyes are s•al'd in utter darkness,

And I'll forget the past, will pardon all,

Will worship his preserver!—vain—vain prayer

Thou art Abdallah's son!—the dire inheritor,

Of his obdurate nature!—hence, abhor'd!

Oh! for some depth the sun may never pierce,

Where I can waste my being in lamenting! Exit.

Orasmyn.

Danger and death I have fac'd in many a form;

I've leap'd into the deadly breach; and seen

An host of jav'lins quiv'ring at this bosom,

But never knew I fear, despair, till now!

—Follow thy hapless Queen, and in thy soothings

Have better fortune!—agoniz'd—bewilder'd— Exit Abra.

I dread I know not what—yet I observ'd

A strangeness in my father's quick departure!

—Too well I know t'atchieve a darling purpose,

He would o'erleap the bounds of truth, and justice.

—Perhaps this youth—yet that's impossible—

Oh! that Almeyda, would enough esteem me,

To trust me with her sorrows! Exit.

Re-enter ALMEYDA, leaning on ABRA.

Almeyda.

He is gone

Nor can I pro••t by returning reason,

To win his aid!—Ah! wherefore should I win it?

"Alonzo, now exists but in my memory;

"Yet here I seek him—here shall ever wander,

"Ev'n as the spirits of the dead revisit,

"The spot where they have buried all their treasure.

"Here fancy pictures to the mental eye,

"That graceful form, while yet it was corporeal!

"Here last I heard that voice!—oh! might it break,

"The bound 'twixt immortality, and life,

"To charm with heav'n's own eloquence my woes!"

Abra.

Beseech you, Madam, moderate this grief,

The Prince's life is safe

Almeyda.

Safe with Abdallah?

Abra.

His son, with gen'rous fervour shar'd your sorrow,

And loves you too well, to desert its object.

Almeyda.

"Abra, Orasmyn yet has love to learn—

"Love turns abhorrent from an act of violence,

"Too deeply wounded with a sorrowing sigh—

"—Love! 'tis our all-refining touch of heav'n;

"Whose kindling emulation ever gives,

"A self-exacted eminence of goodness,

"To vulgar minds unknown!"

Abra.

"Yet is he safe"—

Ne'er will my brother sacrifice his honour,

Much as he loves Orasmyn, fears Abdallah,

Or stain his soul with murder—

Almeyda.

Ah! thy brother?

Is then the officer on guard thy brother?

Abra.

Rais'd early to distinction by Abdallah.

Under himself he governs in this castle,

To him you are in charge—

Almeyda.

Oh! Abra, hear me!

"If e'er your features blossom'd into beauty,

"Beneath the animating eye of love!

"If e'er the throbbing tenant of your bosom,

"Felt the soft impulse of a generous passion,"

If you would not behold your heart's dear choice,

Like mine, the victim of some horrid treason,

And be yourself a miserable maniac,

Oh win your brother, to release Alonzo

Abra.

Alas! too highly he regards his honor

Nor dare I tempt it.—

Almeyda.

Call him instant hither!

Abra.

He will not yield—sweet Princess, be intreated.

Almeyda.

Obey me—nor reply—a weak blind hope.

Exit Abra.

Still, like the busy mole, essays to work,

Its slow way thro' the heavy weight fall'n here.

presses her hand on her forehead. Re-enter ABRA with HAMET.

Thou guardian of my life in its best treasure!

Tell me, Alonzo lives?

Hamet.

He lives—as yet—

Almeyda.

As yet—Oh heav'n

Hamet.

Alas! it is too sure,

He totters on eternity's dark verge,

Unconscious of his danger—this steep rock

Thro' many a winding path is scoop'd in dens,

Unknown—impenetrable—one o'erhangs,

An arm, which parting from the Guadalquiver,

Deep-plunging seeks an undiscover'd course.—

—There, thro' a fearful chasm wild nature wrought,

Full many a victim to the fears of state,

Has sunk into oblivion.—

Almeyda.

Mighty Alla!

The savage utter'd then but the mere truth.

—Thus will assuredly Alonzo perish,

Unless thou save him!

Hamet.

Me!—impossible!

Yet think not ought shall win me to destroy him.

Almeyda.

Oh! venture not to say thou want'st the pow'r

Lest sudden frost should burst this swelling heart.

Hamet.

I cannot, dare not disobey Abdallah;

Whose bounty first distinguish'd, still rewards me.

Almeyda.

And cannot I distinguish—I reward?

Oh! let me know Alonzo safe, and free,

And thou shalt find I dare assert my rights,

Ev'n till I awe Abdallah!

Hamet.

Never—never—

His nature's fierce—obdurate—uncontroulable—

—Death in its simplest form to man is dreadful,

But when forerun by agony—by torture—

And were I once to wrong his confidence—

Almeyda.

Do not I too, know well his barb'rous nature?

—Hast thou a fear applies not to Alonzo?

Thus must he suffer—thus must he expire,

Unless thou 'rt won—Alas! that I could barter,

This vain, vain pageantry of regal power,

To be but one hour Hamet.

Hamet.

My touch'd heart,

Ev'n bleeds with sympathy.—

Almeyda.

'Tis prophanation,

To mingle in the anguish thou reliev'st not—

—Said I an hour? A few short moments,

Would waft you o'er the river; and once landed,

Nor could Abdallah, nor his vengeance reach you!

—Ramirez, gracious Monarch, would reward,

Protect—adore his son's deliverer!

A grateful nation eye thee with delight,

While thy pure conscience would each plaudit echo!

Ev'n she who sues, one day with pride might call thee,

To fame, to wealth, to greatness!

Hamet.

Did not duty—

Almeyda.

Know'st thou one duty stronger than humanity?—

That awful principle by heav'n implanted,

To still the raging of th' impetuous passions,

Or lead the swelling current up to virtue!

—Oh! then be warn'd! and as thou die in peace,

List to the voice of heav'n that speaks thro' me!

HAMET (kneeling.)

Endu'd of heav'n! it does indeed inspire thee!

And be my life, or long, or short, it waits

Henceforward on thy will!

ALMEYDA (leaning over him.)

Oh! be it crown'd,

With ev'ry grace, and glory,—may no pain,

No sorrow touch the heart that melts with mercy,

"•ut such a blessedness possess it here,

"As makes this life the foretaste of a better"

—Oh! from what dire extremes this virtue saves me!

Did I not say, my Abra, I would win him?

Now tell me, Hamet, how thou'lt save my love?

Hamet.

"The will once fix'd, I do not want the pow'r"

"—To me each gate, each dungeon, freely opens;

I will prepare a boat, and when the night

Spreads her dark mantle o'er a drowsy world,

I'll thither lead the Prince, and share his flight.

Almeyda.

My guardian angel! who like him benign,

Receiv'st thy sole reward in conscious goodness!

pauses.

—If (and my heart forebodes some new affliction)

He should deceive me—that—would ascertain it—

Hamet I have consider'd—and must see him—

Hamet.

The pris'ner Madam?

Almeyda.

Ay the Prince Alonzo?

Hamet.

You cannot mean it?

Almeyda.

Never more intently!

If thou hast pow'r to free him; thou hast pow'r

To guide me to his dungeon!

Hamet.

Through his guards,

And many a vaulted lab'rinth long, and lonely,

How should our beauteous sov'reign pass securely?

Almeyda.

