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diff --git a/old/69962-0.txt b/old/69962-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 400a7d2..0000000 --- a/old/69962-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,4511 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The virgin of the sun, by Augustus von -Kotzebue - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The virgin of the sun - A play, in five acts - -Author: Augustus von Kotzebue - -Translator: Anne Plumptre - -Release Date: February 5, 2023 [eBook #69962] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Charlene Taylor and the Online Distributed Proofreading - Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from - images generously made available by The Internet - Archive/American Libraries.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE VIRGIN OF THE SUN *** - - - - - - - THE - VIRGIN OF THE SUN. - _A PLAY_, - IN FIVE ACTS: - BY AUGUSTUS VON KOTZEBUE. - - TRANSLATED FROM THE GENUINE GERMAN EDITION - BY ANNE PLUMPTRE, - TRANSLATOR OF KOTZEBUE’S NATURAL SON (LOVER’S VOWS), - AND OF HIS COUNT OF BURGUNDY. - - Second Edition. - - _LONDON_: - PRINTED FOR R. PHILLIPS, NO. 71, ST. PAUL’S - CHURCH-YARD. - SOLD BY H. D. SYMONDS, AND T. HURST, PATERNOSTER-ROW; - CARPENTER AND CO. OLD BOND-STREET; AND BY ALL - OTHER BOOKSELLERS. - - [_Price Half-a-Crown._] - - 1799. - - Entered at Stationers’ Hall. - - - - -THE AUTHOR’s DEDICATION. - -TO MADAME VON DER WENSE, OF THE FAMILY OF AHLEFELD AT ZELL, LADY OF THE -PRESIDENT VON DER WENSE. - - -It has frequently been said, that poetry, like love, cannot be commanded. -This, my very amiable Friend must now acknowledge to be an error, since, -if her memory be accurate with regard to trifles, she will recollect, -that this Drama owes its origin solely and entirely to her commands. - -One evening at Pyrmont, the weather being too wet and melancholy to -permit of her enjoying the charms of nature, to which her pure soul is -so closely allied, she had recourse to the Temple of Thalia, where -Naumann’s Opera of Cora happened to be represented. The performers were -of a very inferior kind, and the only thing that pleased me during -the evening, was that I had the good fortune to sit behind my Friend, -who sometimes condescended to favour her humble servant with a little -conversation. Among other remarks which the occasion called forth, she -observed once, when the conclusion of an act gave us a short respite from -being merely auditors, that the Opera at which we were present, contained -excellent ground work for a Drama. - -I felt that this idea ought rather to have originated with me, but I -easily found an excuse for my apparent negligence, in the circumstance of -my being in company with one whose powers of pleasing were so great and -so various, as to preclude, wherever she was present, the intervention of -any other thoughts but what her own perfections inspired. Yet I caught -eagerly at the idea when once suggested, and declared to my friend -that her commands only were requisite for the immediate employment of -my pen upon the subject. For a long time she evaded honouring me with -such a command, preferring, in all that she said to encourage me to the -undertaking, the politer language of exhortation, to which her gentle -nature is more accustomed. I however insisted upon a positive command. - -“_Well then, I command it_,” she said, at last, with the naïveté so -peculiarly her own.—I made a low bow, and now have the honour of -presenting to her my VIRGIN OF THE SUN. At her command the trembling -maiden appears with downcast eyes in the anti-chamber, and hopes for -permission humbly to wait there, till a friendly invitation shall call -her to the toilette of her Patroness. - -“Come nearer, gentle creature!—thou shalt be welcome to me for the sake -of thy father, with whom I have long lived on terms of friendship, and -whom I should now be the more scrupulous of depriving of what does remain -to him, since he has so little that is desirable left in the world.” - -Ah, you are but too much in the right, my most amiable friend!—I once -possessed a treasure who greatly resembled you, inasmuch as she was one -of the best of wives, and of mothers. But she is gone to her proper -home, to the society of angels. At the moment when I experienced this -most severe of all afflictions, you benignantly embalmed my sorrows with -a tear;—for that tear my heart retains a lasting gratitude, and my pen -gladly embraces an opportunity, at the same time of dedicating my work to -you, and of giving this public testimony of the high esteem entertained -for you, by - - AUGUSTUS VON KOTZEBUE. - - - - -ADVERTISEMENT. - - -_The Translator has selected the VIRGIN OF THE SUN as the Third of her -proposed Series of KOTZEBUE’S Plays. The great reputation this Drama has -acquired in its native country gives her hopes that it will not be found -less interesting to the English Reader under its present form. It will be -followed, as the natural course directs, by THE SPANIARDS IN PERU, or THE -DEATH OF ROLLA, which will be published some time in the month of March._ - -_London, Feb. 25th, 1799._ - - Lately was published, and may be had of all Booksellers, - - THE NATURAL SON, - - (Performing at Covent-Garden under the Title of LOVER’S VOWS), - by the same Author and Translator.—_The Sixth Edition._ - - The COUNT OF BURGUNDY, by the same.—_The Second Edition._ - - EACH PRICE HALF-A-CROWN. - - - - -DRAMATIS PERSONÆ. - - - _ATALIBA, King of Quito._ - _The HIGH-PRIEST of the SUN._ - _XAIRA, another Priest of the SUN._ - _TELASCO, an Old Man of the Family of the INCAS._ - _ZORAI, his Son._ - _CORA, his Daughter, the VIRGIN OF THE SUN._ - _ROLLA, formerly General of the Peruvian Army._ - _The HIGH-PRIESTESS of the SUN._ - _IDALI_, } _VIRGINS OF THE SUN._ - _AMAZILI_, } - _DON ALONZO MOLINA, a Spaniard._ - _DON JUAN VELASQUEZ, his Friend._ - _DIEGO, an Attendant on DON ALONZO._ - _A CHAMBERLAIN to the King._ - - PRIESTS OF THE SUN, VIRGINS OF THE SUN, COURTIERS, SOLDIERS, POPULACE. - - - - -THE VIRGIN OF THE SUN. - - - - -ACT I. - - -SCENE I.—_A wild and woody Country, where the Bushes and Underwood are -so closely entwined as to be almost impenetrable. In the Back-ground, a -Wall, in which a large Breach has been made, is just discernible through -the Trees; and farther back, rises the Cupola of the Temple of the Sun. -Nearer the Front, on the right Hand, appears a Cave; on the left, a Hill, -the Top of which is seen above the Trees._ - -_ROLLA comes down a winding Path among the Bushes, followed by the -HIGH-PRIEST._ - -HIGH-PRIEST. - -And this is the way to Rolla’s dwelling?—Ah, equally wild and -inaccessible as the way to Rolla’s heart! - -_Rolla._ Spare me, uncle, I entreat you?—spare me, and leave me!—If you -could understand me—— - -_High-Priest._ Ought I to attempt it?—To understand thee, means to pay -homage to thy idol,—to flatter thy passion. - -_Rolla._ Unhappy wretch that I am!—I am a miserable solitary being!—a -drop, which can find no kindred drop wherewith to associate!—a lonely -voice, which cannot find its echo throughout all animated nature. The -worm that crawls upon this leaf soon meets its help-mate, with whom it -is united—but I—I alone!—Oh ye gods! if it be your harsh will that, amid -the throne of living creatures which animate creation, I only should -be left alone!—(_casting an impatient glance upon the High-Priest_) -Then—man!—man!—leave me alone! - -_High-Priest._ Rolla! Rolla! I am indeed old, yet if affection only be -wanting to bring repose to thy heart, thou wilt find it here in this -faithful bosom.—Young man, I love thee as a father. - -_Rolla._ Well then, if the happiness of thy son be dear to thee, suffer -him to live according to his own pleasure!—In this cave I am far happier -than thousands who inhabit pompous palaces. Be this my grave!—only make -me this promise, uncle; it is my sole request: When I shall be no more, -then, on some dark melancholy day, lead Cora to the entrance of my rugged -habitation, and shew her the remains of Rolla, as they lie upon the -cold damp earth on which he breathed out a life that love had rendered -miserable. Let her see those lips on which the name of his beloved -murderer quivered even to the last gasp; and by the smile still resting -on them, let her know that they closed blessing the name of Cora. Then -perhaps, affected by this picture, she may strew flowers over my corpse; -or—oh transporting thought!—even embalm it with a tear!—A tear!—ah! a -tear from Cora would recall it again to life. - -_High-Priest._ Oh enthusiast! - -_Rolla._ Call me what you please!—Yet, if I be an enthusiast, think -not that I am suddenly become so. This heart was born to be the seat -of mighty passions.—To the common swarm of emmets which bustle about -the world, I had an aversion, even as a boy. When my play-mates were -merry and sportive around me, I played it is true, but I always found -it irksome, though I never could precisely ascertain to what cause that -feeling might be ascribed. But when storms lowered around the horizon, -when our mountains vomited forth flames at midnight, or subterraneous -groanings announced an approaching earthquake, then my heart felt -elevated; my languishing spirit revived; the withered plant again reared -its head. As I advanced in life, no female attractions had power to charm -my eyes;—they remained stedfastly and eagerly fixed on the more brilliant -rays of honour. Blinded to every beauty of nature, my heart, my throbbing -heart, burned solely to run the career of fame and glory; while each -victory that I obtained, far from proving an assuaging drop to mitigate -the flame, served only to encrease its ardour.—Then it was that I saw -Cora again! - -_High-Priest._ And the flame which at first burst out with a force that -promised its eternal duration, was instantly extinguished!—Extinguished -as a lamp by the breath of a child. - -_Rolla._ No, not so!—The flame continued to burn, it only found -a different species of nourishment. What was before a wild and -all-consuming blaze, was changed into a gentle, genial warmth. Honour -gave way to love. - -_High-Priest._ A gentle, genial warmth!—these words sound well, -indeed—But whom does thy flame illumine?—whom does it warm? - -_Rolla._ (_With indifference_) I feel what you would say. - -_High-Priest._ You feel it, yet are not ashamed?—Young man!—endowed with -powers to achieve the noblest deeds, perhaps to form the blessing of a -whole hemisphere, you contract your circle of action—within a CAVE!—Inca, -born of the race of the children of the sun, entitled to become one of -the first bulwarks of the throne, you fly—into a CAVE!—Leader; entrusted -by your native country with the conduct of her armies, and thus called -upon, by a succession of noble actions, to prove yourself worthy so -honourable a confidence, you can yet bury yourself—in a CAVE!— - -_Rolla._ Would you seduce me to be a boaster?—As Inca, and as leader of -the armies of my country, I have fulfilled my duty through wounds and -victories!—Have I not at various times proved myself deserving of her -confidence!—Was not this more particularly proved on that awful day when -Ataliba’s throne was shaken by Huascar’s power, and Rolla’s sword dyed -the fields of Tumibamba with the blood of his sovereign’s enemies. Know -you not the history of that day?—One arrow was lodged in my left arm, -another pierced my breast; I received a large gash in my cheek from a -sword, and was stunned by the stroke of a club upon my forehead. Look at -the scars of those wounds, here, and here, and here!—Yet I never stirred -from the field of battle.—Tell me now, have I given my country cause to -repent her confidence? - -_High-Priest._ (_Much affected_) Brave youth!—But were the blessings of -thy native-country, the friendship of thy sovereign, and the love and -shouts of thy army, no recompense to thy heart? - -_Rolla._ (_With a sigh_) They were! - -_High-Priest._ But are so no longer? - -_Rolla._ No! - -_High-Priest._ Oh ye gods! ’tis thus by annihilating the former man, that -you chastise this unworthy love which blights every noble germ implanted -in the heart! - -_Rolla._ Judge not so harshly!—Love, like honour, is the parent of great -actions!—But I—for whom should I fight?—Is there on earth a heart to -which I should communicate joy, were I longer to pursue the road to -fame?—Cora does not love me!—I have neither father nor mother, neither -brother nor sister!—I am alone in the world. - -_High-Priest._ (_Clasping him in his arms_) My son!—my son! - -_Rolla._ Leave me, leave me, uncle!—I cannot return this love. You, -with those grey hairs, clothed in those priestly garments, bearing an -appearance so solemn, so entitled to respect, can never become the -confident of my bosom. In you I cannot separate the man from the dignity -of the priesthood.—Ah that I had a mother!—God created woman to be the -confident of man!—Canst thou not share thy sorrows with her who loves -thee? then fly to thy mother!—But I—I enjoy not the love of any one!—I -have no mother! - -_High-Priest._ Fly then to the gods! - -_Rolla._ The gods hate me, because I love a maiden who is devoted to -their service—because I love this maiden more than I love the gods -themselves?—Whether I behold the sun rise, or see Cora appear, a like -impression is made upon my senses, upon my heart!—Ah no!—Cora makes the -strongest impression on both. - -_High-Priest._ May the gods pardon this enthusiasm!—Ah, Rolla! it is -thus that the children of mortality always desire most eagerly, what -is impossible to be attained. Cora, the maiden, had only pleased your -fancy—Cora, the Virgin of the Sun, you love with unbounded passion. - -_Rolla._ (_With rising warmth_) What!—(_he restrains himself; but casts -a look of indignation upon the High-Priest_) Good night, uncle. (_He is -going into his cave._) - -_High-Priest._ Whither art thou going, young man?—Cannot thy friend, thy -sincere friend, obtain some little influence over thee?—Live according -to thy own pleasure!—Withdraw thyself if thou wilt from mankind, only -fly this desert, where fatal images inevitably disturb thy soul, as -the wild thorns thy senses. Come to my house!—that quarter of it which -runs down to the sea shore is well known to thee;—there may’st thou live -sequestered and in solitude, even in the midst of thousands; and there no -importunate intruder shall deprive thee of the visions which thy heart so -fondly loves to cherish. Thy doors may be closed against me—mine shall -always be open to thee. - -_Rolla._ Uncle, accept my thanks. I feel these proposals to be meant in -kindness—I know your habitation; I know that it abounds with charms for -those who love retirement; but Rolla is resolved to live and die in this -cave. There, where the cupola of the temple towers above the trees—there -Cora lives—here I can at least behold her dwelling.—Rolla, then, must -live and die in this cave!—Good night. - -_High-Priest._ Obstinate young man!—Yet, surely you will not forget what -your duty requires during the solemnities of to-morrow. Your presence -in the king’s palace, and in the temple, is indispensible at the grand -festival of the Sun. - -_Rolla._ Excuse me!—Say what you please to the king—tell him I am -dead—I come no more among men. Yet to-morrow I will sacrifice to the -gods—whether in a temple, or in a cave, is alike acceptable to them.—Good -night. [_Exit into his cave._ - - -SCENE II.—_The HIGH-PRIEST alone._ - -Young man!—young man!—thou dost not suspect how deeply this heart is -interested in thy repose!—But the evening sun already glitters upon the -golden cupola of the temple, and here below amid these trees, the night -is fast approaching. I fear I shall find some difficulty in tracing out -the meandering path through this wilderness. (_As he is going, he almost -runs against Diego._) - - -SCENE III.—_DIEGO gropes his Way through the Bushes, and starts violently -at meeting the HIGH-PRIEST._ - -_High-Priest._ Whence come you?—and whither would you go? - -_Diego._ Whithersoever chance may conduct a pedestrian. - -_High-Priest._ Do you walk for pleasure in such unbeaten ways? - -_Diego._ (_Pertly_) Yes. - -_High-Priest._ You may probably have mistaken your path? - -_Diego._ So it should seem, since I find myself in your way. - -_High-Priest._ Are you not Don Alonzo’s attendant? - -_Diego._ You are not very wide of the truth. - -_High-Priest._ If you be not well acquainted with this wood, you are in -great danger of losing yourself. Accompany me, and I will conduct you in -a short time into the right path. - -_Diego._ (_Assuming an angry tone_) Who told you that I was in the wrong -path?—Signor High-Priest, I would have you to know, that neither in -Castile nor Arragon, neither in Grenada nor Murcia, no, nor in any other -of the countries belonging to my king, by whatsoever name distinguished, -has any mother’s son ever been known to excel Diego in valour and virtue. - -_High-Priest._ (_smiling_) I readily believe it. And what gives the -greater currency to this assurance is, that it is uttered by yourself. - -_Diego._ It was forcibly extorted by you, from my modesty. - -_High-Priest._ Pardon me!—And now permit me to request an explanation of -this riddle?—How can you be wandering at night in so wild a spot as this, -and yet be in the right way?—Are you alone, or is your master near?—What -is it you want?—for never can I be persuaded that you come hither only -for a walk. - -_Diego._ (_with hesitation_) Since you press me so closely then—I—must -confess—that—I am in love. - -_High-Priest._ (_smiling_) You are in love? - -_Diego._ (_extravagantly_) Yes, in love to desperation!—I am tortured -with jealousy; driven almost to phrenzy!—In the tumult of passion I am -now hurried up to the summits of the highest hills, now driven into the -lowest recesses of a subterranean cavern,—till at length I have wandered -insensibly into this spot, devoted to tender feelings, here to hold -solitary intercourse with the mournful turtle-doves. - -_High-Priest._ This spot does indeed seem to be selected by the gods, as -an asylum for enamoured fools. - -_Diego._ Here will I tell of my sorrows to the silent trees!—here breathe -out my amorous sighs to the chaste moon! - -_High-Priest._ Thou art a coxcomb! (_Exit._) - -_Diego._ (_Alone_) A coxcomb!—So much the worse for you Signor!—for if -such be the case, the most illustrious High-Priest of the Sun has been -made the sport of a coxcomb. Live wit, say I—it will fetch its price in -the new world, as well as in the old.—But is he really gone?—Yes.—I hear -nothing more!—Hist!—Hist!—(_He goes and looks out at the other side of -the stage._) - - -SCENE IV.—_Enter DON ALONZO and DON JUAN. The latter with a large Cloak -wrapped round him._ - -_Juan._ Are we safe, Diego? - -_Diego._ A fine question, truly.—Yes, as safe as men can be who are -wandering about a forest in the dead of night, and under the open canopy -of heaven, after, saving your honour’s presence, a piece of knavery. By -Saint Barnabas I believe we are about as safe as a drunkard who should -attempt to cross the river Amazons upon a wire. - -_Juan._ Have you seen any thing? - -_Diego._ In the dark I seldom _see_ any thing—but I have _heard_— - -_Alonzo._ What!—what have you heard? - -_Diego._ The voice of the great High-Priest himself. - -_Alonzo._ The High-Priest!—What could he want here? - -_Diego._ To put me into the right path, nothing more. It is the same in -this, as in all other countries, Priests are the only people who are able -to lead us into the right path. - -_Alonzo._ But what could bring him into this wilderness?—Oh, speak, -Velasquez!—tell me, what dost thou think could be his errand? - -_Juan._ To what purpose speak? What end can conjecture serve? To rush -with my sword drawn, and eyes averted, into the thickest of the press, -is my maxim in any case of danger. Talking dissipates courage, as a -shower disperses the thin coat of earth scattered over a rock, so that no -foundation remains from which any adventurous action can shoot forth. If -I were disposed to talk, I could find enough to say. - -_Alonzo._ Of what nature? - -_Diego._ Oh speak, Sir, I entreat you!