John Dryden - Delphi Poets Series

by John Dryden

My father’s choice; and how I since did live,

  You, sir, can best your testimony give.

  How to your aid I have Almanzor brought,

  When by rebellious crowds your life was sought;

  Then, how I bore your causeless jealousy,

  (For I must speak) and after set you free,

  When you were prisoner in the chance of war:

  These, sure, are proofs of love.

  Boab. I grant they are.

  Almah. And could you then, O cruelly unkind!

  So ill reward such tenderness of mind?

  Could you, denying what our laws afford

  The meanest subject, on a traitor’s word,

  Unheard, condemn, and suffer me to go

  To death, and yet no common pity show!

  Boab. Love filled my heart even to the brim before;

  And then, with too much jealousy, boiled o’er.

  Almah. Be’t love or jealousy, ’tis such a crime,

  That I’m forewarned to trust a second time.

  Know, then, my prayers to heaven shall never cease,

  To crown your arms in war, your wars with peace;

  But from this day I will not know your bed:

  Though Almahide still lives, your wife is dead;

  And with her dies a love so pure and true,

  It could be killed by nothing but by you. [Exit Almah.

  Boab. Yes; you will spend your life in prayers for me,

  And yet this hour my hated rival see.

  She might a husband’s jealousy forgive;

  But she will only for Almanzor live.

  It is resolved; I will myself provide

  That vengeance, which my useless laws denied;

  And, by Almanzor’s death, at once remove

  The rival of my empire, and my love. [Exit Boab.

  Enter Almahide, led by Almanzor, and followed by Esperanza; she speaks, entering.

  Almah. How much, Almanzor, to your aid I owe,

  Unable to repay, I blush to know;

  Yet, forced by need, ere I can clear that score,

  I, like ill debtors, come to borrow more.

  Almanz. Your new commands I on my knees attend:

  I was created for no other end.

  Born to be yours, I do by nature serve,

  And, like the labouring beast, no thanks deserve.

  Almah. Yet first your virtue to your succour call,

  For in this hard command you’ll need it all.

  Almanz. I stand prepared; and whatsoe’er it be,

  Nothing is hard to him, who loves like me.

  Almah. Then know, I from your love must yet implore

  One proof: — that you would never see me more.

  Almanz. I must confess, [Starting back.

  For this last stroke I did no guard provide;

  I could suspect no foe was near that side.

  From winds and thickening clouds we thunder fear,

  None dread it from that quarter which is clear;

  And I would fain believe, ’tis but your art

  To shew

  You knew where deepest you could wound my heart.

  Almah. So much respect is to your passion due,

  That sure I could not practise arts on you.

  But that you may not doubt what I have said,

  This hour I have renounced my husband’s bed:

  Judge, then, how much my fame would injured be,

  If, leaving him, I should a lover see.

  Almanz. If his unkindness have deserved that curse,

  Must I, for loving well, be punished worse?

  Almah. Neither your love nor merits I compare,

  But my unspotted name must be my care.

  Almanz. I have this day established its renown.

  Almah. Would you so soon, what you have raised, throw down?

  Almanz. But, madam, is not yours a greater guilt,

  To ruin him, who has that fabric built?

  Almah. No lover should his mistress’ prayers withstand,

  Yet you contemn my absolute command.

  Almanz. ’Tis not contempt,

  When your command is issued out too late;

  ’Tis past my power, and all beyond is fate.

  I scarce could leave you, when to exile sent,

  Much less when now recalled from banishment;

  For if that heat your glances cast were strong,

  Your eyes, like glasses, fire, when held so long.

  Almah. Then, since you needs will all my weakness know,

  I love you; and so well, that you must go.

  I am so much obliged, and have withal

  A heart so boundless and so prodigal,

  I dare not trust myself, or you, to stay,

  But, like frank gamesters, must forswear the play.

  Almanz. Fate, thou art kind to strike so hard a blow:

  I am quite stunned, and past all feeling now.

