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Doleful Masses chaunt for thee, Miserere Domine!
Hark! the cadence dies away
The boatmen rest their oars and say,
datoonio. The innocent obey nor charm nor spell! My brother is in heaven. Thou sainted spirit, Burst on our sight, a passing visitants Once more to hear thy voice, once more to see thee, O't were a joy to me ! ALw Art. Ajoy to thee! What if thou heard'st him now What if his spirit Re-enter'd its cold corse, and came upon thee With many a stab from many a murderer's poniard What if (his stedfast Eye still beaming Pity And Brother's love) he turn'd his head aside, Lest he should look at thee, and with one look Hurl thee beyond all power of Penitence? valdez. These are unholy fancies : oadonio (struggling with his feelings). Yes, my father, He is in Heaven : Alvah (still to Ordoxto). But what if he had a brother, Who had lived even so, that at his dying hour, The name of Heaven would have convulsed his face, More than the death-pang ! waldez. Idly prating man' Thou hast guess'd ill: Don Alvar's only brother Stands here before thee—a father's blessing on him : He is most virtuous. Alvar (still to Ordonio). What, if his very virtues Had pamper'd his swoln heart and made him proud 1 And what if Pride had duped him into guilt? Yet still he stalk d a self-created God, Not very bold, but exquisitely cunning; And one that at his Mother's looking-glass Would force his features to a frowning sternness? Young Lord! I tell thee, that there are such Beings— Yea, and it gives fierce merriment to the damn'd, To see these most proud men, that loath mankind, At every stir and buzz of coward conscience, Trick, cant, and lie, most whining hypocrites! Away, away! Now let me hear more music.
'T is strange, I tremble at my own conjectures:
Alvah (to TE aesa, anxiously). 0 full of faith and guileless love, thy Spirit
Still prompts thee wisely. Let the pangs of guilt
SCE N E II. Interior of a Chapel, with painted Windows. Enter Tea Esa.
TEResa. When first I entered this pure spot, forebodings Press'd heavy on my heart: but as I knelt, Such calm unwonted bliss possess'd my spirit, A trance so cloudless, that those sounds, hard by, Of trampling uproar fell upon mine ear As alien and unnoticed as the rain-storm Beats on the roof of some fair banquet-room, While sweetest melodies are warbling——
wald Ez. Ye pitying saints, forgive a father's blindness, And extricate us from this net of perill
tearsA. Who wakes anew my fears, and speaks of peril?
wa Libez. 0 best Teresa, wisely wert thou prompted! This was no feat of mortal agency! That picture–Oh, that picture tells me all ! With a flash of light it came, in flames it vanish'd, Self-kindled, self-consumed : bright as thy Life, Sudden and unexpected as thy Fate, Alvar ! My son : My son —The Inquisitor—
Teresa. Torture me not But Alvar–Oh of Alvar? w-LD ea. How often would he plead for these Morescoes | The brood accurst' remorseless, coward murderers! Teresa (wildly). Sol so?—I comprehend you—He is—— valdez (with averted countenance). He is no more Teresa. 0 sorrow! that a father's voice should say this, A father's heart believe it ! waldez. A worse sorrow Are Fancy's wild hopes to a heart despairing' TeRESA. These rays that slant in through those gorgeous windows, From von bright orb–though colour'd as they pass, | Are they not Light?—Even so that voice, Lord Valdez! which whispers to my soul, though haply varied By inany a Fancy, many a wishful hope, Speaks yet the truth; and Alvar lives for me! waldez. Yes, for three wasting years, thus and no other, He has lived for thee—a spirit for thy spirit My child, we must not give religious faith To every voice which makes the heart a listener To its own wish. TEResa. I breathed to the Unerring Permitted prayers. Must those remain unanswer'd, Yet impions sorcery, that holds no commune Save with the lying Spirit, claim belieft valdrz. 0 not to day, not now for the first time | Was Alvar lost to thee— [Turning off, aloud, but yet as to himself. Accurst assassins ! Disarm’d, o'erpower'd, despairing of defence, At his bared breast he seem'd to grasp some relict More dear than was his life—— reafsa (with a faint shriek). O Heavens' my portrait! And he did grasp it in his death-pang ! Off, false Demon, That beat's thy black wings close above my head' [Ordonio enters with the keys of the dungeon in his hand. Hush" who comes here? The wizard Moor's employer! Moors were his murderers, you say? Saints shield us From wicked thoughts—— Ivalor, moves towards the back of the stage to meet Oa boxio, and during the concluding lines of Tehesa's speech appears as eagerly conversing with him. Is Alvar dead what then 2 The nuptial rites and funeral shall be one! Here's no abiding-place for thee, Teresa.Away! they see me not—Thou seest me, Alvar! To thee I bend my course.—But first one question, one question to Ordonio.—My limbs tremble— There I may sit unmark'd—a moment will restore me. [Retires out of sight. ontonio (as he advances with Waldez). These are the dungeon keys. Monviedro knew not That I too had received the wizard message,
