Chapter XIV: Act THE FOURTH

SCENE THE FIRST.--_A cavern, dark except where a gleam of moonlight is seen on one side of the further end of it, supposed to be cast on it from a cranny_ [_crevice_ Remorse] _in a part of the cavern out of sight._

[_FERDINAND alone, an extinguished torch in his hand._

_Ferdinand._ Drip! drip! drip! drip!--in such a place as this
It has nothing else to do but drip! drip! drip!
I wish it had not dripp'd upon my torch.
Faith 'twas a moving letter--very moving!
His life in danger--no place safe but this. 5
'Twas his turn now to talk of gratitude!
And yet--but no! there can't be such a villain.
It cannot be!
Thanks to that little cranny
Which lets the moonlight in! I'll go and sit by it.
To peep at a tree, or see a he-goat's beard, 10
Or hear a cow or two breathe loud in their sleep,
'Twere better than this dreary noise of water-drops!

[_He goes out of sight, opposite to the patch of
moonlight,_ [_and returns_. Remorse]
_returns after a minute's elapse in an
ecstasy of fear._

A hellish pit! O God--'tis like my night-mair!
I was just in!--and those damn'd fingers of ice
Which clutch'd my hair up! Ha! what's that? it moved! 15

[_FERDINAND stands_ [_motionless_ _MS. III erased_]
_staring at another recess in the cavern. In
the mean time OSORIO enters with a torch and
hollas to him_ [_halloes to ISIDORE_ Remorse].

_Ferdinand._ I swear, I saw a something moving there!
The moonshine came and went, like a flash of lightning.
I swear, I saw it move!

[_OSORIO goes into the recess, then returns, and with
great scorn._

_Osorio._ A jutting clay-stone
Drips on the long lank weed that grows beneath;
And the weed nods and drips.

_Ferdinand (forcing a faint laugh)._ A joke to laugh at! 20
It was not that which frighten'd me, my lord!

_Osorio._ What frighten'd you?

_Ferdinand._ You see that little cranny?
But first permit me,

[_Lights his torch at OSORIO'S, and while lighting it._

(A lighted torch in the hand
Is no unpleasant object here--one's breath
Floats round the flame, and makes as many colours 25
As the thin clouds that travel near the moon.)[564:1]
You see that cranny there?

_Osorio._ Well, what of that?

_Ferdinand._ I walk'd up to it, meaning to sit there.
When I had reach'd it within twenty paces----

[_FERDINAND starts as if he felt the terror over again._

Merciful Heaven! Do go, my lord! and look. 30

[_OSORIO goes and returns._

_Osorio._ It must have shot some pleasant feelings thro' you?

_Ferdinand._ If every atom of a dead man's flesh
Should move, each one with a particular life,
Yet all as cold as ever--'twas just so!
Or if it drizzled needle-points of frost 35
Upon a feverish head made suddenly bald--

_Osorio (interrupting him)._ Why, Ferdinand! I blush for thy
cowardice.
It would have startled any man, I grant thee.
But such a panic.

_Ferdinand._ When a boy, my lord!
I could have sat whole hours beside that chasm, 40
Push'd in huge stones and heard them thump and rattle
Against its horrid sides; and hung my head
Low down, and listen'd till the heavy fragments
Sunk, with faint crash, in that still groaning well,
Which never thirsty pilgrim blest, which never 45
A living thing came near; unless, perchance,
Some blind-worm battens on the ropy mould,
Close at its edge.

_Osorio._ Art thou more coward now?

_Ferdinand._ Call him that fears his fellow-men a coward.
I fear not man. But this inhuman cavern 50
It were too bad a prison-house for goblins.
Besides (you'll laugh, my lord!) but true it is,
My last night's sleep was very sorely haunted[565:1]
By what had pass'd between us in the morning.
I saw you in a thousand hideous ways, 55
And doz'd and started, doz'd again and started.
I do entreat your lordship to believe me,
In my last dream----

_Osorio._ Well?

_Ferdinand._ I was in the act
Of falling down that chasm, when Alhadra
Waked me. She heard my heart beat!

_Osorio._ Strange enough! 60
Had you been here before?

_Ferdinand._ Never, my lord!
But my eyes do not see it now more clearly
Than in my dream I saw that very chasm.

[_OSORIO stands in a deep study--then, after a pause._

_Osorio._ There is no reason why it should be so.
And yet it is.

_Ferdinand._ What is, my lord?

_Osorio._ Unpleasant 65
To kill a man!

_Ferdinand._ Except in self-defence.

_Osorio._ Why that's my case: and yet 'tis still unpleasant.
At least I find it so! But you, perhaps,
Have stronger nerves?

_Ferdinand._ Something doth trouble you.
How can I serve you? By the life you gave me, 70
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, 75
No, nor propose a wicked thing. The darkness
(When ten yards off, we know, 'tis chearful moonlight)
Collects the guilt and crowds it round the heart.
It must be innocent.

_Osorio._ Thyself be judge.

[_OSORIO walks round the cavern--then looking round it._

One of our family knew this place well. 80

_Ferdinand._ Who? when? my lord.

