Walter Savage Landor

“ Muza. Their father’s.
Jul. Oh, support me, Heaven!
Against this blow! all others I have borne.
Ermenegild! thou mightest, sure, have lived!
A father’s name awoke no dread of thee!
Only thy mother’s early bloom was thine!
There dwelt on Julian’s brow—thine was serene—
The brightened clouds of elevated souls,
Feared by the most below: those who looked up
Saw, at their season, in clear signs, advance
Rapturous valour, calm solicitude,
All that impatient youth would press from age,
Or sparing age sigh and detract from youth:
Hence was his fall! my hope! myself! my Julian! ”

“ Muza. I may accelerate that meteor’s fall,
And quench that idle ineffectual light
Without the knowledge of thy distant world.
Jul. My world and thine are not that distant one.
Is age less wise, less merciful, than grief,
To keep this secret from thee, poor old man?
Thou canst not lessen, canst not aggravate
My sufferings, canst not shorten nor extend
Half a sword’s length between my God and me.
I thank thee for that better thought than fame,
Which none, however, who deserve, despise,
Nor lose from view till all things else are lost.
Abd. Julian, respect his age, regard his power. ”

“ Thy Tamar lives, and only lives for thee.
Happy, thrice happy, you! ’tis me alone
Whom heaven and earth and ocean with one hate
Conspire on, and throughout each path pursue.
Whether in waves beneath or skies above
Thou hast thy habitation, ’tis from heaven,
From heaven alone, such power, such charms, descend.
Then oh! discover whence that ruin comes
Each night upon our city, whence are heard
Those yells of rapture round our fallen walls:
In our affliction can the gods delight,
Or meet oblation for the nymphs are tears?”
He spake, and indignation sank in woe. ”

“ O everlasting curse for Spain and thee!
Jul. Spain should have vindicated then her wrongs
In mine, a Spaniard’s and a soldier’s wrongs.
Opas. Julian, are thine the only wrongs on earth?
And shall each Spaniard rather vindicate
Thine than his own? is there no Judge of all?
Shall mortal hand seize with impunity
The sword of vengeance, from the armoury
Of the Most High? easy to wield, and starred
With glory it appears: but all the host
Of the archangels, should they strive at once,
Would never close again its widening blade.
Jul. He who provokes it hath so much to rue. ”

“ Julian goes before Opas enters.
Opas. I cannot but commend, O Egilona,
Such resignation and such dignity.
Indeed he is unworthy; yet a queen
Rather to look for peace, and live remote
From cities, and from courts, and from her lord,
I hardly could expect in one so young,
So early, widely, wondrously admired.
Egi. I am resolved: religious men, good Opas,
In this resemble the vain libertine;
They find in woman no consistency,
No virtue but devotion, such as comes
To infancy or age, or fear or love,
Seeking a place of rest, and finding none
Until it soar to heaven. ”

“ Jul. Is there no gain to live in amity?
Muza. The gain of traffickers and idle men:
Courage and zeal expire upon such calms.
Further, what amity can Moors expect
When you have joined your forces?
Jul. From the hour
That he was vanquished I have laid aside
All power, all arms.
Muza. How can we trust thee, once
Deceived, and oftener than this once despised?
Thou camest hither with no other aim
Than to deprive Roderigo of his crown
For thy own brow.
Egi. Julian, base man, ’tis true.
He comes a prince, no warrior, at this hour.
Muza. His sword, O queen, would not avail him now. ”

“ The nymph said, sweetly smiling, “Fickle man
Would not be happy could he not regret!
And I confess how, looking back, a thought
Has touched and tuned or rather thrilled my heart,
Too soft for sorrow and too strong for joy:
Fond foolish maid, ’twas with mine own accord
It soothed me, shook me, melted, drowned, in tears.
But weep not thou; what cause hast thou to weep?
Wouldst thou thy country? wouldst those caves abhorred,
Dungeons and portals that exclude the day?
Gebir, though generous, just, humane, inhaled
Rank venom from these mansions. Rest, O king
In Egypt thou! nor, Tamar! ”