• He that can bring the dead to life again." But now he is satisfied, I plann'd this scheme To work a full conviction on the culprit, And he entrusts him wholly to my keeping. WALDEZ. 'T is well, my son! But have you yet discover'd Where is Teresa! what those speeches meant— Pride, and Hypocrisy, and Guilt, and Cunning? Then when the wizard fix’d his eye on you, And you, I know not why, look'd pale and trembled— Why—why, what ails you now?— ordonio (confused). Me? what ails me? A pricking of the blood–It might have happen'd At any other time.—Why scan you me? waldez. His speech about the corse, and stabs and murderers, Bore reference to the assassins—— on do Nio. Duped! duped! duped! [A pause; then wildly. I tell thee, my dear father! I am most glad of this. valdez (confused). True—Sorcery Merits its doom; and this perchance may guide us To the discovery of the murderers, I have their statures and their several faces So present to me, that but once to meet them Would be to recognize. on donto. Yes! yes! we recognize them. I was benumb'd, and stagger'd up and down Through darkness without light–dark-dark-dark! My flesh crept chill, my limbs felt manacled, As had a snake coil'd round them!—Now 'tis sun-shine, And the blood dances freely through its channels' [Turns off abruptly; then to himself. This is my virtuous, grateful Isidore! [Then mimicking Isidore's manner and voice. • A common trick of gratitude, my lord!" Old Gratitude! a dagger would dissect His a own full heart”—t were good to see its colour.
The traitor, Isidore!
wild talk, my son But thy excess of feeling-
Almost, I fear, it hath unhinged his brain.
Roused by a glare of light from deepest sleep,
A cavern, dark, except where a gleam of moonlight is seen on one side at the further end of it; supposed to be cast on it from a crevice in a part of the cavern out of sight. Isidore alone, an extinguished torch in his hand. is idor, e. Faith 't was a moving letter—very moving ! • His life in danger, no place safe but this! ‘Twas his turn now to talk of gratitude.” And yet—but no! there can't be such a villain. It can not be Thanks to that little crevice, Which lets the moonlight in ' I'll go and sit by it. To peep at a tree, or see a he-goat's beard, Or hear a cow or two breathe loud in their sleep— Any thing but this crash of water-drops! These dull abortive sounds that fret the silence With puny thwartings and mock opposition' So beats the death-watch to a dead man's ear. [He goes out of sight, opposite to the patch of moonlight: returns after a minute's elapse, in an ecstacy of fear. A hellish pit. The very same I dreamt of! I was just in—and those damn'd fingers of ice Which clutch'd my hair up! Ha!—what's that—it mov’d. [Isidone stands staring at another recess in the cavern. In the mean time Ordo Nio enters with a torch, and halloos to Isidoge. 1st done. ! swear that I saw something moving there! The moonshine came and went like a flash of lightning—— I swear, I saw it move. or posio (goes into the recess, then returns, and with great scorn). A jutting clay stone Props on the long lank weed, that grows beneath: And the weed nods and drips. Isidore (forcing a laugh faintly). A jest to laugh at! It was not that which scared me, good my lord. of bow to. What scared you, then? isi done. You see that little rift.” But first permit me! [Light, his torch at Oabonio's, and while lighting it. (A lighted torch in the hand, Is no unpleasant object here—one's breath Floats round the tlame, and makes as many colours As the thin clouds that travel near the moon.) You see that crevice there? My torch extinguish’d by these water drops, And marking that the moonlight came from thence, ! steps in to it, meaning to sit there; But searcely had I measured twenty paces— My body bending forward, yea, o'erbalanced Almost beyond recoil, on the dim brink of a huge chasin I stept. The shadowy moonshine Filling the Void, so counterfeited Substance,
That my foot hung aslant adown the edge.