_Osorio._ What boots it who or when?
Hang up the torch. I'll tell his tale to thee.

[_They hang [up] their torches in some shelf of_
[_on some ridge in_ Remorse] _the cavern._

_Osorio._ He was a man different from other men,
And he despised them, yet revered himself.[567:1]

_Ferdinand._ What? he was mad?

_Osorio._ All men seem'd mad to him, 85
Their actions noisome folly, and their talk--
A goose's gabble was more musical.
Nature had made him for some other planet,
And press'd his soul into a human shape
By accident or malice. In this world 90
He found no fit companion!

_Ferdinand._ Ah, poor wretch!
Madmen are mostly proud.

_Osorio._ He walk'd alone,
And phantasies, unsought for, troubled him.
Something within would still be shadowing out
All possibilities, and with these shadows 95
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,
He yielded utterance as some talk in sleep.
The man who heard him----
Why didst thou look round? 100

_Ferdinand._ 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 go on!
And what did this man?

_Osorio._ With his human hand 105
He gave a being 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? 110

_Ferdinand._ I would, my lord, you were by _my_ fireside!
I'd listen to you with an eager eye,
Tho' you began this cloudy tale at midnight.
But I do listen--pray proceed, my lord!

_Osorio._ Where was I?

_Ferdinand._ He of whom you tell the tale-- 115

_Osorio._ 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 some over-ready agent--he---- 120

_Ferdinand._ Ah! what of him, my lord?

_Osorio._ He proved a villain;
Betray'd the mystery to a brother villain;
And they between them hatch'd a damnéd plot
To hunt him down to infamy and death
To share the wealth of a most noble family, 125
And stain the honour of an orphan lady
With barbarous mixture and unnatural union.
What did the Velez? I am proud of the name,
Since he dared do it.

[_OSORIO grasps his sword and turns off from FERDINAND,
then, after a pause, returns._

_Osorio._ Our links burn dimly.

_Ferdinand._ A dark tale darkly finish'd! Nay, my lord! 130
Tell what he did.

_Osorio (fiercely)._ That which his wisdom prompted.
He made the traitor meet him in this cavern,
And here he kill'd the traitor.

_Ferdinand._ No!--the fool.
He had not wit enough to be a traitor.
Poor thick-eyed beetle! not to have foreseen 135
That he, who gull'd thee with a whimper'd lie
To murder _his own brother_, would not scruple
To murder _thee_, if e'er his guilt grew jealous
And he could steal upon thee in the dark!

_Osorio._ Thou would'st not then have come, if----

_Ferdinand._ O yes, my lord! 140
I would have met him arm'd, and scared the coward!

[_FERDINAND throws off his robe, shows himself armed,
and draws his sword._

_Osorio._ Now this is excellent, and warms the blood!
My heart was drawing back, drawing me back
With womanish pulls of pity. Dusky slave,
Now I will kill thee pleasantly, and count it 145
Among my comfortable thoughts hereafter.

_Ferdinand._ And all my little ones fatherless! Die thou first.

[_They fight. OSORIO disarms FERDINAND, and in disarming
him, throws his sword up that recess, opposite to
which they were standing._

_Ferdinand (springing wildly towards Osorio)._ Still I can strangle
thee!

_Osorio._ Nay, fool! stand off.
I'll kill thee--but not so! Go fetch thy sword.

[_FERDINAND hurries into the recess with his torch.
OSORIO follows him, and in a moment returns
alone._

_Osorio._ Now--this was luck! No bloodstains, no dead body! 150
His dream, too, is made out. Now for his friend.[570:1]

[_Exit._

_SCENE changes to the court before the Castle of VELEZ._

_MARIA and her FOSTER-MOTHER._

_Maria._ And when I heard that you desired to see me,
I thought your business was to tell me of him.

_Foster-Mother._ I never saw the Moor, whom you describe.

_Maria._ 'Tis strange! he spake of you familiarly 155
As mine and Albert's common foster-mother.

_Foster-Mother._ Now blessings on the man, whoe'er he be,
That join'd your names with mine! O my sweet lady,
As often as I think of those dear times
When you two little ones would stand at eve, 160
On each side of my chair, and make me learn
All you had learnt in the day; and how to talk
In gentle phrase, then bid me sing to you,
'Tis more like heaven to come, that what _has_ been!

_Maria._ O my dear mother! this strange man has left me 165
Wilder'd with wilder fancies than yon moon
Breeds in the love-sick maid--who gazes at it
Till lost in inward vision, with wet eye
She gazes idly! But that entrance, mother!

_Foster-Mother._ Can no one hear? It is a perilous tale! 170

_Maria._ No one.

