The Poems of Felicia Hemans
And saw _thy_ javelin crimson’d with his blood,
Thou, my deliverer! and my heart e’en then
Call’d thee its brother.
_Seb._ For that gift of life
With one of tenfold price, even freedom’s self,
Thou hast repaid me well.
_Zam._ Then bid me not
Forsake thee! Though my father’s tents may rise
At times upon my spirit, yet my home
Shall be amidst thy mountains, prince! and thou
Shalt be my chief, until I see thee robed
With all thy power. When thou canst need no more
Thine Arab’s faithful heart and vigorous arm,
From the green regions of the setting sun
Then shall the wanderer turn his steps, and seek
His Orient wilds again.
_Seb._ Be near me still,
And ever, O my warrior! I shall stand
Again amidst my hosts a mail-clad king,
Begirt with spears and banners, and the pomp
And the proud sounds of battle. Be thy place
Then at my side. When doth a monarch cease
To need true hearts, bold hands? Not in the field
Of arms, nor on the throne of power, nor yet
The couch of sleep. Be our friend, we will not part.
_Gon._ Be all thy friends thus faithful, for e’en yet
They may be fiercely tried.
_Seb._ I doubt them not.
Even now my heart beats high to meet their welcome.
Let us away!
_Gon._ Yet hear once more, my liege.
The humblest pilgrim, from his distant shrine
Returning, finds not e’en his peasant home
Unchanged amidst its vineyards. Some loved face,
Which made the sunlight of his lowly board,
Is touch’d by sickness; some familiar voice
Greets him no more; and shall not fate and time
Have done their work, since last we parted hence,
Upon an empire? Ay, within those years,
Hearts from their ancient worship have fall’n off,
And bow’d before new stars; high names have sunk
From their supremacy of place, and others
Gone forth, and made themselves the mighty sounds
At which thrones tremble. Oh! be slow to trust
E’en those to whom your smiles were wont to seem
As light is unto flowers. Search well the depths
Of bosoms in whose keeping you would shrine
The secret of your state. Storms pass not by
Leaving earth’s face unchanged.
_Seb._ Whence didst thou learn
The cold distrust which casts so deep a shadow
O’er a most noble nature?
_Gon._ Life hath been
My stern and only teacher. I have known
Vicissitudes in all things, but the most
In human hearts. Oh! yet awhile tame down
That royal spirit, till the hour be come
When it may burst its bondage! On thy brow
The suns of burning climes have set their seal,
And toil, and years, and perils, have not pass’d
O’er the bright aspect, and the ardent eye,
As doth a breeze of summer. Be that change
The mask beneath whose shelter thou may’st read
Men’s thoughts, and veil thine own.
_Seb._ Am I thus changed
From all I was? And yet it needs must be,
Since e’en my soul hath caught another hue
From its long sufferings. Did I not array
The gallant flower of Lusian chivalry,
And lead the mighty of the land, to pour
Destruction on the Moslem? I return,
And as a fearless and a trusted friend,
Bring, from the realms of my captivity,
An Arab of the desert!--But the sun
Hath sunk below th’ Atlantic. Let us hence--
Gonzalez, fear me not.
[_Exeunt._
Scene II.--_A Street in Lisbon illuminated._
Many Citizens.
_1st Cit._ In sooth our city wears a goodly mien,
With her far-blazing fanes, and festive lamps
Shining from all her marble palaces,
Countless as heaven’s fair stars. The humblest lattice
Sends forth its radiance. How the sparkling waves
Fling back the light!
_2d Cit._ Ay, ’tis a gallant show;
And one which serves, like others, to conceal
Things which must not be told.
_3d Cit._ What wouldst thou say?
_2d Cit._ That which may scarce, in perilous times like these,
Be said with safety. Hast thou look’d within
Those stately palaces? Were they but peopled
With the high race of warlike nobles, once
Their princely lords, think’st thou, good friend, that now
They would be glittering with this hollow pomp,
To greet a conqueror’s entrance?
_3d Cit._ Thou say’st well.
None but a land forsaken of its chiefs
Had been so lost and won.
_4th Cit._ The lot is cast;
We have but to yield. Hush! for some strangers come:
Now, friends, beware.
_1st Cit._ Did the king pass this way
At morning, with his train?
_2d Cit._ Ay: saw you not
The long and rich procession?
Sebastian _enters with_ Gonzalez _and_ Zamor.
_Seb. to Gon._ This should be
The night of some high festival. E’en thus
My royal city to the skies sent up,
From her illumined fanes and towers, a voice
Of gladness, welcoming our first return
From Afric’s coast. Speak thou, Gonzalez! ask
The cause of this rejoicing. To my heart
Deep feelings rush, so mingling and so fast,
My voice perchance might tremble.
_Gon._ Citizen,
What festal night is this, that all your streets
Are throng’d and glittering thus?
_1st Cit._ Hast thou not heard
Of the king’s entry, in triumphal pomp,
This very morn?
_Gon._ The king! triumphal pomp!--
Thy words are dark.
_Seb._ Speak yet again: mine ears
Ring with strange sounds. Again!
_1st Cit._ I said, the king,
Philip of Spain, and now of Portugal,
This morning enter’d with a conqueror’s train
Our city’s royal palace: and for this
We hold our festival.
_Seb._ (_in a low voice._) Thou said’st--the king!
His name?--I heard it not.
_1st Cit._ Philip of Spain.
