Few sorrows hath she of her own,My hope, my joy, my Genevieve!She loves me best whene'er I singThe songs that make her grieve.20
Few sorrows hath she of her own,My hope, my joy, my Genevieve!She loves me best whene'er I singThe songs that make her grieve.20
All thoughts, all passions, all delights,Whatever stirs this mortal frame,All are but ministers of Love,And feed his sacred flame.
All thoughts, all passions, all delights,Whatever stirs this mortal frame,All are but ministers of Love,And feed his sacred flame.
O ever in my waking dreams,25I dwell upon that happy hour,When midway on the Mount I sateBeside the ruin'd Tow'r.
O ever in my waking dreams,25I dwell upon that happy hour,When midway on the Mount I sateBeside the ruin'd Tow'r.
The moonshine, stealing o'er the scene,Had blended with the lights of eve,30And she was there, my hope! my joy!My own dear Genevieve!
The moonshine, stealing o'er the scene,Had blended with the lights of eve,30And she was there, my hope! my joy!My own dear Genevieve!
She lean'd against the armed ManThe statue of the armed Knight—[1055]She stood and listen'd to my harp,35Amid the ling'ring light.
She lean'd against the armed ManThe statue of the armed Knight—[1055]She stood and listen'd to my harp,35Amid the ling'ring light.
I play'd a sad and doleful air,I sang an old and moving story,An old rude song, that fitted wellThe ruin wild and hoary.40
I play'd a sad and doleful air,I sang an old and moving story,An old rude song, that fitted wellThe ruin wild and hoary.40
She listen'd with a flitting blush,With downcast eyes and modest grace:For well she knew, I could not chooseBut gaze upon her face.
She listen'd with a flitting blush,With downcast eyes and modest grace:For well she knew, I could not chooseBut gaze upon her face.
I told her of the Knight that wore45Upon his shield a burning brand.And how for ten long years he woo'dThe Ladie of the Land:
I told her of the Knight that wore45Upon his shield a burning brand.And how for ten long years he woo'dThe Ladie of the Land:
I told her, how he pin'd, and ah!The deep, the low, the pleading tone,50With which I sang another's love,Interpreted my own!
I told her, how he pin'd, and ah!The deep, the low, the pleading tone,50With which I sang another's love,Interpreted my own!
She listen'd with a flitting blush,With downcast eyes and modest grace.And she forgave me, that I gaz'd55Too fondly on her face!
She listen'd with a flitting blush,With downcast eyes and modest grace.And she forgave me, that I gaz'd55Too fondly on her face!
But when I told the cruel scorn,That craz'd this bold and lovely Knight;And how he roam'd the mountain woods,Nor rested day or night;60
But when I told the cruel scorn,That craz'd this bold and lovely Knight;And how he roam'd the mountain woods,Nor rested day or night;60
And how he cross'd the Woodman's paths,Thro' briars and swampy mosses beat;How boughs rebounding scourg'd his limbs,And low stubs gor'd his feet.
And how he cross'd the Woodman's paths,Thro' briars and swampy mosses beat;How boughs rebounding scourg'd his limbs,And low stubs gor'd his feet.
How sometimes from the savage den,65And sometimes from the darksome shade,And sometimes starting up at once,In green and sunny glade;
How sometimes from the savage den,65And sometimes from the darksome shade,And sometimes starting up at once,In green and sunny glade;
There came and look'd him in the faceAn Angel beautiful and bright,70And how he knew it was a Fiend,This mis'rable Knight!
There came and look'd him in the faceAn Angel beautiful and bright,70And how he knew it was a Fiend,This mis'rable Knight!
And how, unknowing what he did,He leapt amid a lawless band,And sav'd from outrage worse than death75The Ladie of the Land.
And how, unknowing what he did,He leapt amid a lawless band,And sav'd from outrage worse than death75The Ladie of the Land.
And how she wept, and clasp'd his knees,And how she tended him in vain,And meekly strove to expiateThe scorn that craz'd his brain;80
And how she wept, and clasp'd his knees,And how she tended him in vain,And meekly strove to expiateThe scorn that craz'd his brain;80
And how she nurs'd him in a cave;And how his madness went away,When on the yellow forest leavesA dying man he lay;
And how she nurs'd him in a cave;And how his madness went away,When on the yellow forest leavesA dying man he lay;
His dying words—but when I reach'd85That tenderest strain of all the ditty,My fault'ring voice and pausing harpDisturb'd her soul with pity.