_Foster-Mother._ My husband's father told it me,
Poor old Leoni. Angels rest his soul!
He was a woodman, and could fell and saw
With lusty arm. You know that huge round beam
Which props the hanging wall of the old chapel? 175
Beneath that tree, while yet it was a tree,
He found a baby wrapt in mosses, lined
With thistle-beards, and such small locks of wool
As hang on brambles. Well, he brought him home,
And rear'd him at the then Lord Velez' cost. 180
And so the babe grew up a pretty boy.
A pretty boy, but most unteachable--
And never learnt a prayer, nor told a bead,
But knew the names of birds, and mock'd their notes,
And whistled, as he were a bird himself. 185
And all the autumn 'twas his only play
To get the seeds of wild flowers, and to plant them
With earth and water on the stumps of trees.
A friar who gather'd simples in the wood,
A grey-hair'd man--he loved this little boy, 190
The boy loved him--and, when the friar taught him,
He soon could write with the pen; and from that time
Lived chiefly at the convent or the castle.
So he became a very learned youth.
But O! poor wretch--he read, and read, and read, 195
Till his brain turn'd--and ere his twentieth year,
He had unlawful thoughts of many things.
And though he pray'd, he never loved to pray
With holy men, nor in a holy place.
But yet his speech, it was so soft and sweet, 200
The late Lord Velez ne'er was wearied with him,
And once as by the north side of the chapel
They stood together, chain'd in deep discourse,
The earth heav'd under them with such a groan,
That the wall totter'd, and had well-nigh fall'n 205
Right on their heads. My lord was sorely frighten'd;
A fever seiz'd him; and he made confession
Of all the heretical and lawless talk
Which brought this judgment: so the youth was seiz'd
And cast into that hole. My husband's father 210
Sobb'd like a child--it almost broke his heart.
And once as he was working in the cellar,
He heard a voice distinctly; 'twas the youth's,
Who sung a doleful song about green fields,
How sweet it were on lake or wild savannah 215
To hunt for food, and be a naked man,
And wander up and down at liberty.
He always doted on the youth, and now
His love grew desperate; and defying death,
He made that cunning entrance I described: 220
And the young man escaped.

_Maria._ 'Tis a sweet tale:
Such as would lull a list'ning child to sleep,
His rosy face besoil'd with unwiped tears.
And what became of him?

_Foster-Mother._ He went on shipboard
With those bold voyagers, who made discovery 225
Of golden lands; Leoni's younger brother
Went likewise, and when he return'd to Spain,
He told Leoni that the poor mad youth,
Soon after they arrived in that new world,
In spite of his dissuasion seized a boat, 230
And all alone set sail by silent moonlight,
Up a great river, great as any sea,
And ne'er was heard of more; but 'tis supposed
He liv'd and died among the savage men.

_Enter VELEZ._

_Velez._ Still sad, Maria? This same wizard haunts you. 235

_Maria._ O Christ! the tortures that hang o'er his head,
If ye betray him to these holy brethren!

_Velez (with a kind of sneer)._ A portly man, and eloquent, and
tender!
In truth, I shall not wonder if you mourn
That their rude grasp should seize on _such_ a victim. 240

_Maria._ The horror of their ghastly punishments
Doth so o'ertop the height of sympathy,
That I should feel too little for mine enemy--
Ah! far too little--if 'twere possible,
I could feel more, even tho' my child or husband 245
Were doom'd to suffer them! That such things are----

_Velez._ Hush! thoughtless woman!

_Maria._ Nay--it wakes within me
More than a woman's spirit.

_Velez (angrily)._ No more of this--
I can endure no more.

_Foster-Mother._ My honour'd master!
Lord Albert used to talk so.

_Maria._ Yes! my mother! 250
These are my Albert's lessons, and I con them
With more delight than, in my fondest hour,
I bend me o'er his portrait.

_Velez (to the Foster-Mother)._ My good woman,
You may retire. [_Exit the FOSTER-MOTHER._

_Velez._ We have mourn'd for Albert.
Have I no living son?

_Maria._ Speak not of him! 255
That low imposture--my heart sickens at it,
If it be madness, must I wed a madman?
And if not madness, there is mystery,
And guilt doth lurk behind it!

_Valdez._ Is this well?

_Maria._ Yes! it is truth. Saw you his countenance? 260
How rage, remorse, and scorn, and stupid fear,
Displac'd each other with swift interchanges?
If this were all assumed, as you believe,
He must needs be a most consummate actor;
And hath so vast a power to deceive me, 265
I never could be safe. And why assume
The semblance of such execrable feelings?

_Velez._ Ungrateful woman! I have tried to stifle
An old man's passion! Was it not enough
That thou hast made my son a restless man, 270
Banish'd his health and half-unhinged his reason,
But that thou wilt insult him with suspicion,
And toil to blast his honour? I am old--
A comfortless old man! Thou shalt not stay
Beneath my roof!

[_FRANCESCO enters and stands listening._

_Velez._ Repent and marry him-- 275
Or to the convent.

_Francesco (muttering)._ Good! good! very good!

_Maria._ Nay, grant me some small pittance of my fortune,
And I will live a solitary woman,
Or my poor foster-mother and her grandsons
May be my household.

_Francesco (advancing)._ I abhor a listener; 280
But you spoke so, I could not choose but hear you.
I pray, my lord! will you embolden me
To ask you why this lady doth prefer
To live in lonely sort, without a friend
Or fit companion?