—When it is dark I always like to -hear talking. - -_Juan._ Well, it shall be so. It may amuse you too, Alonzo, till the hour -when your constellation shall rise; for the time always appears horribly -tedious when one is waiting for a tender appointment. I will therefore -talk till you command my silence; and this shall be the text with which I -introduce my discourse.—My friend, this adventure bodes no good!—believe -me, it bodes no good! - -_Diego._ Right, Sir, right. - -_Alonzo._ This is language foreign to thy sentiments. When has the time -been known that Don Juan Velasquez turned his back upon an adventure, -because it was dangerous? - -_Juan._ There is the matter!—Hear me, Alonzo!—If thou wert capable of -doubting my courage, I might easily prove it, by engaging the next -rattle-snake I should meet. Thou knowest my principle, that I do not -value my life more highly, than a moment of happiness, and happy is -every moment that I sacrifice to friendship. If, therefore, thou hast -any regard for me, no more of this!—My arm, my sword, are devoted to thy -service—I have followed thee blindly into the labyrinth in which we are -now involved; but I must still be permitted to think, that we do not give -any proof of our wisdom in groping our way here when we might be more -advantageously employed. - -_Alonzo._ More advantageously?—let me hear in what way? - -_Juan._ He who is doing ill, may always be more advantageously employed; -and by the blood of all the knights that does or does not flow in my -veins, I think we are now cursedly in the wrong. I say nothing of the -sword suspended by a thread over our heads—affection takes precedence of -life—You love Cora—I have the strongest attachment to you, and Diego is -attached to both. - -_Diego._ Certainly, certainly, Sir!—but—notwithstanding—pray don’t take -it amiss, if I think that life has precedence of affection. - -_Juan._ Granted therefore that the prosecution of this enterprise -should prove the means of shortening the duration of our lives, yet we -perhaps only give up some years of unhappiness ourselves, to purchase -the happiness of a friend.—And since they have lived long, who have -lived happily, and he only can be esteemed to have lived happily who -has died so; what better can we wish, or how can we end our lives more -satisfactorily, than in offering them up a sacrifice to friendship. - -_Diego._ Cursed maxims, these! - -_Juan._ But, Alonzo, to be happy, according to my ideas of happiness, -you will understand that I consider this salutary state of the soul as -inseparable from integrity and virtue. Lay your hand then upon your -heart, and tell me what are now your feelings in moments of temperance -and reflection?—Don Alonzo Molina quitted the savage followers of -Pizarro, because he abhorred their barbarities—that was a noble -principle!—I will go, he said, among these mild and benevolent people, -and by cultivating their minds, and instructing them in the arts of -civilized life, become their friend and benefactor.—Objects worthy of my -friend!—But what has been the end of these virtuous resolutions?—You came -among them indeed—the king of the country received you with open arms and -an expanded heart—the people loved you—the family of the Incas honoured -you—the great men of the nation beheld you without envy, enjoying the -favour of their sovereign. You shared that sovereign’s cares; but you -also shared his joys, his wealth;—you were no longer considered as a -foreigner, and even the priests themselves murmured not when they saw -you appear at the worship of their gods.—Oh fatal forbearance!—On one -of these solemn days, my noble friend beheld in the temple one of the -priestesses of the sun, as she presented the bread of sacrifice to the -king.—She was young—she was lovely—Alonzo’s heart was instantly lost—and -at the same moment all the grand designs he had formed, were sunk in the -ocean of forgetfulness.—The champion for the rights of humanity slumbered -upon his post, while the charming device upon his shield, the united -hands beneath a cross surrounded with sun-beams, gave way to a burning -heart, pierced through with arrows.—And now, if I wish to speak with -Alonzo, where must I seek him?—Among the counsellors of the king—the -judges of the people—or the instructors of youth?—It was among these, or -such as these, that I should once have expected to find him:—but now, -now he is only to be found stealing nightly about these walls, or behind -these walls, with his face deeply buried in his cloak, hiding himself -from his own conscience—while all his glorious projects are crushed in -the embryo, as the future brood is destroyed by a mischievous boy who -breaks the eggs of the setting hen. - -_Alonzo._ (_Indignantly_) Velasquez! - -_Juan._ Away with that menacing countenance, it ill accords with your -situation. A man should not dare to assume the privilege of growing -angry, unless his conscience be pure.—You will perhaps wonder at the -jocund Velasquez becoming on a sudden a preacher of morality—but -Velasquez was only jocund and light-hearted, because he was an honest -man—let him therefore preach on, since he has entered upon the subject. -You, by whom formerly every article of popular faith, even to the most -minute, was held inviolate, because you considered that to every one was -attached, in a considerable degree, the peace of mind of some weak, but -honest man—you now rashly bid defiance to one of the most sacred tenets -of a whole nation that has received you hospitably into their bosom, and -seduce a chaste virgin devoted to their gods.—The conflicts of nature -herself, are made subservient to your desires; and while a dreadful -earthquake shakes these inaccessible walls even to their foundation, the -bold intruder takes advantage of the passage thus opened to him to rush -into Cora’s arms, and amidst this elemental warfare to murder innocence. - -_Alonzo._ Forbear, Velasquez!—have you no compassion for me?—believe me, -my conscience does not slumber. - -_Juan._ Well then, if it slumber not, it is at least deaf, and the malady -must be removed.—Ataliba is thy benefactor,—this amiable people have -received thee as a brother,—and thou, assassin-like, art stabbing them in -the dark. - -_Alonzo._ Oh Velasquez, once more I entreat you to forbear!—I -acknowledge, with gratitude, the voice of friendship,—but what wouldst -thou require of me? - -_Juan._ Heaven be thanked that I have succeeded at last in awakening you -to some degree of reflection!—I require of you instantly to renounce this -dangerous and criminal intercourse. - -_Alonzo._ Well, I will consult with Cora. - -_Juan._ Most admirable!—Cora is indeed the proper person to decide upon -this matter. I perceive that you are seriously impressed with my lecture. - -_Alonzo._ Rely upon me!—I will represent to her all that anxious love can -suggest—the anger of the king—the indignation of the people—my danger— - -_Juan._ Your danger!—Pardon the interruption, my friend, but you speak -here without much reflection!—Your danger put in the balance against -hers, is as a handful of down weighed against a bar of gold. You hazard -only your life— - -_Diego._ What the devil, and is not that enough? - -_Juan._ She, on the contrary, hazards her fame, her repose, her father’s -blessing, the love of her family, her prospect of salvation—and, to sum -up all—she must encounter the most horrible of all deaths, supposing that -this intercourse should give existence to a being who would prove the -betrayer of your loves. - -_Alonzo._ Oh talk not of it!—No, no, Velasquez, thank heaven I am not so -deeply involved in guilt! - -_Juan._ Heaven be thanked indeed, if you are yet clear from it?—but -while you continue in your present course, what security can you have, -that you will always remain so. And should a consequence so fatal ensue, -think only on the boundless misery that it must bring both on Cora and -yourself. That she must die would be little; the horrible idea is, the -manner of her death. Shut up alive in a subterraneous vault, the opening -of which will be closed upon her for ever, with only a single loaf of -bread and a small lamp, she must sit gasping for air, and soon endure the -severest torments of hunger.—Oh the very thought makes me shudder!—I have -encountered death undauntedly under a variety of forms; but I could not -bear to meet him under this. - -_Alonzo._ (_Falling on his neck._) I will never see Cora again! - -_Juan._ Worthily resolved!—let us then instantly depart!—(_Endeavours to -draw him away._) - -_Alonzo._ Only permit me to take leave of her! - -_Juan._ Write her a letter, which we will throw over the wall—You -hesitate!—Oh you are undecided!—Ha! already I see the hapless Cora -enclosed in her horrible dungeon, crushed by the two-fold agony of -bodily and mental torments, lying on the ground and gnawing her own -flesh—uttering the most dreadful execrations against her God, and amid -the wildest ravings of phrenzy breathing out that soul, the purity of -which was poisoned by thee. Then when she shall stand before him who -hereafter will judge alike the Peruvian and the Spaniard, and shall -accuse thee as the origin of all her woes, the occasion of her becoming -the murderer of her child—— - -_Alonzo._ (_Eagerly pulling Juan forwards._) Come, come!—let us fly! - -_Juan._ With the utmost transport! (_As they are going, a clapping of -hands is heard behind the wall._) - -_Alonzo._ (_Turning suddenly round_) That is her signal! my Cora! my -Cora!—(_He breaks away from Velasquez, and climbs hastily over the breach -in the wall._) - - -SCENE V.—_DON JUAN, and DIEGO. Juan looks after Alonzo with Astonishment -and Indignation._ - -_Diego._ (_After a pause._) Now do I defy any one to assert again, that -sound is an empty thing—a nothing. The most reverend Don Juan Velasquez -has been for a long time holding such a discourse here as is not -delivered every day, even from the pulpit of Salamanca, but the moment -that three or four claps are given by a pair of heathenish hands, the -wretch for whose benefit this fine oration was intended, loses every -beneficial impression, gives them all to the winds, and runs headlong -after his own wild inventions. - -_Juan._ (_With some asperity_) Farewell my friend! Since thou art -resolved on ruin, take thine own course!—Oh madman! madman!—where others -only walk he runs, where others enter slowly and only step by step, -thither he rushes. Well, well, even if what I have urged prove of no -avail, friendship has however discharged its duty—and the worst that can -happen is at last to be reduced to suffer with my friend. Till then, be -of good heart, Diego!—How dost thou find thyself? - -_Diego._ Like a fish upon dry land. - -_Juan._ Thou dost not speak truly. When a fool is running on the wrong -side of the post, he is in his proper element; and, by Saint George, I -think we are running cursedly on the wrong side of the post here. - -_Diego._ Only with this difference, that I _must_ do as you _please_—and -you are not _pleased_ to do what God and sound reason require of you. - -_Juan._ Well, let us hear what your wisdom would suggest. - -_Diego._ Were I in the place of the valiant knight Don Juan de -Velasquez, in the first place I would deliver a discourse pretty nearly -to the same purpose as he has done; but then if that produced no effect, -I would say—my dear friend Alonzo, or my dear Don Alonzo, you cannot -expect that I should stay to be roasted alive for your sake!—Fare thee -well—I shall return home, and take our worthy Diego with me.—We will say -over our beads in your behalf. - -_Juan._ That may as well be done here. - -_Diego._ Here!—on heathen ground!—in view of a heathen temple! - -_Juan._ Blockhead!—Our God is every where, and by a firm adherence to the -sacred claims of friendship we serve him more acceptably than by saying -over a rosary—therefore will I offer no prayers at this moment. I am here -as the guardian of my misguided friend. - -_Diego._ And pray then in what capacity am I here? - -_Juan._ As his attendant, whom he employs to carry his arms. - -_Diego._ My presence then, it should seem, is now wholly superfluous, -since I am not permitted to appear publickly as such. - -_Juan._ Thy part is to obey, not to remonstrate. Go, take this whistle, -and steal silently to the left, along the wall that surrounds the Temple, -while I go round by the right—we shall by this means meet on the other -side; and should you encounter any thing suspicious by the way, make use -of the whistle. Here, take it. - -_Diego._ (_Trembling as he takes it_) To the left did you say? - -_Juan._ Yes, to the left. - -_Diego._ And quite alone? - -_Juan._ Yes, quite alone. - -_Diego._ I am afraid of losing myself among the bushes. - -_Juan._ Fool, can you not see the wall, and the cupola of the Temple? - -_Diego._ Do you take me for an owl? - -_Juan._ Is not the moon bright enough to light thee? - -_Diego._ No. - -_Juan._ No!—Ha! ha! ha!—Fear seems wholly to have deprived Signor Diego -of his senses. - -_Diego._ I must beg leave to observe, Sir, that the night is devoted to -rest, and even if the man himself be not allowed to sleep, his internal -courage, commonly takes the liberty of enjoying a comfortable nap. My -fortitude always goes to bed with the sun. - -_Juan._ (_Going up to him earnestly_) Friend Diego, we will awaken it -with some hearty blows. - -_Diego._ (_Shrinking away from him_) Oh it is easily awakened: it does -not sleep very soundly. - -_Juan._ Go, then, fool!—(_He thrusts him off on one side, and goes off -himself on the other._) - - -SCENE VI.—_ALONZO springs over the Ruins of the Wall, and then reaches -his Hand to CORA, who follows him._ - -_Alonzo._ (_As he assists her_) Only one little jump, dear Cora!—throw -yourself boldly into my arms!—Here will you find a secret and retired -spot, formed for love, and guarded by friends. This is not so wide and -waste a scene as your garden, in which, barren as it is of all shade, the -treacherous moon betrays every form that ventures within its circuit. -(_He presses her to his bosom_) At length I have thee in my arms again. - -_Cora._ (_Returning his embrace_) And I have thee again in mine. - -_Alonzo._ Ah! it is now three long weeks—— - -_Cora._ Only three weeks? - -_Alonzo._ Months to love. - -_Cora._ Years to my heart. - -_Alonzo._ Every evening at twilight has poor Alonzo wandered hither, and -listened in anxious expectation of the signal which might summon him to a -night of transport. - -_Cora._ And every evening has Cora wept because she dared not meet Alonzo. - -_Alonzo._ You have not been ill, I hope. - -_Cora._ Ah! I am always ill when I am not with you. - -_Alonzo._ Say, dearest Cora, what has prevented our meeting?—You promised -that I should sooner—— - -_Cora._ Did I _promise_?—That was not right, as I could only hope that -it might be sooner; but love always adds hopes to its wishes, and too -soon begins to consider those hopes as certainties. It does not often -fall to my lot to take the nightly service in the temple, but I relied -upon having the turn of one of my companions who was ill, and whose -place I had offered to supply. She, however, recovered; and, instead of -the promised happiness, I had only her thanks for my intentions. Poor -Cora was heartily vexed at this disappointment, and her sleepless nights -appeared so tedious. - -_Alonzo._ Alas! I have also been a stranger to rest. The dews of morning -found me under these trees, while my cloaths were still damp with the -dews of the past evening, and my limbs still shivered with the cold of -midnight. Beneath yon palm-tree have I stood, night after night, with -my eyes fixed upon your temple; and often, as I have seen a form wander -backwards and forwards, where glimmers the eternal lamp, I have pleased -myself with thinking that it might be Cora’s. - -_Cora._ It was not that in my solitude I could be deceived by shadows, -yet I seemed every where to see your image. The idea made me restless, -and I ran with hurried steps hither and thither—kept incessantly -moving from one spot to another. Oh tell me, does love always render -people impatient?—It was not thus with me formerly; but I was gentle, -quiet, and bore without a murmur the failure of any trifling wish; the -disappointment of any cherished expectation—whether it were that a shower -deprived me of a promised walk, or that the wind destroyed the flowers -which I had carefully reared with my own hands. Now all is changed; I am -no longer the same person. When I sit at my daily employments, and spin, -or weave, if a thread happen to break, I am so peevish that I sometimes -even startle at myself. (_Caressing him_) Tell me, Alonzo, does love -improve, or spoil us? - -_Alonzo._ True love improves. - -_Cora._ Oh no, no!—True love reigns in my heart, yet I am not so good as -I was. - -_Alonzo._ It is only that thy blood runs somewhat more swiftly. - -_Cora._ Or else that I am ill.—Yes, I am now often ill. - -_Alonzo._ Indeed! - -_Cora._ Yes, indeed!—But that must be so—for soon—soon—I shall not love -you alone. - -_Alonzo._ (_Starting_) Not me alone? - -_Cora._ (_Smiling_) Not you alone! - -_Alonzo._ Your words involve a riddle, or else a crime. Cora, love -cannot comprehend more than one object.—You will not love me alone? (_He -fixes his eyes earnestly upon her_) No, you cannot mean to say so—if it -were true, you could not look at me with so much composure, such perfect -unreserve. - -_Cora._ And why should I not look at you with composure?—My feelings -are so sweet that they cannot be criminal. An unknown, but pleasing -sadness has taken possession of my heart—I experience sensations not to -be described. When lately at the Solstitial feast, I was ornamenting -the porch of the temple with flowers, I saw upon the lowest of the -steps which lead up to it, a young woman sleeping, at whose breast -lay a little smiling angel: my heart was altogether dissolved at so -interesting a spectacle, and I involuntarily stretched out my arms to the -child, intending to take it gently from its mother, and press it to my -bosom. But how easily are the slumbers of a tender mother disturbed; for -scarcely had I touched the babe ere she awoke, rose up anxiously, clasped -her treasure to her heart, and cast on me a look of deep distrust. -Say, Alonzo?—Do you not think an affectionate mother one of the most -respectable of creatures? - -_Alonzo._ (_Bewildered_) Oh, why that question? - -_Cora._ Can’t you guess?—(_With pure and innocent transport_) I shall -soon be a mother myself. - -_Alonzo._ (_Thunderstruck_) Great God!!! - -_Cora._ What is the matter?—You need not be alarmed!—I love you more than -ever!—Ah, at the first commencement of our love I thought it impossible -that the attachment I then felt could ever be exceeded; for in you, -Alonzo, I beheld the most charming of youths. But, enchanter, you have -stolen into my heart under a still more attractive form, since I behold -in you, the father of my child. - -_Alonzo._ Cora! Cora!—my hair is erect with horror, while your mind seems -wholly at ease. - -_Cora._ And what do you fear?—Is it a crime to become a mother?—My father -always taught me, that whoever commits a crime, instantly forfeits all -peace of mind; but for me, I feel no uneasiness. - -_Alonzo._ Do you not recollect the circumstances of your situation?—To -what rigid ordinances you swore obedience when this figure of the sun was -fastened upon your bosom? - -_Cora._ I swore to obey the ordinances of our temple. - -_Alonzo._ And what do they enjoin you? - -_Cora._ I know not. My father told me, that by whomsoever virtue was held -sacred, its precepts would be fulfilled without particular instruction. -To me virtue is sacred. - -_Alonzo._ And know you then what constitutes virtue?