is ido R.E. What is, my lord? on Donio. Abhorrent from our nature, To kill a man.— Isidore. Except in self-defence. on do N10. Why that's my case; and yet the soul recoils from it— 'T is so with me at least. But you, perhaps, Have sterner feelings? Isidone. Something troubles you. How shall I serve you? By the life you gave me, By all that makes that life of value to me, My wife, my babes, my honour, I swear to you, Name it, and I will toil to do the thing, If it be innocent! But this, my lord, Is not a place where you could perpetrate, No, nor propose a wicked thing. The darkness, When ten strides off we know "t is cheerful moonlight, Collects the guilt, and crowds it round the heart. It must be innocent. [Oaponio darkly, and in the feeling of self-justification, tells what he conceives of his own character and actions, speaking of himself in the third person. 0 it do Ni (). Thyself be judge. One of our family knew this place well. 1st done. Who? when my lord? or do Nio. What boots it, who or when Hang up thy torch—I'll tell his tale to thee. [They hang up their torches on some ridge in the cavern. Ile was a man different from other men, And he despised them, yet revered himself. Isidore (aside). He? He despised? Thou'rt speaking of thyself! I am on my guard, however: no surprise. [Then to Ordonio. What! he was mad? on do Nio. All men seem'd mad to him ' Nature had made him for some other planet, And press'd his soul into a human shape By accident or malice. In this world Ile found no fit companion. is do R.E. Of himself he speaks. [Aside. Alas' poor wretch! Mad men are mostly proud. on do Nio. IIe walk'd alone, And phantom thoughts unsought-for troubled him. Something within would still be shadowing out All possibilities; and with these shadows His mind held dalliance. Once, as so it happen'd, A fancy cross'd him wilder than the rest: To this in moody murmur and low voice Ile yielded utterance, as some talk in sleep: The man who heard him.— Why didst thou look round 7
Isidore. I have a prattler three years old, my lord! In truth he is my darling. As I went From forth my door, he made a moan in sleep— But I am talking idly—pray proceed! And what did this man? on do Nio. With his human hand He gave a substance and reality To that wild fancy of a possible thing.— Well it was done! [Then very wildly. Why babblest thou of guilt? The deed was done, and it pass'd fairly off. And he whose tale I tell thee—dost thou listen? isidor, E. I would, my lord, you were by my fire-side, I'd listen to you with an eager eye, Though you began this cloudy tale at midnight; But I do listen—pray proceed, my lord. of Do N10.
Where was I? is I done. He of whom you tell the tale— ot, do Nio. Surveying all things with a quiet scorn, Tamed himself down to living purposes, The occupations and the semblances Of ordinary men—and such he seem'd : But that same over ready agent—he1st no R.E. Ah! what of him, my lord? of Donio. He proved a traitor, Betrav'd the mystery to a brother traitor, And they between them hatch'd a damned plot To hunt him down to infamy and death. What did the Waldez? I am proud of the name Since he dared do it.— [Onoonio grasps his sword, and turns off from Istdone; then after a pause returns. Our links burn dimly. isi done. A dark tale darkly finish'd, Nay, my lord! Tell what he did. orado Nio. That which his wisdom prompted— Ile made the Traitor meet him in this cavern, And here he kill'd the Traitor. ISI done. No! the fool! He had not wit enough to be a traitor. Poor thick-eyed beetle' not to have foreseen That he who gull'd thee with a whimper'd lie To murder his own brother, would not scruple To murder thee, if cer his guilt grew jealous, And he could steal upon thee in the dark on dox io. Thou wouldst not then have come, if– Isidor E. Oh yes, my lord! I would have met him arm’d, and scared the coward. [Isidone throws off his robe; shows himself armed, and draws his suord. oft do Nid. Now this is excellent, and warns the blood | My heart was drawing back, drawing me back