_Seb._ Philip of Spain! We slumber, till aroused
By th’ earthquake’s bursting shock. Hath there not fall’n
A sudden darkness? All things seem to float
Obscurely round me. Now ’tis past. The streets
Are blazing with strange fire. Go, quench those lamps;
They glare upon me till my very brain
Grows dizzy, and doth whirl. How dare ye thus
Light up your shrines for _him_?
_Gon._ Away, away!
This is no time, no scene----
_Seb._ Philip of Spain!
How name ye this fair land? Why, is it not
The free, the chivalrous Portugal?--the land
By the proud ransom of heroic blood
Won from the Moor of old? Did that red stream
Sink to the earth, and leave no fiery current
In the veins of noble men, that so its tide,
Full swelling at the sound of hostile steps,
Might be a kingdom’s barrier?
_2d Cit._ That high blood
Which should have been our strength, profusely shed
By the rash King Sebastian, bathed the plains
Of fatal Alcazar. Our monarch’s guilt
Hath brought this ruin down.
_Seb._ Must this be heard,
And borne, and unchastised? Man, darest thou stand
Before me face to face, and thus arraign
Thy sovereign?
_Zam._ (_aside to Seb._) Shall I lift the sword, my prince,
Against thy foes?
_Gon._ Be still--or all is lost.
_2d Cit._ I dare speak that which all men think and know.
’Tis to Sebastian, and his waste of life,
And power, and treasure, that we owe these bonds.
_3d Cit._ Talk not of bonds. May our new monarch rule
The weary land in peace! But who art thou?
Whence com’st thou, haughty stranger, that these things,
Known to all nations, should be new to thee?
_Seb._ (_wildly._) I come from regions where the cities lie
In ruins, not in chains!
_Exit with_ Gonzalez _and_ Zamor.
_2d Cit._ He wears the mien
Of one that hath commanded; yet his looks
And words were strangely wild.
_1st Cit._ Mark’d you his fierce
And haughty gesture, and the flash that broke
From his dark eye, when King Sebastian’s name
Became our theme?
_2d Cit._ Trust me, there’s more in this
Than may be lightly said. These are no times
To breathe men’s thoughts i’ th’ open face of heaven
And ear of multitudes. They that would speak
Of monarchs and their deeds, should keep within
Their quiet homes. Come, let us hence; and then
We’ll commune of this stranger.
Scene III.--_The Portico of a Palace._
Sebastian, Gonzalez, Zamor.
_Seb._ Withstand me not! I tell thee that my soul,
With all its passionate energies, is roused
Unto that fearful strength which _must_ have way,
E’en like the elements in their hour of might
And mastery o’er creation.
_Gon._ But they _wait_
That hour in silence. Oh! be calm awhile--
Thine is not come. My king----
_Seb._ I am no king,
While in the very palace of my sires,
Ay, where mine eyes first drank the glorious light,
Where my soul’s thrilling echoes first awoke
To the high sound of earth’s immortal names,
Th’ usurper lives and reigns. I am no king
Until I cast him thence.
_Zam._ Shall not thy voice
Be as a trumpet to th’ awak’ning land?
Will not the bright swords flash like sun-bursts forth,
When the brave hear their chief?
_Gon._ Peace, Zamor! peace!
Child of the desert, what hast thou to do
With the calm hour of counsel?
Monarch, pause:
A kingdom’s destiny should not be the sport
Of passion’s reckless winds. There is a time
When men, in very weariness of heart
And careless desolation, tamed to yield
By misery strong as death, will lay their souls
E’en at the conqueror’s feet--as nature sinks,
After long torture, into cold, and dull,
And heavy sleep. But comes there not an hour
Of fierce atonement? Ay! the slumberer wakes
With gather’d strength and vengeance; and the sense
And the remembrance of his agonies
Are in themselves a power, whose fearful path
Is like the path of ocean, when the heavens
Take off its interdict. Wait, then, the hour
Of that high impulse.
_Seb._ Is it not the sun
Whose radiant bursting through the embattled clouds
Doth make it morn? The hour of which thou speak’st,
Itself, with all its glory, is the work
Of some commanding nature, which doth bid
The sullen shades disperse. Away!--e’en now
The land’s high hearts, the fearless and the true,
Shall know they have a leader. Is not this
The mansion of mine own, mine earliest, friend
Sylveira?
_Gon._ Ay, its glittering lamps too well
Illume the stately vestibule to leave
Our sight a moment’s doubt. He ever loved
Such pageantries.
_Seb._ _His_ dwelling thus adorn’d
On such a night! Yet will I seek him here.
He must be faithful, and to him the first
My tale shall be reveal’d. A sudden chill
Falls on my heart; and yet I will not wrong
My friend with dull suspicion. He hath been
Link’d all too closely with mine inmost soul.
And what have I to lose?
_Gon._ Is their blood naught
Who without hope will follow where thou lead’st,
E’en unto death?
_Seb._ Was that a brave man’s voice?
Warrior and friend! how long, then, hast thou learn’d
To hold thy blood thus dear?
_Gon._ Of _mine_, mine own
Think’st thou I spoke? When all is shed for thee
Thou’lt know me better.
_Seb._ (_entering the palace._) For a while farewell.
[_Exit._
_Gon._ Thus princes lead men’s hearts. Come, follow me;
And if a home is left me still, brave Zamor!
There will I bid thee welcome.