I'll dare the chance!—thy sister's veil shall hide

The splendor of these vestments—now begone,

With circumspection plan Alonzo's flight,

Then haste, and lead me to him—

Hamet.

You must rule—

Yet much I dread this needless enterprise!

—Oh! sister, you've destroy'd me! Exit.

Almeyda.

Heed him not!

Ne'er will thy Queen desert who truly serves her!

—Oh! Abra, in the hour of mortal peril,

Should'st thou be born to suffer like Almeyda,

May one as gen'rous as thyself arise,

To save thee from a pang more keen than dying!

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

A dark vault irregularly hewn in the rock, extending out of sight on one side, in a vista of rude imperfect pillars.—A small gate leads on the other side, through an enormous crag of the rock—ALONZO discover'd, chain'd to a pillar, against which he leans.

ALONZO.

WHY lingers thus the tyrant exquisite

In ill perhaps he thinks mere death indulgence;

And therefore leaves me leisure for reflection—

An awful pause, 'twixt life, and immortality!

—Is this the Murcian victor? This the heir

Of great Ramirez? that Castilian sun,

Which rose to light a nation on to virtue,

Or early set amid a crimson glory?—

Eclips'd at once; the victim of his passions

He aids his murderers and but hopes oblivion.—

—Long will my father wonder where I vanish'd!—

Almeyda, poor Almeyda's not so happy!—

The guards unbar the gate, and light in Abdallah; then fixing their torches in clefts of the rock, they retire.

Abdallah.

Ere I pronounce my last resolve, I ask,

Has so•itude restor'd thy better reason?

Alonzo.

Has recollection humaniz'd thy heart?

Why should not virtue bear as fix'd a tenor,

As vice can beast?

Abdallah.

Yet dar'st thou vaunt it thus?

Rash youth, if thou would'st view the light of heav'n,

Or breath untainted air—

Alonzo.

Where are thy ruffians—

〈◊〉 thou not see I less abhor to die,

Than poorly to condition with Abdallah?

Why urge this parley?

Abdallah.

Thou wert born, Alonzo,

Thy enemies must own, to grace the name,

Transmitted thee from a long line of heroes—

Can'st thou then rashly fix thy fate, and perish

In flow'r of youth—in ignominy—bondage?

Alonzo.

Ay—with a firmness thou can'st never know,

Who liv'st in guilt; and therefore find'st in living,

Only a daily respite from damnation.

Abdallaeh.

What is the mighty sacrifice enjoin'd?

Why but to yield what thou can'st ne'er enjoy,

And bend Almeyda's will to meet her duty.

Then will these chains drop off; and our glad arms

In friendship fold thee.

Alonzo.

By the light of heav'n!

Forever vanish'd from these eyes, I swear,

I would not yield one chaste sigh of Almeyda,

To be the worship'd of an host of traitors!

Abdallah.

Thou hast not weigh'd the agonizing pangs

My pow'r can make thee suffer, ere I grant thee

The comfort of expiring?

Alonzo.

I have weigh'd

Thy character; and therefore am prepar'd

For all thy threats imply—

ABDALLAH (stamps, and guards enter with torches and leavers.)

Employ your leavers—

Raise yon enormous stone—beneath that chasm

Thro' jagged rocks—imperious—horrible—

A stream, oblivious as the fabled Lethe,

Washes to many an undiscover'd hollow,

The victims of my will—

Alonzo.

Thy mercy then

Spares the soul-harrowing pomp of preparation,

And all the pangs of nature, and of love?

Abdallah.

Hark! hear'st thou not in the deep sullen roar

The knell of death?—Of those who've gone before thee,

Methinks the shrieks resound!—a breath of mine,

Will add Alonzo to the untold many!

—Then vainly shall Almeyda weep thy loss,

Ramirez shall in vain demand his son!

For, tho' he shook this fortress to the centre,

Razed its enormous towers, and solid bastions,

Their ruins would but form the tomb he sought

Alonzo.

I have not liv'd so ill, that I have now

To learn to die,—and of Abdallah too!

No, white as angels if thou stood'st before me,

Denouncing thus my doom I could not fear thee,

How should I now?

Abdallah.

Because thou'rt in my pow'r,

And I dare use it.—Yet again reflect,

But know when next we meet my voice is mortal.

Alonzo.

Be it so now!—ev'n now!—why this display▪

To the firm soul that never shrunk from danger?

—By heav'n I feel an infant once again,

When thus insulted with an infant's terrors!

—Ye high-arch'd rocks! to groans alone resounding,

Witness one wretch has never tried your echo—

—And you, oh! most adored! who o'er these dens,

Rend heav'n, and earth, with vain, and fond lamenting,

For him thus strangely vanish'd—never know

Your feet unconscious trod Alonzo's grave!

ORASMYN (descends with a torch.)

Dark labyrinth, for murder fitly wrought,

At length I've reach'd your limit!—or •er•,

Or this dim light gleams on the hapless stranger!

—His mien bespeaks a deep disdain of death,

With princely graces blended—youth unknown!

Dar'st thou reveal at once, thy rank and name,

With the dark embassy that thus entombs thee▪

Alonzo.

Orasmyn! for I need not ask thy title,

So well thy port bespeaks the prince and lover;

Why would'st thou know a name like thine renown'd,

But, oh! unlike thin•, never stain'd with murder.

Orasmyn.

Prince, thou art bound by chains, and I by feeling!

—The sun that ripens in a Moor's warm heart

Ev'n virtue into passion, ripens there

Those glowing frailties that o'errun •he soil,

And poison its pure product—I'd forget

If possible the arts that charm'd Almeyda—

Alonzo.

Can'st thou forbid the bud to blow? The zephyr

To wake the bird of spring?—As well do this,

As chill the soul's soft breathings! disunite

Hearts, which but new to life, like infant plants

Entwin'd unconscious—lived but by each other!

Alonzo never knew a guilty thought,

Or plan'd a guilty union!—if Almeyda,

Gave him, Oh gift beyond all price! her heart,

Who would not think it cheaply bought with life?

Orasmyn.

Fain would I hate Alonzo! like a rival

Fain would I hear thy words, survey thy actions!

But my pure nature does thee noble justice!

Why wilt thou not view me with equal candor?

Thou hast Almeyda's heart—oh blest pre-eminence!

Outstrip me not too in the race of honor—

To her repose I sacrifice a passion

Strong as thine own—oh! join with me to save her!

Alonzo.

Ah! can'st thou love with so sublime a virtue!

She lives but to thy senses—thou ne'er knew'st

The chaste perfection of that gen'rous nature!

Ne'er mingled souls with her, in love as pure

As the intelligence that angels hold!

—That bliss—that agony was mine—mine only!

To thee Almeyda seems impetuous, rash,

Touch but her heart and it o'erflows with softness!

—Orasmyn, if thou lov'st, 'tis thine to prove it.

—A fearful crisis is at hand—when over

Oh! soothe, support, console, the sorrowing angel.

Protect her from thy fierce obdurate sire,

I dare implore thee, from thyself protect her!

—So shall that mortal hour no being yet

Encounter'd with indifference, be met

By me with fortitude! the long hereafter

So shalt thou less regret!—and ev'n Almeyda,

At length perhaps forget me—

Orasmyn.

Never—never

When the soft fibres of the heart expand,

And thus enclasp another, time, or space,

In vain would break the hold, or make us single!

