Samuel Coleridge - The Complete Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge

As we passed by, I bade thee mark the base

Of yonder cliff —

Zulimez. That rocky seat you mean,

Shaped by the billows? —

Alvar. There Teresa met me

The morning of the day of my departure.

We were alone: the purple hue of dawn 50

Fell from the kindling east aslant upon us,

And blending with the blushes on her cheek,

Suffused the tear-drops there with rosy light.

There seemed a glory round us, and Teresa

The angel of the vision!

Had’st thou seen 55

How in each motion her most innocent soul

Beamed forth and brightened, thou thyself would’st tell me,

Guilt is a thing impossible in her!

She must be innocent!

Zulimez. Proceed, my lord!

Alvar. A portrait which she had procured by stealth, 60

(For even then it seems her heart foreboded

Or knew Ordonio’s moody rivalry)

A portrait of herself with thrilling hand

She tied around my neck, conjuring me,

With earnest prayers, that I would keep it sacred 65

To my own knowledge: nor did she desist,

Till she had won a solemn promise from me,

That (save my own) no eye should e’er behold it

Till my return. Yet this the assassin knew,

Knew that which none but she could have disclosed. 70

Zulimez. A damning proof!

Alvar. My own life wearied me!

And but for the imperative voice within,

With mine own hand I had thrown off the burthen.

That voice, which quelled me, calmed me: and I sought

The Belgic states: there joined the better cause; 75

And there too fought as one that courted death!

Wounded, I fell among the dead and dying,

In death-like trance: a long imprisonment followed.

The fulness of my anguish by degrees

Waned to a meditative melancholy; 80

And still the more I mused, my soul became

More doubtful, more perplexed; and still Teresa,

Night after night, she visited my sleep,

Now as a saintly sufferer, wan and tearful,

Now as a saint in glory beckoning to me! 85

Yes, still as in contempt of proof and reason,

I cherish the fond faith that she is guiltless!

Hear then my fix’d resolve: I’ll linger here

In the disguise of a Moresco chieftain. —

The Moorish robes? —

Zulimez. All, all are in the sea-cave, 90

Some furlong hence. I bade our mariners

Secrete the boat there.

Alvar. Above all, the picture

Of the assassination —

Zulimez. Be assured

That it remains uninjured.

Alvar. Thus disguised

I will first seek to meet Ordonio’s — wife! 95

If possible, alone too. This was her wonted walk,

And this the hour; her words, her very looks

Will acquit her or convict.

Zulimez. Will they not know you?

Alvar. With your aid, friend, I shall unfearingly 100

Trust the disguise; and as to my complexion,

My long imprisonment, the scanty food,

This scar — and toil beneath a burning sun,

Have done already half the business for us.

Add too my youth, since last we saw each other. 105

Manhood has swoln my chest, and taught my voice

A hoarser note — Besides, they think me dead:

And what the mind believes impossible,

The bodily sense is slow to recognize.

Zulimez. ‘Tis yours, sir, to command, mine to obey. 110

Now to the cave beneath the vaulted rock,

Where having shaped you to a Moorish chieftain,

I’ll seek our mariners; and in the dusk

Transport whate’er we need to the small dell

In the Alpujarras — there where Zagri lived. 115

Alvar. I know it well: it is the obscurest haunt

Of all the mountains — [Both stand listening.

Voices at a distance!

Let us away! [Exeunt.

Table of Contents

Enter TERESA and VALDEZ.

Teresa. I hold Ordonio dear; he is your son

And Alvar’s brother.

Valdez. Love him for himself,

Nor make the living wretched for the dead.

Teresa. I mourn that you should plead in vain, Lord Valdez,

But heaven hath heard my vow, and I remain 5

Faithful to Alvar, be he dead or living.

Valdez. Heaven knows with what delight I saw your loves,

And could my heart’s blood give him back to thee

I would die smiling. But these are idle thoughts!

Thy dying father comes upon my soul 10

With that same look, with which he gave thee to me;

I held thee in my arms a powerless babe,

While thy poor mother with a mute entreaty

Fixed her faint eyes on mine. Ah not for this,

That I should let thee feed thy soul with gloom, 15

And with slow anguish wear away thy life,

The victim of a useless constancy.

I must not see thee wretched.

Teresa. There are woes

Ill bartered for the garishness of joy!

If it be wretched with an untired eye 20

To watch those skiey tints, and this green ocean;

Or in the sultry hour beneath some rock,

My hair dishevelled by the pleasant sea breeze,

To shape sweet visions, and live o’er again

All past hours of delight! If it be wretched 25

To watch some bark, and fancy Alvar there,

To go through each minutest circumstance

Of the blest meeting, and to frame adventures

Most terrible and strange, and hear him tell them;

(As once I knew a crazy Moorish maid 30

Who drest her in her buried lover’s clothes,

And o’er the smooth spring in the mountain cleft

Hung with her lute, and played the selfsame tune

He used to play, and listened to the shadow

Herself had made) — if this be wretchedness, 35

And if indeed it be a wretched thing

To trick out mine own deathbed, and imagine

That I had died, died just ere his return!

Then see him listening to my constancy,

Or hover round, as he at midnight oft 40

Sits on my grave and gazes at the moon;

Or haply in some more fantastic mood,

To be in Paradise, and with choice flowers

Build up a bower where he and I might dwell,

And there to wait his coming! O my sire! 45

My Alvar’s sire! if this be wretchedness

That eats away the life, what were it, think you,

If in a most assured reality

He should return, and see a brother’s infant

Smile at him from my arms? 50

Oh what a thought!

Valdez. A thought? even so! mere thought! an empty thought.

The very week he promised his return ——

Teresa. Was it not then a busy joy? to see him,

After those three years’ travels! we had no fears — 55

The frequent tidings, the ne’er failing letter.

Almost endeared his absence! Yet the gladness,

The tumult of our joy! What then if now ——

Valdez. O power of youth to feed on pleasant thoughts,

Spite of conviction! I am old and heartless! 60

Yes, I am old — I have no pleasant fancies —

Hectic and unrefreshed with rest —

Teresa. My father!

Valdez. The sober truth is all too much for me!

I see no sail which brings not to my mind

The home-bound bark in which my son was captured 65

By the Algerine — to perish with his captors!

Teresa. Oh no! he did not!

Valdez. Captured in sight of land!

From yon hill point, nay, from our castle watch-tower

We might have seen ——

Teresa. His capture, not his death.

Valdez. Alas! how aptly thou forget’st a tale 70

Thou ne’er didst wish to learn! my brave Ordonio

Saw both the pirate and his prize go down,

In the same storm that baffled his own valour,

And thus twice snatched a brother from his hopes:

Gallant Ordonio! O beloved Teresa, 75

Would’st thou best prove thy faith to generous Alvar,

And most delight his spirit, go, make thou