SCENE III.--_A Gallery in the Alhambra.

ZULEMA, HAMET.

_Hamet._ I thought your passion for the queen was dead, Or that your love had, with your hopes, been fled.

_Zul._ 'Twas like a fire within a furnace pent: I smothered it, and kept it long from vent; But, fed with looks, and blown with sighs so fast, It broke a passage through my lips at last.

_Hamet._ Where found you confidence your suit to move? Our broken fortunes are not fit to love. Well; you declared your love:--What followed then?

_Zul._ She looked as judges do on guilty men, When big with fate they triumph in their dooms, And smile before the deadly sentence comes. Silent I stood, as I were thunder-struck; Condemned and executed with a look.

_Hamet._ You must, with haste, some remedy prepare: Now you are in, you must break through the snare.

_Zul._ She said, she would my folly yet conceal; But vowed my next attempt she would reveal.

_Hamet._ 'Tis dark; and in this lonely gallery, Remote from noise, and shunning every eye, One hour each evening she in private mourns, And prays, and to the circle then returns.

_Zul._ These lighted tapers show the time is nigh. Perhaps my courtship will not be in vain: At least, few women will of force complain.

_At the other end of the Gallery, enter_ ALMANZOR _and_ ESPERANZA.

_Hamet._ Almanzor, and with him The favourite slave of the sultana queen.

_Zul._ Ere they approach, let us retire unseen, And watch our time when they return again: Then force shall give, if favour does deny; And, that once done, we'll to the Spaniards fly. [_Exeunt_ ZUL. _and_ HAMET.

_Almanz._ Now stand; the apartment of the queen is near; And, from this place, your voice will reach her ear. [ESPERANZA _goes out._

SONG, IN TWO PARTS.

I.

He. _How unhappy a lover am I, While I sigh for my Phillis in vain; All my hopes of delight Are another man's right, Who is happy, while I am in pain!_

II.

She. _Since her honour allows no relief, But to pity the pains which you bear, 'Tis the best of your fate In a hopeless estate, To give o'er, and betimes to despair._

III.

He. _I have tried the false med'cine in vain; For I wish what I hope not to win: From without, my desire Has no food to its fire; But it burns and consumes me within._

IV.

She. _Yet, at least, 'tis a pleasure to know That you are not unhappy alone: For the nymph you adore Is as wretched, and more; And counts all your sufferings her own._

V.

He. _O ye gods, let me suffer for both; At the feet of my Phyllis I'll lie: I'll resign up my breath, And take pleasure in death To be pitied by her when I die._

VI.

She. _What her honour denied you in life, In her death she will give to your love. Such flame as is true After fate will renew, For the souls to meet closer above._

_Enter_ ESPERANZA _again, after the Song._

_Almanz._ Accept this diamond, till I can present Something more worthy my acknowledgement. And now farewell: I will attend, alone, Her coming forth; and make my sufferings known. [_Exit_ ESPERANZA. A hollow wind comes whistling through that door, And a cold shivering seizes me all o'er; My teeth, too, chatter with a sudden fright:-- These are the raptures of too fierce delight, The combat of the tyrants, hope and fear; Which hearts, for want of field-room, cannot bear. I grow impatient;--this, or that's the room:-- I'll meet her;--now methinks, I her her come. [_He goes to the door; the Ghost of his Mother meets him: He starts back: The Ghost stands in the door._ Well may'st thou make thy boast, whate'er thou art! Thou art the first e'er made Almanzor start. My legs Shall bear me to thee in their own despite: I'll rush into the covert of thy night, And pull thee backward, by the shroud, to light; Or else I'll squeeze thee, like a bladder, there, And make thee groan thyself away to air. [_The Ghost retires._ So, thou art gone! Thou canst no conquest boast: I thought what was the courage of a ghost.-- The grudging of my ague yet remains; My blood, like icicles, hangs in my veins, And does not drop:--Be master of that door, We two will not disturb each other more. I erred a little, but extremes may join; That door was hell's, but this is heaven's and mine. [_Goes to the other door, and is met again by the Ghost._ Again! by heaven, I do conjure thee, speak! What art thou, spirit? and what dost thou seek? [_The Ghost comes on softly after the conjuration; and_ ALMANZOR _retires to the middle of the stage._

_Ghost._ I am the ghost of her who gave thee birth; The airy shadow of her mouldering earth. Love of thy father me through seas did guide; On seas I bore thee, and on seas I died. I died; and for my winding sheet a wave I had, and all the ocean for my grave. But, when my soul to bliss did upward move, I wandered round the crystal walls above; But found the eternal fence so steeply high, That, when I mounted to the middle sky, I flagged, and fluttered down, and could not fly. Then, from the battlements of the heavenly tower, A watchman angel bid me wait this hour; And told me, I had yet a task assigned, To warn that little pledge I left behind; And to divert him, ere it were too late, From crimes unknown, and errors of his fate.