His dying words—but when I reach'd85That tenderest strain of all the ditty,My fault'ring voice and pausing harpDisturb'd her soul with pity.
All impulses of soul and senseHad thrill'd my guiltless Genevieve—90The music and the doleful tale,The rich and balmy eve;
All impulses of soul and senseHad thrill'd my guiltless Genevieve—90The music and the doleful tale,The rich and balmy eve;
And hopes and fears that kindle hope,An undistinguishable throng;And gentle wishes long subdu'd,95Subdu'd and cherish'd long.
And hopes and fears that kindle hope,An undistinguishable throng;And gentle wishes long subdu'd,95Subdu'd and cherish'd long.
She wept with pity and delight—She blush'd with love and maiden shame,And like the murmurs of a dream,I heard her breathe my name.100
She wept with pity and delight—She blush'd with love and maiden shame,And like the murmurs of a dream,I heard her breathe my name.100
I saw her bosom heave and swell,Heave and swell with inward sighs—I could not choose but love to seeHer gentle bosom rise.
I saw her bosom heave and swell,Heave and swell with inward sighs—I could not choose but love to seeHer gentle bosom rise.
Her wet cheek glow'd; she stept aside,105As conscious of my look she stept;Then suddenly, with tim'rous eye,She flew to me, and wept;
Her wet cheek glow'd; she stept aside,105As conscious of my look she stept;Then suddenly, with tim'rous eye,She flew to me, and wept;
She half-inclos'd me with her arms—She press'd me with a meek embrace;110And, bending back her head, look'd up,And gaz'd upon my face.
She half-inclos'd me with her arms—She press'd me with a meek embrace;110And, bending back her head, look'd up,And gaz'd upon my face.
'Twas partly love, and partly fear,And partly 'twas a bashful art,That I might rather feel than see,115The swelling of her heart.
'Twas partly love, and partly fear,And partly 'twas a bashful art,That I might rather feel than see,115The swelling of her heart.
I calm'd her fears, and she was calm,And told her love with virgin pride;And so I won my Genevieve,My bright and beaut'ous bride.120
I calm'd her fears, and she was calm,And told her love with virgin pride;And so I won my Genevieve,My bright and beaut'ous bride.120
And now once more a tale of woe,A woeful tale of love, I sing:For thee, my Genevieve! it sighs,And trembles on the string.
And now once more a tale of woe,A woeful tale of love, I sing:For thee, my Genevieve! it sighs,And trembles on the string.
When last I sang the cruel scorn125That craz'd this bold and lonely Knight,And how he roam'd the mountain woods,Nor rested day or night;
When last I sang the cruel scorn125That craz'd this bold and lonely Knight,And how he roam'd the mountain woods,Nor rested day or night;
I promis'd thee a sister taleOf Man's perfidious cruelty:130Come, then, and hear what cruel wrongBefel the Dark Ladie.
I promis'd thee a sister taleOf Man's perfidious cruelty:130Come, then, and hear what cruel wrongBefel the Dark Ladie.
End of the Introduction.
[1052:1]Published in theMorning Post, Dec. 21, 1799. Collated with two MSS.—MS. (1);MS. (2)—in the British Museum [Add. MSS. 27,902]. SeeColeridge's Poems, A Facsimile of the Proofs, &c., edited by the late James Dykes Campbell, 1899.MS. 1consists of thirty-two stanzas (unnumbered), written on nine pages:MS. 2(which begins with stanza 6, and ends with stanza 30) of fourteen stanzas (unnumbered) written on four pages.
[1052:1]Published in theMorning Post, Dec. 21, 1799. Collated with two MSS.—MS. (1);MS. (2)—in the British Museum [Add. MSS. 27,902]. SeeColeridge's Poems, A Facsimile of the Proofs, &c., edited by the late James Dykes Campbell, 1899.MS. 1consists of thirty-two stanzas (unnumbered), written on nine pages:MS. 2(which begins with stanza 6, and ends with stanza 30) of fourteen stanzas (unnumbered) written on four pages.