—Alas! your -uncorrupted soul is ignorant of the terrible distinction between virtue -as founded in the eternal principles of nature, and virtue as constituted -by the distorted imaginations of fanatics. (_He clasps her eagerly in his -arms_) Oh, Cora! Cora! what have we done?—In other situations, love and -joy recompense the anguish which every mother must endure—in yours alone, -those sufferings, however severe, are but the forerunners of others still -more dreadful, in the most horrible of all deaths. - -_Cora._ Death! - -_Alonzo._ (_In accents of despair_) And I—I am your murderer! - -_Cora._ (_With composure_) How can you thus unnecessarily torment -yourself?—Wherefore, and by whom, should I be put to death? - -_Alonzo._ The priests will affirm, that you have offended the gods. - -_Cora._ I offended the gods!—No, Alonzo, I love the gods. - -_Alonzo._ Cora, I do not doubt it; yet you must become the victim of an -ancient superstition. Our only safety would be in flight; but, alas! -whither can we fly in a foreign land? - -_Cora._ Be composed, dear enthusiast!—I have thought of means to console -you. - -_Alonzo._ If so, it must be the suggestion of God himself. - -_Cora._ The plan is simple, yet will give me certain assurance whether or -not the gods are really incensed against me; and the approaching morning -may decide this important question. Hitherto the moon and stars alone -have been the confidents of our love; but the sun himself, the greatest -of all our gods, shall now be witness to it.—At present I dare not stay -any longer, for I must hasten back to attend the eternal lamp in the -temple. Do you then, Alonzo, rest here under these trees, and, as soon -as the dawn of morning shall begin to gild the eastern horizon, I will -return, and we will ascend yonder hill together. Then will we turn our -faces towards the east, entwine our arms within each other, join lip to -lip, and thus boldly wait the rising of the sun.—You understand me? - -_Alonzo._ But half. - -_Cora._ Do you not comprehend, that if Cora have done evil, either the -sun will veil himself from her sight, or the first ray of his light that -falls upon her, will annihilate the criminal. But if, oh Alonzo! he, my -Father, and my God, shall rise clear and resplendent—if he shall smile -upon the affectionate pair as he beholds them joined in mutual embrace, -then shall we have a certain token that he favours our love, and your -mind may be relieved from its cares—for when satisfied that we are -guiltless in the eyes of the sun, whose eyes shall Cora need to fear. - -_Alonzo._ Oh affecting simplicity!—Oh sweetest of thy sex! - -_Cora._ But, more still remains, my Alonzo. To-morrow is the grand -festival of the sun—if on that day he rise in unveiled majesty, we always -regard it as a joyful signal, that the gods are favourably disposed -towards us, consequently that no dreadful crime can have called forth -their anger. Then look up, Alonzo; cast thy eyes around the heavens; -behold how the stars glitter; how blue and serene is every part within -our view!—not a cloud threatens us—not a zephyr moves the trees—Oh we -shall have a glorious morning!—One embrace then at parting—farewel!—Let -Cora at her return find thee sleeping beneath these trees, and then will -she awaken thee with a kiss. (_She hastens back through the breach in the -wall._) - -_Alonzo._ (_Who, sunk in astonishment and horror, has scarcely heard -what Cora has been saying_) Sweet, benevolent creature!—Oh I have been -a villain, the worst of villains! Let me save her!—save her, if it be -possible, before the flame shall burst out over her head!—Ah, it is too -late! She is irrecoverably lost, and I can only die with her. (_He leans -against a tree with both hands upon his forehead._) - - -SCENE VII.—_DIEGO enters from the right side, and seeing ALONZO, whistles -with all his Strength._ - -_Alonzo._ (_Turning round wildly, and grasping his sword_) What is the -matter? - -_Juan._ (_Springing forwards from the left side_) What is the matter? - -_Diego._ Is it you, Don Alonzo?—Why did you not say immediately that it -was you? - -_Juan._ (_Clapping Diego upon the shoulder_) My friend, you must take a -frightened hare for your device. - -_Diego._ Better than a blind lion. Signor Velasquez, you knights consider -it as one of the duties of your order to revile prudence as cowardice, -in the same manner as we who cannot write, call all learned men, in -derision, feather heroes. Did not you yourself order me to whistle -whenever I should encounter any thing suspicious? - -_Juan._ Fool! how long has thy master been an object of suspicion to thee? - -_Diego._ To tell you the truth, Signor Don Juan, some time. Look at him -now, how he stands there. (_Pointing to Alonzo, who has resumed his -former attitude._) - -_Juan._ (_Shaking Alonzo_) My dear friend, was the adieu then so very -heart-breaking? - -_Alonzo._ (_Falling on his neck_) Ah, Velasquez, thy admonitions came too -late! - -_Juan._ Oh God!—What!—is she?—— - -_Alonzo._ She is indeed! - -_Juan._ Then may we consider our prospect of seeing the kingdom of heaven -as no very distant one. - -_Alonzo._ (_Taking Juan’s hand_) Oh do not forsake me, my friend, my -companion, my brother in arms! - -_Juan._ (_Shaking his hand ardently_) Alonzo, it is not my practice -to call to the boy who is struggling in the water, “_You should not -have fallen in_:”—I would rather, if it were possible, draw him out. -But, by the powers above, I do not know what is to be done here!—Had -we a vessel at our command, or could we procure an enchanter’s cloak, -which would convey us through the air, then would not I be among the -last to recommend flight. But since no such means lie at present within -our reach, the course to be pursued is not very obvious. Well, well, -Velasquez! arm thyself with courage to meet the worst—wrap thyself up in -thy cloak, even to the very teeth, and leave the thunder to rattle, and -the lightning to flash quietly around thee. - -_Alonzo._ (_Wringing his hands_) All is lost! No resource, no way of -escape left! - -_Juan._ Be not so desponding. All is not lost as long as a man retains -his senses. Let us depart, eat, drink, and take our rest;—then, by -to-morrow, both mind and body will have acquired new strength, and we -shall be better able to consider what is to be done. - -_Diego._ Oh, flower of knighthood! - -_Alonzo._ Stop! she will return soon; she promised me at the dawn of -morning—— - -_Juan._ So, so!—Well, of all employments under the sun, commend me to -that of being confident to a lover! They have no idea that a man can have -any human feelings—that he must sleep—— - -_Diego._ That he must eat—that he must drink— - -_Alonzo._ Forgive me! - -_Juan._ Yes, yes, I forgive you freely; but you must inscribe this -sacrifice deeply in your heart; for, by Heaven! the loss of my night’s -rest—yet, no, rather than lose it, I will repose under the trees. (_He -spreads out his cloak, and lies down upon it_) It is always good to -make a virtue of necessity; so, with the sage remark, that weariness is -the best of all opiates, I wish you a good night, Alonzo. He who has an -unsullied conscience can sleep, even with the trunk of a tree only for -his pillow, as soundly as the seven sleepers themselves. (_He closes his -eyes._) - -_Diego._ (_Also spreading himself a bed_) If there should happen to be -a rattle-snake or two hereabouts—or, perchance, a tyger as hungry as -myself!—Hold! an idea occurs to me. (_He takes out a rosary, which he -hangs upon the nearest tree_) Now I think we are safe. (_He lies down_) -If I can sleep now, who will say that I am not a master in the trade; for -my head is full of thought, my heart full of fear, and my poor stomach -quite empty. (_He falls asleep._) - -_Alonzo._ (_Contemplates both for a while, then exclaims_) Happy men! -(_He leans in musing melancholy against a tree._) - -(_The Curtain falls._) - - -END OF THE FIRST ACT. - - - - -ACT II. - - -SCENE I.—_The Scene remains the same as at the Close of the first Act. -DON JUAN and DIEGO are still sleeping.—ALONZO walks about mournfully -among the Trees._ - -ALONZO. - -Will this night never come to an end?—The stars still twinkle in the -heavens, the moon scarcely yet begins to lose her lustre, and a deep and -solemn silence reigns around.—More grateful to the sinner’s soul are -noise and tumult, for they assist to deaden the voice of conscience.—What -said the fool Diego lately?—that it is the same with conscience as with -the stomach, the moment either compels us to feel its existence, we may -be sure it is not in perfect health.—And the fool spoke truly.—Oh my -excellent mother! thy golden instructions may one day conduct me into a -better world—they have not taught me how to conduct myself in another -hemisphere!—Perhaps at this very moment thou art upon thy knees, praying -for a blessing upon thy fallen son!—Ah, pray for him! intercede for -him!—he needs the intercession of a saint!—But away, away ye gloomy -thoughts!—All may yet be well!—Night is followed by twilight—twilight -by the first rays of the rising sun!—(_Looking towards the east_) And -see there the precursor of returning joy!—Already the east begins to be -streaked with purple, and the stars are disappearing.—Hist! I hear the -chirping of a distant bird!—the moment draws near which is to bring Cora -back to her Alonzo!—while I press her to my bosom, conscience is mute, -and I can laugh at danger. I will awaken these sleepers. (_He shakes -Diego_) Diego, rise,—it is already day. - -_Diego._ (_Rubbing his eyes_) Hey!—how!—you joke! it is still dark. - -_Alonzo._ No, no, the moon is going down, the stars are vanishing. - -_Diego._ (_Yawning_) Take heed what you are about, or you will soon -find that it is dark enough. (_He turns on the other side, mutters some -inarticulate words, and falls asleep again._) - -_Alonzo._ If that fellow have not slept, or eaten his fill, he is like a -watch not wound up. (_He shakes Don Juan_) Velasquez, the day begins to -break! - -_Juan._ (_Raising himself up, and looking about_) Well!—and what of that? - -_Alonzo._ Will you not rise and enjoy so fine a morning? - -_Juan._ Write an Ode upon the Morning, if it be so very fine; but prithee -let me sleep quietly. (_He lies down again._) - -_Alonzo._ Have you forgotten that we may soon expect Cora? - -_Juan._ That is no concern of mine, she does not come to see me. - -_Alonzo._ And don’t you think it worth while to unbar your eyes a few -minutes earlier, to see an angel? - -_Juan._ I will dream of her. (_He falls asleep._) - -_Alonzo._ There they lie and sleep as tho’ in mockery of the troubles of -my soul. Ah, it is only the unembarrassed mind which can thus recruit -itself by inactivity. Yes, I perceive that the more man throws off his -rational nature, and assimilates himself with the brute, who looks to -sense alone for his enjoyments, the happier is his lot.—Happier?—Most -certainly so; in his own eyes, at least, if not in the eyes of wisdom; -and what more can be required? (_A clapping of hands is heard behind the -walls_) But hark?—she comes!—Oh, all that I have said of sensual delight -is false! One moment, when the soul partakes of real transport, outweighs -whole hours of mere corporeal pleasure. (_He hastens to meet Cora._) - - -SCENE II.—_CORA enters and springs into ALONZO’S Arms._ - -_Cora._ Here I am, dearest Alonzo!—But you have deprived Cora of an -expected pleasure.—I hoped to have found you buried in sleep—I meant to -have concealed myself behind a tree, to have scattered leaves over you, -and then reproved you as a sluggard.—Do you not hear me, Alonzo, or are -you in a waking dream?—else, when your arm is thrown around my neck, how -can you stand with eyes thus fixed, and think of any thing besides your -Cora? - -_Alonzo._ Amiable creature! suspect me not unjustly!—Cora alone rules in -my heart, as one sun alone rules in the heavens.—Yet I cannot cease to -think of the discovery made this night!—My peace! my peace of mind is -lost!—Conscience,—a thousand horrible images.—Death in its most hideous -form, with cold and outstretched arms, tearing Cora from my heart,—these, -these are the ideas which haunt me incessantly. - -_Cora._ (_Laying her hand upon his mouth_) Be silent and trust to the -gods!—Look up, the heavens are clear and serene all around us, and -my heart is full of transport!—Soon will the sun be risen above the -horizon, hasten, hasten to ascend the hill! (_She climbs hastily up -the hill, Alonzo following her_) Oh behold!—a minute longer and we -had been too late—see how the east already glitters with streaks of -gold—see how the twilight vanishes over the hills and woods—see what -thousands of dew-drops sparkle with the rays of morning, and listen to -the notes of birds innumerable, warbling their early songs! Oh, Alonzo! -My God is great!—My breast is too contracted for all my feelings!—Burst -forth,—burst forth, ye tears of transport which stand in my eyes!—Rejoice -with me, my love; behold where the God ascends in unclouded majesty—he -is not offended. (_She kneels._) Father, to whose service I have devoted -myself!—Father, whose image I bear externally on my bosom, and internally -in my heart!—Vouchsafe to cast one of thy many eyes upon me, be witness -of my love for this young man, and be my judge!—If the feelings which now -engross my soul be sinful, then veil thy flaming forehead in darkness, -or command thy thunder-clouds to gather round thee, and send down upon -me thy forked lightning, as the minister of thy vengeance!—Give me, oh -Father!—Give me a sign of thy love or of thy anger!—(_After a pause_) -Oh with what mildness, what gentleness, do his rays fall upon me!—how -benignantly he looks down and blesses me!—(_She rises_) Well then I dare -venture upon the trial—dare venture to make it even in the presence of -my God himself!—Alonzo, come to my arms. (_She embraces him_) It is -over, and now all my fears are dispelled!—Had this embrace been sinful, -he had annihilated us both at this moment!—My heart is full of joy and -gratitude!—Come let us kneel together!—together pray—together give thanks! - -_Alonzo._ I pray with thee?—Dear Cora, the sun is not my God. - -_Cora._ Oh yes, he is equally yours and mine. Does he not shine upon -all?—to all give light and warmth?—I entreat you, kneel with me. - -_Alonzo._ Dear Cora! - -_Cora._ Ungrateful man!—to whom do you owe your Cora?—Would I in the -presence of my God be ashamed of you, my Alonzo?—Oh then if indeed you -love me!—(_She kneels and takes his hand to draw him after her._) - -_Alonzo._ Who could resist such sweet enthusiasm! (_He kneels by her._) - -_Cora._ Let silent thanks,—the inward emotions of our hearts be the only -incense we offer. - -_Alonzo._ These I present to thee, God of all gods! (_They both remain in -silent prayer._) - - -SCENE III.—_Enter ROLLA from his Cave._ - -Is it so early!—The sun is scarcely risen!—Alas, thus he sets and -rises again, yet ever finds me wakeful!—But let me arm myself with -patience, and the time will shortly come when he will find me sleeping -for ever!—(_He sees Don Juan and Diego_) Who have we here?—two of the -strangers who live among us—doubtless they have lost their way among -these bushes, and have been overtaken by the night. I will awake them, -and present them with refreshments;—yet first let me offer my morning -prayers to thee, my Father! - -_ROLLA turns to the East, and as he raises his hands and eyes towards -Heaven, suddenly espies the lovers kneeling upon the hill, at sight of -whom, he utters a shriek of horror, and remains immoveable as if he had -seen a spirit. CORA and ALONZO rise slowly with their faces still turned -towards the sun, and sink into a silent embrace. ROLLA overpowered, -exclaims with a voice almost suffocated with anguish, “CORA!!!” The -lovers start affrighted, turn round, and look down—CORA sinks in a swoon -upon the declivity of the hill.——ALONZO after hesitating a few moments -whether to hasten down, or stay and assist CORA, at length decides on -the latter, kneels by her, and endeavours to recover her. ROLLA trembling -with agony, yet unable to stir from the spot, remains with his eyes fixed -upon the lovers. ALONZO at length exclaims_ Velasquez! Diego! to arms! to -arms! (_JUAN and DIEGO spring up, but are scarcely awake._) - -_Juan._ What is the matter? - -_Diego._ What is the matter? - -_Alonzo._ Seize him!—Don’t let him escape! - -_Juan and Diego._ (_Still staggering with sleep, yet endeavouring to draw -their swords_) Where! whom! - -_Alonzo._ Seize him! secure him! he will escape! - -_Juan._ (_Recovering himself, and pointing to Rolla_) That man? that -single man? - -_Diego._ (_Brandishing his sword_) Two to one!—I am your man for that! - -_Alonzo._ Secure him I say! we are betrayed! - -_Juan._ A single unarmed man! (_He returns his sword into the scabbard._) - -_Alonzo._ (_Quitting Cora, who is not yet recovered, draws his sword and -rushes down the hill towards Rolla, who keeps his eyes immoveably fixed -upon Cora_) Then I must myself.— - -_Juan._ (_Seizing him by the arm_) Hold, my friend—or rather my enemy, if -you move a step. - -_Alonzo._ My God, Velasquez, have you lost your senses? We are betrayed! -you risk Cora’s life! (_Endeavouring to break away from him._) - -_Juan._ (_Eagerly thrusting him back_) Restrain your passion! (_He goes -up to Rolla._) Surely you are not unknown to me.—Is it not Rolla whom I -behold? - -_Rolla._ (_Somewhat recovering himself._) I—who am I? Yes, my name is -Rolla. - -_Juan._ Rolla, the champion of his country?—Yes, it is he, and in him I -salute one of the bravest and noblest of men. - -_Rolla._ How is this? it is yet early morning! (_Striking his hand upon -his forehead._) Am I in a dream? (_After a pause, and fixing his eyes -again stedfastly upon Cora_) No!—By all the gods it is no dream? - -_Juan._ Oh no!—Howsoever severe may be the censure which your eyes -denounce against the scene before you—in how horrible a light soever you -may be inclined to consider the truth, still it must be owned that this -is no dream. Probably you may recognize that maiden by the figure of -your deity which adorns her bosom. She is a VIRGIN OF THE SUN. - -_Rolla._ And her name is Cora. - -_Juan._ This young man too, you may also recollect—he is the favourite of -your king, that Alonzo who saved the life of Ataliba at Cannara, while -Rolla was fighting in support of his throne under the walls of Cuzco. - -_Rolla._ (_Offering his hand to Alonzo_) Yes, it is the same Alonzo. - -_Juan._ And now, Rolla, if you be indeed the man I believe you, your -sentiments and feelings must differ widely from those of your priests, -who having their eyes almost continually fixed upon the sun, when they -chance to look downward towards the earth, see all things here below -through a false medium, so that scarcely any object appears under its -proper form and colour. You know the world, and mankind, know how the -heart is eternally swayed by circumstances, now this way, now that, and -what numberless passions contend for sovereignty within it. Among these, -Love is always resisted with the greatest difficulty—indeed is scarcely -to be withstood, but where, in making the attack, he has not deigned to -exert all his powers. Look at that virgin—she is lovely—— - -_Rolla._ Great God!—to whom is this observation addressed. - -_Juan._ Look at this youth—he is ardent, impetuous. That he saw and loved -her is his only crime. - -_Rolla._ It is no crime. - -_Juan._ There spake Rolla!—I was not deceived in him!— - -_Alonzo._ And you will keep our secret?—will avert, nameless, misery from -the unfortunate Cora? - -_Rolla._ Think you, that I could betray her?—Know, young man, that for -years I have loved, have idolized her. - -_Alonzo and Juan._ (_At the same moment and with the utmost -astonishment_) You!!! - -_Rolla._ Oh the impotence of words!