_Almanz._ Speak, holy shade; thou parent-form, speak on! [_Bowing._ Instruct thy mortal-elemented son; For here I wander, to myself unknown. But O, thou better part of heavenly air, Teach me, kind spirit, since I'm still thy care, My parents' names: If I have yet a father, let me know To whose old age my humble youth must bow, And pay its duty, if he mortal be, Or adoration, if a mind, like thee.

_Ghost._ Then, what I may, I'll tell.-- From ancient blood thy father's lineage springs, Thy mother's thou deriv'st from stems of kings. A Christian born, and born again that day, When sacred water washed thy sins away. Yet, bred in errors, thou dost misemploy That strength heaven gave thee, and its flock destroy.

_Almanz._ By reason, man a godhead may discern, But how he should be worshipped cannot learn.

_Ghost._ Heaven does not now thy ignorance reprove, But warns thee from known crimes of lawless love. That crime thou knowest, and, knowing, dost not shun, Shall an unknown and greater crime pull on: But if, thus warned, thou leav'st this cursed place, Then shalt thou know the author of thy race. Once more I'll see thee; then my charge is done. Far hence, upon the mountains of the moon, Is my abode; where heaven and nature smile, And strew with flowers the secret bed of Nile. Blessed souls are there refined, and made more bright, And, in the shades of heaven, prepared for light. [_Exit Ghost._

_Almanz._ O heaven, how dark a riddle's thy decree, Which bounds our wills, yet seems to leave them free! Since thy fore-knowledge cannot be in vain, Our choice must be what thou didst first ordain. Thus, like a captive in an isle confined, Man walks at large, a prisoner of the mind: Wills all his crimes, while heaven the indictment draws, And, pleading guilty, justifies the laws. Let fate be fate; the lover and the brave Are ranked, at least, above the vulgar slave. Love makes me willing to my death to run; And courage scorns the death it cannot shun.

_Enter_ ALMAHIDE _with a taper._

_Almah._ My light will sure discover those who talk.-- Who dares to interrupt my private walk?

_Almanz._ He, who dares love, and for that love must die, And, knowing this, dares yet love on, am I.

_Almah._ That love which you can hope, and I can pay, May be received and given in open day: My praise and my esteem you had before; And you have bound yourself to ask no more.

_Almanz._ Yes, I have bound myself; but will you take The forfeit of that bond, which force did make?

_Almah._ You know you are from recompence debarred; But purest love can live without reward.

_Almanz._ Pure love had need be to itself a feast; For, like pure elements, 'twill nourish least.

_Almah._ It therefore yields the only pure content; For it, like angels, needs no nourishment. To eat and drink can no perfection be; All appetite implies necessity.

_Almanz._ 'Twere well, if I could like a spirit live; But, do not angels food to mortals give? What if some demon should my death foreshow, Or bid me change, and to the Christians go; Will you not think I merit some reward, When I my love above my life regard?

_Almah._ In such a case your change must be allowed: I would myself dispense with what you vowed.

_Almanz._ Were I to die that hour when I possess, This minute shall begin my happiness.

_Almah._ The thoughts of death your passion would remove; Death is a cold encouragement to love.

_Almanz._ No; from my joys I to my death would run, And think the business of my life well done: But I should walk a discontented ghost, If flesh and blood were to no purpose lost.

_Almah._ You love me not, Almanzor; if you did, You would not ask what honour must forbid.

_Almanz._ And what is honour, but a love well hid?

_Almah._ Yes, 'tis the conscience of an act well done, Which gives us power our own desires to shun; The strong and secret curb of headlong will; The self-reward of good, and shame of ill.

_Almanz._ These, madam, are the maxims of the day, When honour's present, and when love's away. The duty of poor honour were too hard, In arms all day, at night to mount the guard. Let him, in pity, now to rest retire; Let these soft hours be watched by warm desire.

_Almah._ Guards, who all day on painful duty keep, In dangers are not privileged to sleep.

_Almanz._ And with what dangers are you threatened here? Am I, alas! a foe for you to fear? See, madam, at your feet this enemy; [_Kneels._ Without your pity and your love I die.

_Almah._ Rise, rise, and do not empty hopes pursue; Yet think that I deny myself, not you.

_Almanz._ A happiness so high I cannot bear: My love's too fierce, and you too killing fair. I grow enraged to see such excellence!-- If words, so much disordered, give offence, My love's too full of zeal to think of sense. Be you like me; dull reason hence remove, And tedious forms, and give a loose to love. Love eagerly; let us be gods to-night; And do not, with half yielding, clash delight.

_Almah._ Thou strong seducer, opportunity! Of womankind, half are undone by thee! Though I resolve I will not be misled, I wish I had not heard what you have said! I cannot be so wicked to comply; And, yet, am most unhappy to deny! Away!

_Almanz._ I will not move me from this place: I can take no denial from that face!

_Almah._ If I could yield,--but think not that I will,-- You and myself I in revenge should kill; For I should hate us both, when it were done, And would not to the shame of life be won.

_Almanz._ Live but to-night, and trust to-morrow's mind: Ere that can come, there's a whole life behind. Methinks, already crowned with joys I lie, Speechless and breathless, in an ecstasy! Not absent in one thought: I am all there: Still close, yet wishing still to be more near.

_Almah._ Deny your own desires; for it will be Too little now to be denied by me. Will he, who does all great, all noble seem, Be lost and forfeit to his own esteem? Will he, who may with heroes claim a place, Belie that fame, and to himself be base? Think how august and godlike you did look, When my defence, unbribed, you undertook; But, when an act so brave you disavow, How little, and how mercenary now!

_Almanz._ Are, then, my services no higher prized? And can I fall so low, to be despised?

_Almah._ Yes; for whatever may be bought, is low; And you yourself, who sell yourself, are so. Remember the great act you did this day: How did your love to virtue then give way! When you gave freedom to my captive lord,-- That rival who possessed what you adored,-- Of such a deed what price can there be made? Think well; is that an action to be paid? It was a miracle of virtue shown; And wonders are with wonder paid alone. And would you all that secret joy of mind, Which great souls only in great actions find, All that, for one tumultuous minute lose?

_Almanz_, I would that minute before ages chuse. Praise is the pay of heaven for doing good; But love's the best return for flesh and blood.

_Almah._ You've moved my heart so much, I can deny No move; but know, Almanzor, I can die. Thus far my virtue yields; if I have shown More love than what I ought, let this atone. [_Going to stab herself._

_Almanz._ Hold, hold! Such fatal proofs of love you shall not give: Deny me; hate me; both are just,--but live! Your virtue I will ne'er disturb again; Nor dare to ask, for fear I should obtain.

_Almah._ 'Tis generous to have conquered your desire; You mount above your wish, and lose it higher. There's pride in virtue, and a kindly heat; Not feverish, like your love, but full as great. Farewell; and may our loves hereafter be But image-like, to heighten piety.

_Almanz._ 'Tis time I should be gone.-- Alas! I am but half converted yet; All I resolve, I with one look forget; And, like a lion, whom no arts can tame, Shall tear even those, who would my rage reclaim. [_Exeunt severally._ [ZULEMA _and_ HAMET _watch_ ALMANZOR; _and when he is gone, go in after the Queen._

_Enter_ ABDELMELECH _and_ LYNDARAXA.

_Lyndar._ It is enough, you've brought me to this place: Here stop, and urge no further my disgrace. Kill me; in death your mercy will be seen, But make me not a captive to the queen.

_Abdelm._ 'Tis therefore I this punishment provide: This only can revenge me on your pride. Prepare to suffer what you shun in vain; And know, you now are to obey, not reign.

_Enter_ ALMAHIDE _shrieking; her hair loose; she runs over the stage._

_Almah._ Help, help, O heaven, some help!

_Enter_ ZULEMA _and_ HAMET.

_Zul._ Make haste before, And intercept her passage to the door.

_Abdelm._ Villains, what act are you attempting here!

_Almah._ I thank thee, heaven! some succour does appear. [_As_ ABDELMELECH _is going to help the Queen,_ LYNDARAXA _pulls out his sword, and holds it._

_Abdelm._ With what ill fate my good design is curst!

_Zul._ We have no time to think; dispatch him first.

_Abdelm._ O for a sword! [_They make at_ ABDELMELECH; _he goes off at one door, while the Queen escapes at the other._

_Zul._ Ruined!

_Hamet._ Undone!

_Lyndar._ And, which is worst of all, He is escaped.

_Zul._ I hear them loudly call.

_Lyndar._ Your fear will lose you; call as loud as they: I have not time to teach you what to say. The court will in a moment all be here; But second what I say, and do not fear. Call help; run that way; leave the rest to me. [ZUL. _and_ HAMET _retire, and within cry,_--Help!

_Enter, at several doors, the King_, ABENAMAR, SELIN, OZMYN, ALMANZOR, _with Guards attending_ BOABDELIN.

_Boab._ What can the cause of all this tumult be? And what the meaning of that naked sword?

_Lyndar._ I'll tell, when fear will so much breath afford.-- The queen and Abdelmelech--'Twill not out-- Even I, who saw it, of the truth yet doubt, It seems so strange.

