The Poetical Works of Coleridge, Shelley, and Keats

Son of Lord Valdez! I had well-nigh fainted.
At length I said (if that indeed I said it,
And that no Spirit made my tongue its organ),
That woman is dishonor'd by that brother,
And he the man who sent us to destroy you.
He drove a thrust at me in rage. I told him,
He wore her portrait round his neck. He look'd.
As he had been made of the rock that propt his
back-

Ay, just as you look now-only less ghastly!
At length, recovering from his trance, he threw
His sword away, and bade us take his life,
It was not worth his keeping.

ORDONIO.

And you kill'd him?

Oh blood-hounds! may eternal wrath flame round

you!

ORDONIO.

Doubtless you question'd him?

ISIDORE.

"Twas my intention,
Having first traced him homeward to his haunt.
But lo! the stern Dominican, whose spies
Lurk everywhere, already (as it seem'd)
Had given commission to his apt familiar

To seek and sound the Moor; who now returning,
Was by this trusty agent stopp'd midway.

I, dreading fresh suspicion if found near him
In that lone place, again conceal'd myself,

Yet within hearing. So the Moor was question'd,
And in your name, as lord of this domain.
Proudly he answer'd, "Say to the Lord Ordonio,
He that can bring the dead to life again!"

[A pause. A strange reply!

He was his Maker's Image undefaced!
It seizes me-by Hell, I will go on!
What wouldst thou stop, man? thy pale looks won't
save thee!
[A pause.
Oh cold-cold-cold! shot through with icy cold!
ISIDORE (aside).

Were he alive, he had return'd ere now-
The consequence the same-dead through his plot-
ting!

ORDONIO.

O this unutterable dying away-here—
This sickness of the heart!

[A pause.
What if I went
And lived in a hollow tomb, and fed on weeds?
Ay! that's the road to heaven! O fool! fool! fool!
[A pause.
What have I done but that which nature destined,
Or the blind elements stirr'd up within me?

ORDONIO.

ISIDORE.

Ay, all of him is strange.
He call'd himself a Christian, yet he wears
The Moorish robes, as if he courted death.
ORDONIO.
Where does this wizard live?

ISIDORE (pointing to the distance).
You see that brooklet!
Trace its course backward: through a narrow opening
It leads you to the place.

ORDONIO.

How shall I know it?

ISIDORE.

You cannot err. It is a small green dell
Built all around with high off-sloping hills,
And from its shape our peasants aptly call it

If good were meant, why were we made these Be- The Giant's Cradle. There's a lake in the midst,

And round its banks tall wood that branches over,
And makes a kind of faery forest grow
Down in the water. At the further end
A puny cataract falls on the lake;
And there, a curious sight! you see its shadow
For ever curling like a wreath of smoke,
Up through the foliage of those faery trees.
His cot stands opposite. You cannot miss it.
ORDONIO (in retiring stops suddenly at the edge of the
scene, and then turning round to ISIDORE).
Ha! Who lurks there? Have we been overheard?
There, where the smooth high wall of slate-rock glit

ters

ISIDORE.

'Neath those tall stones, which, propping each the
other,

Form a mock portal with their pointed arch!
Pardon my smiles! "T is a poor Idiot Boy,
Who sits in the sun, and twirls a bough about,
His weak eyes seethed in most unmeaning tears.
And so he sits, swaying his cone-like head;
And, staring at his bough from morn to sun-set,

Who as it seem'd was gathering herbs and wild flow-See-saws his voice in inarticulate noises!

SCENE II.

The Inside of a Cottage, around which Flowers and Plants of various kinds are seen. Discovers ALVAR, ZULIMEZ, and ALHADRA, as on the point of leaving.

ALHADRA (addressing ALVAR). Farewell, then! and though many thoughts perplex

me,

Aught evil or ignoble never can I

Suspect of thee! If what thou seem'st thou art, The oppressed brethren of thy blood have need Of such a leader.

ALVAR.

Noble-minded woman!

Long time against oppression have I fought,

And for the native liberty of faith

Have bled, and suffer'd bonds. Of this be certain :

Time, as he courses onwards, still unrolls

The volume of Concealment. In the Future,

As in the optician's glassy cylinder,
The indistinguishable blots and colors

Of the dim Past collect and shape themselves,
Upstarting in their own completed image
To scare or to reward.

I sought the guilty,

And what I sought I found: but ere the spear
Flew from my hand, there rose an angel form
Betwixt me and my aim. With baffled purpose
To the Avenger I leave Vengeance, and depart!

Whate'er betide, if aught my arm may aid,
Or power protect, my word is pledged to thee:
For many are thy wrongs, and thy soul noble.
Once more, farewell.