—Not my language—not your language—not -all the languages of the world combined, have power to describe what I -feel for Cora?—She was scarcely above the age of childhood when I marched -for the first time against the rebels who inhabit the fields at the foot -of the mountains of Sangay—she wept when I bade her adieu, and since our -separation, I have known no pleasure but in the recollection of that -moment and of those tears. When the contest was ended, I returned, but -all had then assumed a new aspect. No longer was I to behold the same -free unfettered maiden whom I had left, she was become the confident of -the gods. I would have made her my wife, she saw the purity of the flame -with which I burned, she saw the ardour of my passion, but her heart was -wholly occupied with her new situation, and while she called the sun her -husband, she looked down with contempt upon me. The day soon arrived on -which a solemn oath consecrated her for ever to the service of her God, -and consigned me over as a victim to eternal misery. Still I continued -for several years to drag about a miserable existence from place to -place, from battle to battle, and while I sought death gained only -renown. At length I retired to this spot, and for some weeks past, this -cave has been my dwelling.—This cave, which has become dear to me since -it conceals from my sight that sun who robbed me of my Cora! - -_Alonzo._ (_Who during this narrative has again hastened to Cora, and -endeavoured, though still in vain, to recover her._) I pity you from -my soul!—believe me I pity you from my soul!—But how can I trust a -rival?—Swear that you will not betray us. - -_Rolla._ I will not swear. - -_Alonzo._ No!—and yet you pretend to love Cora? - -_Rolla._ What need of oaths since I do love her? - -_Alonzo._ For the satisfaction of my mind. - -_Rolla._ What does your satisfaction concern me? - -_Alonzo._ I entreat this of you!—Do you wish to keep me in incessant -torments?—Would you force me to proceed to extremities?—recollect that -cases may occur when the commission of an apparent crime, is in reality -to perform an act of virtue. - -_Rolla._ (_Contemptuously._) Indeed! - -_Alonzo._ And should I ever perceive the slightest ground for suspicion -that thou wert capable of betraying Cora—observe, Rolla, though I respect -and honour thee, yet I assure thee both by my God, and thy own, that I -would take thy life without remorse. - -_Rolla._ I will not swear. - -_Alonzo._ Rolla, I entreat it once more!—What am I to think of this -refusal?—See how I am shaken to my very soul—every limb trembles—my veins -swell—and I can scarcely breathe for anguish. In mercy then swear. - -_Rolla._ I will not swear. - -_Alonzo._ (_Drawing his sword in a rage, and pressing upon Rolla._) Die -then! - -_Juan._ (_Catching him hastily by the arm_) Is reason again gone -astray?—Hold! hold!—are you a knight? - -_Alonzo._ Stand off, or my sword shall dispatch thee also! (_He struggles -to break away from Don Juan, while Rolla continues immoveable and -unconcerned._) - -_Juan._ This storm of passion is too mighty for me!—I can restrain him no -longer—Rolla, defend thyself! - -_Rolla._ Seek not to restrain him, I die willingly for Cora! (_During -this scene Cora recovers from her swoon, and as she opens her eyes -perceives the struggle. She starts up with the wildest anguish, rushes -hastily down the hill, and throws herself into Rolla’s arms._) - -_Cora._ Alonzo, what would you do? - -_Alonzo._ It is for thee!—for thy sake alone!—Should he betray thee, we -are lost. - -_Cora._ He betray me!—Rolla, my truest friend betray me!—He who was ever -my defender, my intercessor, while I was yet a child,—who has so many -times softened my mother’s rage when I had offended her!—Oh Rolla, you -must remember it well? - -_Rolla._ But too well! - -_Cora._ And do you think that he would betray me? - -_Alonzo._ Why then did he refuse the oath I required? - -_Cora._ Had you cause sufficient to require an oath?—Look at those -eyes!—are they not a stronger security for his faith than any oath? - -_Rolla._ (_Clasping her to his bosom._) Now let me die!—Let me, oh ye -gods, die this very moment!—I am so happy;—so blessed!—Cora reposes -confidence in me, I clasp her in my arms, I hear her voice once more!—Ah, -five years have elapsed since I experienced such happiness, since I saw -her except at an awful distance. - -_Cora._ (_Earnestly._) And I rejoice no less to see you again so -near me!—In your presence all the happy days of my childhood seem to -pass anew before my eyes—so many delightful images are present to my -recollection.—— - -_Alonzo._ (_Leaning upon his sword, and betraying emotions of the most -poignant jealousy_) Cora, what torments do you inflict upon me! - -_Cora._ Why are you tormented?—Oh you do not know how strong an affection -I bear for Rolla!—When a youth he loved me, and we were destined for each -other.—Yes, Rolla, is it not true that we were destined for each other? - -_Rolla._ Oh true, true indeed!—for your virtuous mother—but no more—had -she not died so prematurely—who knows— - -_Cora._ Ah, dearest Alonzo, at that time I was continually turning his -love into ridicule, because I knew not what it was to love. Forgive me, -Rolla, I know it better now! Oh how often, and how grievously must I have -tormented you!— - -_Rolla._ Grievously!—most grievously!—but let that be forgotten—this -moment is so truly blessed!— - -_Cora._ Hear him, Alonzo, hear what kindness is breathed in every word he -utters!—but my mother always told me the same—“_Rolla_,” she repeatedly -said, “_has one of the best of hearts—love him—marry him,—and I shall -die happy_.”—But when she died, Rolla was engaged in fighting his -sovereign’s battles, and during his absence a sacred flame was kindled in -my bosom.—At his return, therefore, I could not love him; my heart was -devoted to my God, and I only sighed for the day when I should be wedded -to the Sun. - -_Rolla._ But this romantic enthusiasm has at length given way to nature, -and love has found its way to your heart? - -_Cora._ Yes, Rolla, that once insensible heart is insensible no longer—be -you my confident.—I love that young man; our first meeting was in the -Temple of the Sun, when I saw him standing by the side of our king.—My -heart was instantly overpowered with an emotion for which I could -scarcely account, and the dish that contained the bread of sacrifice, -almost fell from my trembling hand. An ardent glance which he cast upon -me, soon gave me assurance that my feelings were not unanswered on his -part—yet since I was shut up within the boundaries of the Temple, and -he could only steal round the outward walls, what hope remained that -we might ever find the means of personally communicating our mutual -passion. The gods saw and pitied our distress.—You must well remember -that awful day, some months ago, when the hills around burst out with -flames of fire,—when the ocean raged, and the earth trembled,—when many -palaces were laid in ruins,—when even the Temple of the Sun itself was -menaced with destruction, and the walls by which it is surrounded were -rent asunder in two separate places. Then, trembling, and weeping, we -poor affrighted servants of the gods ran hither and thither—death seemed -to reign triumphant in our cells—he seemed still to pursue us when we -fled under the roof of heaven alone, and our shrieks were mingled with -the groans of contending nature. Alonzo, ever on the watch among these -bushes, soon perceived the breach in the wall, and boldly ventured to -ascend it—one stone after another fell beneath his feet—here the earth -gaped to swallow him up, and there my arm was stretched out to receive -him.—The darkness veiled our love from observation; and since that time -my Alonzo has frequently found his way over the same ruins. - -_Rolla._ Cora, I tremble for thee!—In what dreadful perils hast thou -involved thyself! - -_Alonzo._ Tell him all!—let him know the fatal consequence of _your_ -weakness, and _my_ guilt!—tell him— - -_Cora._ Yes, Rolla, it is true. - -_Rolla._ What!—how!—Oh thoughtless girl!—And you, Alonzo, were you so -ignorant of our customs that—ye gods!—ye gods!—my children you must -fly!—instantly fly! - -_Juan._ But whither? - -_Alonzo._ Ah, Rolla, save her! - -_Cora._ (_Terrified_) Is this really esteemed so high a crime here below, -altho’ the gods above do not regard it as an offence. - -_Rolla._ How much my whole frame is shaken with horror!—I am at this -moment scarcely capable of thought!—Cora, do you love him? - -_Cora._ As my own soul. - -_Rolla._ And are you certain that in his arms repentance will never -corrode your peace, but that you can live and die contentedly as his wife? - -_Cora._ ’Tis all I wish. - -_Rolla._ And do you, Alonzo, feel the value of the sacrifice she would -make you? - -_Alonzo._ I feel it deeply. - -_Rolla._ Then will I save you both. (_He places himself between them_) -Come hither, and each give me a hand!—Consider me as your brother—as -such, Cora, my dearest sister, I unite you to this man. (_Placing her -hand in Alonzo’s_) May the shade of your mother, which hovers over us -at this moment, look down with an eye of favour upon your union!—May it -be followed by her blessing—If you are happy, I shall be so. (_He turns -aside, and wipes tears from his eyes._) - -_Alonzo and Cora._ (_Throwing their arms round him_) Our dearest brother! - -_Rolla._ Yes, your brother!—and as your brother, will I pass the -remainder of my days with you. In a sequestered spot, on the other side -of the blue mountains, lives a friend of mine, an old Cazique, who, -under the monarch of Cuzco, rules a mild and gentle race, many of whom -served in their sovereign’s army during the last war. At that time the -son of the Cazique, a youth of the fairest promise, was severely wounded, -and fell a prisoner into my hands; but, by my care and attention, he -soon recovered of his wounds, and I restored him, without ransom, to -his father. Since that moment the good man has been unbounded in his -expressions of gratitude—He will receive us with transport; and in that -remote province your love will find a secure asylum. There will I live -with you,—tend and educate your children—be cheerful and happy, since -Cora will be happy;—and at last, amid your brotherly and sisterly tears, -quit this world with calmness and serenity, and ascend with transport to -our Father above. - -_Cora._ Where you will be received by my mother with inexpressible -transports of gratitude! - -_Alonzo._ Noble, generous man!—Scarcely dare I raise my eyes towards you! - -_Juan._ (_Half aside, endeavouring to conceal a tear_) By all the saints -above, if that man be not a Christian, I myself will turn Heathen! - -_Rolla._ Let us now consult together what further is to be done!—Flight -is resolved on; but the time and manner of its accomplishment remain to -be considered. - -_Diego._ (_Who, during this whole scene has been looking about in -different places, to see that all was safe, now comes forward hastily._) -I hear a rustling noise behind the walls, and sounds which appear like -the whispering of two female voices. - -_Rolla._ Hasten, hasten into my cave! (_As they are going Idali and -Amazili appear coming through the breach in the wall, and looking about -with great eagerness and curiosity._) - - -SCENE IV.—_Enter IDALI and AMAZILI._ - -_Alonzo._ We are too late, they are here already! - -_Idali._ Cora! we were looking for you. - -_Cora._ I am coming. - -_Rolla._ Tarry a moment!—They have seen and heard us,—for God’s sake! do -not let them escape thus; we must win them over to our interest. - -_Juan._ That were a task for a minister of state!—If this be -accomplished, I shall be persuaded that Rolla is capable of conquering -whole provinces, without a stroke of the sword. - -_Rolla._ Nothing more easy!—Flatter them, they are women. - -_Juan._ Lovely maidens! will you not come near? - -_Idali._ (_To Amazili_) I believe he means to address us. - -_Amazili._ How he fixes his eyes upon us!—Let us hasten back. - -_Idali._ Come, Cora, the High-Priestess sent us to seek for you. - -_Alonzo._ Pray come nearer, pious virgins! - -_Juan._ And receive the homage due to your charms. - -_Idali._ (_To Amazili._) Shall we run away? - -_Amazili._ Yes; let us fly. (_Neither of them stir._) - -_Cora._ I will go with you directly. But why do you stand there so -bashfully among the trees?—Come here, sisters. - -_Idali._ Oh no, not among men. - -_Juan._ Men!—Fair maidens! how came you to suppose us men? Three of us -are only Spaniards, and the other will readily withdraw, if you wish to -avoid his presence. (_He makes a sign to Rolla, who immediately retires -into the entrance of his cave._) Are you still afraid, sweet maidens? - -_Amazili._ (_To Idali_) What do you think,—shall we venture? - -_Idali._ You step first, and I will follow. - -_Amazili._ No, you are the oldest. - -_Idali._ But you got over the wall first. - -_Amazili._ Yes; but it was you that first spied the breach. - -_Juan._ The contest may easily be decided. (_He steps between them, and -draws them both after him_) Now you may safely swear that neither took -the first step. - -_Amazili._ Ah, Idali! he has laid such fast hold of me! - -_Idali._ And of me too! - -_Juan._ Be quiet, dear children! no harm shall happen to you. (_He chucks -Idali under the chin_) You are blooming as a rose. (_Turning to Amazili_) -And you, as—as—as— - -_Diego._ (_With great gallantry_) As a sun-flower. - -_Juan._ (_To Idali_) Your eyes are so soft and blue. - -_Diego._ (_To Amazili_) Yours are so very roguish. - -_Juan._ You smile so sweetly. - -_Diego._ The coral of your lips is so alluring. - -_Juan._ This hand is so soft. - -_Diego._ This waist is so slender. - -_Amazili._ (_To Idali_) Shall we run away? - -_Idali._ I think we may as well stay a little. - -_Amazili._ But are you certain that you are not men?—We must die if you -deceive us. - -_Cora._ Come, sisters, we shall be missed. - -_Idali._ And then the High-Priestess will scold. - -_Amazili._ We ought to be dressing for the festival. - -_Idali._ And there is nobody in the temple—the sacred flame will be -extinguished. - -_Diego._ You can easily kindle it again with your bright eyes. - -_Cora._ Tell me, Idali, how happened it that the High-Priestess sent you -hither? - -_Idali._ We repaired to the temple this morning to take your place, and -not finding you there, we went and reported it to the High-Priestess, who -immediately sent us to look for you in the garden. - -_Cora._ Did she give you no further orders? - -_Amazili._ Only when we found you, to send you to her. - -_Juan._ And should she ask where you met with Cora, what will you answer? - -_Idali._ That we found her talking with some Spaniards. - -_Juan._ Oh you must not mention us, sweet girls! for the High-Priestess -will be angry at your staying so long, and forbid your meeting us -again—and you would like, I hope, to come here sometimes, and amuse us -with your conversation. - -_Diego._ (_To Amazili_) I have fallen so desperately in love with you, my -little rogue, that I hope you will come and meet me again. - -_Amazili._ (_To Idali_) What do you say, Idali? - -_Idali._ I can’t tell. - -_Juan._ Say rather that Cora had fallen asleep behind one of the pillars -in the temple, and in the dusk of morning you did not perceive her. - -_Diego._ Or that she was lying under the shade of the great palm-tree, in -the court before the temple. - -_Amazili._ Oh charming! - -_Idali._ An excellent thought! - -_Cora._ Come, let us hasten back. - -_Idali._ It is indeed time; let us go. - -_Amazili._ Yes, let us go. (_Neither she nor Idali stir_) - -_Juan._ Go sweet maiden. - -_Diego._ Go you little rogue. - -_Idali._ Well, good morning—good morning. - -_Amazili._ Farewel—farewel. (_They return over the wall_) - -_Cora._ (_Embracing Alonzo_) Farewel, Alonzo! - -_Alonzo._ Farewel, my beloved—soon my wife. [_Exit Cora._ - - -SCENE V.—_Re-enter ROLLA._ - -_Rolla._ Well, how have you managed them? - -_Diego._ Most completely—we have wound them round our fingers. - -_Juan._ Rolla knows their sex. - -_Rolla._ By report chiefly. - -_Diego._ I begin to like the adventure extremely—my little creature -seemed disposed to be very loving. - -_Juan._ Yet the clouds, so pregnant with thunder, every moment gather -thicker over our heads, and wear a more menacing aspect. - -_Alonzo._ (_Taking Rolla’s hand_) Brother!—dearest brother hasten to -extricate us! - -_Rolla._ I must consider the matter more calmly.—Oh what new vigour -have my limbs acquired!—I am become quite another man. No longer are all -things indifferent to me; I find something again to interest me in the -world; I can again hope and fear, desire and reject.—Thanks to thee, -Cora, for the mild rain which has thus revived the withered plant. Yes, -we will fly!—Flight may be dangerous, but I shall find it therefore the -more grateful. When our pursuers shall be so close upon us, that their -cries assail our ears, and their arrows fly around us, then shall I be -inspired with new life. When Rolla shall fight for Cora—when he shall -brandish his sword in her defence, then will be, indeed, the moment for -displaying the full extent of his powers. I was called valiant under the -walls of Cuzco, and in the fields of Tumibamba; but then I did not fight -for Cora—did not fight under her eyes!—In that situation I shall become a -god! - -_Alonzo._ (_Falling on his neck_) Exalted man!—Deign to give me but one -friendly glance as an assurance that you have pardoned the headstrong boy! - -_Rolla._ No, Alonzo, I would not have more merit ascribed to me than I -can justly claim. All that I do is for Cora—nothing for you. Were she -only to drop a withered flower into the water, and express a wish to have -it again, I would instantly plunge into the stream to recover it for her, -even at the hazard of my life. It is for her sake alone that I am your -friend—for _her_ sake that I pardon _you_. - -_Alonzo._ Yet permit me at least to cherish a hope, that I may one day be -thought worthy of a place in your friendship, for my own sake. - -_Rolla._ You are beloved by Cora, what more can you wish. Oh! if Cora -loved _me_, the gods themselves might seek my friendship in vain!—But we -are merely talking, when we ought to be in action. Come into my cave, -there we shall be secure from listeners; there we can arrange the plan of -our escape, and carouse together unmolested;—for to-day I am resolved to -carouse—yes, even to intoxication!—I am already intoxicated—intoxicated -with joy! From the crown of my head to the sole of my foot, every atom -of my frame is in a commotion of extacy. My strength, my faculties, have -acquired such additional power, that at this moment I seem as if I could -controul the world! (_He takes Alonzo’s hand, and leads him into his -cave._) - -_Juan._ (_Following them_) Happy is it for the king of Quito that this -man is in love. Either to love with such unbounded passion, or to -precipitate his sovereign from his throne, seems to be the destination of -such a mind. [_Exit._ - -_Diego._ Drink, and carouse!—I am your man for that.—It shall quickly be -seen who can empty his glass, to the honour of his girl, most frequently, -and with the greatest expedition. [_Exit._ - - -END OF THE SECOND ACT. - - - - -ACT III. - - -SCENE I.—_The HIGH-PRIESTESS’S Apartment in a Building called the House -of the Stars. Several Cages with Parrots, Turtle-Doves, and other Birds, -are hanging or standing about the Room. The HIGH-PRIESTESS is employed in -feeding the Birds._ - -HIGH-PRIESTESS. - -There, there, little Bibi!—You rogue you would devour every thing!—These -girls are gone a long time, I suppose they are somewhere prattling -together, upon some trifling subject, till they forget how time -goes.—Wait a few minutes, Lulu,—your turn will come in time.—These -tedious creatures put me out of all patience, Heaven knows what they are -doing, they are as stupid as oysters, and as slow as tortoises.