_Velez._ Bid her answer you. 285

_Maria._ Nature will be my friend and fit companion.

[_Turns off from them._

O Albert! Albert! that they could return,
Those blessed days, that imitated heaven!
When we two wont to walk at evening-tide;
When we saw nought but beauty; when we heard 290
The voice of that Almighty One, who lov'd us,
In every gale that breath'd, and wave that murmur'd!
O we have listen'd, even till high-wrought pleasure
Hath half-assumed the countenance of grief,
And the deep sigh seem'd to heave up a weight 295
Of bliss, that press'd too heavy on the heart.

_Francesco._ But in the convent, lady, you would have
Such aids as might preserve you from perdition.
There you might dwell.

_Maria._ With tame and credulous faith,
Mad melancholy, antic merriment, 300
Leanness, disquietude, and secret pangs!
O God! it is a horrid thing to know
That each pale wretch, who sits and drops her beads
Had once a mind, which might have given her wings
Such as the angels wear!

_Francesco (stifling his rage)._ Where is your son, my lord? 305

_Velez._ I have not seen him, father, since he left you.

_Francesco._ His lordship's generous nature hath deceiv'd him!
_That_ Ferdinand (or if not he his wife)
I have fresh evidence--are infidels.
We are not safe until they are rooted out. 310

_Maria._ Thou man, who call'st thyself the minister
Of Him whose law was love unutterable!
Why is thy soul so parch'd with cruelty,
That still thou thirstest for thy brother's blood?

_Velez (rapidly)._ Father! I have long suspected it--her brain-- 315
Heed it not, father!

_Francesco._ Nay--but I _must_ heed it.

_Maria._ Thou miserable man! I fear thee not,
Nor prize a life which soon may weary me.
Bear witness, Heav'n! I neither scorn nor hate him-- 320
But O! 'tis wearisome to mourn for evils,
Still mourn, and have no power to remedy! [_Exit MARIA._

_Francesco._ My lord! I shall presume to wait on you
To-morrow early.

_Velez._ Be it so, good father! [_Exit FRANCESCO._

_Velez (alone)._ I do want solace, but not such as thine! 325
The moon is high in heaven, and my eyes ache,
But not with sleep. Well--it is ever so.
A child, a child is born! and the fond heart
Dances! and yet the childless are most happy.

[_SCENE changes to the mountains by moonlight. ALHADRA alone in a Moorish dress, her eyes fixed on the earth. Then drop in one after another, from different parts of the stage, a considerable number of_ Morescoes, _all in their Moorish garments. They form a circle at a distance round ALHADRA. After a pause one of the_ Morescoes _to the man who stands next to him._

_First Moresco._ The law which forced these Christian dresses on
us, 330
'Twere pleasant to cleave down the wretch who framed it.

_Second._ Yet 'tis not well to trample on it idly.

_First._ Our country robes are dear.

_Second._ And like dear friends,
May chance to prove most perilous informers.

[_A third Moresco, NAOMI, advances from out the circle._

_Naomi._ Woman! may Alla and the prophet bless thee! 335
We have obey'd thy call. Where is our chief?
And why didst thou enjoin the Moorish garments?

_Alhadra (lifting up_ [_raising_ Remorse] _her eyes, and looking
round on the circle)._
Warriors of Mahomet, faithful in the battle,
My countrymen! Come ye prepared to work
An honourable deed? And would ye work it 340
In the slave's garb? Curse on those Christian robes!
They are _spell_-blasted; and whoever wears them,
His arm shrinks wither'd, his heart melts away,
And his bones soften!

_Naomi._ Where is Ferdinand?

_Alhadra (in a deep low voice)._ This night I went from forth my
house, and left 345
His children all asleep; and he was living!
And I return'd, and found them still asleep--
But he had perish'd.

_All._ Perished?

_Alhadra._ He had perish'd!
Sleep on, poor babes! not one of you doth know
That he is fatherless, a desolate orphan! 350
Why should we wake them? Can an infant's arm
Revenge his murder?

_One to Another._ Did she say his murder?

_Naomi._ Murder'd? Not murder'd?

_Alhadra._ Murder'd by a Christian!

[_They all, at once, draw their sabres._

_Alhadra (to Naomi, who on being addressed again advances from
the circle)._ Brother of Zagri! fling away thy sword:
This is thy chieftain's! [_He steps forward to take it._
Dost thou dare receive it? 355
For I have sworn by Alia and the prophet,
No tear shall dim these eyes, this woman's heart
Shall heave no groan, till I have seen that sword
Wet with the blood of all the house of Velez!

_Enter MAURICE._

_All._ A spy! a spy! [_They seize him._

_Maurice._ Off! off! unhand me, slaves! 360

[_After much struggling he disengages himself and draws
his sword._

_Naomi (to Alhadra)._ Speak! shall we kill him?

_Maurice._ Yes! ye can kill a
man,
Some twenty of you! But ye are Spanish slaves!
And slaves are always cruel, always cowards.

_Alhadra._ That man has spoken truth. Whence and who art thou?