Title—The Dark Ladiè.MS. B. M. (1).
Title—The Dark Ladiè.MS. B. M. (1).
[2]Rose upon] Rose-bud onMS. B. M. (1).
Rose upon] Rose-bud onMS. B. M. (1).
[3]fair] dearerased MS. (1).
fair] dearerased MS. (1).
[7]mournfully] sad and sweetMS. (1).
mournfully] sad and sweetMS. (1).
[8]in] toMS. (1).
in] toMS. (1).
[16]Ladie] LadiéMS. (2).
Ladie] LadiéMS. (2).
[20]The song that makes her grieve.MS. (1).
The song that makes her grieve.MS. (1).
[21-4]Each thought, each feeling of the Soul,All lovely sights, each tender, name,All, all are ministers of Love,That stir our mortal frame.MS. (1).
Each thought, each feeling of the Soul,All lovely sights, each tender, name,All, all are ministers of Love,That stir our mortal frame.
Each thought, each feeling of the Soul,All lovely sights, each tender, name,All, all are ministers of Love,That stir our mortal frame.
MS. (1).
[22]All, all that stirs this mortal frameMS. B. M. (2).
All, all that stirs this mortal frameMS. B. M. (2).
[24]feed] fanMS. (2).
feed] fanMS. (2).
[25]O ever in my lonely walkerased MS. (1).In lonely walk and noontide dreamsMS. (1).O ever when I walk aloneerased MS. (1).
O ever in my lonely walk
O ever in my lonely walk
erased MS. (1).
In lonely walk and noontide dreams
In lonely walk and noontide dreams
MS. (1).
O ever when I walk alone
O ever when I walk alone
erased MS. (1).
[26]I feed upon that blissful hourMS. (1).I feed upon that hour of Blisserased MS. (1).That ruddy eve that blissful hourerased MS. (1).
I feed upon that blissful hour
I feed upon that blissful hour
MS. (1).
I feed upon that hour of Bliss
I feed upon that hour of Bliss
erased MS. (1).
That ruddy eve that blissful hour
That ruddy eve that blissful hour
erased MS. (1).
[26]dwell] feedMS. (2).
dwell] feedMS. (2).
[27]wesateWhen midway on the mount I stoodMS. (1).When we too stood upon the Hillerased MS. (1).
wesateWhen midway on the mount I stood
wesateWhen midway on the mount I stood
MS. (1).
When we too stood upon the Hill
When we too stood upon the Hill
erased MS. (1).
[29]The Moonshine stole upon the grounderased MS. (1).The Moonbe blended onthe groundMS. (1).
The Moonshine stole upon the ground
The Moonshine stole upon the ground
erased MS. (1).
The Moonbe blended onthe ground
The Moonbe blended onthe ground
MS. (1).
[30]Had] Anderased MS. (1).
Had] Anderased MS. (1).
[31]was there] stood near (was thereerased)MS. (1).
was there] stood near (was thereerased)MS. (1).
[33-6]Against a grey stone rudely carv'd,The statue of an armed Knight,inShe lean'dthemelancholy mood,AndTo watch'd the lingering LightMS. (1).
Against a grey stone rudely carv'd,The statue of an armed Knight,inShe lean'dthemelancholy mood,AndTo watch'd the lingering Light
Against a grey stone rudely carv'd,The statue of an armed Knight,inShe lean'dthemelancholy mood,AndTo watch'd the lingering Light
MS. (1).
[33-4]She lean'd againstachissold stonetallThe statue of aMS. (1).
She lean'd againstachissold stonetallThe statue of a
She lean'd againstachissold stonetallThe statue of a
MS. (1).
[34]the] anMS. (1)[Stanza 10, revised.]
the] anMS. (1)[Stanza 10, revised.]
[37]sad] softMSS. (1, 2).doleful] mournfulerased MS. (1).
sad] softMSS. (1, 2).
doleful] mournfulerased MS. (1).
[39]An] AndMS. (2).rude] wilderased MS. (1).
An] AndMS. (2).
rude] wilderased MS. (1).