—Come -hither, Dudu,—there take this, and give a bit to your wife—oh you little -ingrate! you can bite, can you.—This is too much!—the sun is already -risen above the hills, and they are not returned!—the giddy creatures -rely too much upon the mildness and gentleness of my heart, don’t they -Bibi?—I am too ready to overlook a fault, am I not Lulu?—But locking them -up for a while without food will tame them, and make them more tractable, -won’t it Dudu? - - -SCENE II.—_Enter IDALI and AMAZILI in haste and almost breathless. They -both speak together._ - -_Idali and Amazili._ Here we are already. - -_High-Priestess._ Softly, softly, children!—Poor Bibi, are you -frightened?—And so you are absolutely here already? - -_Idali._ Oh yes, we have run all the way. - -_High-Priestess._ Whence, then, do you come? - - _Idali._ From the garden. } (_Both speaking together._) - _Amazili._ From the temple. } - -_High-Priestess._ One of you must be guilty of a falsehood. - - _Idali._ It is I! } (_Extremely terrified and speaking together._) - _Amazili._ It is I! } - -_High-Priestess._ Why how now?—One of you have uttered an untruth again. -What is at the bottom of all this?—Idali, do you remain where you are, -and you, Amazili, come with me. (_She leads her to the other side of the -Stage, and speaks in a half whisper_) Tell me truly, do you come from the -temple? - -_Amazili._ Yes. - -_High-Priestess._ Now don’t stir. (_She goes to Idali._) Amazili -positively asserts that you come from the garden, I can scarcely believe -her—tell me the real truth. - -_Idali._ Oh yes, we come from the garden. - -_High-Priestess._ So, so!—Some pretty trick has been playing here, and -I must sift out the truth as well as I can. Idali, don’t stir from your -corner.—And what is the meaning of all this winking, and nodding, and -shaking of the head?—Keep your head still, and your eyes upon the ground. -(_She goes to Amazili_) Have you found Cora? - -_Amazili._ Yes. - -_High-Priestess._ Where did you find her? - -_Amazili._ She had fallen asleep under the large palm-tree that stands -before the porch of the temple. - -_High-Priestess._ Remain there, and don’t take your eyes from the ground. -(_She goes to Idali_) Have you found Cora? - -_Idali._ Yes. - -_High-Priestess._ Where did you find her? - -_Idali._ Sitting behind a pillar in the temple, fast asleep. We might -have passed her twenty times without perceiving her. - -_High-Priestess._ Admirable!—Now both of you come hither. (_She takes a -hand of each, and looks steadfastly first at one, then at the other_) -You have both uttered falsehoods! You say that Cora was asleep behind -a pillar in the temple, and you that she was under the palm-tree in -the court of the temple. (_Idali and Amazili hem, and cough, and look -terrified and embarrassed_) Which am I to believe? - -_Idali._ (_To Amazili_) Silly girl, you have forgotten every thing. - -_Amazili._ No, it is you who have forgotten. - -_Idali._ No, indeed it is you. - -_Amazili._ I am sure that I was bid to say under the shade of the great -palm-tree. - -_Idali._ I am sure I was bid to say behind the pillar. - -_High-Priestess._ _I was bid!_ and, _I was bid!_—What may all this mean? -(_Idali and Amazili hesitate_) If you will not please to recollect -yourselves now, I shall soon find a way to assist your memories. - -_Idali._ (_To Amazili._) This is your fault. - -_Amazili._ No, it is your’s. - -_Idali._ I certainly did not mention him first. - -_High-Priestess._ HIM!—who?—who?——Oh you wicked girls, why you have not -been among men I hope?—The gods defend us from so horrible a misfortune! - -_Idali and Amazili._ Oh no!—no indeed! - -_High-Priestess._ No? - -_Idali._ They were not men. - -_Amazili._ Only Spaniards. - -_High-Priestess._ Spaniards!—how?—what?—Spaniards!—(_She pauses and -somewhat recovers herself._) Well, well, if they really were only -Spaniards?—And how many might there be? - -_Amazili._ (_Growing pleased and communicative_) Three. One for Cora, one -for Idali, and one for me. Mine, had fine brown hair, and eyes just the -same colour. - -_Idali._ Mine had black curling hair, and such a sweet countenance. - -_Amazili._ But mine was the handsomest. - -_Idali._ No, mine was much handsomer. - -_High-Priestess._ Well, well, this may be settled another time. Now tell -me how came these Spaniards in the temple? - -_Idali._ They were not in the temple. - -_High-Priestess._ What, then; had they flown over the high walls into the -garden? - -_Idali._ They were not in the garden. - -_Amazili._ But they might have come in, as easily as we got out. - -_High-Priestess._ You got out of the garden?—and how could that be -managed? - -_Idali._ According to your orders we went to look for Cora. We ran hither -and thither, and called her by her name, but to no purpose, till at last -as we were looking about, and listening, we thought we heard voices on -the other side of the wall, just by the arbour, where the little stream -is lost in the wood. We followed the sound, and crept softly through the -thick bushes, till at last we came to a great, great rent in the wall, -from the top, quite to the bottom, and so broad that Amazili and I could -easily go through it, and we had only to step over a few stones to get -quite on the outside. - -_High-Priestess._ And you did step over the stones and get on the outside? - -_Amazili._ Else we should not have found Cora. - -_High-Priestess._ Indeed!—What, she too had stepped over the stones? - -_Idali._ Yes, and was talking with the Spaniards. At first we thought -they were men, and were going to run away, but they entreated us very -earnestly to stay; and as we found that they really were only Spaniards, -we thought there could be no harm in complying with them. - -_Amazili._ And they wanted us to promise that we would come again. - -_High-Priestess._ Which promise you made? - -_Idali._ We only half promised it. - -_High-Priestess._ But you intend meeting them again? - -_Amazili._ What do you say, Idali? - -_Idali._ Perhaps so, if you are inclined, Amazili. - -_High-Priestess._ Well, well, at present go and send Cora hither—then -dress yourselves, prepare the bread of sacrifice, and dispose it in the -baskets. - -_Idali._ (_Taking Amazili’s hand_) Come, sister, I have such an -inclination to dance. - -_Amazili._ And I could laugh and sing. (_Exeunt both._) - -_High-Priestess._ (_Alone_) Dance, laugh, and sing, if you please, -your simplicity protects you from my anger;—but you shall not find the -breach in the wall again, that I promise you. As for this, Cora—can the -shameless creature have been carrying on an intercourse with men?—Chaste -Oello, look down with compassion upon thy servants, and avert from us -this last of all calamities!—I have long observed, that she has hung -down her head—that her ruddy cheeks have lost their colour—that she -has appeared abstracted, full of thought, and seemed scarcely to know -with whom she was speaking, or to hear when she was addressed.—All this -indicates no good, does it Dudu? - - -SCENE III.—_Enter CORA._ - -_High-Priestess._ Shameless girl, do you dare to appear in my presence? - -_Cora._ I come from the service of our god. - -_High-Priestess._ Be thankful that his thunder is not entrusted to my -hands. - -_Cora._ What do you mean?—how have I incurred your anger? - -_High-Priestess._ Do you suppose that I am unacquainted with your -licentious conduct?—that I am ignorant how Cora disgraces these sacred -walls, and exposes her own, and her sister’s honour to censure. - -_Cora._ I have done nothing wrong. - -_High-Priestess._ Look stedfastly in my face,—you have been in the -company of men? - -_Cora._ I have not offended the gods. - -_High-Priestess._ Cora, I command you to look at me!—you are acquainted -with a Spaniard? - -_Cora._ I am innocent. - -_High-Priestess._ This very morning you have seen and conversed with him? - -_Cora._ The sun was witness of all my actions. - -_High-Priestess._ Confess your crime. - -_Cora._ I have not been guilty of a crime. - -_High-Priestess._ Oh blinded, misguided creature! - -_Cora._ The path which I pursue, is that of nature and innocence. - -_High-Priestess._ Obstinate girl!—But remember that you are a priestess -of the sun, and tremble at the torments to which the severity of our laws -destines those by whom they are transgressed. - -_Cora._ I shall suffer undeservedly. - -_High-Priestess._ You will not confide in me? - -_Cora._ No. - -_High-Priestess._ Nor confess your fault? - -_Cora._ No. - -_High-Priestess._ I admonish you for the last time, Cora!—But a few -moments remain, in which confession is left to your choice—make your use -of them. I know all—I am instructed in every particular. Soon shall I -assemble the Virgins in the Temple, and convene thither the priests, -who shall judge you, and by whom you will be judged with severity. Death -will then be your lot, and worse than death, shame. At present we are -alone,—do you persist in silence? - -_Cora._ Yes. - -_High-Priestess._ (_Changing her tone_) Enough, I cannot believe Cora to -be really so guilty. I knew your mother, when you were yet a child, we -had frequent intercourse with each other.—“_My Cora_,” she would often -say, “_has a gentle and complying spirit, for which quality I love her -most tenderly._” - -_Cora._ Oh, she was always an affectionate mother!—All the happiness of -my life was buried in her grave. - -_High-Priestess._ You have doubtless a sacred reverence for her memory? - -_Cora._ Can that be made a question!—Alas how many are the tears which I -have shed for her in secret. - -_High-Priestess._ If such your affection, you surely would not convict -her of a falsehood, as she rests in her grave. Must I be compelled to -think that it was only the blindness of maternal love which could ascribe -to you this gentle and complying disposition?—or will you convince me -that she was right in her judgment? - -_Cora._ She was right! - -_High-Priestess._ Then prove it to me. The mother’s friend has an -undoubted claim upon the daughter’s confidence. - -_Cora._ Ah me!— - -_High-Priestess._ The last words that were uttered by her pallid -lips, still vibrate in my ears. “_My child_” she said, “_is young and -inexperienced, should she ever want maternal counsel, be it received from -you!_”—She spoke,—with her cold hands pressed mine, and expired. (_Cora -betrays symptoms of irresolution, and appears combating with herself. -The High-Priestess continues after a pause_) And your aged and reverend -father, when he gave you into my hands, kissed you and said, “_Take her, -she is a good girl, and will not occasion you any trouble._”—Afterwards, -when he was about to return home, when he gave you his last blessing, -while a tear trembled on his grey eye-lashes, what were his parting -words—“_Cora, honour her as a mother_.” - -_Cora._ (_Falling at her feet_) I love! - -_High-Priestess._ (_Starting with horror_) You love? - -_Cora._ I can no longer remain a priestess of the Sun! - -_High-Priestess._ No longer remain a priestess of the Sun? - -_Cora._ But will marry. - -_High-Priestess._ Marry!—_you_ marry! - -_Cora._ The gods have given me a feeling heart. - -_High-Priestess._ To be devoted to their service. - -_Cora._ I was born to become a wife. - -_High-Priestess._ The Sun is your husband. - -_Cora._ To him I can offer only prayers and thanks; but our heart and our -love can be bestowed only on a husband. - -_High-Priestess._ Cora, recollect yourself, you are in a dream. - -_Cora._ I have now laid open my whole soul. If the affection you bore the -mother be indeed transferred to the daughter, you will be my friend. - -_High-Priestess._ And the person you love is a Spaniard? - -_Cora._ Yes. - -_High-Priestess._ His name?— - -_Cora._ Is Alonzo. - -_High-Priestess._ When, and where, did you first see him? - -_Cora._ In the Temple, by the side of our king. - -_High-Priestess._ And what miracle brought you to a nearer intercourse? - -_Cora._ The natural miracle which threatened the Temple with destruction, -and rent asunder the walls by which it is enclosed. - -_High-Priestess._ Well, I must not know more, and let what has passed be -buried in eternal oblivion. To shew you in how high regard I hold your -mother’s memory, I will preserve your secret inviolate, and you must by -severe repentance endeavour to avert the wrath of the gods. Erase the -image of Alonzo from your heart, forget his smooth and deceitful tongue, -think of him no more, but attend to your employments and devotions. - -_Cora._ You certainly have never loved? - -_High-Priestess._ No, thanks be to the gods! - -_Cora._ Had you ever felt one half of what I now feel, you would have -known that what you enjoin is no longer in my power. Erase the image of -Alonzo from my heart!—think of him no more!—When I awake in the morning, -he is always the first object of my thoughts, and at night when I lie -down he is still the last.—When I kneel in the temple, his name intrudes -itself into my prayers,—when I look at the image of the sun, I see only -him,—and when I would turn my thoughts to my God, I cannot detach them -from Alonzo. - -_High-Priestess._ These are heavy offences, Cora!—You must fast, pray, -humble yourself. - -_Cora._ I can pray for nothing but that the gods may grant me Alonzo. -Love is so soft, so exquisite a sensation that it never can be sinful. - -_High-Priestess._ Sinful!—It is to be held in the utmost abhorrence. - -_Cora._ Are _you_ then so entirely free from all emotions of this passion. - -_High-Priestess._ I am wholly devoted to the gods. - -_Cora._ In this assertion you either deceive me or yourself. Do I not -often see how tenderly you nurse and feed these birds,—taking, now this, -now that, out of the cage, setting it on your finger, stroaking it, -kissing it, talking to it? - -_High-Priestess._ Poor little creatures, to love them is such an innocent -affection. - -_Cora._ And my love is equally innocent. - -_High-Priestess._ Love for a man! - -_Cora._ The feeling is still the same!—the heart must love!—a turtle-dove -engages your affections,—am I to blame if mine are fixed on other objects. - -_High-Priestess._ Do not deceive yourself, Cora. Is it a matter of -indifference, whether you employ the sacred flame only in consuming the -sacrifice, or use it to set the temple on fire? - -_Cora._ I do not comprehend your simile, my heart speaks in a plain and -simple manner. I always thought that love must be pleasing to the gods, -I have made the experiment, and the event has justified my opinion. The -gods cannot be offended with me; for say, good mother, when Cora serves -in the temple, does a sudden gloom overcast the heavens, does the sun -conceal himself behind a cloud? - -_High-Priestess._ No, your guilty course has been pursued only in -darkness—the rays of the great light have never witnessed your crimes. - -_Cora._ Yes, they also have witnessed my love. On this very morning I -solemnly embraced Alonzo in the presence of the sun himself. - -_High-Priestess._ (_With a start of horror_) Embraced Alonzo? - -_Cora._ Pressed my lips, my breast, to his. - -_High-Priestess._ Your lips—your breast! - -_Cora._ And our god smiled upon us. - -_High-Priestess._ No more, unhappy girl!—Go and conceal yourself before -I repent that I made you a promise of secrecy. It is not _your_ honour -alone that is concerned in this affair, it is the honour of our whole -order.—Go, and settle as well as you can with your heart, whether it may -find the extinction of your passion pleasing, or displeasing; only of -this be allured, that you must see Alonzo no more. - -_Cora._ (_Resolutely_) I will no longer remain a priestess of the sun. - -_High-Priestess._ Vain resolution!—Death only can release you from his -service. - -_Cora._ But you say that I am criminal.—Well, then, I am no longer worthy -to serve the sun. If however I devote to him in my place, an innocent -creature, pure and free from sin, will not this be pleasing to him, shall -I not then have discharged my duty, and be released from my oath. - -_High-Priestess._ I do not understand you. - -_Cora._ The innocent creature which I bear within me shall be devoted -to the sun. (_The High-Priestess starts back, attempts to speak, but is -unable; she totters and is obliged to support herself against a chair_) -What is the matter?—Have you misunderstood me?—The innocent creature -which I bear within me shall be devoted to the sun. - -_High-Priestess._ (_Running about in a phrenzy_) Idali!—Amazili!—Runa!—Ye -daughters of the Sun, hasten hither!—Ah!—I cannot support myself!—(_She -sinks down upon a chair_) - - -SCENE IV.—_Enter IDALI, AMAZILI, and several other VIRGINS OF THE SUN -from different parts._ - -_All talking together._ What is the matter?—What has happened?—She is in -a swoon!—Cora, tell us what is the matter?—What has thrown her into this -agitation? - -_Cora._ (_With great composure_) I do not know. - -_High-Priestess._ (_Recovering_) Hasten, ye daughters of the Sun, shut -up this sacrilegious creature in our darkest dungeon, that the rays of -our god may not be profaned by falling upon a being so contaminated. You -Runa, and Odila must answer with your lives for the prisoner, till the -moment when she shall be brought forth to judgment. The rest of you veil -yourselves in the deepest mourning, and follow me to the royal palace. -The Sun is incensed against us!—the wrath of the gods has lighted upon -us!—heavy sins are to be answered!—curses must fall upon Peru, and the -avenging arm of the powers above will pursue us into the most secret -places. Hasten!—extinguish the sacred light in the temple, tear down -the wreaths of flowers, no festival can now be solemnized, this day is -changed into a day of mourning!—Let us repair to the foot of the throne -to demand vengeance, dreadful vengeance against the criminal! (_She -rushes out, a confused noise and murmuring is made by all present who all -at once question Cora_) - -_All._ What have you done, Cora?—Tell us?—Tell us?— - -_Cora._ I have done nothing wrong. (_Exit with composure._) - -_All._ (_As they follow her_) Look well to her!—Take care that she does -not escape!—Your lives must answer it! Away—away! (_Exeunt._) - - -SCENE V.—_A large hall in the king’s palace, with guards ranged on each -side. Enter the KING’S CHAMBERLAIN._ - -_Chamberlain._ (_To the Guards_) Throw open the doors!—Let all enter, who -are come hither on this solemn day of festival to salute their sovereign -the first-born of the sun, and conduct him to the temple. As soon as the -king shall be arrayed in his Inca’s robes, he will appear himself. - - -SCENE VI.—_The doors are thrown open. Enter the HIGH-PRIEST, XAIRA, -DON ALONZO, DON JUAN, with a long train of priests and courtiers. Many -compliments are exchanged on all sides; they walk about, and converse -in different groupes. Several of the courtiers assemble round the -chamberlain._ - -_Xaira._ (_To the High-Priest._) Why do these strangers come hither? - -_High-Priest._ Probably to attend the king when he goes to the sacrifice. - -_Xaira._ Oh impious, to permit the presence of strangers at the -celebration of our solemnities, perhaps only to make them the subject of -their mockery. - -_High-Priest._ Mockery!—No, that were to shew themselves fools, and I can -rely upon that brave youth for not being guilty of any folly. Have you -forgotten that our king is indebted to him for his life—that he has made -the people of Quito the terror of their enemies since he taught them the -mode of fighting practised in his country—that he has also instructed us -in many useful arts of peace? - -_Xaira._ Mere deception. He has only increased our wants.