—I see no more in thee a hated rival!

Virtue's own awful form appears before me—

Bids me behold a monarch's glorious heir!

The gallant leader of victorious armies!

The idol of whole nations!—more, oh! more,

Her own devoted pupil!—shall I then

Leave thee to die, and sin against society?

—Oh my proud soul how it disdains the thought!

Yet for my father's sake, ere yet I free thee,

Assure me—

Alonzo.

Spare thy gen'rous cheek the blush

Of asking that unworthy thine own honor,

Nor less unworthy mine!

Orasmyn.

Away with bonds—

For, ev'n were vows unknown, a noble soul

Would feel untold a fellow-suff'rer's sorrows,

And blend self-love with social.—Why, oh! why

Were we born enemies?

ALONZO —snatching his hand.

Ere yet we were,

Our finer tones of mind some guardian spirit

Touch'd into harmony; and, when we met,

Th' according strings struck forth a sound so sweet,

That heav'n itself might listen! love! ev'n love,

That brand of discord, burns within our bosoms,

Pale—cold—before the steady flame of virtue!

Orasmyn.

The camp alone is mine. Once in its districts,

No human pow'r can reach thee. It were wise

To wait the hour that wafts thee o'er the river.

ORASMYN takes the Torch, and guides ALONZO out. HAMET, after a proper interval, descends, as lighting onward ALMEYDA.

Hamet.

We have been fortunate to 'scape those slaves.—

—Tread careful, madam; here the stones are loose.

ALMEYDA —(descending.)

Thus on the soul breaks love's celestial light,

And chears, with many a lengthning ray, misfortune!

HAMET —(stopping as shocked.)

—These chains—this silence—Oh, unhappy moment!—

They were the assassins, then, who e'en now pass'd us?—

—For your soul's sake, and as you value reason,

Return at once, sweet princess!

ALMEYDA —(waving him away with scorn.)

Hence, rude man!

Wert thou Abdallah's self, thou should•st not s•ay me,

Thus near Alonzo—prithee love reprove him!

Hamet.

Alas!

ALMEYDA (faintly and alarmed.)

Hast thou deceiv'd me—or within,

Is there some yet more deep—more dreary den!

HAMET (in a broken voice.)

There is indeed a deeper—where Almeyda,

Shall never hear her lover!—

Almeyda.

Never, said'st thou?

Recall that fearful word; nor at this crisis

Pluck from my soul the last prop that sustains it!

HAMET (in agony.)

—Oh! that I could beguile myself, or thee!—

—These are the very chains with which I bound him,

And this the chasm (from whence the mass of stone

By leavers has been rais'd) where through the rocks,

Full many a victim to the fears of state,

Precipitated in the rushing torrent,

Has sought an unknown grave—

ALMEYDA (pressing the chains to her bosom.)

Murder'd—lost—

Wisdom—nor strength—nor valour then avail'd thee!

Hamet.

Oh prophet! should she die! infernal tyrant,

—To chuse my only absence for the murder—

—How is it, Madam!

ALMEYDA (in a deep tone of despair.)

Ev'n as I would have it—

For that thy kindness meant to aid thy Queen

Take this—she has no recompence to give,

(Loosens the jewel RAMIREZ gave her from her bosom, kisses it—wipes her eyes—surveys and gives it HAMET.)

—Nor ever now will have—begone and leave me—

Nor let one human eye pervade a sorrow,

Too mighty for complaint!

HAMET (soothing her.)

You will return?

Almeyda.

Return? You mean me well, nor will I chide—

But hence at once, and leave me to an anguish,

Which would not waste itself in words, or tears,

But swell within and wash away remembrance!

Hamet.

Oh! Madam, pardon him who dares not leave you.

Imagine the conjectures of the world,

If here you should be found—

Almeyda.

My world is vanish'd!—

It was concentered in the spot he liv'd on,

And if it yet exists—'tis in his grave!

Hamet.

Think of Abdallah!—Can you fail to dread him?

Almeyda.

Who has nought to hope, has little sure to fear—

—Add not a feather to the weight that presses

Upon this brain, and turns it into chaos!

—Go—shield thyself—and leave me to my fortune!

—Why wilt thou urge the parley?—and awake

The pride, the passion—lost extinct—in horror?

Hamet.

—Yet be advised—sweet Princess quit this place!

ALMEYDA (pressing her forehead vaguely.)

Wilt thou then kill me?

Hamet.

Rather would I save—

—Time will dry up these tears—restore your peace

And make you joy in safety—

ALMEYDA (turning with horror to the Chasm.)

Look there—look there!

Then talk to me of peace, of joy, of safety.—

Hamet.

The savage who dares wound his sov'reign's heart,

Would lacerate each vein of wretched Hamet's—

For my sake then, if not thine own, sweet Queen,

Fly hence!—

ALMEYDA (with increasing delirium.)

Say'st thou to heav'n?

Hamet.

Alas! alas!

Her reason surely wanders! hark, I hear him.

—By all the nameless agonies you feel;

Oh! pity him, destroy'd by pitying you!

Almeyda.

Hence—hence—whoe'er you are—I will not go!

But reign for ever here!—supreme in sorrow!

—The sun no more shall visit these sad eyes,

Nor the wan moon present one soft reflection—

Winter no more shall chill—or summer warm me;

Nor innocence, nor heav'n itself supply,

One moment of delight!—but damp, cold drops,

Thus petrify my heart! and night eternal,

(shivering and looking up.)

Make vain the sense of sight!—now come, Abdallah,

Behold in me Alonzo's monument!

Hamet.

Abdallah comes indeed!—his voice resounds!—

It grows upon my ear—one chance is mine—

—Could I regain the cleft that lately hid us,

He might pass on—and I, in flight, find safety!

(He treads on the torch and flies hastily.)

ALMEYDA (in frenzy.)

How suddenly the night falls!—Oh, my heart!

Will no one knit thy loosen'd strings, and staunch

The vital blood yet flowing?—yes one hand—

—Ah! no—Ramirez, will to death abhor

Almeyda's fatal name!

Guards light in, and follow Abdallah.

Abdallah.

Are ye all in?

Now close the gate; that no obtrusive eye,

No foot unbidden press upon my secret.

—So in the gulph with him, at once shall sink

All knowledge of his fate!

ALMEYDA (majestically.)

Who pierces thro'

The grave's deep silence, with a voice so loud,

Disturbing my repose?

Abdallah.

Can it be her!

Amazement! and Alonzo gone!—Ah! vain,

Is every guard against that subtle sex!

—She has found some ready villain to assist her,

And giv'n the Prince his freedom.—

ALMEYDA (in a low anxious voice.)

Comes Ramirez?—

He comes to seek his son?—Ah! hapless monarch,

That name to him is nothing?—yet I'll hide

These traces from his sight—

She advances wildly, and fearfully looking back.

Abdallah.

How now, Almeyda?

This can be only frenzy—where's thy lover?

ALMEYDA (laying her hand on his arm.)

Why dost thou ask Ramirez?—he's in Murcia—

Did not thy policy dispose him there,

When fixed upon my ruin? Wretched Sire!

draws him aside.

Fly from this den of death!—here broods a serpent,

Fatal to thee, and to thy race!—ev'n now,

Dozing upon this flinty floor, I dreamt—

—Oh! such a dream I shudder but to name it!

