Samuel Coleridge - The Complete Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge

His brother happy, make his aged father

Sink to the grave in joy.

Teresa. For mercy’s sake

Press me no more! I have no power to love him. 80

His proud forbidding eye, and his dark brow,

Chill me like dew-damps of the unwholesome night:

My love, a timorous and tender flower,

Closes beneath his touch.

Valdez. You wrong him, maiden!

You wrong him, by my soul! Nor was it well 85

To character by such unkindly phrases

The stir and workings of that love for you

Which he has toiled to smother. ‘Twas not well,

Nor is it grateful in you to forget

His wounds and perilous voyages, and how 90

With an heroic fearlessness of danger

He roam’d the coast of Afric for your Alvar.

It was not well — You have moved me even to tears.

Teresa. Oh pardon me, Lord Valdez! pardon me!

It was a foolish and ungrateful speech, 95

A most ungrateful speech! But I am hurried

Beyond myself, if I but hear of one

Who aims to rival Alvar. Were we not

Born in one day, like twins of the same parent?

Nursed in one cradle? Pardon me, my father! 100

A six years’ absence is a heavy thing,

Yet still the hope survives ——

Valdez (looking forward). Hush! ‘tis Monviedro.

Teresa. The Inquisitor! on what new scent of blood?

Enter MONVIEDRO with ALHADRA.

Monviedro. Peace and the truth be with you! Good my Lord, 105

My present need is with your son.

We have hit the time. Here comes he! Yes, ‘tis he.

[Enter from the opposite side DON ORDONIO.

My Lord Ordonio, this Moresco woman

(Alhadra is her name) asks audience of you.

Ordonio. Hail, reverend father! what may be the business? 110

Monviedro. My lord, on strong suspicion of relapse

To his false creed, so recently abjured,

The secret servants of the Inquisition

Have seized her husband, and at my command

To the supreme tribunal would have led him, 115

But that he made appeal to you, my lord,

As surety for his soundness in the faith.

Though lessoned by experience what small trust

The asseverations of these Moors deserve,

Yet still the deference to Ordonio’s name, 120

Nor less the wish to prove, with what high honour

The Holy Church regards her faithful soldiers,

Thus far prevailed with me that ——

Ordonio. Reverend father,

I am much beholden to your high opinion,

Which so o’erprizes my light services. [Then to ALHADRA. 125

I would that I could serve you; but in truth

Your face is new to me.

Monviedro. My mind foretold me

That such would be the event. In truth, Lord Valdez,

‘Twas little probable, that Don Ordonio,

That your illustrious son, who fought so bravely 130

Some four years since to quell these rebel Moors,

Should prove the patron of this infidel!

The warranter of a Moresco’s faith!

Now I return.

Alhadra. My Lord, my husband’s name 135

Is Isidore. (ORDONIO starts.) You may remember it:

Three years ago, three years this very week,

You left him at Almeria.

Monviedro. Palpably false!

This very week, three years ago, my lord,

(You needs must recollect it by your wound) 140

You were at sea, and there engaged the pirates,

The murderers doubtless of your brother Alvar!

What, is he ill, my Lord? how strange he looks!

Valdez. You pressed upon him too abruptly, father!

The fate of one, on whom, you know, he doted. 145

Ordonio. O Heavens! I? — I doted?

Yes! I doted on him.

[ORDONIO walks to the end of the stage, VALDEZ follows.

Teresa. I do not, can not, love him. Is my heart hard?

Is my heart hard? that even now the thought

Should force itself upon me? — Yet I feel it! 150

Monviedro. The drops did start and stand upon his forehead!

I will return. In very truth, I grieve

To have been the occasion. Ho! attend me, woman!

Alhadra (to Teresa). O gentle lady! make the father stay,

Until my lord recover. I am sure, 155

That he will say he is my husband’s friend.

Teresa. Stay, father! stay! my lord will soon recover.

Ordonio (as they return, to Valdez). Strange, that this Monviedro

Should have the power so to distemper me!

Valdez. Nay, ‘twas an amiable weakness, son! 160

Monviedro. My lord, I truly grieve ——

Ordonio. Tut! name it not.

A sudden seizure, father! think not of it.

As to this woman’s husband, I do know him.

I know him well, and that he is a Christian.

Monviedro. I hope, my lord, your merely human pity 165

Doth not prevail ——

Ordonio. ‘Tis certain that he was a catholic;

What changes may have happened in three years,

I can not say; but grant me this, good father:

Myself I’ll sift him: if I find him sound, 170

You’ll grant me your authority and name

To liberate his house.

Monviedro. Your zeal, my lord,

And your late merits in this holy warfare

Would authorize an ampler trust — you have it.

Ordonio. I will attend you home within an hour. 175

Valdez. Meantime return with us and take refreshment.

Alhadra. Not till my husband’s free! I may not do it.

I will stay here.

Teresa (aside). Who is this Isidore?

Valdez. Daughter!

Teresa. With your permission, my dear lord, 180

I’ll loiter yet awhile t’ enjoy the sea breeze.

[Exeunt VALDEZ, MONVIEDRO and ORDONIO.

Alhadra. Hah! there he goes! a bitter curse go with him,

A scathing curse!

You hate him, don’t you, lady?

Teresa. Oh fear not me! my heart is sad for you. 185

Alhadra. These fell inquisitors! these sons of blood!

As I came on, his face so maddened me,

That ever and anon I clutched my dagger

And half unsheathed it ——

Teresa. Be more calm, I pray you.

Alhadra. And as he walked along the narrow path 190

Close by the mountain’s edge, my soul grew eager;

‘Twas with hard toil I made myself remember

That his Familiars held my babes and husband.

To have leapt upon him with a tiger’s plunge,

And hurl’d him down the rugged precipice, 195

O, it had been most sweet!

Teresa. Hush! hush for shame!

Where is your woman’s heart?

Alhadra. O gentle lady!

You have no skill to guess my many wrongs,

Many and strange! Besides, I am a Christian,

And Christians never pardon—’tis their faith! 200

Teresa. Shame fall on those who so have shewn it to thee!

Alhadra. I know that man; ‘tis well he knows not me.

Five years ago (and he was the prime agent),

Five years ago the holy brethren seized me.

Teresa. What might your crime be?

Alhadra. I was a Moresco! 205

They cast me, then a young and nursing mother,

Into a dungeon of their prison house,

Where was no bed, no fire, no ray of light,

No touch, no sound of comfort! The black air,

It was a toil to breathe it! when the door, 210

Slow opening at the appointed hour, disclosed

One human countenance, the lamp’s red flame

Cowered as it entered, and at once sank down.

Oh miserable! by that lamp to see

My infant quarrelling with the coarse hard bread 215

Brought daily; for the little wretch was sickly —

My rage had dried away its natural food.

In darkness I remained — the dull bell counting,

Which haply told me, that the all-cheering sun

Was rising on our garden. When I dozed, 220

My infant’s moanings mingled with my slumbers

And waked me. — If you were a mother, lady,

I should scarce dare to tell you, that its noises

And peevish cries so fretted on my brain