The Complete Poetical Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge Volume II Part 26

The Complete Poetical Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge Volume II Part 26

_Ferdinand._ And all my little ones fatherless! Die thou first.

[_They fight. OSORIO disarms FERDINAND, and in disarming him, throws his sword up that recess, opposite to which they were standing._

_Ferdinand (springing wildly towards Osorio)._ Still I can strangle thee!

_Osorio._ Nay, fool! stand off.

I'll kill thee--but not so! Go fetch thy sword.

[_FERDINAND hurries into the recess with his torch.

OSORIO follows him, and in a moment returns alone._

_Osorio._ Now--this was luck! No bloodstains, no dead body! 150 His dream, too, is made out. Now for his friend.[570:1]

[_Exit._

_SCENE changes to the court before the Castle of VELEZ._

_MARIA and her FOSTER-MOTHER._

_Maria._ And when I heard that you desired to see me, I thought your business was to tell me of him.

_Foster-Mother._ I never saw the Moor, whom you describe.

_Maria._ 'Tis strange! he spake of you familiarly 155 As mine and Albert's common foster-mother.

_Foster-Mother._ Now blessings on the man, whoe'er he be, That join'd your names with mine! O my sweet lady, As often as I think of those dear times When you two little ones would stand at eve, 160 On each side of my chair, and make me learn All you had learnt in the day; and how to talk In gentle phrase, then bid me sing to you, 'Tis more like heaven to come, that what _has_ been!

_Maria._ O my dear mother! this strange man has left me 165 Wilder'd with wilder fancies than yon moon Breeds in the love-sick maid--who gazes at it Till lost in inward vision, with wet eye She gazes idly! But that entrance, mother!

_Foster-Mother._ Can no one hear? It is a perilous tale! 170

_Maria._ No one.

_Foster-Mother._ My husband's father told it me, Poor old Leoni. Angels rest his soul!

He was a woodman, and could fell and saw With l.u.s.ty arm. You know that huge round beam Which props the hanging wall of the old chapel? 175 Beneath that tree, while yet it was a tree, He found a baby wrapt in mosses, lined With thistle-beards, and such small locks of wool As hang on brambles. Well, he brought him home, And rear'd him at the then Lord Velez' cost. 180 And so the babe grew up a pretty boy.

A pretty boy, but most unteachable-- And never learnt a prayer, nor told a bead, But knew the names of birds, and mock'd their notes, And whistled, as he were a bird himself. 185 And all the autumn 'twas his only play To get the seeds of wild flowers, and to plant them With earth and water on the stumps of trees.

A friar who gather'd simples in the wood, A grey-hair'd man--he loved this little boy, 190 The boy loved him--and, when the friar taught him, He soon could write with the pen; and from that time Lived chiefly at the convent or the castle.

So he became a very learned youth.

But O! poor wretch--he read, and read, and read, 195 Till his brain turn'd--and ere his twentieth year, He had unlawful thoughts of many things.

And though he pray'd, he never loved to pray With holy men, nor in a holy place.

But yet his speech, it was so soft and sweet, 200 The late Lord Velez ne'er was wearied with him, And once as by the north side of the chapel They stood together, chain'd in deep discourse, The earth heav'd under them with such a groan, That the wall totter'd, and had well-nigh fall'n 205 Right on their heads. My lord was sorely frighten'd; A fever seiz'd him; and he made confession Of all the heretical and lawless talk Which brought this judgment: so the youth was seiz'd And cast into that hole. My husband's father 210 Sobb'd like a child--it almost broke his heart.

And once as he was working in the cellar, He heard a voice distinctly; 'twas the youth's, Who sung a doleful song about green fields, How sweet it were on lake or wild savannah 215 To hunt for food, and be a naked man, And wander up and down at liberty.

He always doted on the youth, and now His love grew desperate; and defying death, He made that cunning entrance I described: 220 And the young man escaped.

_Maria._ 'Tis a sweet tale: Such as would lull a list'ning child to sleep, His rosy face besoil'd with unwiped tears.

And what became of him?

_Foster-Mother._ He went on shipboard With those bold voyagers, who made discovery 225 Of golden lands; Leoni's younger brother Went likewise, and when he return'd to Spain, He told Leoni that the poor mad youth, Soon after they arrived in that new world, In spite of his dissuasion seized a boat, 230 And all alone set sail by silent moonlight, Up a great river, great as any sea, And ne'er was heard of more; but 'tis supposed He liv'd and died among the savage men.

_Enter VELEZ._

_Velez._ Still sad, Maria? This same wizard haunts you. 235

_Maria._ O Christ! the tortures that hang o'er his head, If ye betray him to these holy brethren!

_Velez (with a kind of sneer)._ A portly man, and eloquent, and tender!

In truth, I shall not wonder if you mourn That their rude grasp should seize on _such_ a victim. 240

_Maria._ The horror of their ghastly punishments Doth so o'ertop the height of sympathy, That I should feel too little for mine enemy-- Ah! far too little--if 'twere possible, I could feel more, even tho' my child or husband 245 Were doom'd to suffer them! That such things are----

_Velez._ Hush! thoughtless woman!

_Maria._ Nay--it wakes within me More than a woman's spirit.

_Velez (angrily)._ No more of this-- I can endure no more.

_Foster-Mother._ My honour'd master!

Lord Albert used to talk so.

_Maria._ Yes! my mother! 250 These are my Albert's lessons, and I con them With more delight than, in my fondest hour, I bend me o'er his portrait.

_Velez (to the Foster-Mother)._ My good woman, You may retire. [_Exit the FOSTER-MOTHER._

_Velez._ We have mourn'd for Albert.

Have I no living son?

_Maria._ Speak not of him! 255 That low imposture--my heart sickens at it, If it be madness, must I wed a madman?

And if not madness, there is mystery, And guilt doth lurk behind it!

_Valdez._ Is this well?

_Maria._ Yes! it is truth. Saw you his countenance? 260 How rage, remorse, and scorn, and stupid fear, Displac'd each other with swift interchanges?

If this were all a.s.sumed, as you believe, He must needs be a most consummate actor; And hath so vast a power to deceive me, 265 I never could be safe. And why a.s.sume The semblance of such execrable feelings?

_Velez._ Ungrateful woman! I have tried to stifle An old man's pa.s.sion! Was it not enough That thou hast made my son a restless man, 270 Banish'd his health and half-unhinged his reason, But that thou wilt insult him with suspicion, And toil to blast his honour? I am old-- A comfortless old man! Thou shalt not stay Beneath my roof!

[_FRANCESCO enters and stands listening._

_Velez._ Repent and marry him-- 275 Or to the convent.

_Francesco (muttering)._ Good! good! very good!

_Maria._ Nay, grant me some small pittance of my fortune, And I will live a solitary woman, Or my poor foster-mother and her grandsons May be my household.

_Francesco (advancing)._ I abhor a listener; 280 But you spoke so, I could not choose but hear you.

I pray, my lord! will you embolden me To ask you why this lady doth prefer To live in lonely sort, without a friend Or fit companion?

_Velez._ Bid her answer you. 285