Abdallah.

What dream Almeyda? I must soothe this transport,

If I would learn the truth—

Almeyda.

Nay never frown,

I spoke it unawares—but strange, strange visions,

Still swim before these eyes!—yet not Alonzo—

—Tho' him alone I sought. came to save,

—Too late, alas! I came. Now thou wilt weep!

Or is thy brain, like mine, sear'd up in lead?

She leans on the shoulder of a Guard.

Abdallah.

This is an incident so singular,

As out-runs fancy, and perplexes reason!

—Nature's exhausted in her! Some dire truth

Lurks under all this mystery and frenzy.

Guard.

My lord, behold the chains that bound the stranger.

Abdallah.

And who durst take them off? Almeyda only!

—Yet where then is he vanish'd? Ah! if grief,

At witnessing this woe, should have impell'd him

At once to plunge into this yawning gulph!

How is't, Almeyda?

ALMEYDA —(turning fondly to him.)

Heavy—strangely heavy!

Guide of my youth! sole partner in its sorrows!

kissing his hand.

Abdallah.

Astonishing delusion! Where's Alonzo?

Almeyda.

Did I not tell you of my horrid dream?

—Sleeping, just now, upon this flinty floor,

Ev'n from its solid base, I heard Alonzo,

Amid the rush of torrents—Me he call'd,

And shook the deep profound! My fond heart

It answer'd too—Oh! with such eager throbs,

The long vibrations spread beyond this frame,

Almost into Eternity!—

ABDALLAH —(exultingly.)

Ev'n so!—

Thus have I the advantage, and not guilt.

Almeyda.

Soft! or Abdallah comes. Not ev'n you,

Warn'd as you were of all his selfish views,

Can guess at his barbarity! An uncle?—

Yet these dim eyes take pleasure to behold thee!

The rav'nous vulture—blood-incited wolf,

Prey not, when disappointed, on their species!

That pitch of cruelty was left for man.

—Nature convulses at the bare idea,

Nor dares to snap the tie herself has form'd!

—He thinks I'll take this tamely! No, Abdallah,

I will have such revenge!—From thy black heart,

At once I'll pluck away its worldly veil,

And punish thee in mere sincerity.

ABDALLAH —(fiercely.)

Thou shalt not live to do it, subtle traitress!

"I will be warn'd in time—For in these flights

"The soul's deep sense full oft may be discover'd!

He surveys wistfully Almeyda, the Guards, and the Chasm.

"—One moment might effect it! and that moment

"Inter with her all traces of the deed!

"—Further I'll try her.—Wilt thou not forgive

"Th' involuntary wrong?

Almeyda.

Whene'er I do,

"May Heav'n forget the wretch it now chastises!

Abdallah.

"Nay, then thou diest! nor pray'rs, nor

"tears, shall save thee.

"That word decides thy doom! Seize on her, strait!

"Precipitate her instant down the gulph,

"And live the favored objects of my bounty!

"Almeyda.

Oh, that tremendous voice!—Where fled my senses,

"That they acknowledged not yon ruthless savage?

"—Him before whom I was born but to tremble?

"Slaves, drag me not! Ye will not murder me?

"—Am I not reft of every good but being—

"A chearless being? Spare thy own remorse,

"Nor crown the pile of thy enormous sins

"With such a helpless victim!

"Abdallah.

Vain are pray'rs,

"I have not ventur'd thus far, to recede!

"Nought but thy death can now assure my safety—

—Who's at the gate? Unbar it not, I charge you.

GUARD, opening the Gate.

The Prince Orasmyn only.

Enter ORASMYN. (Almeyda flies to him.)

Oh, protect me!

Guard—save me—hide me in thy very heart!

Orasmyn.

Ay, while it beats, sweet flutt'rer! Good my lord,

What mean these haggard slaves, and this confusion?

—How comes Almeyda here! Why thus afflicted?

Abdallah.

Born to make vain my cares, and cross thy fortune,

Why art thou here? She, as thou seest, is frantic.

Orasmyn.

Alla forbid! Speak, dear one!—Calm my fears.

Ah! tremble not—but speak—

Almeyda.

Alonzo, surely!

I hear thee, love; but dare not, dare not look.—

Orasmyn.

Of the vast host of mental ills, ordain'd

To punish hapless man, the worst has seiz'd her!

Alas! by my omission! Dear Almeyda,

Calm thy perturbed soul, and look around!

Thy friends alone are near thee.

ALMEYDA, Glancing around, she buries her face in Orasmyn's robe.

Oh, no!—no!

I see a fiend, who turns me into marble!

—But I am safe with thee! Thou ne'er wilt leave me,

My own Alonzo!

Abdallah.

Thus she still has rav'd.—

"Ev'n now, she took me for Ramirez! Yet

"Thou mightst improve this blindness—if thou'rt wise,

"Avail thyself of her fond fancy's error,

"And wed her strait!

"Orasmyn.

Wed her. Forbid it Alla!

"—Were reason perfect in her, this fond clasp

"I should pronounce a bliss more exquisite,

"Than all in cold futurity!—But now,

"My heart recoils from her soft touch.

—Sweet suff'rer, raise thine eyes! within this circle

Give thy woes respite: For, from this sad hour,

Ne'er shalt thou know another—if this heart,

This arm, hath pow'r to save thee!

Abdallah.

As thou wilt—

Thou know'st my mind!—Now be the choice thine own. Exit; Guards follow.

Orasmyn.

Oh, most unguarded!—Ere I sav'd Alonzo,

I should have warn'd this dear one of my purpose.

—How shall I now convince her? Oh! those eyes.

More beauteous for their wildness, how they wander!

—Hear me, Almeyda! By the unsullied soul

Within this bleeding breast, thy lover lives—

—Alonzo lives!

Almeyda.

Ay; so I knew you'd tell me:

But spare the specious tale. I know already—

I heard it from himself! Nay, nay, no more.

Orasmyn.

Oh, agony! for human sense too touching!

Yet how to wake again her recollection?

Almeyda! do'st thou know me?

ALMEYDA (gazing vaguely on him.)

I know one,

One only, in the circle of creation,

And he is strangely vanish'd!

Orasmyn.

Yet he lives!

In safety lives.

Almeyda.

Within this heart, d'ye say?

Ay, there he lives, indeed, and shall for ever!

Orasmyn.

Never can I forgive my own neglect!

For, oh, this •ight is dreadful! Yet Almeyda,

Thy own Alonzo lives,—like me, to weep.

Almeyda.

Yes; I have heard strange tales—ye all have told me,

And seen such dismal sights! I dare not speak them!

—No matter—Time will clear all up.—I'm weary.

Orasmyn.

Oh! let me lead you hence—

Almeyda.

Ev'n where you will.

And by that voice of comfort, you should guide me

To my Alonzo's heaven.

"Orasmyn.

Touching charmer!

"I dare not listen more; lest I, like thee,

"Grow out of love with reason, and delight

"Only to hear thy rhapsodies!

starting, and looking through the pillars.

"Almeyda.

"More dungeons!

"Perhaps more murd'rers, too. Now should they come,

"Exhausted as I am, no pow'r could save me!

"Oh! they have strength to wrest one's very being!

"Look at this arm.— baring he••.

Orasmyn.

"The savage gripe has purpled

"The purest white pulsation ever throb'd in!

He starts and wistfully surveys Almeyda and the chasm.