  Yet — can you tell me you have power and will

  To save my life, and at that instant kill?

  Almah. This, had you staid, you never must have known;

  But, now you go, I may with honour own.

  Almanz. But, madam, I am forced to disobey:

  In your defence my honour bids me stay.

  I promised to secure your life and throne,

  And, heaven be thanked, that work is yet undone.

  Almah. I here make void that promise which you made,

  For now I have no farther need of aid.

  That vow, which to my plighted lord was given,

  I must not break, but may transfer to heaven:

  I will with vestals live:

  There needs no guard at a religious door;

  Few will disturb the praying and the poor.

  Almanz. Let me but near that happy temple stay,

  And through the grates peep on you once a day;

  To famished hope I would no banquet give:

  I cannot starve, and wish but just to live.

  Thus, as a drowning man

  Sinks often, and does still more faintly rise,

  With his last hold catching whate’er he spies;

  So, fallen from those proud hopes I had before,

  Your aid I for a dying wretch implore.

  Almah. I cannot your hard destiny withstand,

  Boabdelin, and Guards above.

  But slip, like bending rushes, from your hand.

  Sink all at once, since you must sink at last.

  Almanz. Can you that last relief of sight remove,

  And thrust me out the utmost line of love!

  Then, since my hopes of happiness are gone,

  Denied all favours, I will seize this one. [Catches her hand, and kisses it.

  Boab. My just revenge no longer I’ll forbear:

  I’ve seen too much; I need not stay to hear. [Descends.

  Almanz. As a small shower

  To the parched earth does some refreshment give,

  So, in the strength of this, one day I’ll live:

  A day, — a year, — an age, — for ever, now; [Betwixt each word he kisses her hand by force; she struggling.

  I feel from every touch a new soul flow. [She snatches her hand away.

  My hoped eternity of joy is past!

  ’Twas insupportable, and could not last.

  Were heaven not made of less, or duller joy,

  ‘Twould break each minute, and itself destroy.

  Enter King and Guards, below.

  Boab. This, this, is he, for whom thou didst deny

  To share my bed: — Let them together die.

  Almah. Hear me, my lord.

  Boab. Your flattering arts are vain:

  Make haste, and execute what I ordain. [To the Guards.

  Almanz. Cut piece-meal in this cause,

  From every wound I should new vigour take,

  And every limb should new Almanzors make. [He puts himself before the Queen; the Guards attack him, with the King.

&nbs
p; Enter Abdelmelech.

  Abdelm. What angry god, to exercise his spite, [To the King.

  Has arm’d your left hand, to cut off your right? [The King turns, the fight ceases.

  The foes are entered at the Elvira gate:

  False Lyndaraxa has the town betrayed,

  And all the Zegrys give the Spaniards aid.

  Boab. O mischief, not suspected nor foreseen!

  Abdelm. Already they have gained the Zacatin,

  And thence the Vivarambla place possest,

  While our faint soldiers scarce defend the rest.

  The duke of Arcos does one squadron head,

  The next by Ferdinand himself is led.

  Almah. Now, brave Almanzor, be a god again;

  Above our crimes and your own passions reign.

  My lord has been by jealousy misled,

  To think I was not faithful to his bed.

  I can forgive him, though my death he sought,

  For too much love can never be a fault.

  Protect him, then; and what to his defence

  You give not, give to clear my innocence.

  Almanz. Listen, sweet heaven, and all ye blessed above,

  Take rules of virtue from a mortal love!

  You’ve raised my soul; and if it mount more high,

  ’Tis as the wren did on the eagle fly.

  Yes, I once more will my revenge neglect,

  And, whom you can forgive, I can protect.

  Boab. How hard a fate is mine, still doomed to shame!

  I make occasions for my rival’s fame! [Exeunt. An alarm within.

  Enter Ferdinand, Isabella, Don Alonzo d’Aguilar; Spaniards and Ladies.