[Exit ALHADRA. Yes, to the Belgic states

We will return. These robes, this stain'd complexion,
Akin to falsehood, weigh upon my spirit.
Whate'er befall us, the heroic Maurice
Will grant us an asylum, in remembrance
Of our past services.

With you, then, I am to speak:

[Haughtily waving his hand to ZULIMEZ. And, mark you, alone. [Exit ZULIMEZ. "He that can bring the dead to life again!"— Such was your message, Sir! You are no dullard, But one that strips the outward rind of things!

ALVAR.

"Tis fabled there are fruits with tempting rinds, That are all dust and rottenness within. Wouldst thou I should strip such?

ORDONIO.

Thou quibbling fool, What dost thou mean? Think'st thou I journey'd hither, To sport with thee?

ALVAR.

O no, my Lord! to sport
Best suits the gaiety of innocence.
ORDONIO (aside).

O what a thing is man! the wisest heart
A Fool! a Fool that laughs at its own folly,
Yet still a fool!
[Looks round the Cottage.

You are poor!

Hark! heard you not some footsteps? What follows thence?

Vide Appendix, Note 1.

ALVAR.

ORDONIO.

That you would fain be richer.

Did Alvar perish-he, I mean-the lover-
The fellow,-

ALVAR.

Nay, speak out! 'twill ease your heart To call him villain!-Why stand'st thou aghast! Men think it natural to hate their rivals.

ORDONIO (hesitating).

ORDONIO.

Why, what ails thee?
What, art thou mad? why look'st thou upward so
Dost pray to Lucifer, Prince of the Air?
ALVAR (recollecting himself).

Proceed, I shall be silent.

[ALVAR sits, and leaning on the table, hides his face.

ORDONIO.

To Teresa?

Politic wizard! ere you sent that message,
You had conn'd your lesson, made yourself proficient
In all my fortunes. Hah! you prophesied
A golden crop! Well, you have not mistaken-
Be faithful to me, and I'll pay thee nobly.
ALVAR (lifting up his head).

Well! and this lady?

ORDONIO.

If we could make her certain of his death,
She needs must wed me. Ere her lover left her,
She tied a little portrait round his neck,
Entreating him to wear it.

ALVAR (alone, indignantly flings the purse away, and
gazes passionately at the portrait).
And I did curse thee?
At midnight? on my knees? and I believed
Thee perjured, thee a traitress! Thee dishonor'd?
O blind and credulous fool! O guilt of folly!

Now, till she knows him dead, she will not wed me. Should not thy inarticulate Fondnesses,

ALVAR (with eager vehemence).

Are you not wedded then? Merciful Heaven!

Not wedded to Teresa?

Thy Infant Loves-should not thy Maiden Vows
Have come upon my heart? And this sweet Image,
Tied round my neck with many a chaste endearment,

And thrilling hands, that made me weep and tremble-On such employment! With far other thoughts
Ah, coward dupe! to yield it to the miscreant,
Who spake pollution of thee! barter for Life

This farewell Pledge, which with impassion'd Vow

I left you.

ORDONIO (aside).

I had sworn that I would grasp-ev'n in my death- Ha! he has been tampering with her?

pang!

I am unworthy of thy love, Teresa,
Of that unearthly smile upon those lips,

Which ever smiled on me! Yet do not scorn me-
I lisp'd thy name, ere I had learnt my mother's.

Dear Portrait! rescued from a traitor's keeping, I will not now profane thee, holy Image,

To a dark trick. That worst bad man shall find A picture, which will wake the hell within him, And rouse a fiery whirlwind in his conscience.

АСТ III.

SCENE I.

A Hall of Armory, with an Altar at the back of the Stage. Soft Music from an instrument of Glass

ALVAR.

O high-soul'd maiden! and more dear to me
Than suits the Stranger's name!-

I swear to thee
I will uncover all concealed guilt.
Doubt, but decide not! Stand ye from the altar.
[Here a strain of music is heard from behind the

scene.

ALVAR.

With no irreverent voice or uncouth charm I call up the Departed!

Soul of Alvar!

Hear our soft suit, and heed my milder spell:
So may the Gates of Paradise, unbarr'd,
Cease thy swift toils! since haply thou art one
Of that innumerable company

Who in broad circle, lovelier than the rainbow,
With noise too vast and constant to be heard:
Girdle this round earth in a dizzy motion,
Fitliest unheard! For oh, ye numberless
And rapid travellers! What ear unstunn'd,

or Steel. VALDEZ, ORDONIO, and ALVAR in a Sorcerer's robe, What sense unmadden'd, might bear up against

are discovered.

ORDONIO.

This was too melancholy, father.

VALDEZ.