"It cannot be! the fear is too tremendous!

"Abhorrent Nature, from a deed so black,

"Would shrink, 'till these high rocks, o'erarch'd by art,

"Sink to the center!—Oh! forgive the thought

"Thy own ambitious nature prompts, my father!

—Rest on me, dear Almeyda! Near your chamber,

Faithful I'll watch the live-long night, and pray

It may breathe peace upon you. Pr'ythee lean!

Almeyda.

Soft! have a care, we tread not on his grave!

Somebody shew'd it me.—We're very near it.

Orasmyn.

Oh! that superior mind is gone for ever!

—Yet still, thus ruin'd, like a broken mirror,

It gives a perfect image in each fragment! Exeunt.

ACT V.

SCENE I.

The magnificent Hall with which the Play opens; and similar Clouds, shewing again the Dawn of Morning.

ABDALLAH enters, finding ORASMYN musing.

ABDALLAH.

HAST thou thus watch'd the night away, my son,

Regardless of the common dues of nature?

—The day will come, when thou'lt regret in vain,

This lavish waste alike of health and feeling!

And why thus strictly-guard a maniac?

—Who will assail Almeyda?

Orasmyn.

Who will soothe her?

—It is among the fatal rights of rank

To want all common blessings! Never more,

Alas! shall this sweet visionary find them.

Abdallah.

Has, then, her frenzy known no interval,

And the long night elapsed in restless ravings?

Orasmyn.

Th' inventive evil took such various forms

As fancy scarce could follow—pausing often

In vacant silence, or in speechless anguish!

—Anon, more musical than the lone bird,

Who pours her sorrows to the midnight moon,

She waked the drowsy night! Oft the wild strain

Soar'd ev'n to Heav'n—As oft it died away,—

Like the uncertain sweetness of that harp,

The light breeze softly touches!

Abdallah.

Thoughts like these,

Will undermine the firmness of thy nature.—

Orasmyn! as thou lov'st me, shake them off!

Thou art the better part of my existence;

And when thou droop'st I sink.

Orasmyn.

At once to see,

The flow'r of nature in the morning wither!

Ev'n while my senses ached at its perfection!—

Abdallah.

How wise—how gen'rous were those lavish tears,

Could sympathy restore the hapless suff'rer!

But other duties call thee into action.—

Time will not with thee watch Almeyda's frenzy,

Nor the great wheel of empire cease its motion—

Thy hand must guide it.

Orasmyn.

Empire! said my father?

—Shall I usurp Almeyda's royal seat?

Grow great by her misfortune! Rather bid me

Dig at her feet the grave she wildly calls for,

And fill it undishonor'd! Oh! no more.

I would not understand you!

Abdallah.

Say thou wilt not,

And I am answer'd.—Weak, romantick boy!

Loiter thy life away upon her threshold!

Renounce thy sire, thy rank, thy name in arms,

The golden wreath already hov'ring o'er thee,

And live a lover only!

Orasmyn.

Live to honour!

To that quick sense, which, striking at the heart,

Damns, ev'n on earth, the guilty! Oh, beware!

And dread, in time, to know the dire pulsation!

Abdallah.

Dar'st thou suppose it?

Orasmyn.

The mere thought was treason!

—Yet, a calamity so sudden, speaks

Some known, yet latent cause.—

Abdallah.

I heed thee well—

And feel, ungrateful son! through ev'ry fibre,

The yet unspoken censure! But yet, remember,

Had I more crimes than thoughts, 'tis thou hast caus'd them!

—Judge, then, what passes here, when thus I learn

Thou dar'st despise my views, my pow'r—my person!

Exit, into the Queen's apartment.

Orasmyn.

Stay, leave me not in wrath!—forgive, my father,

A heart ev'n bursting with conflicting passions!

—If I have injur'd!—'Tis, alas, too much,

To shock his nature with the black suspicion!

Enter ABDALLAH again.

—My father, I have err'd!—Oh! deign to pity

Him, who, thus agoniz'd with doubt and fear,

Finds no pow'r perfect but unshaken honour!

And that pure pride he'll cherish, unto death.

—No vain—no selfish—no ambitious thought,

Shall ever tempt me, ev'n in thought, to wrong

That hapless sov'reign I have sworn to guard!

The vow yet lives, unchill'd, upon your lips!

And, oh, her mis'ry doubly should enforce it!—

Recal your honour!—Love me in Almeyda! Exit.

Abdallah.

'Tis well. This black ingratitude has steel'd me!

—Cherish thy insolence of pride—Thou'lt need it.

Have I, then, liv'd for thee in vain, Orasmyn?

—A girl, by one soft glance, annihilates

Those rights a life of fondness should have gain'd me!

—Hast thou forgot thy father's heir Granada,

Regardless of thy scruples, or thy choice?

—Ev'n now the golden circlet binds my brow,

And in Abdallah henceforth know thy king!

—I have dispos•d the Council to believe,

Her frenzy constitutional. This hour,

Her hand unconscious might resign her crown,

Then never, never, need she see Granada.

Enter NOURASSIN.

Nourassin.

The Council waits, my lord, your wish'd

for presence.

—How fares our hapless sov'reign?

Abdallah.

Lost in frenzy—

With vacant eye, ev'n now, she gaz'd upon me,

But knew nor voice, nor feature!—

Nourassin.

'Tis too plain—

The malady's habitual! Those starts

Ev'n as we hail'd her glad return, bespoke

A strange distraction, or some buried passion.

—Castile, with matchless policy, has kept

The mournful secret, 'till, the advantage gain'd,

With pomp he gave us back the gorgeous casket,

Nor own'd the gem was vanish'd.—

Abdallah.

Are the Council

So satisfied?

Nourassin.

Not one dissents, my lord.

Abdallah.

Why then should we delay the abdication?

A form alone is wanting; and her hand,

Unfit to govern, may with ease be led,

To delegate that pow'r our laws deny her.

—Perchance, in the next transport of her frenzy,

No human pow'r may move her.—

Nourassin.

It were wise,

Since to the nation we must vouch this truth,

To lead her forth, and summon in the Council.

Abdallah.

Haste, then, my friend! Conduct Almeyda hither. Exit Nourassin.

SCENE II.

The Council assemble round the Canopy of State. ALMEYDA is led on, veiled; she draws the veil at length aside, and, looking majestically around, speaks.

Almeyda.

When late I closed these lips, I fully purposed,

Never again to break the awful silence,

Or view the light of Heav'n, or face of man.—

Why then am I dragg'd forth, a spectacle?

What cruel eye would dive into this heart—

This broken heart, to mark the early ravage?

—I wither in the sun—chill in the breeze;

Yet the sun runs his wonted course in glory!

The vernal breeze invigorates the world!

And all the change is here! pressing her heart.

"ABDALLAH. (soothingly)

"Lamenting still?

"Alas! that such a beauteous form should prove

"Only the soul's sad sepulchre! Yet oft,

"In woman, (mutable in all beside)

"Love fixes ev'n to frenzy!

"ALMEYDA (replying to an imaginary question.)

"Idle question!

"Why did I love? As well might you demand,

"Why I saw light!—why waked my soul to knowledge?

"Like light—like knowledge, in my infant sense,

"Sunk imperceptible the tender impulse!

"—Alonzo first partook each little care,

"And doubled ev'ry joy! Ah, dear were both,

"While crowns and sceptres yet were idle playthings!