  K. Ferd. Already more than half the town is gained,

  But there is yet a doubtful fight maintained.

  Alonz. The fierce young king the entered does attack,

  And the more fierce Almanzor drives them back.

  K. Ferd. The valiant Moors like raging lions fight;

  Each youth encouraged by his lady’s sight.

  Q. Isabel. I will advance with such a shining train,

  That Moorish beauties shall oppose in vain.

  Into the press of clashing swords we’ll go,

  And, where the darts fly thickest, seek the foe.

  K. Ferd. May heaven, which has inspired this generous thought,

  Avert those dangers you have boldly sought!

  Call up more troops; the women, to our shame,

  Will ravish from the men their part of fame. [Exeunt Isabella and Ladies.

  Enter Alabez, and kisses the King’s hand.

  Alabez. Fair Lyndaraxa, and the Zegry line,

  Have led their forces with your troops to join;

  The adverse part, which obstinately fought,

  Are broke, and Abdelmelech prisoner brought.

  K. Ferd. Fair Lyndaraxa, and her friends, shall find

  The effects of an obliged and grateful mind.

  Alabez. But, marching by the Vivarambla place,

  The combat carried a more doubtful face:

  In that vast square the Moors and Spaniards met,

  Where the fierce conflict is continued yet;

  But with advantage on the adverse side,

  Whom fierce Almanzor does to conquest guide.

  K. Ferd. With my Castilian foot I’ll meet his rage; [Is going out: Shouts within are heard, — Victoria! Victoria!

  But these loud clamours better news presage.

  Enter the Duke of Arcos, and Soldiers; their Swords drawn and bloody.

  D. Arcos. Granada now is yours; and there remain

  No Moors, but such as own the power of Spain.

  That squadron, which their king in person led,

  We charged, but found Almanzor on their head:

  Three several times we did the Moors attack,

  And thrice with slaughter did he drive us back:

  Our troops then shrunk; and still we lost more ground,

  ‘Till from our queen we needful succour found:

  Her guards to our assistance bravely flew,

  And with fresh vigour did the fight renew:

  At the same time

  Did Lyndaraxa with her troops appear,

  And, while we charged the front, engaged the rear:

  Then fell the king, slain by a Zegry’s hand.

  K. Ferd. How could he such united force withstand?

  D. Arcos. Discouraged with his death, the Moorish powers

  Fell back, and, falling back, were pressed by ours;

  But as, when winds and rain together crowd,

  They swell till they have burst the bladdered cloud;

  And first the lightning, flashing deadly clear,

  Flies, falls, consumes, kills ere it does appear, —

  So from his shrinking troops, Almanzor flew,

  Each blow gave wounds, and with each wound he slew:

  His force at once I envied and admired,

  And rushing forward, where my men retired,

  Advanced alone.

  K. Ferd. You hazarded too far

  Your person, and the fortune of the war.

  D. Arcos. Already both our arms for fight did bare,

  Already held them threatening in the air,

  When heaven (it must be heaven) my sight did guide

  To view his arm, upon whose wrist I spied

  A ruby cross in diamond bracelets tied;

  And just above it, in the brawnier part,

  By nature was engraved a bloody heart:

  Struck with these tokens, which so well I knew,

  And staggering back some paces, I withdrew:

  He followed, and supposed it was my fear;

  When, from above, a shrill voice reached his ear: —

  “Strike not thy father!” — it was heard to cry;

  Amazed, and casting round his wondrous eye,

  He stopped; then, thinking that his fears were vain,

  He lifted up his thundering arm again:

  Again the voice withheld him from my death;

  “Spare, spare his life,” it cried, “who gave thee breath!”

  Once more he stopped; then threw his sword away;

  “Blessed shade,” he said, “I hear thee, I obey

  Thy sacred voice;” then, in the sight of all,

  He at my feet, I on his neck did fall.