_Maurice._ I seek a dear friend, whom for aught I know 365
The son of Velez hath hired one of you
To murder! Say, do ye know aught of Albert?

_Alhadra (starting)._ Albert?--three years ago I heard that name
Murmur'd in sleep! High-minded foreigner!
Mix thy revenge with mine, and stand among us. 370

[_MAURICE stands among the_ Morescoes.

_Alhadra._ Was not Osorio my husband's friend?

_Old Man._ He kill'd my son in battle; yet our chieftain
Forced me to sheathe my dagger. See--the point
Is bright, unrusted with the villain's blood!

_Alhadra._ He is your chieftain's murderer!

_Naomi._ He dies by Alla!

_All (dropping on one knee)._ By
Alla! 375

_Alhadra._ This night a reeking slave came with loud pant,
Gave Ferdinand a letter, and departed,
Swift as he came. Pale, with unquiet looks,
He read the scroll.

_Maurice._ Its purport?

_Alhadra._ Yes, I ask'd it.
He answer'd me, 'Alhadra! thou art worthy 380
A nobler secret; but I have been faithful
To this bad man, and faithful I will be.'
He said, and arm'd himself, and lit a torch;
Then kiss'd his children, each one on its pillow,
And hurried from me. But I follow'd him 385
At distance, till I saw him enter _there_.

_Naomi._ The cavern?

_Alhadra._ Yes--the mouth of yonder cavern.
After a pause I saw the son of Velez
Rush by with flaring torch; he likewise enter'd--
There was another and a longer pause-- 390
And once, methought, I heard the clash of swords,
And soon the son of Velez reappear'd.
He flung his torch towards the moon in sport,
And seem'd as he were mirthful! I stood listening
Impatient for the footsteps of my husband! 395

_Maurice._ Thou called'st him?

_Alhadra._ I crept into the cavern:
'Twas dark and very silent. [_Then wildly._
What said'st thou?
No, no! I did not dare call, Ferdinand!
Lest I should hear no answer. A brief while,
Belike, I lost all thought and memory 400
Of that for which I came! After that pause,
O God! I heard a groan!--and follow'd it.
And yet another groan--which guided me
Into a strange recess--and there was _light_,
A _hideous_ light! his torch lay on the ground-- 405
Its flame burnt dimly o'er a chasm's brink.
I spake--and while I spake, a feeble groan
Came from that chasm! It was his last! his death groan!

_Maurice._ Comfort her, comfort her, Almighty Father!

_Alhadra._ I stood in unimaginable trance 410
And agony, that cannot be remember'd,
Listening with horrid hope to hear a groan!
But I had heard his last--my husband's death-groan!

_Naomi._ Haste! let us go!

_Alhadra._ I look'd far down the pit.
My sight was bounded by a jutting fragment, 415
And it was stain'd with blood! Then first I shriek'd!
My eyeballs burnt! my brain grew hot as fire!
And all the hanging drops of the wet roof
Turn'd into blood. I saw them turn to blood!
And I was leaping wildly down the chasm 420
When on the further brink I saw his sword,
And it said, Vengeance! Curses on my tongue!
The moon hath moved in heaven, and I am here,
And he hath not had vengeance! Ferdinand!
Spirit of Ferdinand! thy murderer lives! 425
Away! away! [_She rushes off, all following._

END OF THE FOURTH ACT

FOOTNOTES:

[564:1] The square brackets (which appear in both MSS.) seem to indicate that these words were an 'aside'. _P. W._ 1893, p. 499. _Editor's Note_.

[565:1] Against this passage Coleridge has written in MS. II:--'This will be held by many for a mere Tragedy-dream--by many who have never given themselves the trouble to ask themselves from what grounds dreams pleased in Tragedy, and wherefore they have become so common. I believe, however, that in the present case, the whole is here psychologically true and accurate. Prophetical dreams are things of nature, and explicable by that law of the mind in which where dim ideas are connected with vivid feelings, Perception and Imagination insinuate themselves and mix with the forms of Recollection, till the Present appears to exactly correspond with the Past. Whatever is partially like, the Imagination will gradually represent as wholly like--a law of our nature which, when it is perfectly understood, woe to the great city Babylon--to all the superstitions of Men!' _P. W._, 1893, p. 499.

[567:1] Against this passage Coleridge writes in MS. II:--'Under the mask of the third person Osorio relates his own story, as in the delusion of self-justification and pride, it appeared to himself--at least as he wished it to appear to himself.' _P. W._, 1893, p. 499.

'Osorio 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.' _MS. III_.

[570:1] Against this line Coleridge writes in MS. II:--'Osorio has thrust Ferdinand down the chasm. I think it an important instance how Dreams and Prophecies coöperate to their own completion.' _P. W._, 1893, p. 501.

LINENOTES:

[1-3] Erased MS. III.: om. Remorse.

{ [*water drops*]
This ceaseless dreary sound of { dropping water--
I would they had not fallen upon my Torch!

Corr. in MS. III.

[5-6] In inverted commas. Remorse.

[8] cannot] can not Remorse. cranny] crevice Remorse.

[12] MS. III erased.