[41-4]With flitting Blush and downcast eyes,In modest melancholy graceThe Maiden stood: perchance I gaz'dToo fondly on her face.Erased MS. (1).
With flitting Blush and downcast eyes,In modest melancholy graceThe Maiden stood: perchance I gaz'dToo fondly on her face.
With flitting Blush and downcast eyes,In modest melancholy graceThe Maiden stood: perchance I gaz'dToo fondly on her face.
Erased MS. (1).
[45-8]om. MS. (1).
om. MS. (1).
[49]I gaz'd and whenI sang of loveMS. (1).
I gaz'd and whenI sang of loveMS. (1).
[53-6]With flitting Blush and downcast eyesandWith downcast eyesinmodest graceforShe listen'd; and perchance I gaz'dToo fondly on her face.MS. (1).
With flitting Blush and downcast eyesandWith downcast eyesinmodest graceforShe listen'd; and perchance I gaz'dToo fondly on her face.
With flitting Blush and downcast eyesandWith downcast eyesinmodest graceforShe listen'd; and perchance I gaz'dToo fondly on her face.
MS. (1).
[55]And] YetMS. (1).
And] YetMS. (1).
[57]told] sangMS. (1).
told] sangMS. (1).
[59]roam'd] cross'dMS. (1).
roam'd] cross'dMS. (1).
[60]or] norMS. (1).
or] norMS. (1).
[61-4]om. MS. (1).
om. MS. (1).
[65]How sometimes from the hollow TreesMS. (1).
How sometimes from the hollow TreesMS. (1).
[69-72]look'dThere came andstar'dhim in the faceAn[d] Angel beautiful and bright,And how he knew it was a fiendAnd yell'd with strange affright.MS. (1).
look'dThere came andstar'dhim in the faceAn[d] Angel beautiful and bright,And how he knew it was a fiendAnd yell'd with strange affright.
look'dThere came andstar'dhim in the faceAn[d] Angel beautiful and bright,And how he knew it was a fiendAnd yell'd with strange affright.
MS. (1).
[74]lawless] murderousMS. (1).
lawless] murderousMS. (1).
[77]clasp'd] kiss'dMS. (1).
clasp'd] kiss'dMS. (1).
[79]meekly] how sheMS. (1).
meekly] how sheMS. (1).
[87]fault'ring] tremblingMS. (1) erased.
fault'ring] tremblingMS. (1) erased.
[90]guiltless] guilelessMS. (1).
guiltless] guilelessMS. (1).
Between96and97And whilemidnightWhileFancy like thenuptialTorchThat bends and rises in the windLit up with wild and broken lightsThe Tumult of her mind.MS. (1) erased.
Between96and97
And whilemidnightWhileFancy like thenuptialTorchThat bends and rises in the windLit up with wild and broken lightsThe Tumult of her mind.
And whilemidnightWhileFancy like thenuptialTorchThat bends and rises in the windLit up with wild and broken lightsThe Tumult of her mind.
MS. (1) erased.
[99]And like the murmur of a dreamMSS. (1, 2).Andin amurmurfaint and sweetMS. (1) erased.
And like the murmur of a dream
And like the murmur of a dream
MSS. (1, 2).
Andin amurmurfaint and sweet
Andin amurmurfaint and sweet
MS. (1) erased.
[100]She half pronounced my name.She breathed her Lover's name.MS. (1) erased.
She half pronounced my name.She breathed her Lover's name.
She half pronounced my name.She breathed her Lover's name.
MS. (1) erased.
[101-4]I saw her gentle Bosom heaveTh' inaudible and frequent sigh;modestAnd ah! thebashfulMaiden mark'dThe wanderings of my eye[s]MS. (1) erased.
I saw her gentle Bosom heaveTh' inaudible and frequent sigh;modestAnd ah! thebashfulMaiden mark'dThe wanderings of my eye[s]
I saw her gentle Bosom heaveTh' inaudible and frequent sigh;modestAnd ah! thebashfulMaiden mark'dThe wanderings of my eye[s]
MS. (1) erased.
[105-8]om. MS. (1).
om. MS. (1).
[105]cheek] cheeksMS. (2).
cheek] cheeksMS. (2).
[108]flew] fledMS. (2).
flew] fledMS. (2).