—We were much -happier without him. - -_High-Priest._ Discontented man! - -_Chamberlain._ Gentlemen, do you know any news for the entertainment of -the king? - -_One of the Company._ None, excepting that old Telasco arrived here -yesterday evening from his province. - -_Another._ And has brought his son Zorai to present him to the Inca. - -_Chamberlain._ How long is it since the venerable old man last visited -the capital? - -_First Speaker._ Two years. He has not been here since he brought his -daughter Cora to be consecrated as a Priestess. - -_Alonzo._ (_Starting, and speaking aside to Juan_) Velasquez, do you hear -that Cora’s father is in Quito? - -_Juan._ Yes, I hear it. - -_Alonzo._ And her brother? - -_Juan._ I hear that too. - -_Alonzo._ This alone was wanting to make my misery complete!—How will -their unsuspecting features harrow my conscience. (_Martial instruments -are heard behind the scene, playing a march._) - -_All._ The king approaches. - - -SCENE VII.—_Enter ATALIBA with his train. All present prostrate -themselves before the king._ - -_Ataliba._ (_Addressing the High-Priest._) I rejoice, good old man, to -see how much your strength bears up beneath the weight of years. - -_High-Priest._ Under such a sovereign one cannot grow old. - -_Ataliba._ For what I am. I have solely to thank you; that I can -never forget. (_To Xaira._) It is a charming day, Xaira, the gods are -favourably disposed towards us. - -_Xaira._ (_With hesitation_) Yet—unfavourable omens, have disquieted my -bosom. - -_Ataliba._ How so? - -_Xaira._ The lamb which I was about to sacrifice at midnight, struggled -beneath the sacred knife. - -_Ataliba._ Most natural. - -_Xaira._ And the lungs, which, when they tremble and quiver after they -are torn out, promise happiness for the ensuing year, lay still and -motionless. - -_Ataliba._ I thank you for the information, but I desire that it may not -be spread abroad among the people. (_To the High-Priest, smiling and -speaking in a half whisper._) We have tygers enough to annoy us, why -should we tremble before a lamb? - -_High-Priest._ To the people such a lamb is more formidable than a tyger; -and the king owes respect to popular faith. - -_Ataliba._ True, good old man, for it was upon that foundation that -Manco-Capac erected his dominion.—(_Turning to Alonzo._) I rejoice, my -beloved friend, to see that you are still contented to live among us. - -_Alonzo._ How can I be otherwise, royal Inca, while you continue to -entertain me thus hospitably? - -_Ataliba._ Which I shall never cease to do, as long as I behold you so -worthy of my love. (_To Velasquez_) Well, Don Juan, do the troops that -you are training make a rapid progress? - -_Juan._ They are brave fellows;—they have arms of iron, and hearts of wax. - -_Ataliba._ Oh that I could be certain of enjoying eternal peace!—then -should those nervous arms be devoted to agriculture alone. (_Turning to -the High-Priest._) Is it not time that we go to the Temple? - -_High-Priest._ We are all ready. - -_Chamberlain._ (_Approaching the king._) Sire, the old Telasco, governor -of the castle of Antis, is arrived, and wishes to pay his homage to the -first-born of the Sun. - -_Ataliba._ My worthy Telasco!—Let him come in. - -_Alonzo._ (_Aside to Velasquez_) Oh Juan!—my heart! my heart! - -_Juan._ Do not betray yourself. - - -SCENE VIII.—_On a signal from the Chamberlain, the Guards open the door, -when TELASCO, and ZORAI, enter._ - -_Ataliba._ (_Meeting and embracing Telasco._) Welcome venerable old -man!—What brings you from your enviable solitude into the bustle of a -court? (_Calling to the Attendants._) Let a seat be brought. - -_Telasco._ Suffer me to stand, good Inca. It is the posture which best -becomes a petitioner. - -_Ataliba._ Has Telasco any request to make?—Speak then. - -_Telasco._ Two years ago I brought my daughter here, to devote her, -according to her own desire, to the service of the gods. I cannot deny -that the parting with her was a severe trial to me, for I had long been -accustomed to enjoy her innocent society, and ever since the death of my -wife, when I fell into ill health, had been nursed and attended by her -with the tenderest care and affection. It may be supposed, therefore, -that we did not separate without many tears on both sides. My son, at -that time a youth, was then the only treasure remaining—he is now grown -up to manhood, and as his sister is devoted to the gods, I would devote -him to the service of his country. To you, great king, I present him—be -you his father when I am gone!—I do not doubt that he will conduct -himself worthily—I have no fear he will ever forget that the blood of the -Incas flows through his veins. Accept my present with favour!—I bring you -the greatest treasure that I possess upon earth!—I bring you my all! - -_Ataliba._ He shall be my own son!—Come hither, young man. (_Zorai kneels -to him_) Inherit thy father’s virtues, and thou shalt be heir to thy -father’s honours. - -_Zorai._ Pardon my silence. Time only can decide whether or no I shall -deserve such favour. - -_Ataliba._ Rise!—Alonzo, I consign him to thy care. Let him be enrolled -among my life-guards, and learn of thee to fight and conquer. - -_Alonzo._ (_Embarrassed_) Oh king! I will endeavour to gain his -confidence. - -_Telasco._ (_To Alonzo_) Art thou the man in whom the people bless -the saviour of their Inca? Permit these old arms to embrace thee! -(_He embraces Alonzo_) Thy fame has reached to the remotest parts of -this nation—thy name is repeated with transport by our children’s -children!—Happy is my son in being placed under such a leader. - -_Alonzo._ (_Extremely embarrassed and affected_) He shall be my brother. - -_Telasco._ (_To Ataliba_) To your goodness am I indebted that the last -moments of my life are made thus happy. Accept my grateful thanks! - -(_A solemn march is heard playing at a distance_) - -_Ataliba._ Now, my children, let us repair to the temple!—Come, Telasco, -go on my right hand, and should you find the walk fatiguing, let me be -your support!—Ah, how often have you supported me! - -_Telasco._ Blessings on you worthy, Inca! - -(_As they are preparing to go, the music, which had continued gradually -to advance nearer, suddenly stops_) - -_Ataliba._ (_Starting_) What means this? - -_Chamberlain._ (_Rushing in trembling, and almost breathless_) Sire, the -High-Priestess of the Sun approaches, with a long train of priestesses -all clad in mourning, and uttering dreadful lamentations. Their cries -pierce the very soul; while the people gather round them trembling, and -observing them with silent awe and terror. (_The whole assembly appear in -the utmost confusion; the king alone preserves his composure_) - -_Ataliba._ Conduct them hither. - -_Alonzo._ (_Aside to Juan_) Oh God, Velasquez, what can this portend! - -_Juan._ You tremble, and look pale;—for shame; rouse yourself; shew -yourself a man! - - -SCENE IX.—_Enter the HIGH-PRIESTESS, followed by a long train of VIRGINS -OF THE SUN. They are clad in thick mourning veils, and march in slow and -solemn procession towards the King. An awful silence is observed by the -whole company, who wait the sequel of the scene with anxious expectation._ - -_High-Priestess._ (_Throwing back her veil_) Oh woe! woe! woe! - -_Ataliba._ On whom dost thou imprecate woe? - -_High-Priestess._ The temple is polluted!—the altars are profaned!—the -holy lamp is extinguished!—Oh woe! woe! woe! - -_Ataliba._ Name the criminal, that the gods may be avenged for these -heavy offences. - -_High-Priestess._ First born of the Sun, let the stringed instruments, -let the festal song, cease!—Let the temple be divested of its ornaments, -and the garlands be taken from the beasts prepared for sacrifice; -to-day can no festival be solemnized!—Lamentations must be our only -songs, mourning veils our only ornaments!—A serpent has with his poison -polluted the house of the Stars!—A Virgin of the Sun has broken her vow -of chastity! (_She pauses a few moments—the whole assembly shudder—Alonzo -appears like one thunderstruck—at length the High-Priestess proceeds_) -Woe! woe! upon CORA!!! - -(_At the mention of this name the KING utters a cry of agony.—TELASCO, -trembling, supports himself upon his staff—ZORAI, full of confusion, -conceals his face in his garments—ALONZO is sinking to the ground, but is -supported by Velasquez—A confused murmur is heard among the rest of the -assembly._) - -_High-Priestess._ Vengeance! vengeance! upon the murderer of virtue!—upon -the wretch who could abuse the hospitality of a peaceable people, and -violate the sacred asylum of the Wives of the Sun!—Woe! woe! upon -ALONZO!!! - -(_ATALIBA utters a more piercing cry than before—ALONZO stands -with downcast eyes, while a death-like paleness overspreads his -countenance—The attention of the whole company is immediately turned -towards him—TELASCO looks around with a vacant stare._) - -_High-Priestess._ First born of the Sun!—image of our God upon earth!—I -stand here, and require from thee an awful atonement for this sacrilege! - -_Ataliba._ (_With deep gloom_) Which thou shalt have. - -_High-Priestess._ Be death and shame the lot of the seducer!—Be death and -shame the lot of Cora, and her whole family! - -(_TELASCO starts, murmurs to himself the word_ “shame,” _and falls to the -ground—ZORAI throws himself by him._) - -_Ataliba._ All-merciful God! (_Calls to the attendants_) Come to -the assistance of this poor old man. (_Telasco is raised up—the -High-Priestess is about to proceed, but the King makes her a sign to be -silent, and addresses her and her train_) Enough, ye pious women! I know -my duty, and will perform whatever may be required by the ordinances of -Manco-Capac. To question you, Alonzo, concerning the truth of the charge -alledged against you, were needless;—thy death-like countenance, thy -downcast eyes confess the fault too plainly, and thou art lost beyond -the possibility of redemption.—Hadst thou excited my provinces to rebel -against me; had thy sword deprived me of half my kingdom, I would have -given thee my hand, and said, thou didst once save my life, and all -that I have I share willingly with thee!—But now, the king alone must -speak; the friend must remain silent.—Alonzo, thou art lost beyond the -possibility of redemption!—Unhappy youth, what hast thou done! - -_Alonzo._ Let me die!—Death is no more than I justly deserve, for having -repaid with such base ingratitude the unmixed happiness I have enjoyed in -this kingdom. Yes, let me die, oh king! (_Falling upon his knees_) But -save, save, the hapless Cora!—she is innocent!—her seducer only is guilty! - -_Ataliba._ Rise!—My power is confined within certain limits: and in no -respect is it so rigidly circumscribed as in all matters which concern -religion. (_He stands for some moments wrapt in mournful musing, and -apparently struggling with himself, then says, with averted countenance_) -Guards, put him in irons! (_To the High-Priest_) Assemble your priests in -the court of the temple, to judge the culprits according to our holy laws -and customs; and ere the sun sink into the ocean, let me be summoned to -confirm the sentence. (_Going_) - -_Xaira._ Sire, it is necessary the father and brother should also be put -in irons. - -_Ataliba._ Poor old man!—he will not run away from you! - -_Xaira._ The brother at least. - -_Ataliba._ Well, if it must be!—(_Zorai is put in irons_) Oh what misery -is it to be king when one is compelled to punish! (_Exit_) - -_High-Priestess._ (_To the High-Priest_) Hasten, thou first servant of -our gods, hasten to avenge your masters, that this very evening the -last rays of the declining sun may beam upon the grave which encloses -Cora—Go, ye daughters of the sun, bow yourselves down in prayer, wash the -altar with your tears, and conceal your blushing cheeks beneath sevenfold -veils, till the disgrace with which our Order has been branded by that -profligate stranger, be wholly effaced!—(_Exit, followed by the Virgins -of the Sun_) - -_High-Priest._ (_Aside_) Poor Rolla! (_Exit_) - -_Xaira._ (_To some of the other Priests_) Go out at the northern -gate, and prepare a grave in that waste and desolate spot which is -distinguished by numerous heaps of stones. - -_Telasco._ And let me be the first laid within it! [_Exeunt Priests._ - -_Xaira._ (_To the Guards_) Lead the prisoners away. - -_Alonzo._ (_To Juan_) Farewel, Velasquez!—When you return to our native -country, bear my tenderest greetings to my poor mother; but be careful to -conceal from her my unhappy story. - -_Telasco._ (_As he is seized by the guards_) Whither would you drag me, -old as I am? - -_Alonzo._ Oh, Velasquez, this old man!—this unfortunate old man! - -_Telasco._ Give me my daughter!—restore me my daughter! - -_Xaira._ Away with them all. - -_Telasco._ (_As he is led off_) Give me my daughter!—restore me my -daughter! [_Exeunt omnes._ - - -END OF THE THIRD ACT. - - - - -ACT IV. - - -SCENE I.—_A barren Spot on the Outside of the Walls of the Temple. -Four PRIESTS are employed in making a Grave;—several other PRIESTS are -scattered about. While they sing the first Chorus, ROLLA appears upon the -Stage._ - -(_Solemn Chorus of Priests._)[1] - - Haste!—dig with eager hands a grave, - Our guiltless heads from death to save! - A grave, to turn from us aside - The darts destruction’s daemons guide! - For hark!—both justice and compassion cry, - “To save the guiltless, let the guilty die!” - -_Rolla._ (_Starting_) What do I hear!—say,—what is the meaning of this? - -(_Chorus of Priests._) - - Haste!—dig a grave t’avenge the gods! - A grave, that in death’s dark abodes, - Lost Cora’s crime, of deepest die, - May soon for ever buried lie! - -_Rolla._ Cora’s crime!—speak!—answer me! - -_A Priest._ Away from this spot!—It is cursed for Cora’s sake. - -_Rolla._ Curses upon thyself, thou damned babbler!—But say!—why these -solemn preparations?—for what miserable victim is this grave designed? - -(_Chorus of Priests._) - - Brethren!—the grave’s prepar’d!—away! - Bring Cora hither!—hence!—obey!— - That perishing in earth’s dark womb - Which must her living form entomb, - She a sin-offering may become, for sin; - And by her sufferings heaven’s compassion win. - -_Rolla._ Ye powers above!—what sounds are these!—they fall like a -mountain upon my head! (_The priests collect their tools, and prepare -to depart_) Speak, ye flinty-hearted men!—speak!—speak!—it is Rolla who -entreats you!—Rolla entreats!—One who is not accustomed to solicitation -entreats you to tell him the meaning of what he sees!—What has happened -here?—for what purpose is this grave prepared?—and why do you sing that -ill-omened song? (_The priests are going, Rolla stamps on the ground_) -Stop, and speak, or dread the violence you will provoke! (_Exeunt the -Priests, Rolla is following them_) - -[1] The translator acknowledges her obligation to a friend, for the -verification of these chorusses. - - -SCENE II.—_DIEGO enters in great haste, and extreme agitation. ROLLA -stops on seeing him._ - -_Rolla._ Ha!—Surely I recollect you, my friend!—Were not you also present -at my late interview with Alonzo?—Tell me then what has happened since he -departed hence?—speak!—instantly speak? - -_Diego._ See, I tremble in every limb. My poor unfortunate master!—Ah, he -languishes in chains! - -_Rolla._ And Cora?—Cora? - -_Diego._ Probably shares his fate.—Don Juan must know more, for he was -present during the whole scene. - -_Rolla._ Don Juan!—I thank you for mentioning his name!—Where is -he?—hasten, hasten to seek him!—Conduct him hither instantly!—I will wait -here to receive him.—Begone, I entreat you!—the moments are precious! -(_Exit Diego_) My agony is intolerable!—I am impatient to know all, yet -tremble at the thoughts of what I may hear!—I can scarcely breathe for -anguish!—Uncle, uncle, where are you? (_Going_) - - -SCENE III.—_Enter the HIGH-PRIEST._ - -_Rolla._ Ha!—here he is!—Oh tell me instantly, whether this be true or -false? - -_High-Priest._ Your words are scarcely intelligible, yet the wildness of -your looks explains them but too clearly.—Alas! it is true! - -_Rolla._ (_Pointing to the grave_) And here? - -_High-Priest._ (_With a deep sigh, and turning away his face_) Yes! - -_Rolla._ Tremble then, oh earth, and let thy whole surface become -desolate!—Groan! groan! ye hills!—Thou fire burst forth in the valleys -and consume the fruits of the soil, that the fertile spots may no longer -be crowned with verdure, but the whole earth appear as one vast scene -of conflagration!—Rise ye terrors of nature, ye storms and whirlwinds, -that I may breathe more freely amid your mighty conflicts,—that the voice -of my agony may contend with your roarings!—that my arm may slay more -rapidly than the lightning itself! - -_High-Priest._ Rolla, for the sake of all the gods!— - -_Rolla._ No, she shall not die!—sooner shall the sacred lamp be -extinguished, and the temple itself become a desert!—Believe me, -Uncle, she shall not die!—you may tell me that the grave is already -prepared—that her fate is inevitable!—Yes, it is prepared, but Rolla -still lives! - -_High-Priest._ Your words are of dreadful import! - -_Rolla._ Sooner shall it be Rolla’s grave!—sooner shall he be stretched -upon the earth, senseless, motionless, a breathless corpse!—Yet let him -not even then be trusted hastily!—examine carefully that every spark of -life be really extinguished, since if only one be left smothering, it -will assuredly burst forth into a flame, and consume the persecutors of -Cora. Oh, while this hand can wield a sword, let no one venture to touch -Cora!—the blood of him who should harbour so sacrilegious a thought, -shall answer for his rashness!—the priests—the king—even thou thyself. - -_High-Priest._ Madman rage on!—dare in thy phrenzy to raise thy arm -against the gods!— - -_Rolla._ Against the gods!—No, the gods are on my side, their lightning -is in my hand, their shield before my breast!—Short-sighted mortals!—What -are the brightest, warmest rays of our god but pure effusions of that -benign love which alike unfolds the rose-bud, and expands the human -heart. Woe then to the miserable wretch who remains insensible to its -genial influence, and pining in a cold damp corner of the earth lives -a life scarcely superior to the senseless oyster. Cora even excels -her former self, since she has yielded to this impulse;—and how could -she fail to do so, for the gods would never leave their master-piece -unfinished; and what is the heart without love, but a lamp without light, -an eye without the power of vision?——These are things, Uncle, which -however _you_ cannot understand. - -_High-Priest._ You do me injustice, Rolla. - -_Rolla._ Injustice!—You cannot have been yourself susceptible of the -exquisite, the heavenly, feeling of love, when it is your lips that have -condemned Cora. - -_High-Priest._ You are right now—it was my _lips_ condemned her. - -_Rolla._ But not your heart? - -_High-Priest._ Not my heart. - -_Rolla._ Come then to my arms;—I rejoice to find that you are a man!—But -why stand here so cold and inactive?—fly and save her! - -_High-Priest._ That is impossible. - -_Rolla._ Courage, dear Uncle, courage!—Your grey hairs, your mild -eloquence, my sword, and the arm of God!—all these united—Yes, yes, we -will save her! - -_High-Priest._ Alas, young man, zeal blinds you to the steep rocks which -lie in our way. - -_Rolla._ I feel sufficient energy to defy them. - -_High-Priest._ Ancient popular opinions—the customs of whole centuries—— - -_Rolla._ Nature is older than these. - -_High-Priest._ But not more powerful. - -_Rolla._ Mere evasion. - -_High-Priest._ Could I, by sacrificing the few short years remaining -of my life, redeem the hapless Cora’s, I would instantly with firm and -resolute step descend into this vault. - -_Rolla._ Babble. - -_High-Priest._ Are these tears also babble? - -_Rolla._ Hypocrisy!—do not talk, but act. - -_High-Priest._ What can I do? - -_Rolla._ (_Raising his hands towards Heaven_) Oh Father above, do thou -then interpose to save her!—suffer not the most perfect work upon which -thy rays ever shone to be destroyed, but, to the confusion of these -unfeeling priests, save her!—Oh, how could I expect to find a heart of -sensibility within such a shell!