[Between 11 and 13]

(_a_) 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 sick man's ear

Remorse.

(_b_) Anything but this { crash of water-drops
{ [*noise*]
{ scoffing
At broken measure { [*mocking*] intervals--
Their discontinuous, interruptive sound
{ These
{ [*With*] dull abortive &c.

MS. III erased.

Affixed to variant (a) of l. 12 '--this at all events is the final result of this correction.' _S. T. C._

[13] A hellish pit! O God--'tis that I dreamt of! Corr. in MS. III: A hellish pit! The very same I dreamt of! Remorse.

[Affixed to 13] 'You mean like the dream presented to my mind when under the influence of the night-mare. This is most ludicrously expressed.' C. Ll[oyd]

[16] I swear that I saw something Remorse.

[18] In the stage-direction the last four words are omitted Remorse.

[19] Drips] Drops Remorse.

[Between 19 and 31.]

_Isidore._ A jest to laugh at!
It was not that which scar'd me, good my lord.

_Ordonio._ What scar'd you, then?

_Isidore._ You see that little rift?
But first permit me!
[_Lights his torch at ORDONIO'S, and while
lighting it._
(A lighted torch in the hand
Is no unpleasant object here--one's breath
Floats round the flame, and makes as many colours
As the thin clouds that travel near the moon.)
You see that crevice there?
My torch extinguished by these water drops,
And marking that the moonlight came from thence,
I stept in to it, meaning to sit there;
But scarcely had I measured twenty paces--
My body bending forward, yea, o'erbalanced
Almost beyond recoil, on the dim brink
Of a hugh chasm I stept. The shadowy moonshine
Filling the void so counterfeited substance,
That my foot hung aslant adown the edge.
Was it my own fear?
Fear too hath its instincts!
(And yet such dens as these are wildly told of,
And there are beings that live, yet not for the eye)
An arm of frost above and from behind me
Pluck'd up and snatched me backward. Merciful Heaven!
You smile! alas, even smiles look ghastly here!
My lord, I pray you, go yourself and view it.

Remorse.

[33] move] creep Remorse.

[35] if] had Remorse.

[37-9]

_Ordonio._ Why, Isidore,
I blush for thy cowardice. It might have startled,
I grant you, even a brave man for a moment--

Remorse.

[41] thump] strike Corr. in MS. III, Remorse.

[42] and] then Remorse.

[44] Sunk with a faint splash in that groaning Corr. in MS. III. Sunk] Sank Remorse.

[49] fellow-men] fellow man Remorse.

[52] laugh] smile Remorse.

[Between 54 and 57:]

O sleep of horrors! Now run down and stared at
By forms so hideous that they mock remembrance--
Now seeing nothing and imagining nothing,
But only being afraid--stifled with fear!
While every goodly or familiar form
Had a strange power of breathing terror round me!
I saw you in a thousand fearful shapes;
And I entreat your lordship to believe me,

Remorse.

[56] om. Remorse.

[62] my] mine Remorse.

[64] _Ord. (after a pause)._ I know not why it should be! yet it is-- Remorse.

[65] Abhorrent from our nature, Remorse.

[67-70]

_Ord._ Why that's my case! and yet the soul recoils from it--
'Tis so with me at least. But you, perhaps,
Have sterner feelings?

_Isid._ Something troubles you.
How shall I serve you?

Remorse.

[77] yards] strides Remorse.

[80] Stage-direction om. Remorse.

[82] the] thy Remorse.

[Between 84 and 88]

_Isid. (aside)._ He? He despised? Thou'rt speaking of thyself!
I am on my guard however: no surprise [_Then to ORDONIO._

Remorse.

[86-7] om. Remorse.

[91-2]

_Isidore._ Of himself he speaks. [_Aside._
Alas! poor wretch!
Mad men, &c.

Remorse.

[93] phantasies] phantom thoughts Remorse.

[104] go on] proceed Remorse.

[105] his] this Remorse.

[106] being] substance Remorse.

[108] Stage-direction om. Remorse.

[120] some] same Remorse.

[121-2]

He proved a traitor,
Betrayed the mystery to a brother traitor

Remorse.

[125-7] om. Remorse.

[131] Stage-direction om. Remorse.

[Between 143 and 145.]

With weak and womanish scruples. Now my vengeance
Beckons me onwards with a warrior's mien,
And claims that life, my pity robb'd her of--
Now will I kill thee, thankless slave, and count it

Remorse.

[Affixed to 147.] _Ferdinand on hearing the threat of Osorio feels a momentary horror at the consequences of his being killed, and in tones of mingled fear and sorrow_--

And all my little ones fatherless!

_then bursting into indignation_ 'Die thou first',

MS. III.

[After 147]

[_They fight. ORDONIO disarms ISIDORE, and in disarming
him throws his sword up that recess opposite to
which they were standing. ISIDORE hurries into the
recess with his torch, ORDONIO follows him; a loud
cry of 'Traitor! Monster!' is heard from the
cavern, and in a moment ORDONIO returns alone._

_Ordonio._ I have hurl'd him down the chasm! treason for treason.
He dreamt of it, henceforward let him sleep,
A dreamless sleep, from which no wife can wake him.
His dream too is made out--Now for his friend. [_Exit. ORDONIO._

Remorse.