Nay,

My Alvar loved sad music from a child.
Once he was lost; and after weary search
We found him in an open place in the wood,
To which spot he had follow'd a blind boy,
Who breathed into a pipe of sycamore

Some strangely moving notes: and these, he said,
Were taught him in a dream. Him we first saw
Stretch'd on the broad top of a sunny heath-bank:
And lower down poor Alvar, fast asleep,

His head upon the blind boy's dog. It pleased me
To mark how he had fasten'd round the pipe
A silver toy his grandam had late given him.
Methinks I see him now as he then look'd-
Even so-He had outgrown his infant dress,
Yet still he wore it.

The rushing of your congregated wings?

[Music.

Even now your living wheel turns o'er my head!
[Music expressive of the movements and images
that follow.

Ye, as ye pass, toss high the desert sands,
That roar and whiten, like a burst of waters,
A sweet appearance, but a dread illusion
To the parch'd caravan that roams by night!
And ye build upon the becalmed waves
That whirling pillar, which from Earth to Heaven
Stands vast, and moves in blackness! Ye too split
The ice mount! and with fragments many and huge
Tempest the new-thaw'd sea, whose sudden gulfs
Suck in, perchance, some Lapland wizard skiff!
Then round and round the whirlpool's marge ye
dance,

Till from the blue swoln Corse the Soul toils out,
And joins your mighty Army.

[Here behind the scenes a voice sings the three words, "Hear, sweet Spirit." Soul of Alvar! Hear the mild spell, and tempt no blacker Charm! By sighs unquiet, and the sickly pang Of a half dead, yet still undying Hope, Pass visible before our mortal sense! So shall the Church's cleansing rites be thine, Her knells and masses that redeem the Dead!

SONG

Behind the Scenes, accompanied by the same Instrument as before.

Hear, sweet spirit, hear the spell,
Lest a blacker charm compel!
So shall the midnight breezes swell
With thy deep long-lingering knell.

And at evening evermore,

In a Chapel on the shore,
Shall the Chanters sad and saintly,
Yellow tapers burning faintly,

Had pamper'd his swoln heart and made him proud?
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?

Still prompts thee wisely. Let the pangs of guilt
Surprise the guilty: thou art innocent!

[Exeunt TERESA and Attendant. (Music as before).

The spell is mutter'd-Come, thou wandering Shape,
Who own'st no Master in a human eye,
Whate'er be this man's doom, fair be it, or foul;

If he be dead, O come! and bring with thee
That which he grasp'd in death! but if he live,
Some token of his obscure perilous life.

[The whole Music clashes into a Chorus

CHORUS.

Wandering Demons, hear the spell!
Lest a blacker charm compel-

[The incense on the altar takes fire suddenly, and
an illuminated picture of ALVAR's assassina-
tion is discovered, and having remained a
few seconds is then hidden by ascending
flames.

ORDONIO (starting in great agitation).
Duped! duped! duped!-the traitor Isidore!
[At this instant the doors are forced open, Mox-
VIEDRO and the Familiars of the Inquisition,
Servants etc. enter and fill the stage.

MONVIEDRO.

First seize the sorcerer! suffer him not to speak!
The holy judges of the Inquisition

Shall hear his first words.-Look you pale, Lord
Valdez?

Plain evidence have we here of most foul sorcery.
There is a dungeon underneath this castle,
And as you hope for mild interpretation,
Surrender instantly the keys and charge of it.
ORDONIO (recovering himself as from stupor, to
Servants.)

Why haste you not? Off with him to the dungeon!
[All rush out in tumult.

SCENE II.

Interior of a Chapel, with painted Windows.

Enter TERESA.

TERESA.

When first I enter'd this pure spot, forebodings

Young Lord! I tell thee, that there are such Beings-Press'd heavy on my heart: but as I knelt,

Yea, and it gives fierce merriment to the damn'd,
To see these most proud men, that lothe mankind,
At every stir and buzz of coward conscience,
Trick, cant, and lie, most whining hypocrites!
Away, away! Now let me hear more music.

TERESA.

[Music again.

"Tis strange, I tremble at my own conjectures!
But whatsoe'er it mean, I dare no longer
Be present at these lawless mysteries,
This dark provoking of the Hidden Powers!
Already I affront-if not high Heaven-
Yet Alvar's Memory!-Hark! I make appeal
Against the unholy rite, and hasten hence
To bend before a lawful shrine, and seek

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-

Enter VALDEZ.

VALDEZ.

Ye pitying saints, forgive a father's blindness,
And extricate us from this net of peril!

TERESA.

Who wakes anew my fears, and speaks of peril?

VALDEZ.

O best Teresa, wisely wert thou prompted!
This was no feat of mortal agency!

That voice which whispers, when the still heart That picture-Oh, that picture tells me all!

listens,

Comfort and faithful Hope! Let us retire.
ALVAR (to TERESA anxiously).

O full of faith and guileless love, thy Spint

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

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The Poetical Works of Coleridge, Shelley, and Keats: Complete in One Volume