But in my heart thou art interr'd; there, there,
Thy dear resemblance is for ever fix'd;
My love, my lord, my husband still, though lost!
Leon. Husband! O, heav'ns!
Alm. Alas! What have I said?
My grief has hurry'd me beyond all thought.
I would have kept that secret; though I know
Thy love and faith to me deserve all confidence.
Leon. Witness these tears-
The memory of that brave prince stands fair
In all report
And I have heard imperfectly his loss;
But fearful to renew your troubles past,
I never did presume to ask the story.
Alm. If for my swelling heart I
I was a welcome captive in Valencia,
Ev'n on the day when Manuel, my father,
Led on his conqu'ring troops, high as the gates
Of king Anselmo's palace; which, in rage,
And heat of war, and dire revenge, he fir'd.
The good king flying to avoid the flames,
Started amidst his foes, and made captivity
His fatal refuge-Would that I had fall'n
Amidst those flames-but 'twas not so decreed.
Alphonso, who foresaw my father's cruelty,
Had borne the queen and me on board a ship
Ready to sail; and when this news was brought
We put to sea; but being betray'd by some
Who knew our flight, we closely were pursu'd,
And almost taken; when a sudden storm
Drove us, and those that follow'd, on the coast
Of Afric: There our vessel struck the shore,
And, bulging 'gainst a rock was dash'd in pieces,
But heav'n spar'd me for yet much more affliction!
Conducting them who follow'd us, to shun
The shoal, and save me floating on the waves,
While the good queen and my Alphonso perish'd.
Leon. Alas! Were you then wedded to Alphonso?
Alm. That day, that fatal day, our hands were join'd.
For when my lord beheld the ship pursuing,
And saw her rate so far exceeding ours,
He came to me, and begg'd me by my love,
I would consent the priest should make us one;
That whether death or victory ensu'd,
I might be his, beyond the pow'r of fate:
The queen too did assist his suit—I granted;
And in one day was wedded, and a widow.
Leon. Indeed, 'twas mournful-
Alm. 'Twas-as I have told thee
For which I mourn, and will for ever mourn;
Nor will I change these black and dismal robes,
Or ever dry these swoln and wat❜ry eyes;
Or ever taste content, or peace of heart,
While I have life and thought of my Alphonso.
Leon. Hark! The distant shouts proclaim your father's triumph. [Shouts at a distance. O cease for heav'n's sake, assuage a little This torrent of your grief; for much I fear "Twill urge his wrath, to see you drown'd in tears, When joy appears in ev'ry other face.
Alm. And joy he brings to ev'ry other heart,
But double, double weight of woe to mine:
For with him Garcia comes-Garcia, to whom
I must be sacrificed, and all the vows
I gave my dear Alphonso basely broken.
No, it shall never be; for I will die
First, die ten thousand deaths.-Look down, look down,
Alphonso, hear the sacred vow I make;
And thou, Anselmo, if yet thou art arriv'd
Through all impediments of purging fire,
To that bright heav'n where my Alphonso reigns,
Behold thou also, and attend my vow:
If ever I do yield, or give consent,
By any action, word, or thought, to wed
Another lord; may then just heav'n show'r down
Unheard-of curses on me, greater far
(If such there be in angry heav'n's vengeance)
Than any I have yet endur'd.-And now
My heart has some relief: having so well
Discharg❜d this debt, incumbent on my love.
Yet one thing more I would engage from thee.
Leon. My heart, my life, and will, are only yours.
Alm. I thank thee. "Tis but this: anon, when all
Are wrapp'd and busied in the general joy,
Thou wilt withdraw, and privately with me
Steal forth to visit good Anselmo's tomb.
Leon. Alas! I fear some fatal resolution.
Alm. No, on my life, my faith, I mean no ill,
Nor violence.- I feel myself more light,
And more at large since I have made this vow.
Perhaps I would repeat it there more solemnly.
"Tis that, or some such melancholy thought;
Upon my word, no more.
Alon. The lord Gonsalez comes to tell your highness
The king is just arrived.
Alm. Conduct him in.
