Samuel Coleridge - The Complete Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge

He wore her portrait round his neck. He look’d

As he had been made of the rock that propt his back —

Aye, just as you look now — only less ghastly! 115

At length recovering from his trance, he threw

His sword away, and bade us take his life,

It was not worth his keeping.

Ordonio. And you kill’d him?

Oh blood hounds! may eternal wrath flame round you!

He was his Maker’s Image undefac’d! 120

It seizes me — by Hell I will go on!

What — would’st thou stop, man? thy pale looks won’t save thee!

Oh cold — cold — cold! shot through with icy cold!

Isidore (aside). Were he alive he had returned ere now.

The consequence the same — dead through his plotting! 125

Ordonio. O this unutterable dying away — here —

This sickness of the heart!

What if I went

And liv’d in a hollow tomb, and fed on weeds?

Aye! that’s the road to heaven! O fool! fool! fool!

What have I done but that which nature destined, 130

Or the blind elements stirred up within me?

If good were meant, why were we made these beings?

And if not meant —

Isidore. You are disturbed, my lord!

Ordonio (starts). A gust of the soul! i’faith it overset me.

O ‘twas all folly — all! idle as laughter! 135

Now, Isidore! I swear that thou shalt aid me.

Isidore (in a low voice). I’ll perish first!

Ordonio. What dost thou

mutter of?

Isidore. Some of your servants know me, I am certain.

Ordonio. There’s some sense in that scruple; but we’ll mask you.

Isidore. They’ll know my gait: but stay! last night I watched 140

A stranger near the ruin in the wood,

Who as it seemed was gathering herbs and wild flowers.

I had followed him at distance, seen him scale

Its western wall, and by an easier entrance

Stole after him unnoticed. There I marked, 145

That mid the chequer work of light and shade

With curious choice he plucked no other flowers,

But those on which the moonlight fell: and once

I heard him muttering o’er the plant. A wizard —

Some gaunt slave prowling here for dark employment. 150

Ordonio. Doubtless you question’d him?

Isidore. ‘Twas my intention,

Having first traced him homeward to his haunt.

But lo! the stern Dominican, whose spies

Lurk every where, already (as it seemed)

Had given commission to his apt familiar 155

To seek and sound the Moor; who now returning,

Was by this trusty agent stopped midway.

I, dreading fresh suspicion if found near him

In that lone place, again concealed myself:

Yet within hearing. So the Moor was question’d, 160

And in your name, as lord of this domain,

Proudly he answered, ‘Say to the Lord Ordonio,

He that can bring the dead to life again!’

Ordonio. A strange reply!

Isidore. Aye, all of him is strange.

He called himself a Christian, yet he wears 165

The Moorish robes, as if he courted death.

Ordonio. Where does this wizard live?

Isidore (pointing to the distance). You see that brooklet?

Trace its course backward: through a narrow opening

It leads you to the place.

Ordonio. How shall I know it?

Isidore. You cannot err. It is a small green dell 170

Built all around with high off-sloping hills,

And from its shape our peasants aptly call it

The Giant’s Cradle. There’s a lake in the midst,

And round its banks tall wood that branches over,

And makes a kind of faery forest grow 175

Down in the water. At the further end

A puny cataract falls on the lake;

And there, a curious sight! you see its shadow

For ever curling, like a wreath of smoke,

Up through the foliage of those faery trees. 180

His cot stands opposite. You cannot miss it.

Ordonio (in retiring stops suddenly at the edge of the scene, and

then turning round to Isidore). Ha! — Who lurks there! Have we

been overheard?

There where the smooth high wall of slate-rock glitters ——

Isidore. ‘Neath those tall stones, which propping each the other,

Form a mock portal with their pointed arch? 185

Pardon my smiles! ‘Tis a poor idiot boy,

Who sits in the sun, and twirls a bough about,

His weak eyes seeth’d in most unmeaning tears.

And so he sits, swaying his cone-like head,

And staring at his bough from morn to sun-set, 190

See-saws his voice in inarticulate noises.

Ordonio. ‘Tis well, and now for this same wizard’s lair.

Isidore. Some three strides up the hill, a mountain ash

Stretches its lower boughs and scarlet clusters

O’er the old thatch.

Ordonio. I shall not fail to find it. 195

[Exeunt ORDONIO and ISIDORE.

1829.

third person). Editions 1, 2, 3, 1829.

[After 120] [A pause. Editions 1, 2, 3, 1829.

[After 122] [A pause. Editions 2, 3, 1829.

This sickness of the heart [A pause.

Editions 1, 2, 3, 1829, &c.

[After 129] [A pause. Editions 1, 2, 3, 1829.

[Before 134] Ordonio (starts, looking at him wildly; then, after a

pause, during which his features are forced into a smile). Editions 1,

2, 3, 1829.

[After 181]

Some three yards up the hill a mountain ash

Stretches its lower boughs and scarlet clusters

O’er the old thatch.

Ord. I shall not fail to find it. [Exit ORDONIO. ISIDORE goes

into his Cottage.

Edition 1.

Table of Contents

The inside of a Cottage, around which flowers and plants of various

kinds are seen. Discovers ALVAR, ZULIMEZ and ALHADRA, as on the point of

leaving.

Alhadra (addressing Alvar). Farewell then! and though many thoughts

perplex me,

Aught evil or ignoble never can I

Suspect of thee! If what thou seem’st thou art,

The oppressed brethren of thy blood have need

Of such a leader.

Alvar. Nobly-minded woman! 5

Long time against oppression have I fought,

And for the native liberty of faith

Have bled and suffered bonds. Of this be certain:

Time, as he courses onward, still unrolls

The volume of concealment. In the future, 10

As in the optician’s glassy cylinder,

The indistinguishable blots and colours

Of the dim past collect and shape themselves,

Upstarting in their own completed image

To scare or to reward.

I sought the guilty, 15

And what I sought I found: but ere the spear

Flew from my hand, there rose an angel form

Betwixt me and my aim. With baffled purpose

To the Avenger I leave vengeance, and depart!

Whate’er betide, if aught my arm may aid, 20

Or power protect, my word is pledged to thee:

For many are thy wrongs, and thy soul noble.

Once more, farewell. [Exit ALHADRA.

Yes, to the Belgic states

We will return. These robes, this stained complexion,

Akin to falsehood, weigh upon my spirit. 25

Whate’er befall us, the heroic Maurice

Will grant us an asylum, in remembrance

Of our past services.

Zulimez. And all the wealth, power, influence which is yours,

You let a murderer hold?

Alvar. O faithful Zulimez! 30

That my return involved Ordonio’s death,

I trust, would give me an unmingled pang,

Yet bearable: but when I see my father

Strewing his scant grey hairs, e’en on the ground,

Which soon must be his grave, and my Teresa — 35

Her husband proved a murderer, and her infants

His infants — poor Teresa! — all would perish,

All perish — all! and I (nay bear with me)

Could not survive the complicated ruin!

Zulimez. Nay now! I have distress’d you — you well know, 40