_Almanz._ Did she not name the queen? Haste; speak.

_Lyndar._ How dare I speak what I have seen?-- With Hamet, and with Zulema I went, To pay both theirs, and my acknowledgment To Almahide, and by her mouth implore Your clemency, our fortunes to restore. We chose this hour, which we believed most free, When she retired from noise and company. The ante-chamber past, we gently knocked, Unheard it seems, but found the lodgings locked, In duteous silence while we waited there, We first a noise, and then long whispers hear; Yet thought it was the queen at prayers alone, Till she distinctly said,--If this were known, My love, what shame, what danger would ensue! Yet I,--and sighed,--could venture more for you!

_Boab._ O heaven, what do I hear!

_Almanz._ Let her go on.

_Lyndar._ And how,--then murmured in a bigger tone Another voice,--and how should it be known? This hour is from your court attendants free; The king suspects Almanzor, but not me.

_Zul._ I find her drift; Hamet, be confident; [_At the door._ Second her words, and fear not the event.

ZULEMA _and_ HAMET _enter. The King embraces them._

_Boab._ Welcome, my only friends;--behold in me, O kings, behold the effects of clemency! See here the gratitude of pardoned foes! That life, I gave them, they for me expose!

_Hamet._ Though Abdelmelech was our friend before, When duty called us, he was so no more.

_Almanz._ Damn your delay!--you torturers, proceed! I will not hear one word but Almahide.

_Boab._ When you, within, the traitor's voice did hear, What did you then?

_Zul._ I durst not trust my ear; But, peeping through the key-hole, I espied The queen, and Abdelmelech by her side; She on the couch, he on her bosom lay; Her hand about his neck his head did stay, And from his forehead wiped the drops away.

_Boab._ Go on, go on, my friends, to clear my doubt; I hope I shall have life to hear you out.

_Zul_ What had been, sir, you may suspect too well; What followed, modesty forbids to tell: Seeing what we had thought beyond belief, Our hearts so swelled with anger and with grief, That, by plain force, we strove the door to break. He, fearful, and with guilt, or love, grown weak, Just as we entered, 'scaped the other way; Nor did the amazed queen behind him stay.

_Lyndar._ His sword, in so much haste, he could not mind; But left this witness of his crime behind.

_Boab._ O proud, ungrateful, faithless womankind! How changed, and what a monster am I made! My love, my honour, ruined and betrayed!

_Almanz._ Your love and honour! mine are ruined worse:-- Furies and hell!--What right have you to curse? Dull husband as you are, What can your love, or what your honour, be? I am her lover, and she's false to me.

_Boab._ Go; when the authors of my shame are found, Let them be taken instantly and bound: They shall be punished as our laws require: 'Tis just, that flames should be condemned to fire. This, with the dawn of morning shall be done.

_Aben._ You haste too much her execution. Her condemnation ought to be deferred; With justice, none can be condemned unheard.

_Boab._ A formal process tedious is, and long; Besides, the evidence is full and strong.

_Lyndar._ The law demands two witnesses; and she Is cast, for which heaven knows I grieve, by three.

_Ozm._ Hold, sir! since you so far insist on law, We can from thence one just advantage draw: That law, which dooms adultresses to die, Gives champions, too, to slandered chastity.

_Almanz._ And how dare you, who from my bounty live, Intrench upon my love's prerogative? Your courage in your own concernments try; Brothers are things remote, while I am by.

_Ozm._ I knew not you thus far her cause would own, And must not suffer you to fight alone: Let two to two in equal combat join; You vindicate her person, I her line.

_Lyndar._ Of all mankind, Almanzor has least right In her defence, who wrong'd his love, to fight.

_Almanz._ 'Tis false: she is not ill, nor can she be; She must be chaste, because she's loved by me.

_Zul._ Dare you, what sense and reason prove, deny?

_Almanz._ When she's in question, sense and reason lie.

_Zul._ For truth, and for my injured sovereign, What I have said, I will to death maintain.

_Ozm._ So foul a falsehood, whoe'er justifies, Is basely born, and, like a villain, lies. In witness of that truth, be this my gage. [_Takes a ring from his finger._

_Hamet._ I take it; and despise a traitor's rage.

_Boab._ The combat's yours.--A guard the lists surround; Then raise a scaffold in the encompassed ground, And, by it, piles of wood; in whose just fire, Her champions slain, the adultress shall expire.

_Aben._ We ask no favour, but what arms will yield.

_Boab._ Choose, then, two equal judges of the field: Next morning shall decide the doubtful strife, Condemn the unchaste, or quit the virtuous wife.

_Almanz._ But I am both ways cursed: For Almahide must die, if I am slain; Or for my rival I the conquest gain. [_Exeunt._