[109-16]sideAnd closely to myheartshe press'dAnd ask'd me with her swimming eyesmightThat Iwouldrather feel than seeHer gentle Bosom rise.—OrsideAnd closely to myheartshe press'dAnd closer still with bashful art—That I might rather feel than seeThe swelling of her Heart.MS. (1) erased.
sideAnd closely to myheartshe press'dAnd ask'd me with her swimming eyesmightThat Iwouldrather feel than seeHer gentle Bosom rise.—
sideAnd closely to myheartshe press'dAnd ask'd me with her swimming eyesmightThat Iwouldrather feel than seeHer gentle Bosom rise.—
Or
sideAnd closely to myheartshe press'dAnd closer still with bashful art—That I might rather feel than seeThe swelling of her Heart.
sideAnd closely to myheartshe press'dAnd closer still with bashful art—That I might rather feel than seeThe swelling of her Heart.
MS. (1) erased.
[111]And] ThenMS. (2) erased.
And] ThenMS. (2) erased.
[117]And now serene, serene and chasteBut soon in calm and solemn toneMS. (1) erased.
And now serene, serene and chasteBut soon in calm and solemn tone
And now serene, serene and chasteBut soon in calm and solemn tone
MS. (1) erased.
[118]And] SheMS. (1) erased.virgin] maidenMSS. (1, 2).
And] SheMS. (1) erased.
virgin] maidenMSS. (1, 2).
[120]bright] dearMS. (1) erased.beaut'ous] lovelyMS. (1) erased.
bright] dearMS. (1) erased.
beaut'ous] lovelyMS. (1) erased.
[125-8]When last I sang of Him whose heartWas broken by a woman's scorn—And how he cross'd the mountain woodsAll frantic and forlornMS. (1).
When last I sang of Him whose heartWas broken by a woman's scorn—And how he cross'd the mountain woodsAll frantic and forlorn
When last I sang of Him whose heartWas broken by a woman's scorn—And how he cross'd the mountain woodsAll frantic and forlorn
MS. (1).
[129]sister] movingMS. (1).
sister] movingMS. (1).
[131]wrong] wrongsMS. (1).
wrong] wrongsMS. (1).
[132]Ladie] LadiéMS. (2).
Ladie] LadiéMS. (2).
After132The Dark Ladiè. MS. (1).
After132The Dark Ladiè. MS. (1).
[Videante, p. 421.]
FIRST PERFORMED WITH UNIVERSAL APPLAUSE AT THE
THEATRE ROYAL, DRURY LANE, ON SATURDAY,
FEBRUARY THE 7TH, 1801.
Apoecides.Quis hoc scit factum?Epidicus.Ego ita esse factum dico.Periphanes.Scin' tu istuc?Epidicus.Scio.Periphanes.Qui tu scis?Epidicus.Quia ego vidi.
Apoecides.Quis hoc scit factum?
Epidicus.Ego ita esse factum dico.
Periphanes.Scin' tu istuc?
Epidicus.Scio.
Periphanes.Qui tu scis?
Epidicus.Quia ego vidi.
Periphanes.
[Ipse vidistine [Tragediam?]] Nimis factum bene!
Epidicus.
Sed vestita, aurata, ornata, ut lepide! ut concinne! ut nove! [Proh Dii immortales! tempestatem (plausuum Populus) nobis nocte hac misit!][1060:2]
(Plaut.Epidicus. Act 2. Scen. 2, ll. 22 sqq.)
LONDON.
PRINTED FOR T. N. LONGMAN AND REES,PATERNOSTER-ROW.
1801.
[1060:1]Now first published from an MS. in the British Museum (Add. MSS. 34,225). TheTriumph of Loyalty, 'a sort of dramatic romance' (seeLetter to Poole, December 5, 1800;Letters of S. T. C., 1895, i. 343), was begun and left unfinished in the late autumn of 1800. An excerpt (ll. 277-358) was revised and published as 'A Night Scene. A Dramatic Fragment,' inSibylline Leaves(1817), videante, pp. 421-3. The revision of the excerpt (ll. 263-349) with respect to the order and arrangement of its component parts is indicated by asterisks, which appear to be contemporary with the MS. I have, therefore, in printing the MS., followed the revised and not the original order of these lines. Again, in the hitherto unpublished portion of the MS. (ll. 1-263) I have omitted rough drafts of passages which were rewritten, either on the same page or on the reverse of the leaf.
