SCENE III.
_A Wood._
_ZORAYDA, sitting at the foot of an oak._
ZORAYDA. An outcast from an outcast race,--spurn'd, chid, From the churl's threshold. Shunn'd, unbless'd by all: Nor home nor heritance--I live, alone, Without associate, tie, or fellowship E'en to my kin. I might from these consist Of other nature; other substance might Enfold my spirit,--other shape Envelope me, than wraps the affrighted herd Who stand aloof and gaze! Th' inanimate forms, Nature's unchisel'd workmanship--unsullied By man's rude contact--'tis with these I hold Converse and high communion; And from the spirit that lives in them, free And uncommunicable intercourse My soul receives. In all things there exists Distinct peculiar essence, like the soul Our being animates; at seasons oft, In presence, though unseen, yet to the mind Internal, manifest, imparting there Miraculous influence. In secret, too-- The bodily eye, from grosser matter freed,-- In shape as palpable they come, as doth Each outward image rise to corporeal sense. I am not mad. The heated brain creates not These uncall'd phantoms: yet men say I'm crazed. They know not, dream not, of the mighty world That lives around them. Other orbs might hold us! --By mine art, with potent spell, And wily stratagem, the Duke I've warn'd. Hermione--proud victim! Love unhallow'd Yet lingers in their breasts, and they must sever, Though one heart break in that most cruel parting! There's a foul taint of murder in the wind-- I do suspect her lover--yon Venetian, Her suitor once--rejected. Such revenge Will ofttimes rouse the spirit up to mischief, Loathing, it would abhor e'en if beheld But as a guilty dream. If this fond Duke Seek not again her presence I have hope. To-morrow she departs from Mantua-- No power can harm thee, save in that brief space Appointed with thy birth. Here comes my spy: The urchin loves me for the good he owes.
_Enter GIULIO._
Welcome, boy! Thine errand?
GIULIO. Some whisperings I've caught, Yet know not to what purpose they should tend. I heard "to-night," twice to each listener told, And oft a cautious glance where I but stood, Tuning my simple lute. As thou hast bid me, With careful eye, note well their secret converse, I hasten'd with the news: and now, good mother, Say me farewell.
ZORAYDA. A toward child; Great largess thou mayest earn for thy discourse: Hence! lest this absence tell what thine excuse May not conceal. [_Exit GIULIO._ To-night!--I'll watch. This hour of danger past, I'll pledge me to thy safety. Noble Mantua, In that dread day, my parent's forfeit life When thou didst spare, I vow'd to seek thy welfare; And my good power, for thee and for thine house, Hath not its use in vain. Yet, I do fear The issue of this night: the vision told Mortal conclusion nigh--"_They will not hear_ "_Warning oft utter'd, but impetuous rush,_ "_Unheeding, to their doom._" Perchance some hidden meaning lurks beneath This fearful message; an ambiguous sense, Its proper import framing, when the event From which it springs, like day-betokening morn, Is past. His death it may not show. I'll save thee, Or my destruction----soft!--the tramp of men: Scouts, peradventure, on my track. Go, follow The wild bee to its nest!--or to yon cliff Climb with the eagle!--then ye mark my course! [_Exit._
_Enter CARLOS and BERTRAND, meeting._
BERTRAND. My messenger brings welcome news: to-day Hermione again visits the palace. Till this dim light shall fade, her promised stay-- But the first watch of night, perchance, may find This cuckoo harbour'd yet in others' nest!
CARLOS. 'Tis well:--our friends with the opportunity Alone are arm'd; and as the time may note Their several parts. From the west turret The accomplice issue signal, if to-night The Duke refreshes in the mountain-breeze, As 'tis his wont, around the platform. When Upon its staff the turret pennon sinks (The moon to this good signal will suffice), We climb the unguarded stair, and it conducts To our dark enterprise. [_Exeunt._