[Exit Alonzo. That's his pretence: his errand is, I know, To fill my ears with Garcia's valiant deeds; And gild and magnify his son's exploits. But I am arm'd with ice around my heart, Not to be warm'd with words, or idle eloquence.
Gon. Be ev'ry day of your long life like this. The sun, bright conquest, and your brighter eyes, Have all conspir'd to blaze promiscuous light, And bless this day with most unequal lustre. Your royal father, my victorious ford, Laden with spoils, and ever-living laurel, Is ent'ring now in martial pomp the palace. Five hundred mules precede his solemn march, Which groan beneath the weight of Moorish wealth. Chariots of war, adorn'd with glitt'ring gems, Succeed; and next, a hundred neighing steeds, White as the fleecy rain on Alpine hills;
That bound and foam, and champ the golden bit,
As they disdain'd the victory they grace.
Prisoners of war in shining fetters follow:
And captains of the noblest blood of Afric
Sweat by his chariot-wheels;
The swarming populace spread every wall,
While you alone retire, and shun this sight;
This sight, which is indeed not seen (though twice
The multitude should gaze) in absence of your eyes.
Alm. My lord, mine eyes ungratefully behold
The gilded trophies of exterior honours.
Nor will my ears be charm'd with sounding words,
Or pompous phrase; the pageantry of souls.
But that my father is return'd in safety,
I bend to heav'n with thanks.
Gon. Excellent princess!
But 'tis a task unfit for my weak age
With dying words to offer at your praise.
Garcia, my son, your beauty's lowest slave,
Has better done, in proving with his sword
The force and influence of your matchless charms.
Alm. I doubt not of the worth of Garcia's deeds,
Which had been brave, though I had ne'er been born.
Leon. Madam, the king.
Symphony of warlike Music. Enter the KING, attended by GARCIA and several Officers; Files of Prisoners, in Chains, and Guards. ALMERIA meets the KING, and kneels; afterwards GONSALEZ kneels and kisses the KING'S Hand, while GARCIA does the same to the PRINCESS.
King. Almeria, rise-My best Gonsalez, riseWhat, tears! my good old friend
Gon. But tears of joy.
Believe me, sir, to see you thus, has fill'd
Mine eyes with more delight than they can hold.
King. By heav'n thou lov'st me, and I am pleas'd thou
Take it for thanks, old man, that I rejoice
To see thee weep on this occasion--some
Here are, who seem to mourn at our success!
Why is't, Almeria, that you meet our eyes,
Upon this solemn day, in these sad weeds?
In opposition to my brightness, you
And yours are all like daughters of affliction.
Alm. Forgive me, sir, if I in this offend.
The year, which I have vow'd to pay to heav'n,
In mourning and strict life, for my deliv'rance
From wreck and death, wants yet to be expir'd.
King. Your zeal to heav'n is great, so is your debt;
Yet something too is due to me, who gave
That life which heav'n preserv'd. A day bestow'd
In filial duty, had aton'd and given
A dispensation to your vow-No more!
'Twas weak and wilful-and a woman's error.
Yet-upon thought, it doubly wounds my sight,
To see that sable worn upon the day
Succeeding that in which our deadliest foe,
Hated Anselmo! was interr'd-By heav'n!
It looks as thou didst mourn for him! just so
Thy senseless vow appear'd to bear its date,
Not from that hour wherein thou wert preserv'd,
But that wherein the curs'd Alphonso perish'd.
Ha! What! thou dost not weep to think of that?
Gon. Have patience, royal sir; the princess weeps
To have offended you. If fate decreed,
One pointed hour should be Alphonso's loss,
And her deliverance, is she to blame?
King. I tell thee she's to blame, not to have feasted When my first foe was laid in earth; such enmity, Such detestation bears my blood to his:
My daughter should have revell'd at his death;
She should have made these palace walls to shake,
And all this high and ample roof to ring
With her rejoicings. What, to mourn and weep!
Then, then to weep, and pray, and grieve! By heav'n!
There's not a slave, a shackled slave of mine,
But should have smil'd that hour, through all his care, And shook his chains in transport and rude harmony! Gon. What she has done was in excess of goodness;
|