[1060:1]Now first published from an MS. in the British Museum (Add. MSS. 34,225). TheTriumph of Loyalty, 'a sort of dramatic romance' (seeLetter to Poole, December 5, 1800;Letters of S. T. C., 1895, i. 343), was begun and left unfinished in the late autumn of 1800. An excerpt (ll. 277-358) was revised and published as 'A Night Scene. A Dramatic Fragment,' inSibylline Leaves(1817), videante, pp. 421-3. The revision of the excerpt (ll. 263-349) with respect to the order and arrangement of its component parts is indicated by asterisks, which appear to be contemporary with the MS. I have, therefore, in printing the MS., followed the revised and not the original order of these lines. Again, in the hitherto unpublished portion of the MS. (ll. 1-263) I have omitted rough drafts of passages which were rewritten, either on the same page or on the reverse of the leaf.
[1060:2]The words enclosed in brackets are not to be found in the text. They were either invented or adapted by Coleridgead hoc. The text of the passage as a whole has been reconstructed by modern editors.
[1060:2]The words enclosed in brackets are not to be found in the text. They were either invented or adapted by Coleridgead hoc. The text of the passage as a whole has been reconstructed by modern editors.
Earl HenryMr. KembleDon CurioMr. C. KembleSandovalMr. BarrymoreAlva, the ChancellorMr. AickinBarnard, Earl Henry's Groom of the ChamberMr. SuettDon FernandezMr. Bannister, jun.The Governor of the State PrisonMr. DavisHerreras (Oropeza's Uncle) and three ConspiratorsMessrs. Packer, Wentworth, Mathew, andGibbonOfficers and Soldiers of Earl Henry's Regiment.The Queen of NavarreMrs. SiddonsDonna OropezaMrs. PowellMira, her attendantMiss DecampAspasia, a singerMrs. Crouch
Scene, partly at the Country seat of Donna Oropeza, and partly in Pampilona [sic], the Capital of Navarre.
Scene I.A cultivated Plain, skirted on the Left by a Wood. The Pyrenees are visible in the distance. Small knots of Soldiers all in the military Dress of the middle Ages are seen passing across the Stage. Then
EnterEarl HenryandSandoval, both armed.
Sandoval.A delightful plain this, and doubly pleasantafter so long and wearisome a descent from the Pyranees[sic]. Did you not observe how our poor over wearied horsesmended their pace as soon as they reached it?Earl Henry.I must entreat your forgiveness, gallant5Castilian! I ought ere this to have bade you welcome to mynative Navarre.Sandoval.Cheerily, General! Navarre has indeed but illrepaid your services, in thus recalling you from the head ofan army which you yourself had collected and disciplined.10But the wrongs and insults which you have suffered——Earl Henry.Deserve my thanks, Friend! In the sunshineof Court-favor I could onlybelievethat I loved my Queen andmy Country: now Iknowit. But why name I my Country ormy Sovereign? I owe all my Wrongs to the private enmity of15the Chancellor.Sandoval.Heaven be praised, you have atchieved [sic]a delicious revenge upon him!—that the same Courier whobrought the orders for your recall carried back with him thefirst tidings of your Victory—it was exquisite good fortune!20Earl Henry.Sandoval! my gallant Friend! Let me notdeceive you. To you I have vowed an undisguised openness.The gloom which overcast me, was occasioned by causes of lesspublic import.Sandoval.Connected, I presume, with that Mansion, the25spacious pleasure grounds of which we noticed as we weredescending from the mountain. Lawn and Grove, River andHillock—it looked within these high walls, like a World ofitself.Earl Henry.This Wood scarcely conceals these high walls30from us. Alas! I know the place too well. . . . Nay, why toowell?—But wherefore spake you, Sandoval, of this Mansion?What know you?Sandoval.Nothing. Therefore I spake of it. On our descentfrom the mountain I pointed it out to you and asked to whom35it belonged—you became suddenly absent, and answered meonly by looks of Disturbance and Anxiety.Earl Henry.That Mansion once belonged to Manric [sic],Lord of Valdez.Sandoval.Alas, poor Man! the same, who had dangerous40claims to the Throne of Navarre.Earl Henry.Claims?