“ But Gebir with complacent smile replied:
“Go then, fond Tamar, go in happy hour—
But ere thou partest ponder in thy breast
And well bethink thee, lest thou part deceived,
Will she disclose to thee the mysteries
Of our calamity? and unconstrained?
When even her love thy strength had to disclose.
My heart indeed is full, but witness heaven!
My people, not my passion, fills my heart.”
“Then let me kiss thy garment,” said the youth,
“And heaven be with thee, and on me thy grace.” ”

“ No foe more furious than forgiven kings.
I ask not then what thou wouldst never grant:
May heaven, O Julian, from thy hand receive
A pardoned man, a chastened criminal.
Jul. This further curse hast thou inflicted; wretch,
I cannot pardon thee.
Rod. Thy tone, thy mien,
Refute those words.
Jul. No—I can not forgive.
Rod. Upon my knee, my conqueror, I implore—
Upon the earth, before thy feet—hard heart!
Jul. Audacious! hast thou never heard that prayer
And scorned it? ’tis the last thou shouldst repeat.
Upon the earth! upon her knees! O God! ”

“ Implore of God, who would hear thee, to pardon.
Jul. Hope it I may—pronounce it—O Roderigo!
Ask it of him who can; I too will ask,
And, in my own transgressions, pray for thine.
Rod. One name I dare not—
Jul. Go—abstain from that,
I do conjure thee: raise not in my soul
Again the tempest that has wrecked my fame;
Thou shalt not breathe in the same clime with her.
Far o’er the unebbing sea thou shalt adore
The eastern star, and—may thy end be peace.
FOURTH ACT.—SECOND SCENE. Roderigo goes: Hernando enters. ”

“ Who come invited to redress your wrongs.
Where is the king?
Jul. The people must decide.
Muza. Imperfectly, I hope, I understand
Those words, unworthy of thy birth and age.
Jul. O chieftain, such have been our Gothic laws.
Muza. Who then amid such turbulence is safe?
Jul. He who observes them: ’tis no turbulence,
It violates no peace: ’tis surely worth
A voice, a breath of air, thus to create
By their high will the man, formed after them
In their own image, vested with their power,
To whom they trust their freedom and their lives.
Muza. They trust! the people! ”

“ Muza. Yes, they shall shudder—but will that, henceforth,
Molest my privacy, or shake my power?
Jul. Guilt hath pavilions, but no privacy.
The very engine of his hatred checks
The torturer in his transport of revenge,
Which, while it swells his bosom, shakes his power
And raises friends to his worst enemy.
Muza. Where now are thine? will they not curse the day
That gave thee birth, and hiss thy funeral!
Thou hast left none who could have pitied thee.
Jul. Many, nor those alone of tenderer mould,
For me will weep—many alas through me! ”

“ Thou hast; and what remains?
Rod. Myself—Roderigo—
Whom hatred cannot reach, nor love cast down.
Opas. Nor gratitude nor pity nor remorse
Call back, nor vows nor earth nor heaven control.
But art thou free and happy? art thou safe?
By shrewd contempt the humblest may chastise
Whom scarlet and its ermine cannot scare,
And the sword skulks for everywhere in vain,
Thee the poor victim of thy outrages,
Woman, with all her weakness, may despise.
Rod. But first let quiet age have intervened.
Opas. Ne’er will the peace or apathy of age
Be thine, or twilight steal upon thy day. ”

“ Through the whole land, to seize upon the throne
By the permission of those recreant slaves?
What shall I call thee? art thou—speak, Count Julian—
A father, or a soldier, or a man?
Jul. All—or this day had never seen me here.
Sis. O falsehood! worse than woman’s!
Cov. Once, my cousin,
Far gentler words were uttered from your lips.
If you loved me, you loved my father first,
More justly and more steadily, ere love
Was passion and illusion and deceit.
Sis. I boast not that I never was deceived,
Covilla, which beyond all boasts were base,
Nor that I never loved; let this be thine. ”

“ He stands above our pity.
Jul. For that wish—
Vain as it is, ’tis virtuous—oh, for that,
However wrong thy censure and thy praise,
Kind Abdalazis, mayst thou never feel
The rancour that consumes thy father’s breast,
Nor want the pity thou hast sought for me.
Muza. Now hast thou sealed thy doom.
Jul. And thou thy crimes.
Abd. O father, heed him not: those evil words
Leave neither blight nor blemish—let him go.
Muza. A boy, a very boy, art thou indeed! ”