—the heart that beats beneath those -garments never can have any feeling, except for vain and senseless -customs; it dissembles towards its god, and is blood-thirsty as a tyger’s. - -_High-Priest._ Oh Rolla, you know not how much you wrong me! - -_Rolla._ Carefully instructed by your fathers and mothers to pluck every -flower which might lie in your way,—to wring the neck of every bird which -might fall into your hands,—from your infancy each avenue in your hearts -has been closed against humanity, while he, who could with the greatest -composure perform such ignoble actions, was considered as bearing in his -bosom the germs of the future High-Priest. - -_High-Priest._ This from you, Rolla? - -_Rolla._ Beloved and pampered self is the sole object of your -attention,—beauty is to you as a blunted arrow—and love appears an absurd -romance. A shake of the head is the utmost tribute you can pay to the -sufferings of a brother, nor does the tear of sympathy ever _start_ into -your eyes, it only quivers there by compulsion. No emotion of concern -would intrude into your breast were the world itself to be laid in -ruins, provided _you_ were spared and could continue to live in case and -affluence. - -_High-Priest._ Rolla, you torture me—you break my heart!—I must speak out -and shame you. - -_Rolla._ Yes, speak!—that also you can do sometimes—not always. - -_High-Priest._ Learn to be silent when an old man would be heard, and -if you cannot respect my age, at least respect my misfortunes. Is the -station in which I am placed that of my own free choice?—are not the -nearest relations of the king priests by birth?—am I to blame because the -caprice of chance destined me to the altar, to immolate turtle-doves, -to draw omens from the entrails of lambs, and to interpret dreams?—Oh -had you known me in my youth, you would have seen me full of ardour and -energy,—more eager to brandish the sword, than to wield the knife of -sacrifice!—Believe me, there are but few persons in the world placed in -the situations for which they are most suited, least of all those who -hold an office by descent. - -_Rolla._ (_In a cold and constrained manner_) If I have said too much, -pardon me. Overpowered as I am with rage and anguish, scarcely do I know -myself. - -_High-Priest._ Had it been possible to throw aside this dignity with -which I am reproached, as one casts off a tight and uneasy garment, I -had spurned it a thousand, and a thousand times; for it has occasioned -me forty years of the bitterest suffering. Rolla, Rolla, I cannot endure -the chilling frown upon thy countenance; the eye of contempt with which -I am regarded!—Thou the only being on whom my heart still hangs!—thou -only being whose affections I still wish to attract!—listen, Rolla, to my -tragic story—a story nearly resembling thine own!—My sorrows, like thine, -proceeded from the heart—my sorrows arose from an ill-fated passion—I too -loved a Virgin of the Sun! - -_Rolla._ How!!! - -_High-Priest._ By virtue of my office as High-Priest, I had at all times -free ingress and egress, to and from the house of the Stars. Daily did my -eyes rove about among the expanding blossoms that were confined within -its walls, and I was pleased with contemplating their varied charms, -though this long remained a mere amusement to the eye, while the heart -took no share in the glances that I cast around me. At length Zulma -came, a meteor among meteors; she shone in the midst of her sisters a -brilliant image of the god she served. I saw her often, and every time I -beheld her, only wished more ardently to see her again—yet I continued -insensible to the danger of my situation, till I was one day accidentally -led into a strict examination of my heart, when I was terrified at the -result. My conduct with regard to Zulma was instantly changed; I was no -longer unrestrained in her presence; I scarcely dared to raise my eyes -to hers; and my whole frame trembled as I approached her. I was soon -convinced that her heart beat responsively to mine, since she immediately -began to avoid me, as if too sensible of my meaning. I saw that the -effort was painful, that love and duty were at war in her bosom, and, -desirous to render the conflict less severe, I determined equally to -avoid her. Many months lingered on in this miserable situation, while -both endured the keenest torments of hopeless passion: our cheeks -grew pale; our eyes became hollow and sunk; despair reigned in every -feature; till at length Zulma’s weaker frame could no longer support such -complicated sorrow—she was attacked with a violent illness, and lay at -the point of death; while I——Rolla, you seem affected! - -_Rolla._ (_Holding out his hand to him with averted eyes_) Oh, how unjust -have I been!—I am ashamed!—pardon me!—and—proceed, Uncle—tell me she died! - -_High-Priest._ I hastened to her assistance—day and night I climbed the -most rugged rocks, or ranged the forests, to seek medicinal herbs for her -restoration. I summoned together the oldest priests in the kingdom who -were celebrated for their skill in the medical science; and at length, by -our unwearied exertions, the lovely Zulma was saved. She sunk in my arms -overpowered with gratitude—not a word was spoken by either, we explained -ourselves only by the expressive language of tears—(_He appears extremely -affected_) Oh, Rolla! I am now grown old, yet see how the recollection of -this scene still shakes me. - -_Rolla._ (_Clasping his hand eagerly_) Beloved, excellent Uncle! - -_High-Priest._ Stop till you hear the conclusion of my story!—The -long-smothered flame of love now burst out with uncontroulable -wildness—the voices of reason and duty were listened to no longer—passion -had gained the sole ascendency in our bosoms—and——(_Rolla starts, and -fixes his eyes on the High-Priest, who spreads out his arms towards him_) -Rolla, you are my son! - -_Rolla._ (_With the most eager emotion_) Old man, you mock me! - -_High-Priest._ You are indeed my son. - -_Rolla._ (_Throws himself into the High-Priest’s arms; after a few -moments, he breaks from him again hastily_) And my mother—is she still -alive? - -_High-Priest._ No—from above she looks down and blesses this scene! -(_Rolla stands with his arms folded, his head sunk upon his bosom, and -his eyes fixed upon the ground, endeavouring to restrain his tears_) -Think then how my paternal heart has been tortured by your bitter -revilings!—Understand why I have always clung to you with such ardent -fondness!—why I have followed, you every where, and interested myself so -eagerly in your fate!—The anxiety I expressed when I saw you depart to -head the armies of your sovereign, is now solved!—solved equally are the -transports by which I was overpowered when I beheld you return as victor. - -_Rolla._ (_Falling on his neck_) Have I then ever communicated the throb -of transport to any human breast?—My father!—Oh this name is so new to -my tongue!—filial feelings are so new to my heart!—How often, when at -the head of the army I have knelt to receive your priestly blessing, -have I felt your hand tremble as it was laid upon me!—Oh, why did I not -guess the cause of this tremor!—why did I not know that it was a father’s -blessing I knelt to receive!—My father!—my father!—why have you concealed -yourself so long from your son?—why have you not sooner communicated joy -to a bosom to which it has hitherto been a stranger? - -_High-Priest._ Was it possible to trust the wildness and ardour of thy -youth? - -_Rolla._ But all is not yet clear to me. Oh then unveil the sequel of -your story!—tell me—could you escape discovery? - -_High-Priest._ What would have been impossible to another, was possible -to me from my situation as High-Priest. Our hapless adventure was never -known; and as soon as you were born, I sent you to the frontiers of the -kingdom, among the people of Ibara, of which province my brother was -governor. You were educated as his son; but as he died while you were -still a child, his death furnished me with a pretence for removing you to -Quito, that I, as a near relation, might take you under my protection; -and, from that time, I have never ceased to pay as much attention to -your education myself, as I thought I might do with safety, and without -exciting suspicion. Your mother had gone to the place of rest some months -before your arrival, and left me condemned for a long series of years to -drag about a miserable existence. - -_Rolla._ Miserable!—when you had a son!—I have indeed hitherto considered -my existence as miserable, because I thought myself single and solitary -in the world; but never shall I think it so again, now I know that I -have a father living—a father who loves me, whose heart will sympathize -with mine. Yes, I am reconciled to the world!—It is true, my father, -that neither of us can be perfectly happy; yet a life that shall be -supportable, nay in which you shall experience many hours of real -enjoyment, I dare promise you. Hear what golden visions my fancy has -formed:—Cora and Alonzo shall fly, we will accompany them, and I will -conduct you to one who, for my sake, will be a friend to us all. There -we will live,—there pass the remainder of our days quietly, contentedly, -and free from cares;—and, my father, if sometimes when I witness Cora’s -and Alonzo’s caresses, and the transports they mutually experience—if -when—pierced to the heart with the idea that Alonzo’s happiness might -have been mine, I cannot bear to be a spectator of the scene any longer, -I will make you a signal that we depart together, and leave the lovers -alone; then we will retire under the shade of some neighbouring tree, and -you shall soothe my cruel feelings by talking to me of my mother. - -_High-Priest._ You do not consider, my son, that flight is impossible. -Cora and Alonzo are both in chains, and both vigilantly guarded; nor -will many hours elapse before sentence is passed upon them by the -assembled priests. Do not then deceive yourself with vain hopes!—Cora is -irretrievably lost. - -_Rolla._ Oh do not tell me so!—I cannot bear to hear it!—she must, she -must be saved!—Are you not high-priest?—the first among her judges? - -_High-Priest._ But what can the voice of one avail against many?—against -the storm of Xaira’s zeal?—We may cry to the roaring winds till we are -hoarse, and we cannot hinder them from tearing up the young trees by the -roots. - -_Rolla._ You will at least have done your part—God and my sword shall -achieve the rest. Think, my father, when Cora shall meet your Zulma in -the regions of peace, and tell her, I am a Virgin of the Sun, condemned -to death because I loved—— - -_High-Priest._ No more!—All that lies within my power shall be done. I -will harangue, entreat, exert every effort which the infirmities of age -will permit!—Alas, the hour of judgment approaches. - -_Rolla._ Oh fail not in your word!—Do all that you can for Cora, and -remember that my life hangs upon hers—But should your endeavours prove -vain, you shall find that in the mean time I have not been idle. - -_High-Priest._ (_Taking his hand mournfully_) May we meet again, happier -than we now part!—Farewell!—(_Exit_) - - -SCENE IV.—_ROLLA, alone. He pauses, and looks after the High-Priest—then -strikes his forehead._ - -Oh, my father, you know not what thoughts are brooding here!—To -your powers of eloquence alone, I dare not trust a matter of this -importance!—force!—force!—that is the only effectual method of -persuasion.—Where can Velasquez be?—I would fain clasp him in my arms, -and endeavour to communicate to his breast, an ardour equal to that which -glows in mine. Yes, I will save her!—I must save her!—My mother was a -Virgin of the Sun, though I must not dare to pronounce her name, lest the -echoes should learn to repeat it,—to rescue Cora is a sacrifice due to -her memory. Thus it is that the gods wonderfully entwine together every -link in the chain of fate!—Ye powers of heaven!—you cannot be arraigned -if Rolla should die poor in deeds of heroism, since you have not withheld -glorious opportunities for their performance!—To give freedom to her he -loves, and to present a grateful offering to his mother’s memory, are -objects of such magnitude, that if they did not raise a flame within this -bosom, it must have been moulded from the eternal snow on the summits of -the Cordilleras. - - -SCENE V.—_Enter DON JUAN._ - -_Rolla._ Welcome, Velasquez!—I have waited for you here!—I have occasion -for your assistance. - -_Juan._ In what way? - -_Rolla._ Have you sufficient magnanimity to hazard your life for a friend? - -_Juan._ Most certainly, if it can be of any avail! - -_Rolla._ Then give me your hand. - -_Juan._ Take it. - -_Rolla._ Cora and Alonzo are lost. - -_Juan._ Alas! - -_Rolla._ We must save them. - -_Juan._ If it be possible. - -_Rolla._ Only strike a bold stroke. - -_Juan._ With all my heart!—provided it be not a criminal one. - -_Rolla._ Criminal!—Ha!—you have touched me indeed!—Yes, I am afraid it -too nearly resembles a crime! - -_Juan._ Then seek some other person to share in the attempt. - -_Rolla._ Yet state the question thus.—Say, which is most criminal, to -institute, or to abolish, an inhuman law? - -_Juan._ To effect the latter is an act of virtue. - -_Rolla._ Which we will practice. - -_Juan._ That is not in our power. This virtue can be practised by the -king alone. - -_Rolla._ Let us then counsel the king. - -_Juan._ To that I have no objection. - -_Rolla._ But with arms in our hands. - -_Juan._ Such counsel were rebellion. - -_Rolla._ What signifies a name when good is to be effected? - -_Juan._ I am moreover much indebted to Ataliba, he has received me with -hospitality, has been my benefactor. - -_Rolla._ Your friend is in danger. - -_Juan._ I will not commit a crime even to save _him_. - -_Rolla._ How, if I engage my honour, that not a hair of the king’s head, -or of the heads of any of his servants, shall be injured,—that we will -conquer by fear alone?—You know that I was once general of the army—by -that army I am still beloved; for the brave fellows have not forgotten -how often they triumphed under my command, nor that when we were in the -field together the lowest among them was treated as my brother. To you -also, Velasquez, the king has entrusted the conduct of a valiant band. On -the least signal given, all who have borne arms under my standard, will -assemble round me—we will ask nothing for ourselves,—sacred shall be the -throne—sacred the life and property of every individual,—nothing shall be -required but freedom for Cora and Alonzo. - -_Juan._ Noble Rolla, you are blinded by love. Search your heart, you will -there detect, probably for the first time, evil designs. - -_Rolla._ I have no ears to listen to your morality. Virtue is but an -empty name, if it has never been opposed by passion. - -_Juan._ And then the stronger the opposition the more noble is the -victory. - -_Rolla._ It may be so, yet I can feel nothing but Cora’s danger,—hear -nothing but Cora’s voice crying for help!—Look, here is Cora’s -grave!—Icy-hearted man, behold Cora’s grave!—Yet why waste time thus -ineffectually?—What interest have you in the fate of Cora?—Well then, -(_He seizes Juan’s hand in haste and agitation_) come with me, I will -lead you to the pile prepared for your friend!—If at the sight of so -dreadful an object your heart can suffer your head to reason—if on that -spot I cannot inspire you with rage and anguish, equal to my own?—then -farewel, I must resign you wholly to your own apathy, and fly to my -mother’s grave,—there as I behold the wind waving the blades of grass, -and think whose form is mouldering beneath, all your precepts will -in a moment be forgotten, and my soul be armed with new resolution. -Come!—away! (_Exit, drawing Juan after him_) - - -SCENE VI.—_The Court before the Temple. XAIRA in conversation with other -PRIESTS._ - -_Xaira._ He stays a long time. - -_A Priest._ Very long. - -_Another._ The time is swiftly passing. - -_A Third._ ’Tis now past noon. - -_Xaira._ What could the king want with him? - -_A Priest._ The messenger was wholly ignorant. - -_Another._ All he knew was, that the king required to speak with the -High-Priest, before sentence should be pronounced upon Cora. - -_Xaira._ ’Tis very extraordinary. - -_A Priest._ The messenger was in great haste. - -_Xaira._ Probably the king wished to talk with him about the -sentence,—perhaps to consult with him on the possibility of mitigating -the punishment. Ah, my friends, I fear that this Inca is not eager in -promoting the vengeance due to our offended gods. Didn’t you remark with -what reluctance he consented to Zorai’s being put in irons?—with what -compassion he looked upon the stranger?—nay, that he even degraded his -dignity, so far as to speak to him?—His father was a very different sort -of man! - -_A Priest._ He was indeed. - -_Another._ He never omitted attendance at any sacrifice. - -_A Third._ And trembled whenever he entered the Temple. - -_Xaira._ Nor ever failed in shewing due respect to our sacred office. - -_A Priest._ Of reverencing our near intercourse with the gods. - -_Xaira._ He cast down his eyes with awe, where his son looks up and -smiles with thoughtless levity—exacted the strictest justice, where his -son would shew mercy. But who are we to condemn?—who, but his tutor?—the -man to whom his education was entrusted?—in short, the High-Priest. I -will not say more now, this is neither the place nor the time for long -harangues; however I know his principles. Take heed!—be on your guard!— - -_A Priest._ (_Interrupting him_) He comes. - -_Xaira._ At last. - - -SCENE VII.—_Enter the HIGH-PRIEST._ - -_Xaira._ We have expected you impatiently. - -_High-Priest._ I was summoned away to the Inca. - -_Xaira._ Is the object of the interview a secret? - -_High-Priest._ By no means. Ataliba requires of the judges of Cora and -Alonzo, that they strictly examine whether both be equally guilty, and -whether the one might not have seduced the other—might not have thrown -out improper lures to lead astray the imagination. - -_Xaira._ Well, and supposing this should appear to be the case. - -_High-Priest._ Then he orders that the seducer only shall suffer, and -that the seduced shall be released. - -_Xaira._ Do I hear rightly?—Could the king say this, and dare the -High-Priest of the Sun repeat it after him? - -_High-Priest._ Why should he not? - -_Xaira._ “_The transgressors of the laws shall die._”—Thus spake our god -himself. - -_High-Priest._ Did you hear the god say this?—or was it not rather spoken -by the first Inca, as the ordinance of our god? - -_Xaira._ ’Tis the same. - -_High-Priest._ That I readily allow.—The Inca is the image of god upon -earth, and the interpreter of his will; but the last Inca is equally so -with the first. The severe laws, therefore, which his ancestor might -find necessary to institute among a wild and uncivilized people, the -descendant may be allowed to meliorate when the necessity for their -enforcement no longer exists. - -_Xaira._ (_Sarcastically_) Why then not abolish them entirely? - -_High-Priest._ To this the king was strongly inclined. Yet he still -thinks that he owes an example to the repose of his people. - -_Xaira._ _One_ example only?—And what is that to be?—He says that the -guilty only shall die; but what earthly wisdom is competent to decide -this question?—Will not both assert their innocence?—and will not each -endeavour to throw the blame of seduction upon the other? - -_High-Priest._ ’Tis possible. - -_Xaira._ What then is to direct our judgment? - -_High-Priest._ Of that hereafter. At present, duty requires that we obey -the Inca’s mandate. Let Cora and Alonzo be brought hither! (_Exit one of -the Priests._) - -_Xaira._ No, I will not violate my principles, even to gratify the -Inca?