The Complete Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge (Illustrated Edition). Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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And claims that life, my pity robb’d her of —
Now will I kill thee, thankless slave, and count it 165
Among my comfortable thoughts hereafter.
Isidore. And all my little ones fatherless —
Die thou first.
[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. 170
His dream too is made out — Now for his friend.
[Exit ORDONIO.
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! 5
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, 10
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! 15
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 20
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 — 25
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 30
Were doom’d to suffer them. That such things are —
Valdez. Hush, thoughtless woman!
Teresa. Nay, it wakes within me
More than a woman’s spirit.
Valdez. No more of this —
What if Monviedro or his creatures hear us!
I dare not listen to you.
Teresa. My honoured lord, 35
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. 40
Have I no other son?
Teresa. Speak not of him!
That low imposture! That mysterious picture!
If this be madness, must I wed a madman?
And if not madness, there is mystery,
And guilt doth lurk behind it.
Valdez. Is this well? 45
Teresa. Yes, it is truth: saw you his countenance?
How rage, remorse, and scorn, and stupid fear
Displaced each other with swift interchanges?
O that I had indeed the sorcerer’s power. ——
I would call up before thine eyes the image 50
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, 55
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 60
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, 65
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 perturbéd countenance!
Then bid me (Oh thou could’st not) bid me turn 70
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.
Valdez. Ungrateful woman! I have tried to stifle
An old man’s passion! was it not enough, 75
That thou hast made my son a restless man,
Banish’d his health, and half unhing’d his reason;
But that thou wilt insult him with suspicion?
And toil to blast his honour? I am old,
A comfortless old man!
Teresa. O grief! to hear 80
Hateful entreaties 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