And yet another groan, which guided meInto a strange recess — and there was light,
A hideous light! his torch lay on the ground;
Its flame burnt dimly o’er a chasm’s brink:
I spake; and whilst I spake, a feeble groan 75
Came from that chasm! it was his last! his death-groan!
Naomi. Comfort her, Alla!
Alhadra. I stood in unimaginable trance
And agony that cannot be remembered,
Listening with horrid hope to hear a groan! 80
But I had heard his last: my husband’s death-groan!
Naomi. Haste! let us onward.
Alhadra. I looked far down the pit —
My sight was bounded by a jutting fragment:
And it was stained with blood. Then first I shrieked,
My eyeballs burnt, my brain grew hot as fire, 85
And all the hanging drops of the wet roof
Turned into blood — I saw them turn to blood!
And I was leaping wildly down the chasm,
When on the farther brink I saw his sword,
And it said, Vengeance! — Curses on my tongue! 90
The moon hath moved in Heaven, and I am here,
And he hath not had vengeance! Isidore!
Spirit of Isidore! thy murderer lives!
Away! away!
All. Away! away!
[She rushes off, all following her.
[Before 25]
The mountains by moonlight. ALHADRA alone in a Moorish dress; her eye
fixed on the earth. Then drop in one after another, from different parts
of the stage, a considerable number of Morescoes, all in Moorish
garments. They form a circle at a distance round ALHADRA.
A Moresco, NAOMI, advances from out the circle.
Naomi. Woman! may Alla, &c.
Edition 1.
Stage-direction after 24 [She fixes … and remain silent till the
Second in Command, NAOMI, enters, distinguished by his dress and armour,
and by the silent obeisance paid to him on his entrance by the other
Moors. Editions 2, 3, 1829.
[Before 28] Alhadra (lifting up eyes, and looking, &c.). Edition 1.
‘Twas dark and very silent. [Then wildly.
Editions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
[After 77] All. Haste, let us seek the murderer. Edition 1.
ACT V
SCENE I
A Dungeon.
ALVAR (alone) rises slowly from a bed of reeds.
Alvar. And this place my forefathers made for man!
This is the process of our love and wisdom
To each poor brother who offends against us —
Most innocent, perhaps — and what if guilty?
Is this the only cure? Merciful God! 5
Each pore and natural outlet shrivelled up
By ignorance and parching poverty,
His energies roll back upon his heart,
And stagnate and corrupt, till, chang’d to poison,
They break out on him, like a loathsome plague-spot! 10
Then we call in our pampered mountebanks:
And this is their best cure! uncomforted
And friendless solitude, groaning and tears,
And savage faces, at the clanking hour,
Seen through the steam and vapours of his dungeon 15
By the lamp’s dismal twilight! So he lies
Circled with evil, till his very soul
Unmoulds its essence, hopelessly deformed
By sights of evermore deformity!
With other ministrations thou, O Nature! 20
Healest thy wandering and distempered child:
Thou pourest on him thy soft influences,
Thy sunny hues, fair forms, and breathing sweets;
Thy melodies of woods, and winds, and waters!
Till he relent, and can no more endure 25
To be a jarring and a dissonant thing
Amid this general dance and minstrelsy;
But, bursting into tears, wins back his way,
His angry spirit healed and harmonized
By the benignant touch of love and beauty. 30
I am chill and weary! Yon rude bench of stone,
In that dark angle, the sole resting-place!
But the self-approving mind is its own light
And life’s best warmth still radiates from the heart
Where love sits brooding, and an honest purpose. 35
[Retires out of sight.
Enter TERESA with a taper.
Teresa. It has chilled my very life —— my own voice scares me;
