These were my Alvar’s lessons, and whene’erI 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
this mean?
‘Lest the Familiars of the Inquisition,
That watch around my gates, should intercept him;
But he conjures me, that without delay 85
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, 90
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 95
A low dead thunder mutter thro’ the night,
As ‘twere a giant angry in his sleep.
O Alvar! Alvar! that they could return,
Those blessed days that imitated heaven,
When we two wont to walk at eventide; 100
When we saw nought but beauty; when we heard
The voice of that Almighty One who loved us
In every gale that breathed, and wave that murmur’d!
O we have listen’d, even till high-wrought pleasure
Hath half assumed the countenance of grief, 105
And the deep sigh seemed to heave up a weight
Of bliss, that pressed too heavy on the heart. [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, 110
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