[148-51] om. Remorse.

[150] Now] So MS. III.

[Affixed to 150.] 'Ferdinand's death is not sufficiently explained to the Audience. There should be a struggling behind the scene, as if Osorio had taken him unawares, and was hurrying him down the Precipice. An exclamation or even groans would add still more to the interest of the scene.' MS. III erased.

[152-234] om. Remorse. vide _ante_ The Foster-Mother's Tale: a Dramatic Fragment, pp. 182-4.

[Between 152 and 246:]

SCENE II

_The interior Court of a Saracenic or Gothic Castle with the iron gate of a dungeon visible._

_Teresa._ Heart-chilling Superstition! thou canst glaze
Ev'n Pity's eye with her own frozen tear.
In vain I urge the tortures that await him:
Even Selma, reverend guardian of my childhood,
My second mother, shuts her heart against me!
Well, I have won from her what most imports
The present need, this secret of the dungeon
Known only to herself.--A Moor! a Sorcerer!
No, I have faith, that nature ne'er permitted
Baseness to wear a form so noble. True,
I doubt not, that Ordonio had suborned him
To act some part in some unholy fraud;
As little doubt, that for some unknown purpose
He hath baffled his suborner, terror-struck him,
And that Ordonio meditates revenge!
But my resolve is fixed! myself will rescue him,
And learn if haply he knew aught of Alvar.

_Enter VALDEZ._

_Valdez._ Still sad?--and gazing at the massive door
Of that fell dungeon which thou ne'er had'st sight of,
Save what, perchance, thy infant fancy shap'd it
When the nurse still'd thy cries with unmeant threats.
Now by my faith, girl! this same wizard haunts thee!
A stately man, and eloquent and tender--
Who then need wonder if a lady sighs
Even at the thought of what these stern Dominicans--

_Teresa._ The horror of their ghastly punishments
Doth so o'ertop the height of all compassion,
That I should feel too little for mine enemy,
If it were possible I could feel more,
Even though the dearest inmates of our household
Were doom'd to suffer them. That such things are--

Remorse.

[155] _Maria._ 'Tis strange] _Teresa._ 'Tis said MS. III.

[157] _Foster-Mother_] _Selma_ Corr. in MS. III.

[165-6]

O honor'd Selma! this strange man has left me
Wilder'd with stranger fancies than yon moon

Corr. in MS. III.

[169]

She gazes idly!

_Ter._ But that entrance, Selma

Corr. in MS. III.

[170] _Foster-Mother_] _Selma_ Corr. in MS. III.

[171] _Maria_] _Teresa._ _Foster-Mother_] _Selma_ Corr. in MS. III.

[172] Leoni] Sesina Corr. in MS. III.

[180] Velez] Valdez Corr. in MS. III.

[201] Velez] Valdez Corr. in MS. III.

[212] And once as he was working near this dungeon Corr. in MS. III.

[221] _Maria_] _Teresa_ Corr. in MS. III.

[226] Leoni's] Sesina's Corr. in MS. III.

[228] Leoni] Sesina Corr. in MS. III.

[Between 248 and 255:]

What if Monviedro or his creatures hear us!
I dare not listen to you.

_Teresa._ My honoured lord,
These were my Alvar's lessons, and whene'er
I bend me o'er his portrait, I repeat them,
As if to give a voice to the mute image.

_Valdez._ ----We have mourned for
Alvar.
Of his sad fate there now remains no doubt.
Have I no other son?

Remorse.

[256] That low imposture! That mysterious picture! Remorse. it] this Remorse.

[Between 262 and 268:]

O that I had indeed the sorcerer's power.--
I would call up before thine eyes the image
Of my betrothed Alvar, of thy first-born!
His own fair countenance, his kingly forehead,
His tender smiles, love's day-dawn on his lips!
That spiritual and almost heavenly light
In his commanding eye--his mien heroic,
Virtue's own native heraldry! to man
Genial, and pleasant to his guardian angel.
Whene'er he gladden'd, how the gladness spread
Wide round him! and when oft with swelling tears,
Flash'd through by indignation, he bewail'd
The wrongs of Belgium's martyr'd patriots,
Oh, what a grief was there--for joy to envy,
Or gaze upon enamour'd!
O my father!
Recall that morning when we knelt together,
And thou didst bless our loves! O even now,
Even now, my sire! to thy mind's eye present him,
As at that moment he rose up before thee,
Stately, with beaming look! Place, place beside him
Ordonio's dark perturbed countenance!
Then bid me (Oh thou could'st not) bid me turn
From him, the joy, the triumph of our kind!
To take in exchange that brooding man, who never
Lifts up his eye from the earth, unless to scowl.

Remorse.

[274-86] (Thou shalt not stay . . . companion) om. Remorse.

[Between 274-87:]

_Teresa._ O grief! to hear
Hateful intreaties from a voice we love!

_Enter a PEASANT and presents a letter to VALDEZ._

_Valdez (reading it)._ 'He dares not venture hither!' Why what can
this mean?
'Lest the Familiars of the Inquisition,
That watch around my gates, should intercept him;
But he conjures me, that without delay
I hasten to him--for my own sake entreats me
To guard from danger him I hold imprison'd--
He will reveal a secret, the joy of which
Will even outweigh the sorrow.'--Why what can this be?
Perchance it is some Moorish stratagem,
To have in me a hostage for his safety.
Nay, that they dare not! Ho! collect my servants!
I will go thither--let them arm themselves. [_Exit VALDEZ._

_Teresa (alone)._ The moon is high in heaven, and all is hush'd.
Yet anxious listener! I have seem'd to hear
A low dead thunder mutter thro' the night,
As 'twere a giant angry in his sleep.
O Alvar! Alvar! &c.

Remorse.

[After 276] And all his wealth perhaps come to the Church MS. III. erased.

[289] evening-tide] eventide Remorse.

[296-334] om. Remorse.

[After 296]

[_A pause._

And this majestic Moor, seems he not one
Who oft and long communing with my Alvar,
Hath drunk in kindred lustre from his presence,
And guides me to him with reflected light?
What if in yon dark dungeon coward treachery
Be groping for him with envenomed poniard--
Hence womanish fears, traitors to love and duty--
I'll free him. [_Exit TERESA._

SCENE III

_The mountains by moonlight. ALHADRA alone in a Moorish dress._

_Alhadra._ Yon hanging woods, that touch'd by autumn seem
As they were blossoming hues of fire and gold;
{ The hanging Act V, l. 41.
{ The flower-like woods, most lovely in decay,
The many clouds, the sea, the rock, the sands,
Lie in the silent moonshine: and the owl,
(Strange! very strange!) the scritch-owl only wakes!
Sole voice, sole eye of all this world of beauty!
Unless, perhaps, she sing her screeching song
To a herd of wolves, that skulk athirst for blood.
Why such a thing am I?--Where are these men?
I need the sympathy of human faces,
To beat away this deep contempt for all things,
Which quenches my revenge. O! would to Alla,
The raven, or the sea-mew, were appointed
To bring me food! or rather that my soul
Could drink in life from the universal air!
It were a lot divine in some small skiff
Along some Ocean's boundless solitude,
To float for ever with a careless course,
And think myself the only being alive.

[_Vide post Osorio_, Act V, ll. 39-56.]

My children!--Isidore's children!--Son of Valdez,
This hath new strung mine arm. Thou coward tyrant!
To stupify a woman's heart with anguish,
Till she forgot--even that she was a mother!

[_She fixes her eye on the earth. Then drop in one after
another, from different parts of the stage, a
considerable number of Morescoes, all in Moorish
garments and Moorish armour. They form a circle at
a distance round ALHADRA, and remain silent till
NAOMI enters._

Remorse.

[337] the] these Remorse.

[342] _spell_-blasted] spell-blasted Remorse.

[345] Stage-direction om. Remorse.

[348] _All_] _All Morescoes._ Remorse.

[352] _One to Another_] _One Morescoe (to another)._ Remorse.

[353] Murder? Not murder'd? Remorse.

[After 353] [Stage-direction] _Alhadra (to Naomi, who advances from the circle)._ Remorse.

[359] house] sons MS. III. Wet with the life-blood of the son of Valdez Remorse.

[After 359] _Enter_ Warville. MS. III.

[_A pause._

Ordonio was your chieftain's murderer

Remorse.

[360-70] Erased MS. III.

[360-75] om. Remorse.

[373-80] Erased MS. III.

[375] Stage-direction _All (kneeling)._ Remorse.

[After 375] _Alhadra._ This night your chieftain armed himself Remorse.

[Affixed to 375] (not in S. T. C.'s handwriting) and erased:

_Naomi._
Proceed, proceed, Alhadra.

_Alhadra._
Yestermorning
He stood before our house, startful and gloomy,
And stirr'd up fierce dispute with Ferdinand,
I saw him when the vehement Gripe of Conscience
Had wrenched his features to a visible agony.
When he was gone Ferdinand sighed out 'Villain'
And spake no other word.

_Warville (mournfully)._
The brother of Albert.

MS. III erased.

[_Note._--Warville was a character introduced into the deleted passage 360-70, the name being always altered by S. T. C. to 'Maurice'.]

[376-84] om. Remorse.

[384] its] their Corr. in MS. III.

[386] _there_] there Remorse.

[388] a pause] a while Remorse.

[397] Stage-direction om. Remorse.

[399] A brief while] A little while Corr. in MS. III erased.

[402] God] Heaven Remorse.

[404] _light_] light Remorse.

[405] _hideous_] hideous Remorse.

[407] while] whilst Remorse.

[409] Erased MS. III. _Naomi._ Comfort her, Alla! Remorse.

[414] go] onward Remorse.

[421] his] the MS. III.

[After 425

_All._ Away! away! [_She rushes off, all following her._

Remorse.