"Abdallah.

Inventive malady, which wounds yet

"charms us!

"(aside) There is too much of method in this frenzy.

"Would I had never trusted the event!

"ALMEYDA (appearing to listen, and trembling.)

"Hold—hide me! Save me from this inward horror!

"—Hark! hear ye not the murd'rers feet approaching?

"—That death-devoting voice! Ev'n now they come—

"They rush upon my love!—Oh! spare him, spare him!

"—Dar'st thou, inhuman?—He's a monarch's heir!

"Off, ruffians! nor profane that gallant form—

"Oh! for a giant's arm, to wrest him from you!

"—Now, now, the steep rocks echo with his fall,

"And the rude surge entombs him!—Oh, Alonzo!

"Abdallah.

Ever Alonzo! He is all her cry.—

"Nourassin.

Recal your erring sense, unhappy princess!

"Nor dwell for ever on these gloomy fictions.—

"Almeyda.

Away, away!—nor venture to console me—

"—Thou hast not known to blend thy heart with his,

"In faith indissoluble, and true passion—

"I was that wretch—the visited of Heav'n!—

"But, oh! the dire proportion of my mis'ry!—

"—Still must I seek him on the river's brink:

"Of seasons—time—of heat—of cold, regardless!

"—Or do I err; or does the surge return him?

"Swoln—maim'd, defac'd! no charm—no grace is left,

"Of all fond fancy worshipp'd.—Scarce my heart,

"In this disfigured corse, can know Alonzo!

"—Turn, hapless father! turn thine eyes away,

"Nor 〈◊〉 the dreadful secret! Oh, that I,

"Like you, could hope a little while his coming,

"—Start at his fancied footstep—hear his voice,

"And die, at last, in blessed, blessed ignorance!

"Abdallah.

"Mark, how this wildness shakes her!—

In such transport

"She cannot yield the crown.

Nourassin.

"Yet will we try her.

—Those faithful subjects, who but pray'd to pass,

Beneath Almeyda's sway, their years in peace,

Behold, with grief, the malady that shakes

Her nobler faculties; they supplicate

That she to abler hands resign her pow'r,

And in retirement soothe her soul's soft sorrows.

Almeyda.

—Soft! give me time to breathe.—A moment's thought.—

They tender her the Regalia.

Th' imperial wreath, with which, in one short day,

These throbbing temples have been overweigh'd,

I unregretting yield.—Thou gaudy emblem

Laying her hand on the Crown.

Of nature's ample round! In thy small circle

Lies all that man desires, and, oh! much more

Than man can e'er enjoy, unless he finds

Heav'ns own supreme delight the bliss of blessing!

How hast thou mark'd my fate with endless horror!

—Hence, from my dim eyes, take the brilliant evil,

And gives the promis'd solitude!

Nourassin.

Our laws,

With your own hand, require you to resign it,

To this your heir.—

Almeyda.

To him! Oh, horrible!

—Kill me, but shew not to my eyes that monster!

—Shakes not the earth beneath his bloody feet?

And sleeps in peace the thunder?

Abdallah.

Alas! alas!

You see she knows me not!

Almeyda.

Oh! would I did not!

Is there no help? Alas, I'm at his mercy!

His mercy, said I? 'Tis a word he knows not.

—But, pray you, call no murd'rers—I will die,

Without one struggle—only have a grave

May decently receive me, when my heart

Completes his crimes, and bursts with this convulsion!

Abdallah.

The strong necessity o'er-rules all form!

—I must assume that crown she neither knows,

Duly, to wear or yield!—

Nourassin.

Yet stay, my lord,

This is mere malady—She may be won.

Almeyda.

Oh, mem'ry! thou return'st in all thy horrors!—

—Alas I am not mad, but miserable!

—Pity this anguish—pause, oh pause, one moment!

And from the fearful height where reason totters,

Ready to plunge into the bright obscure,

Yet give me leisure slowly to recall her!

—Awful supreme, support me! thou who know'st.

Al I have suffer'd! all I yet must suffer!

Suspend this cruel sense of my misfortunes!

—Expunge the woman from this bleeding bosom;

Oh fill it wholly with those nobler duties,

Which supercede ev'n self, and awe at once

Each human grief to silence!

Abdallah.

Wherefore gaze ye?

—This is a frenzy equals ev'n her own!

"—Like the wild fires of the conflicting elements,

"These flashes of the soul, oft break the night,

"The long, long, night, which falls thus on a maniac."

Nourassin.

Yet hear the Queen, Abdallah—her discourse,

Sounds not like frenzy!

Almeyda.

Rather truth, and reason—

—My dismal fate's accomplish'd!—Man nor Heav'n,

Can mitigate its horrors!—yet for you,

For you, unvers'd in suff'ring, still I feel—

Nor dare I delegate the pow'r I hold,

To him I know incapable of pity—

—To him, who would perpetuate, and extend,

The miseries I ever must groan under!

ABDALLAH (in a transport of rage).

Fool'd—fool'd at last! 'tis well—I have deserv'd it,

In trusting to a woman—

Almeyda.

Ye, who hear me,

Know all the merit of this painful effort!

—For you I yet will live—for you will reign,—

And tho' my secret soul shall seek the grave,

Ev'n to the hour that gives me to Alonzo,

Yet shall the ling'ring interval be mark'd,

By many an act of equity, and honor—

—I here deliberately impeach Abdallah,

Of blackest treason to his lawful sov'reign!

—To crown his sins a nobler victim fell!

Oh! deed too horrible for thought!—Oh deed!

Which ear hath never heard, nor voice yet utter'd!

Abdallah.

Spare all thy eloquence! and this recital!

—The evil thou'st escap'd, now seizes me,

And makes my brain, like my wild soul, one chaos!

—I do avow the intent, ev'n of that deed,

Tho' of the fact I'm guiltless—yet I'll try,

Thus to deserve thy charge!—

Nourassin.

Seize on his sword!

he is disarm'd.

ORASMYN enters and draws to guard his father.

How now? Presumptuous man!

Almeyda.

Ah! he too here!

For me there is nor justice then, nor hope!

ABDALLAH (gasping on the shoulder of his son.)

Orasmyn! thou hadst nearly lost a father!

—No proud Almeyda!

For thee alone I liv'd not! hadst thou seen

No more than I intended for thy knowledge,

Thou hadst been happy!—happy with Orasmyn!

I would have giv'n thee him—my life's best hope,

In whom I centre all my pride—my glory!

—Yet at this awful crisis of existence,

No more will I dissemble my true motive!

—To crown his youthful brow with that bright wreath

Injurious fortune bade him only look on,

Has been the single object of my life!

Orasmyn.

He scorns the gift—nor thinks he hears a father.

—Recall your better self, and calm this transport

Almeyda.

This artifice, Orasmyn, is too late—

—Rather act like him—own the glorious sin,

And still preserve one merit in thy candour!

Orasmyn.

How? how have I deserved the bitter taunt?

How wrong'd my sov'reign ev'n in secret thought?

"Or dared obtrude one selfish view before her?

"—If in this hour of wildness, and confusion,

"I joy to see her renovated reason;

"Proud to confirm her pow'r, to guard her person,

"—If this be treason, purify my heart—

"—To thee I render gladly up the sword,

"Upon whose point no blood ere yet congeal'd,

"Save of thy foes!"