—Say rather, pretensions—plausibleonly to the unreasoning Multitude.Sandoval.Pretensions then (with bitterness).Earl Henry.Bad as these were, the means he employed to45give effect to them were still worse. He trafficked with Franceagainst the independence of his Country. He was a traitor,my Friend! and died a traitor's death. His two sons sufferedwith him, and many, (I fear, too many) of his adherents.Sandoval.Earl Henry! (a pause) If the sentence were just,50why was not the execution of it public. . . . It is reported, thatthey were—but no! I will not believe it—the honest soul ofmy friend would not justify so foul a deed.Earl Henry.Speak plainly—what is reported?Sandoval.That they were all assassinated by order of the55new Queen.Earl Henry.Accursed be the hearts that framed andthe tongues that scattered the Calumny!—The Queen wasscarcely seated on her throne; the Chancellor, who had beenher Guardian, exerted a pernicious influence over her60judgement—she was taught to fear dangerous commotions in theCapital, she was intreated to prevent the bloodshed of thedeluded citizens, and thus overawed she reluctantly consentedto permit the reinforcement of an obsolete law, and——Sandoval.They were not assassinated then?——65Earl Henry.Why these bitter tones to me, Sandoval? Cana law assassinate? Don Manrique [sic] and his accomplicesdrank the sleepy poison adjudged by that law in the StatePrison at Pampilona. At that time I was with the army onthe frontiers of France.70Sandoval.Had you been in the Capital——Earl Henry.I would have pledged my life on the safety ofa public Trial and a public Punishment.Sandoval.Poisoned! The Father and his Sons!—And this,Earl Henry, was the first act of that Queen, whom you idolize!75Earl Henry.No, Sandoval, No! This was notheract. Sheroused herself from the stupor of alarm, she suspendedinopposition to the advice of her council, all proceedings againstthe inferior partisans of the Conspiracy; she facilitated theescape of Don Manrique's brother, and to Donna Oropeza, his80daughter and only surviving child, she restored all her father'spossessions, nay became herself her Protectress and Friend.These were the acts, these the first acts of my royal Mistress.Sandoval.And how did Donna Oropeza receive these favors?Earl Henry.Why ask you that? Did they not fall on her,85like heavenly dews?Sandoval.And will they not rise again, like an earthly mist?What is Gratitude opposed to Ambition, filial revenge, andWoman's rivalry—what is it but a cruel Curb in the mouth ofa fiery Horse, maddening the fierce animal whom it cannot90restrain? Forgive me, Earl Henry! I meant not to moveyou so deeply.Earl Henry.Sandoval, you have uttered that in a wakinghour which having once dreamt, I feared the return of sleeplest I should dream it over again. My Friend (his Voice95trembling) I woo'd the daughter of Don Manrique,butwe areinterrupted.Sandoval.It is Fernandez.Earl Henry (struggling with his emotions).A true-hearted oldfellow——100Sandoval.As splenetic as he is brave.EnterFernandez.Earl Henry.Well, my ancient! how did you like our tourthrough the mountains. (Earl Henrysits down on the seat bythe woodside.)
Sandoval.A delightful plain this, and doubly pleasantafter so long and wearisome a descent from the Pyranees[sic]. Did you not observe how our poor over wearied horsesmended their pace as soon as they reached it?
Earl Henry.I must entreat your forgiveness, gallant5Castilian! I ought ere this to have bade you welcome to mynative Navarre.
Sandoval.Cheerily, General! Navarre has indeed but illrepaid your services, in thus recalling you from the head ofan army which you yourself had collected and disciplined.10But the wrongs and insults which you have suffered——
Earl Henry.Deserve my thanks, Friend! In the sunshineof Court-favor I could onlybelievethat I loved my Queen andmy Country: now Iknowit. But why name I my Country ormy Sovereign? I owe all my Wrongs to the private enmity of15the Chancellor.
