What if my heart should tell me the reverse?How, sir, if Philip's watchful tenderness,
The looks that silently proclaim his love,
Touched me more deeply than his haughty son's
Presumptuous eloquence? What, if an old man's
Matured esteem —
That makes a difference! Then,
Why then, forgiveness! – I'd no thought of this;
I had no thought that you could love the king.
To honor him's my pleasure and my wish.
Then you have never loved?
Singular question!
Then you have never loved?
I love no longer!
Because your heart forbids it, or your oath?
Leave me; nor never touch this theme again.
Because your oath forbids it, or your heart?
Because my duty – but, alas, alas!
To what avails this scrutiny of fate,
Which we must both obey?
Must – must obey?
What means this solemn tone?
Thus much it means
That Carlos is not one to yield to must
Where he hath power to will! It means, besides,
'That Carlos is not minded to live on,
The most unhappy man in all his realm,
When it would only cost the overthrow
Of Spanish laws to be the happiest.
Do I interpret rightly? Still you hope?
Dare you hope on, when all is lost forever?
I look on naught as lost – except the dead.
For me – your mother, do you dare to hope?
[She fixes a penetrating look on him, then continues with dignity and earnestness.
And yet why not? A new elected monarch
Can do far more – make bonfires of the laws
His father left – o'erthrow his monuments —
Nay, more than this – for what shall hinder him? —
Drag from his tomb, in the Escurial,
The sacred corpse of his departed sire,
Make it a public spectacle, and scatter
Forth to the winds his desecrated dust.
And then, at last, to fill the measure up —
Merciful heavens, finish not the picture!
End all by wedding with his mother.
Oh!
Accursed son!
[He remains for some time paralyzed and speechless.
Yes, now 'tis out, 'tis out!
I see it clear as day. Oh, would it had
Been veiled from me in everlasting darkness!
Yes, thou art gone from me – gone – gone forever.
The die is cast; and thou art lost to me.
Oh, in that thought lies hell; and a hell, too,
Lies in the other thought, to call thee mine.
Oh, misery! I can bear my fate no longer,
My very heart-strings strain as they would burst.
Alas, alas! dear Charles, I feel it all,
The nameless pang that rages in your breast;
Your pangs are infinite, as is your love,
And infinite as both will be the glory
Of overmastering both. Up, be a man,
Wrestle with them boldly. The prize is worthy
Of a young warrior's high, heroic heart;
Worthy of him in whom the virtues flow
Of a long ancestry of mighty kings.
Courage! my noble prince! Great Charles's grandson
Begins the contest with undaunted heart,
Where sons of meaner men would yield at once.
Too late, too late! O God, it is too late!
Too late to be a man! O Carlos, Carlos!
How nobly shows our virtue when the heart
Breaks in its exercise! The hand of Heaven
Has set you up on high, – far higher, prince,
Than millions of your brethren. All she took
From others she bestowed with partial hand
On thee, her favorite; and millions ask,
What was your merit, thus before your birth
To be endowed so far above mankind?
Up, then, and justify the ways of Heaven;
Deserve to take the lead of all the world,
And make a sacrifice ne'er made before.
I will, I will; I have a giant's strength
To win your favor; but to lose you, none.
Confess, my Carlos, I have harshly read thee;
It is but spoken, and waywardness, and pride,
Attract you thus so madly to your mother!
The heart you lavish on myself belongs
To the great empire you one day shall rule.
Look that you sport not with your sacred trust!
Love is your high vocation; until now
It hath been wrongly bent upon your mother:
