Samuel Coleridge - The Complete Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge

insolent Spaniard! 75

Maurice. And ye like slaves, that have destroy’d their master,

But know not yet what freedom means; how holy

And just a thing it is! He’s a fallen foe!

Come, come, forgive him!

All. No, by Mahomet!

Francesco. O mercy, mercy! talk to them of mercy! 80

Old Man. Mercy to thee! No, no, by Mahomet!

Maurice. Nay, Mahomet taught mercy and forgiveness.

I am sure he did!

Old Man. Ha! Ha! Forgiveness! Mercy!

Maurice. If he did not, he needs it for himself!

Alhadra. Blaspheming fool! the law of Mahomet 85

Was given by him, who framed the soul of man.

This the best proof — it fits the soul of man!

Ambition, glory, thirst of enterprize,

The deep and stubborn purpose of revenge,

With all the boiling revelries of pleasure — 90

These grow in the heart, yea, intertwine their roots

With its minutest fibres! And that Being

Who made us, laughs to scorn the lying faith,

Whose puny precepts, like a wall of sand,

Would stem the full tide of predestined Nature! 95

Naomi (who turns toward Francesco with his sword). Speak!

All (to Alhadra). Speak!

Alhadra. Is the murderer of your chieftain dead?

Now as God liveth, who hath suffer’d him

To make my children orphans, none shall die

Till I have seen his blood!

Off with him to the vessel!

[A part of the Morescoes hurry him off.

Alhadra. The Tyger, that with unquench’d cruelty, 100

Still thirsts for blood, leaps on the hunter’s spear

With prodigal courage. ‘Tis not so with man.

Maurice. It is not so, remember that, my friends!

Cowards are cruel, and the cruel cowards.

Alhadra. Scatter yourselves, take each a separate way, 105

And move in silence to the house of Velez. [Exeunt.

SCENE. — A Dungeon.

ALBERT (alone) rises slowly from a bed of reeds.

Albert. And this place my forefathers made for men!

This is the process of our love and wisdom

To each poor brother who offends against us —

Most innocent, perhaps — and what if guilty? 110

Is this the only cure? Merciful God!

Each pore and natural outlet shrivell’d up

By ignorance and parching poverty,

His energies roll back upon his heart,

And stagnate and corrupt till changed to poison, 115

They break out on him like a loathsome plague-spot!

Then we call in our pamper’d mountebanks —

And this is their best cure! uncomforted

And friendless solitude, groaning and tears,

And savage faces at the clanking hour 120

Seen thro’ the steaming vapours of his dungeon

By the lamp’s dismal twilight! So he lies

Circled with evil, till his very soul

Unmoulds its essence, hopelessly deform’d

By sights of ever more deformity! 125

With other ministrations thou, O Nature!

Healest thy wandering and distemper’d child:

Thou pourest on him thy soft influences,

Thy sunny hues, fair forms, and breathing sweets,

Thy melodies of woods, and winds, and waters, 130

Till he relent, and can no more endure

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 heal’d and harmoniz’d 135

By the benignant touch of love and beauty.

[A noise at the dungeon-door. It opens, and OSORIO

enters with a goblet in his hand.

Osorio. Hail, potent wizard! In my gayer mood

I pour’d forth a libation to old Pluto;

And as I brimm’d the bowl, I thought of thee!

Albert (in a low voice). I have not summon’d up my heart to

give 140

That pang, which I must give thee, son of Velez!

Osorio (with affected levity). Thou hast conspired against my

life and honour,

Hast trick’d me foully; yet I hate thee not!

Why should I hate thee? This same world of ours —

It is a puddle in a storm of rain, 145

And we the air-bladders, that course up and down,

And joust and tilt in merry tournament,

And when one bubble runs foul of another,

[Waving his hand at ALBERT.

The lesser must needs break!

Albert. I see thy heart!

There is a frightful glitter in thine eye, 150

Which doth betray thee. Crazy-conscienc’d man,

This is the gaiety of drunken anguish,

Which fain would scoff away the pang of guilt,

And quell each human feeling!

Osorio. Feeling! feeling!

The death of a man — the breaking of a bubble. 155

‘Tis true, I cannot sob for such misfortunes!

But faintness, cold, and hunger — curses on me

If willingly I e’er inflicted them!

Come, share the beverage — this chill place demands it.

Friendship and wine! [OSORIO proffers him the goblet.

Albert. Yon insect on the wall, 160

Which moves this way and that its hundred legs,

Were it a toy of mere mechanic craft,

It were an infinitely curious thing!

But it has life, Osorio! life and thought;

And by the power of its miraculous will 165

Wields all the complex movements of its frame

Unerringly, to pleasurable ends!

Saw I that insect on this goblet’s brink,

I would remove it with an eager terror.

Osorio. What meanest thou?

Albert. There’s poison in the wine. 170

Osorio. Thou hast guess’d well. There’s poison in the wine.

Shall we throw dice, which of us two shall drink it?

For one of us must die!

Albert. Whom dost thou think me?

Osorio. The accomplice and sworn friend of Ferdinand.

Albert. Ferdinand! Ferdinand! ‘tis a name I know not. 175

Osorio. Good! good! that lie! by Heaven! it has restor’d me.

Now I am thy master! Villain, thou shalt drink it,

Or die a bitterer death.

Albert. What strange solution

Hast thou found out to satisfy thy fears,

And drug them to unnatural sleep?

[ALBERT takes the goblet, and with a sigh throws it

on the ground.

My master! 180

Osorio. Thou mountebank!

Albert. Mountebank and villain!

What then art thou? For shame, put up thy sword!

What boots a weapon in a wither’d arm?

I fix mine eye upon thee, and thou tremblest!

I speak — and fear and wonder crush thy rage, 185

And turn it to a motionless distraction!

Thou blind self-worshipper! thy pride, thy cunning,

Thy faith in universal villainy,

Thy shallow sophisms, thy pretended scorn

For all thy human brethren — out upon them! 190

What have they done for thee? Have they given thee peace?

Cured thee of starting in thy sleep? or made

The darkness pleasant, when thou wakest at midnight?

Art happy when alone? can’st walk by thyself

With even step, and quiet cheerfulness? 195

Yet, yet thou mayst be saved.

Osorio (stupidly reiterating the word). Saved? saved?

Albert. One pang —

Could I call up one pang of true remorse!

Osorio. He told me of the babe, that prattled to him,

His fatherless little ones! Remorse! remorse!

Where gott’st thou that fool’s word? Curse on remorse! 200

Can it give up the dead, or recompact

A mangled body — mangled, dash’d to atoms!

Not all the blessings of an host of angels

Can blow away a desolate widow’s curse;

And tho’ thou spill thy heart’s blood for atonement, 205

It will not weigh against an orphan’s tear.

Albert (almost overcome by his feelings). But Albert ——

Osorio. Ha! it

chokes thee in the throat,

Even thee! and yet, I pray thee, speak it out.

Still Albert! Albert! Howl it in mine ear!

Heap it, like coals of fire, upon my heart! 210

And shoot it hissing through my brain!