Sandoval.Heaven be praised, you have atchieved [sic]a delicious revenge upon him!—that the same Courier whobrought the orders for your recall carried back with him thefirst tidings of your Victory—it was exquisite good fortune!20
Earl Henry.Sandoval! my gallant Friend! Let me notdeceive you. To you I have vowed an undisguised openness.The gloom which overcast me, was occasioned by causes of lesspublic import.
Sandoval.Connected, I presume, with that Mansion, the25spacious pleasure grounds of which we noticed as we weredescending from the mountain. Lawn and Grove, River andHillock—it looked within these high walls, like a World ofitself.
Earl Henry.This Wood scarcely conceals these high walls30from us. Alas! I know the place too well. . . . Nay, why toowell?—But wherefore spake you, Sandoval, of this Mansion?What know you?
Sandoval.Nothing. Therefore I spake of it. On our descentfrom the mountain I pointed it out to you and asked to whom35it belonged—you became suddenly absent, and answered meonly by looks of Disturbance and Anxiety.
Earl Henry.That Mansion once belonged to Manric [sic],Lord of Valdez.
Sandoval.Alas, poor Man! the same, who had dangerous40claims to the Throne of Navarre.
Earl Henry.Claims?—Say rather, pretensions—plausibleonly to the unreasoning Multitude.
Sandoval.Pretensions then (with bitterness).
Earl Henry.Bad as these were, the means he employed to45give effect to them were still worse. He trafficked with Franceagainst the independence of his Country. He was a traitor,my Friend! and died a traitor's death. His two sons sufferedwith him, and many, (I fear, too many) of his adherents.
Sandoval.Earl Henry! (a pause) If the sentence were just,50why was not the execution of it public. . . . It is reported, thatthey were—but no! I will not believe it—the honest soul ofmy friend would not justify so foul a deed.
Earl Henry.Speak plainly—what is reported?
Sandoval.That they were all assassinated by order of the55new Queen.
Earl Henry.Accursed be the hearts that framed andthe tongues that scattered the Calumny!—The Queen wasscarcely seated on her throne; the Chancellor, who had beenher Guardian, exerted a pernicious influence over her60judgement—she was taught to fear dangerous commotions in theCapital, she was intreated to prevent the bloodshed of thedeluded citizens, and thus overawed she reluctantly consentedto permit the reinforcement of an obsolete law, and——
Sandoval.They were not assassinated then?——65
Earl Henry.Why these bitter tones to me, Sandoval? Cana law assassinate? Don Manrique [sic] and his accomplicesdrank the sleepy poison adjudged by that law in the StatePrison at Pampilona. At that time I was with the army onthe frontiers of France.70
Sandoval.Had you been in the Capital——
Earl Henry.I would have pledged my life on the safety ofa public Trial and a public Punishment.
Sandoval.Poisoned! The Father and his Sons!—And this,Earl Henry, was the first act of that Queen, whom you idolize!75
Earl Henry.No, Sandoval, No! This was notheract. Sheroused herself from the stupor of alarm, she suspendedinopposition to the advice of her council, all proceedings againstthe inferior partisans of the Conspiracy; she facilitated theescape of Don Manrique's brother, and to Donna Oropeza, his80daughter and only surviving child, she restored all her father'spossessions, nay became herself her Protectress and Friend.These were the acts, these the first acts of my royal Mistress.
Sandoval.And how did Donna Oropeza receive these favors?
Earl Henry.Why ask you that? Did they not fall on her,85like heavenly dews?
Sandoval.And will they not rise again, like an earthly mist?What is Gratitude opposed to Ambition, filial revenge, andWoman's rivalry—what is it but a cruel Curb in the mouth ofa fiery Horse, maddening the fierce animal whom it cannot90restrain? Forgive me, Earl Henry! I meant not to moveyou so deeply.
Earl Henry.Sandoval, you have uttered that in a wakinghour which having once dreamt, I feared the return of sleeplest I should dream it over again. My Friend (his Voice95trembling) I woo'd the daughter of Don Manrique,butwe areinterrupted.
Sandoval.It is Fernandez.
Earl Henry (struggling with his emotions).A true-hearted oldfellow——100
Sandoval.As splenetic as he is brave.
EnterFernandez.
Earl Henry.Well, my ancient! how did you like our tourthrough the mountains. (Earl Henrysits down on the seat bythe woodside.)