Almeyda.

"Long, long, with glory wear it—

"—I blush to have aspers'd a soul so noble."

ABDALLAH (scornfully surveying him.)

Thou traitor to thyself!—my soul disclaims thee!

Thou hast foredoom'd thy sire, by basely bowing

Thus to thy heart's fond minion!—hence, and leave me.

Orasmyn.

Ne'er can he err, whose monitor is virtue!

Revere her awful pow'r, which saves at once,

Thy life my father—sweet Almeyda's reason,

And ev'n Orasmyn's honour—fly to the gate,

And guide Alonzo hither—oh recall

The last fond hope that beat within thy heart,

Ere yet its darling object vanish'd from thee!

(Gives a ring to an attendant who departs.)

ALMEYDA (faint and trembling.)

Dread to awake the thought—lost! lost! and murder'd!

Orasmyn.

The grave itself, has render'd up, ere now

A guiltless inmate!—

Almeyda.

Does my sense deceive me?

—Is he not dead—repeat that little sentence—

Let my soul live one moment on the hope,

And take, each envied ensign of dominion—

—For could I crown thee with the radiant gems,

That sprinkle o'er the blue expanse above,

'Twere recompence too poor!—but, oh! I fear,

I fear, thou trifled with my heart's fond anguish!

—Drawn a gay meteor o'er my gloomy fate,

Which only shews its blackness!

Orasmyn.

"—To appearance—

Almeyda.

"Appearance, saidst thou?—Think, ere

"yet again

"One breath escape thee, on the verge of being

"My soul now hovers, and a single word

"May make her quite immortal!

Orasmyn.

If to know

Alonzo lives, can crown thy days with pleasure,

Be happy, ever happy!—for I saved

The only lover I was born to envy!

(She looks doubtfully, then sinks fainting in his arms.)

Abdallah.

This is a folly that transcends example!

—Oh! for a pang at once to pierce them both!

Orasmyn.

Her life seems gone—soft—bend her gently forward.

Abdallah.

And hop'st thou then, ungrateful boy, to

save her?

Orasmyn.

Wake not within my soul a thought so kill¦ing?

—Call ev'ry aid—

Abdallah.

Forbear the useless trouble—

'Tis not in medicine to prolong her being—

A subtle poison sleeps in ev'ry pore,

And steals her from herself—no human art,

Can bid her breathe one hour!

ORASMYN (throwing himself in an agony at her feet)

Thou injur'd angel!

Could the life-blood congealing in these veins,

Extend thy years, and give thee all thy wishes;

Ev'n with the fierceness of that fatal savage,

I dare not call my father, would I gash

Each purple artery, and urge the current!—

—Thou gav'st me being!—tho' my soul abhors,

The tainted blessing! yet to thee I turn,

In this tremendous moment!—hear, and pity!

Blot not at once thy honour, nor defame,

E're yet he soar to glory, that loved son,

Who ne'er till now offended.—

Abdallah.

"Need'st thou learn,

"I do not easily fix my decrees,

"But never know to change them.—

Almeyda.

"Why, Orasmyn,

"Wilt thou thus plead for the poor life I heed not?

—Life, the frail blossom of eternity!

"Which shrinks and shivers, in the vernal breeze,

"And sheds its purple bloom with ev'ry show'r—

"Until the embryo fruit, arrived at fullness,

"Shakes its soft shelter to the dust?—Most happy,

"Who ripen first! and quit this mortal coil,

"Unblighted, and unbroken!"

Orasmyn.

"Is it thus,

"Celestial spirit! thus, thou'dst give me comfort?

"Oh! more we need thy example, than thy precepts!

"My father! have I then no influence with thee?

Long hast thou studied nature's baleful secrets,

And well thou know'st their antidotes—

ABDALLAH (with bitterness.)

But thou,

Again perhaps would'st scorn the tainted gift,

Again despise the giver!

Orasmyn.

Oh! my father!

To this, how little were the life I owe you!

Abdallah.

I have not been accustomed to deny thee—

(Gives a ring to an attendant, who goes out.)

ORASMYN (turning with softness to Almeyda.)

"How often did I tell thee I had saved him!

"Ev'n when thy reason, like a frighted bird,

"Forsook the home round which it fondly flutter'd!

"—Yet, oh Almeyda! not in vain thou'st suffer'd!

"That fatal passion which thy beauty caused,

"By all these miseries chastized to friendship,

"Retains its essence only, and appears,

"Like the cold lustre of a winter sun,

"When all its glow, and purple vapors faded!

Abdallah.

To her devoted, he nor hears, nor sees me—

Ah! should he dare despise—Oh Mahomet!

To be the scorn of those for whom we sin—

—This, this, is disappointment's consummation.

(Attendant brings him a goblet.)

Orasmyn, from the memorable hour,

Thy voice first hail'd me sire, ev'n unto this

I've granted all thy pray'rs!

The good I wish myself, be thine Almeyda!

I taste the draught, that thou may'st fearless share it!

ORASMYN (presenting the bowl.)

Oh! do not hesitate a single moment.

"Hardly can I respire with apprehension—

ALMEYDA (fainting.)

"If this be death, how falsely do we fear it!

"Care, pain, and sorrow, fade before the calm,

"The holy calm o'er-shadowing ev'ry sense!—

—Methinks, without a crime, at once to 'scape,

The dreadful past, and all the doubtful future,

Were to accomplish early life's great purpose!

Orasmyn.

Oh! spare me all the guilt, the grief,—the horror,

Live, sweet Almeyda, live, tho' for another!

Almeyda.

Oh! that this potent essence were compounded,

Of herbs might purify alike the soul,

And lull it to a deep, a long repose.— Drinks the antidote.

Abdallah.

Oh, transport! glory! Oh! tremendous triumph!

Sons may forget, but Mahomet remembers!

He has not scorn'd my pray'r, nor quite renounc'd me

—Prophetic was thy voice; for thou shalt find

A long repose indeed! This was the poison

Which I with an indignant pleasure shared—

—I had, alas! no other means to die:

Nor would I fall inglorious—unlamented.—

—Almeyda, proud Almeyda! ev'n thy love,

In all the plenitude of rank and beauty,

Shall grace my obsequies! and thou, ungrateful!

Attend us, a true mourner.

Orasmyn.

Speech is lost!—

—A deed like this bursts the great chord of nature,

And makes this gorgeous world but one vast ruin!

Abdallah.

Already do I feel the subtle essence—

It rages onward, like the fires of Etna,

And nature withers ere it yet approaches.—

—Ah! she too sinks. Upon the lip of beauty!

Mortality now lays his livid finger!

—This—This is glorious mischief! and I joy

To die, the moment life has lost its value.

Orasmyn.

But thus to blend me in so black a deed—

—Make me the minister of my own destruction!

Oh! I have, guiltless, cropt creation's rose,

And shook its crimson glories to the dust!

—List not those gracious eyes again to me,

Thou soft perfection! I no more dare meet them.

—No, never dare I hope thou shouldst forgive

Th' unparallel'd credulity!—and he—

Yet, nature, yet thou wring'st me!

ABDALLAH (fiercely shaking him off.)

Hence! begone—

•awn on thy minion! but no more approach

The sire thou hast disgrac'd—betray'd—abandon'd!

—Ev'n as I lov'd thee once, so now I loathe thee!

Oh! how I long to shut out life itself,

Since I with life can shut out thy rememb'rance!

—Bear me, I pray you, to the Guadalquiver—

turns to the attendants.

Plunge, plunge me in at once! My liver's calcined!

—Oh, find some sudden means to quench this fire,

Ere yet my eye-strings crack!—Away, Away!

Abdallah is borne off.

Almeyda.

Yet, yet, he comes not!—Oh! no more

these eyes

Shall dwell delighted on their only object;

Nor this fond heart pronounce its last adieu!

turns and sees Orasmyn's bitter grief.

"Take comfort, prince!—Tho' small is my own portion,

"Yet will I share it with thee! For thy sire,

"May Heav'n, like me, forgive him!

Orasmyn.

"Spotless victim!

"His vices have cut short his being here—

"But, oh! thy virtues speak his future fate.

ALMEYDA (growing more weak.)

"Among the many wand'rers on this earth,

"Few are allow'd to reach the mortal term:

"And of those few, scarce one expires content.

"—The mind's deep agonies exhaust each pow'r,

"And early fit the frame for dissolution—

"I only feel a numbness." Hark! I hear him.

Orasmyn.

It is thy love! Ah, happy he! to know

The pangs of sorrow only.

ALONZO (entering.)

Blest be Heav'n!

Which gives me once again to see Almeyda!

—And blest be, too, Orasmyn!

ALMEYDA (leaning fondly over him.)

Tis thyself!—

My own Alonzo!—all my soul's fond treasure!

"Thus on the dying eyes of •ome lone hermit,

"O'erhanging angels pour a flood of glory,

"Ev'n till his soul exhales in extasy!

Alonzo.

Ah! why this mournful sweetness? In thine eye

The living lustre fades; and on thy cheek

Each charm grows wan and hollow!

ORASMYN. (wringing his hand.)

Oh, Alonzo!

No more must we contend for this rich prize!

Heav'n claims its own—and we alike must mourn.

ALONZO (shaking him off.)

Prince! if thou'st done this deed—

Almeyda

Oh! never think it—

Orasmyn's gen'rous heart is virtue's temple!

Alonzo, dear Alonzo! honour—love him.

Much wilt thou owe him for my mean injustice.

—I only strove for life till thou wert near.—

It now evaporates: Hardly speech is left me.

"—I charge ye, ne'er with blood defile the tomb,

"Which the true tears of both may nobly hallow.

—And now, indeed, farewel!—A hand for each.

This gives away my crown; and this, oh! this,

The faithful heart that's in it!—I am cold;

And these dim eyes seek vainly for Alonzo!

—Speak to me, love!—Oh! speak to me, once more,

While yet I know that voice—!

Alonzo.

Lost in a chaos

Of killing anguish, without one expression

May ease this lab'ring heart, how shall I soothe thee?

How mitigate thy pain?

Almeyda.

Tell me you love me—

Lays her head on his hand, and dies.

Alonzo.

Love you!—Oh, God!—

Orasmyn. Kissing and resigning her hand.

Words—vows—weak, vain indulgence!

Never—Oh! never shall my soul forget you!

Both lovers remain mourning near her.

HAMET (advancing).

Tremendous moment! awful pause of being!

—When viewing thus the abdicated frame,

Where the fond soul had treasur'd all her wishes,

How does recoiling Nature feel at once

Her imperfection. Yet such scenes alone

Can shew the danger of those cherish'd passions,

Which thus can antedate the hour of death,

〈◊〉 make existence agony!

EPILOGUE.

To be spoken in a Crier's Gown, and with a Bell.

OYEZ! Oyez! Oyez!

Whereas on demand it doth plainly appear,

That some wicked wag.—Odso! how came I here?

What a blund'ring is this! One would think I were blind.

Here I'm got on before, when I should be behind.

—Rare work, there, my friends! rare storming and fury.

No Epilogue's coming to-night, I assure you!—

Sure never poor author like ours has been crost:

When meant to be spoken, she found it was lost.

Lost, Ma'am, says the prompter, all pale at the sound!

Lost, Ma'am, do you say? was re-echoed around,—

Lost—stol'n, she replied; 'tis in vain to deny it;

So dear Mr. KING, be so good as to cry it.

The thought was an odd one, you'll say—so did I:

But when ladies intreat, we are bound to comply.

Oyez! Oyez! Oyez! Rings the bell again.

Be it known,

To all it concerns, Wit, Critick, or Town,

That whoe'er brings it back shall receive, besides praise,

A handsome reward of a crown too of bays;

Whereas, if detain'd, heavy law-suits will follow,

And damage be sued for, in court of Apollo.

Rare menaces these! you see how it stands—

She'll indite you all round; so up with your hands,

I'll examine each face, too—In truth, a fine show.—

Whom first shall I try? Oh! my friends here below.

The Box claim precedence: but there I've my fears;

Perhaps they'll demand to be tried by their peers.

Yet methinks, when I view the fair circle around,

I'm in hopes they'll not ask for what cannot be found.

An Epilogue stol'n, cries Old Crusty, out yonder!

Pointing to the Pit.

A fine prize, indeed! who should steal it I wonder?

He, surely, must be a strange dolt, who contested

A bill on Parnassus, so often protested.—

Nay, Sirs, 'tis a loss; so pray ye, don't flout it.—

Good or bad, 〈◊〉 all, and we can't do without it.

Yet, in search of our stray, I'll e'en now look elsewhere.

There's no wit 〈…〉, I'm sure, so it cannot be there.

—Higher up, then—Hey—what—Nay, come, I'll not

wrong ye. To the Galleries.

Not one roguish face can I spy out among ye;

But sound hearts and sound heads, with too great a store

Of mirth in yourselves, to steal from the poor.

All good men and true. So I give up the cause.

And since, then, our Bard can't bring you to the laws,

Ev'n let her be the Culprit, and steal—your applause.

God save the King!

Rings the Bell, and exit.

FINIS.

Information about this book

Title statement

Almeyda, Queen of Granada: A tragedy, in five acts. By Sophia Lee. As performed at the Theatre Royal, Drury-Lane.

Lee, Sophia, 1750-1824.

Publication

Distributor

University of Oxford Text Archive
Oxford University Computing Services
13 Banbury Road
Oxford
OX2 6NN
ota@oucs.ox.ac.uk

ID [ota]

http://ota.ox.ac.uk/id/3831

ID [isbn10]

1106008308

ID [isbn13]

9781106008305

ID [TCP]

K030458.000

ID [BIBNO]

CW3310149401

ID [ECLL]

0058702200

Availability

Distributed by the University of Oxford under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License

Source

— Almeyda, Queen of Granada: A tragedy, in five acts. By Sophia Lee. As performed at the Theatre Royal, Drury-Lane., Lee, Sophia, 1750-1824.. 68,[2]p. ; 12⁰. Dublin :: printed by Brett Smith, for Messrs. P. Wogan, P. Byrne, C. Brown, and G. Folingsby,. 1796.. [Reproduction of original from the British Library.] [English Short Title Catalog, ESTCT21282.] [Electronic data. Farmington Hills, Mich. : Thomson Gale, 2003. Page image (PNG). Digitized image of the microfilm version produced in Woodbridge, CT by Research Publications, 1982-2002 (later known as Primary Source Microfilm, an imprint of the Gale Group).]

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