“ Count Julian at this hour by special grace.
The sword of Julian saved the walls of Ceuta,
And not the shadow that attends his name:
It was no badge, no title, that o’erthrew
Soldier, and steed, and engine—Don Roderigo,
The truly and the falsely great here differ:
These by dull wealth or daring fraud advance;
Him the Almighty calls amid his people
To sway the wills and passions of mankind.
The weak of heart and intellect beheld
Thy splendour, and adored thee lord of Spain:
I rose—Roderigo lords o’er Spain no more. ”

“ On his staid breast.
Tar. Danger is past, he conquers;
No enemy is left him to subdue.
Her. He sank not, while there was, into himself.
Now plainly see I from his altered tone,
He cannot live much longer—thanks to God!
Tar. What! wishest thou thy once kind master dead?
Was he not kind to thee, ungrateful slave!
Her. The gentlest, as the bravest, of mankind.
Therefore shall memory dwell more tranquilly
With Julian, once at rest, than friendship could,
Knowing him yearn for death with speechless love. ”

“ And crimson light struck soft the phosphor wave.
Then Gebir spake to Tamar in these words:
“Tamar! I am thy elder and thy king,
But am thy brother too, nor ever said,
‘Give me thy secret and become my slave:’
But haste thee not away; I will myself
Await the nymph, disguised in thy attire.”
Then starting from attention Tamar cried:
“Brother! in sacred truth it cannot be!
My life is yours, my love must be my own:
Oh, surely he who seeks a second love
Never felt one, or ’tis not one I feel.” ”

“ Muza. False then were thy reproaches, false thy grief.
Jul. O Egilona! were thine also feigned?
Abd. Say, lovely queen, neglectful of thy charms
Turned he his eyes toward the young Covilla?
Did he pursue her to the mad excess
Of breaking off her vows to Sisabert,
And marrying her, against the Christian law?
Muza. Did he prefer her so?
Abd. Could he prefer
To Egilona—
Egi. Her! the child Covilla?
Eternal hider of a foolish face,
Incapable of anything but shame,
To me? old man! to me? O Abdalazis! ”

“ Which leaves the world, and faintly lingers here.
Muza. Who shuns thee—
Abd. Whose desertion interdicts
Homage, authority, precedency—
Muza. Till war shall rescue them—
Abd. And love restore.
Egi. O generous Abdalazis! never! never!
My enemies—Julian alone remains—
The worst, in safety, far beyond my reach,
Breathe freely on the summit of their hopes;
Because they never stopped, because they sprang
From crime to crime, and trampled down remorse.
Oh! if her heart knew tenderness like mine!
Grant vengeance on the guilty; grant but that,
I ask no more; my hand, my crown, is thine. ”

“ Against Covilla’s vows and Julian’s faith,
His honour broken, and her heart estranged.
Oh, if thou holdest peace or glory dear,
Away with jealousy; brave Sisabert,
Smite from thy bosom, smite that scorpion down.
It swells and hardens amid mildewed hopes,
O’erspreads and blackens whate’er most delights,
And renders us haters of loveliness,
The lowest of the fiends: ambition led
The higher on, furious to dispossess,
From admiration sprung and frenzied love. ”

“ Scatter this wan suffusion o’er thy brow,
This faint blue lustre under both thine eyes?”
“O brother, is this pity or reproach?”
Cried Tamar; “cruel if it be reproach,
If pity, oh, how vain!”
“Whate’er it be
That grieves thee, I will pity: thou but speak
And I can tell thee, Tamar, pang for pang.”
“Gebir! then more than brothers are we now!
Everything, take my hand, will I confess.
I neither feed the flock nor watch the fold;
How can I, lost in love? But, Gebir, why
That anger which has risen to your cheek?
Can other men? could you?—what, no reply! ”

“ Her. Often we hardly think ourselves the happy
Unless we hear it said by those around.
O my lord Julian, how your praises cheered
Our poor endeavours! sure, all hearts are ope
Lofty and low, wise and unwise, to praise.
Even the departed spirit hovers round
Our blessings and our prayers; the corse itself
Hath shined with other light than the still stars
Shed on its rest, or the dim taper, nigh.
My father, old men say, who saw him dead
And heard your lips pronounce him good and happy,
Smiled faintly through the quiet gloom, that eve,
And the shroud throbbed upon his grateful breast. ”