  K. Ferd. O blessed event!

  D. Arcos. The Moors no longer fought;

  But all their safety by submission sought:

  Mean time my son grew faint with loss of blood,

  And on his bending sword supported stood;

  Yet, with a voice beyond his strength, he cried,

  “Lead me to live or die by Almahide.”

  K. Ferd. I am not for his wounds less grieved than you:

  For, if what now my soul divines prove true,

  This is that son, whom in his infancy

  You lost, when by my father forced to fly.

  D. Arcos. His sister’s beauty did my passion move,

  (The crime for which I suffered was my love.)

  Our marriage known, to sea we took our flight:

  There, in a storm, Almanzor first saw light.

  On his right arm a bloody heart was graved,

  (The mark by which, this day, my life was saved:)

  The bracelets and the cross his mother tied

  About his wrist, ere she in childbed died.

  How we were captives made, when she was dead,

  And how Almanzor was in Afric bred,

  Some other hour you may at leisure hear,

  For see, the queen in triumph does appear.

  Enter Queen Isabella, Lyndaraxa, Ladies, Moors and Spaniards mixed as Guards, Abdelmelech, Abenamar, Selin, Prisoners.

  K. Ferd. [embracing Q. Isabel.]

  All stories which Granada’s conquest tell,

  Shall celebrate the name of Isabel.

  Your ladies too, who, in their country’s cause,

&n
bsp; Led on the men, shall share in your applause;

  And, for your sakes, henceforward I ordain,

  No lady’s dower shall questioned be in Spain,

  Fair Lyndaraxa, for the help she lent,

  Shall, under tribute, have this government.

  Abdelm. O heaven, that I should live to see this day!

  Lyndar. You murmur now, but you shall soon obey.

  I knew this empire to my fate was owed;

  Heaven held it back as long as e’er it could;

  For thee, base wretch, I want a torture yet — [To Abdelm.

  I’ll cage thee; thou shalt be my Bajazet.

  I on no pavement but on thee will tread;

  And, when I mount, my foot shall know thy head.

  Abdelm. (Stabbing her with a poniard.)

  This first shall know thy heart.

  Lyndar. O! I am slain!

  Abdelm. Now, boast thy country is betrayed to Spain.

  K. Ferd. Look to the lady! — Seize the murderer!

  Abdelm. (Stabbing himself.)

  I do myself that justice I did her.

  Thy blood I to thy ruined country give, [To Lyndar.

  But love too well thy murder to out-live.

  Forgive a love, excused by its excess,

  Which, had it not been cruel, had been less.

  Condemn my passion, then, but pardon me,

  And think I murdered him who murdered thee. [Dies.

  Lyndar. Die for us both; I have not leisure now;

  A crown is come, and will not fate allow:

  And yet I feel something like death is near,

  My guards, my guards, —

  Let not that ugly skeleton appear!

  Sure destiny mistakes; this death’s not mine;

  She dotes, and meant to cut another line.

  Tell her I am a queen; — but ’tis too late;

  Dying, I charge rebellion on my fate.

  Bow down, ye slaves: — [To the Moors.

  Bow quickly down, and your submission show. — [They bow.

  I’m pleased to taste an empire ere I go. [Dies.

  Selin. She’s dead, and here her proud ambition ends.

  Aben. Such fortune still such black designs attends.

  K. Ferd. Remove those mournful objects from our eyes,

  And see performed their funeral obsequies. [The bodies are carried off.

  Enter Almanzor and Almahide, Ozmyn and Benzayda; Almahide brought in a chair; Almanzor led betwixt Soldiers. Isabella salutes Almahide in dumb show.

  D. Arcos. (Presenting Almanzor to the King.)

  See here that son, whom I with pride call mine;

  And who dishonours not your royal line.

  K. Ferd. I’m now secure, this sceptre, which I gain,

  Shall be continued in the power of Spain;

  Since he, who could alone my foes defend,

  By birth and honour is become my friend;