—Both are guilty; and whether seducing, or seduced, is a matter of -total indifference. To his own face I will tell the king the same,—I will -sound it in the ears of the people—and if Ataliba no longer trembles -before the gods, he shall at least tremble before his own subjects. - -_High-Priest._ Conscience is his law, and it ought equally to be ours. We -are to judge Cora and Alonzo, but let us not forget that we ourselves are -one day to be judged by a superior power. Now take your places. - - -SCENE VIII.—_The HIGH-PRIEST stands in the centre, with XAIRA at his -right hand, and the rest of the Priests ranged in a semi-circle round -the stage. CORA, and ALONZO, both in chains, are brought in on different -sides.—Cora no longer bears the image of the sun upon her breast, nor her -flame-coloured girdle._ - -_Cora._ My Alonzo! - -_Alonzo._ Oh God!—you also in chains! - -_Cora._ Mourn not my fate!—I shall die with you! - -_Alonzo._ With your murderer. - -_Xaira._ Silence! - -_High-Priest._ (_With mild solemnity_) We, the servants of the gods, -appointed to execute their holy will, are here assembled to pass -judgment upon Cora the daughter of Telasco, and Alonzo the stranger.—Oh -thou, our Father above, who surveyest the whole world with one glance, -diffuse thy light into our hearts!—thou hast appointed us judges over -honour and shame, over life and death!—let thy wisdom then enlighten -our minds that no partiality may bias them, that they may alike be free -from weakness and revenge. (_He kneels, accompanied by all the other -Priests._) We swear, oh sun, to judge according to thy laws communicated -by Manco-Capac!—We swear to shew mercy, if the profanation of thy temple -will permit mercy to be shewn—or if strict justice be required, to exact -strict justice!—We swear, finally, so to conduct ourselves, that should -we be called into thy presence to-morrow, we may not be ashamed of -rendering a faithful account of this awful hour! - -_All the Priests._ We _swear_ this, oh sun! (_They rise._) - -_High-Priest._ Cora, have you broken your vow? - -_Cora._ I have. - -_High-Priest._ Do you know this young man? - -_Cora._ He is my husband. - -_High-Priest._ Alonzo, do you know this woman? - -_Alonzo._ She is my wife. - -_Xaira._ You are both guilty—both must die. - -_High-Priest._ Before we proceed to pass sentence upon you, an important -duty remains to be discharged. In the name of our king, I am to announce -favour to the party, who was solely the victim of seduction. Ataliba, -the first-born of the sun, under whose dominion the kingdom of Quito -flourishes, requires a free and ingenuous confession, which of you was -the seducer, and which the seduced. - - _Cora._ It was I seduced him. } (_Both speaking together._) - _Alonzo._ It was I seduced her. } - -_Cora._ Do not believe him, he speaks falsely. - -_Alonzo._ Do not believe her, she would deceive you. - -_Cora._ I alone am guilty. - -_Alonzo._ On me must your sentence be pronounced. - -_Cora._ Release him, he is innocent. - -_Alonzo._ Shall the weakness of woman be punished?—No, let the man make -atonement. - -_Cora._ Oh no!—for the love of heaven! (_The High-Priest turns aside to -conceal his emotions._) - -_Xaira._ Silence!—Who can extract the truth amid this confusion?—Let one -only speak. - -_High-Priest._ Cora begin!—Alonzo, do you remain silent. - -_Cora._ The first time that I saw this young man was in the temple. I -immediately employed every artifice to attract his attention,—I always -made the longest pauses wherever he was standing, and contrived various -means to continue near him—I drew aside my veil whenever I passed him, -and endeavoured by expressive glances to excite his affections. - -_Alonzo._ ’Tis false!—Her eyes were always cast downwards! - -_Xaira._ Silence, stranger, it is not your turn to speak. - -_Cora._ My advances inspired him with boldness—he sprang over the -ruins of our sacred walls, yet scarcely was he within their circuit, -when, affrighted at his own rashness, he was about to retreat without -an interview. But his figure had caught my attention as I was walking -at a distance—I called—I made signs to him when I ought to have -fled,—intercourse with him was forbidden to me,—intercourse with me -was not forbidden to him.—He stood trembling and irresolute, while I -ran towards him, threw my arms round his neck, and pressed my lips to -his. Still he was anxious to depart, but I detained him—he would not -have returned, but I entreated him—he described to me the danger of my -situation, but I refused to listen to him. On me, on me, pass sentence, -ye reverend judges, it is I who have seduced. - -_Alonzo._ Nature herself convicts you of falsehood.—Modesty is the sister -of beauty—the man _declares_ love, the woman only returns it. Who then -can believe your story?—No, ye priests, it was I, who, when I saw her in -the temple, first threw forbidden glances upon her, by which I disturbed -her quiet, and ruffled the sweet serenity of her mind. It was I who -disregarding the laws both of God and man, with thoughtless confidence -overleaped the sacred walls, and when at sight of me she started back -and would have fled, I cast myself at her feet, and holding her by her -garments, forcibly detained her, to poison her mind with flattery and -deceit. But why should I urge all this?—Ye judges, ye know the character -of man, and must be assured, by the feelings of your own hearts, that I -was the seducer. Pronounce your sentence then on me! - -_Cora._ Recollect that he saved the Inca’s life!—Spare him!—he is -guiltless! - -_Alonzo._ She raves, she knows not what she says, I alone am guilty. - -_Cora._ Can you have a more convincing proof that I only am the criminal, -when you see me wholly unconcerned and unmoved by any emotions of -repentance, while the stranger is bowed down with the weight of his -remorse. I glory in my guilt, and here in the presence of the gods, in -the presence of all these spectators, do I embrace my husband! (_She -rushes up to Alonzo, and clasps him in her arms._) Now observe his -tremor—he breaks from me, while I would still hang about him!—Can you -then doubt any longer?—’Tis I,—I only am guilty. - -_Alonzo._ Cora! Cora! Think of what you are doing! - -_Cora._ Hear him, how he reproves, how he admonishes me!—Thus has he ever -done, yet I would not listen to him, but regardless of his admonitions -drew him with me into this abyss of misery. - -_Xaira._ Shameless woman?—Tear her from him! - -_Cora._ (_Returning to her former station_) Now pronounce sentence. - -_Xaira._ I shudder. - -_High-Priest._ Lead her away. - -_Alonzo._ (_Spreading out his arms towards Cora_) Farewel! - -_Cora._ We shall soon meet again. - -_Xaira._ In the hour of death. - -_Cora._ When a mightier power begins to spin the web of a more blest -existence! - -_Xaira._ Lead her away. - -_Alonzo._ Farewel. - -_Cora._ We part on this side of the grave with bitter tears, to meet -with smiles in the realms above. (_Cora and Alonzo are guarded out on -different sides._) - -_Xaira._ Need we any farther proof?—my voice is for death!—death to both! - -_High-Priest._ (_Addressing the assembly with a mournful voice._) Follow -me into the temple, and let us sacrifice to the gods. Meantime, weigh -well in your hearts what you have seen and heard, and then as mortals, -let us proceed to pass our judgment upon mortals. (_Exeunt omnes._) - - -END OF THE FOURTH ACT. - - - - -ACT V. - - -SCENE I.—_The Inside of the Temple of the Sun—at the Back, the Image -of the Sun upon an Altar raised some Steps above the Ground. The -HIGH-PRIEST, XAIRA, and several other PRIESTS, the latter of whom are -employed in the Back Ground in burning Incense, and preparing the -Sacrifices. The HIGH-PRIEST advances to the Front of the Stage with -XAIRA._ - -HIGH-PRIEST. - -Yet one word more, Xaira, ere, by pronouncing a hasty sentence, we -profane the sacred name we bear. Are we not ministers of the divine -favour? - -_Xaira._ And of the divine vengeance. - -_High-Priest._ Vengeance!—Can we suppose that the merciful God seeks -vengeance on his creatures?—No, if this principle has been encouraged -to awe the vulgar, we who are initiated into the mysteries of a purer -doctrine, may speak to each other without reserve. - -_Xaira._ For what purpose?—and why at this moment? - -_High-Priest._ Because an error committed at this moment, may draw after -it an eternity of misery to us both. - -_Xaira._ My conduct is the result of my conviction. - -_High-Priest._ Then surely that cannot be just. God created man weak and -liable to err, a truth on which your conviction should be founded. This -earth is imperfect, so is every thing that lives and moves in it, and -will not that God who suffers the tyger to mangle the harmless lamb, look -down with forbearance on frail man when he listens to the voice of nature. - -_Xaira._ But we men slay the tyger, and we do right,—we punish the faults -of man, and we do right. - -_High-Priest._ Yes, if by his weakness he produce disorder in the state. - -_Xaira._ And is not that the case in the affair before us? - -_High-Priest._ No! - -_Xaira._ No? - -_High-Priest._ Your own designs have been solely to avenge the gods. - -_Xaira._ And would you then sanction the licentious conduct that must -inevitably ensue, should indulgence be shewn in the present instance? - -_High-Priest._ At the source of a clear stream, we do not think of the -mud by which it may be contaminated in its course. I entreat you, let -us be true to our vocation, let us resemble the god whom we serve, -whose rays diffuse light and heat over all! let us acquit Cora!—It will -then lie in the king’s bosom to act as he shall judge right, either -by confirming, or reversing, our sentence; and should it be reversed, -we shall, at least, have done our duty, in shewing a disposition to -clemency, while the hapless victim will breathe her last sighs in -gratitude for our intended mercy. - -_Xaira._ What would you require of me?—You speak as if the decision of -this point rested upon me alone. Are not you High-Priest?—do not the -duties of your office demand that you lay the case before the whole -assembly of the Priests, in which I have but a single voice. - -_High-Priest._ You know well, that in representing this affair to -the assembly, I am forbidden by our laws to employ any persuasions -of eloquence,—what I am to say, must be expressed in the fewest and -the simplest words, and I am therefore precluded from the power of -influencing the auditors. You, it is true, have only one voice, but -you are the oldest of the order, next to me, and successor to the -high-priesthood at my death. To you therefore all the young Priests look -up, and will incline which way soever they shall see you inclined. - -_Xaira._ This case may be rightly stated as to what concerns yourself, -but it is otherwise with the Inca who has always power to grant a pardon. - -_High-Priest._ But when has this power been exercised?—Has not every -Inca, from father to son, for centuries past, uniformly confirmed the -sentence of the Priests?—will Ataliba, think you, venture to deviate from -the practice of his ancestors? - -_Xaira._ No more!—It is equally inconsistent with your duty to endeavour -to extort from me the sentence I shall pronounce, as with mine to listen -to such entreaties. (_Turns away from him_) - -_High-Priest._ Well then, their blood be upon thee! - -_Xaira._ (_Coldly._) Yes, their blood be upon me! - -_High-Priest._ Hither ye Priests! (_The Priests assemble round him_) I -already read in their gloomy countenances the sentence I am to expect! -(_Aside.—After a few moments pause, in which he endeavours to assume -resolution, he proceeds_) You know the criminals and the crime—we wait -your decision. - -_Xaira._ What say the laws? (_The High-Priest remains silent_) I ask you -what say the laws? - -_High-Priest._ (_After a conflict with himself, in suffocated voice_) -Death. - -_Xaira._ (_Solemnly and audibly_) The laws pronounce sentence of death -upon Cora and Alonzo. - -_All._ Death! - -_High-Priest._ (_After a pause, and in a tone of resolution_) I cannot -give my sanction to this sentence, my opinion inclines to mercy; I -feel that I am myself a mortal liable to error. Search your bosoms, my -brethren, prove well your hearts, and if they in a low and gentle voice -whisper _mercy_,—then join with me and cry aloud mercy!—mercy! - -_Xaira._ What say the laws?—Death to Cora and Alonzo. - -_All._ Death! - -_High-Priest._ Then it must be as you decide.—Oh thou unknown God, look -down upon us, observe that none of this blood stains my hands!—Bring -hither the unfortunate victims of your blind zeal. (_Exeunt two Priests -on different sides_) The rest of you lay the sword and a fresh branch of -palm upon the altar. (_They do as he directs_) Now, Xaira, follow me to -the king. (_Exit, accompanied by Xaira_) - - -SCENE II.—_CORA and ALONZO are brought in on different sides. During this -and the following scene, the Priests walk backwards and forwards, and are -busied about the altar. ALONZO appears a few minutes sooner than CORA._ - -_Alonzo._ I am struck with awe!—This temple, it is true, is only -dedicated to the worship of an idol, but God is every where; even in -this place, where he is adored under the image of one of his own works. -This temple I have profaned!—I am brought hither as the murderer of an -artless woman—as the murderer of a venerable old man who never wronged -me—as the murderer of a gallant youth, one of the destined supports of -his country—as one who has disturbed the peace of a liberal nation, among -whom he has been received with unbounded hospitality!—Oh earth! earth! -open wide, and swallow at once this monster with all his crimes!—may no -grass ever grow upon his grave!—may it never be moistened with the dew -of Heaven!—may no wanderer ever repose his wearied limbs upon the sods, -and may they never be trodden by the innocent feet of children, in their -harmless sports! (_Cora enters._) Ah, Cora! how blest did the sight of -you once make me!—how miserable does it make me now! - -_Cora._ Alonzo, this cannot be uttered from your heart!—Have you not -often declared, that if you could not live with Cora, you would die with -her; and Cora has always thought the same in respect to her Alonzo. Yes, -we will die together, that we may live together hereafter! - -_Alonzo._ Oh that hereafter!—It is the haven of rest to the virtuous, but -for me, an evil conscience accompanies me to the grave. - -_Cora._ Do not think so!—we have neither of us done wrong!—we loved -each other—we could not avoid loving; was it in the power of either to -repress our mutual feelings? Can either of us then be criminal?—Chance, -or perhaps our God himself, first brought us together—all is of his -appointment, and I am resigned to my fate. Even man is kind to us, since -he facilitates our union. As a Virgin of the Sun I could not have become -your wife, but in death we shall be united. Resume your fortitude then, -oh Alonzo!—How often have I sprung with you over the rugged stones at -the breach?—Death is no more than a spring over a few rugged stones; and -these once passed, we shall find love and freedom waiting to receive us -on the other side. - -_Alonzo._ Amiable creature!—thy guiltless soul can look with composure -both towards the past and future.—But for me!—— - -_Cora._ How, if I can prove that you may more justly look with composure -towards futurity, than Cora?—Your mother is far hence, and should -she hear of you no more, will believe that your days were ended by -shipwreck, sickness, or some common disaster, and this idea will console -her for your loss; while her maternal fancy will see in her son nothing -but what was fair and good, will frequently recur with transport to the -noble actions he has already performed, and form to itself a thousand -charming images of what he would have achieved had his life been longer -spared. But I!—I have a father, at present, indeed, in a remote province; -but who will soon learn for what offence, and in what manner, his -daughter died. It is that thought alone which makes death dreadful to -me!—He is so good, so venerable, and loves me so tenderly!—Were he to -witness this scene, it would break his heart. - -_Alonzo._ (_Aside_) Oh Heaven! then she knows not—— - -_Cora._ Within the last hour I fell upon my knees and prayed most -fervently, that some calm and easy death might snatch my father from the -world, before his daughter’s fate could reach his ears. Suddenly a sweet -serenity was diffused over my soul, as if the mild rays of a new sun had -fallen upon me; and I hoped this was an assurance that my prayer was -heard. My remaining wish is, that what I must suffer may be over quickly, -lest solemn and protracted preparations should excite my rebel senses to -mutiny, and shake my fortitude. - -_Alonzo._ Oh it is the thought of what you have already endured, and must -still endure, which alone oppresses my soul. - -_Cora._ Let not my sufferings oppress you; believe me, I am resigned. - - -SCENE III.—_Enter TELASCO, with ZORAI in chains._ - -_Cora._ (_Uttering a loud and piercing shriek_) Oh, I am heard!—Behold -my father’s spirit!—Yet his features are full of indignation!—his -countenance is terrible!—Alonzo, awake me from this dream! - -_Alonzo._ Would to God it were, indeed, only your father’s shade!—but, -alas! it is he himself.—Oh what an hour of horror! - -_Cora._ (_Casting a look of awe towards Telasco_) My father! - -_Telasco._ (_To Zorai_) Why was I brought hither at this moment?—Do not -the important services which I have done my native country through so -long a course of years, give me a just claim to expect some forbearance? -Go and demand of the priests if I must be compelled to stay with her,—I -will, meanwhile, support myself against this pillar. - -_Cora._ (_Approaching him with trembling steps_) My father! - -_Telasco._ (_With agony_) Save me Zorai—save me! - -_Zorai._ (_Thrusting Cora away_) Hence serpent!—spare the old man at -least in his last moments. (_Telasco turns away his face_) - -_Cora._ (_Falling upon her knees, and clasping her hands in agony_) -Brother! - -_Zorai._ I, thy brother!—Alas, yes!—these chains speak too plainly that I -am thy brother. - -_Cora._ Father! - -_Telasco._ (_With still averted eyes_) Who calls me by that name?—I do -not know that voice! - -_Cora._ Father!—brother!—Oh these are the only agonies of death! -(_Wringing her hands_) - -_Telasco._ (_Turning his eyes towards Cora_) Oh Zorai, my paternal -feelings will not be suppressed!—It is the voice of her mother!—it is the -form of her mother!—Cora!—Cora—I have passed through life with honour, -and now you cover my grave with shame!—Away, away! nor hope to experience -my compassion!—Do you deserve it?—Did I constrain you to devote your -youth to the service of the sun?—Did I not, on the contrary, frequently -admonish you to consider well what you intended? Did I not represent -to you, that the world afforded many pleasures of which you were then -ignorant, and which you would first learn to think desirable when their -enjoyment would be criminal, and when your life would consequently be -rendered miserable by the impossibility of their attainment? Even on the -very last evening before your irrevocable oath was taken—(God only knows -how I assumed courage for the purpose)—did I not again entreat you to -reflect upon all these things while it was yet possible to retract?—Dark -and gloomy then appeared the future to my soul, as the ocean on a cloudy -day. Even you wept—yes, Cora, you wept; your heart was overpowered.—It -was the warning voice of a guardian spirit within you; but you resisted -the impulse, adhered firmly to your enthusiastic resolution, and would -think of nothing but of a nearer intercourse with the gods—Behold us -now standing here,—I, a poor old man with my grey hairs, mourning the -honour of my house destroyed for ever;—this youth, full of energy and -love for his native country, cut off even in the prime of life, guiltless -himself, yet involved in your destiny;—both, both, murdered by the hand -of a daughter—of a sister;—and worse than murdered, hurled to the grave -with shame as their companion!—Oh that I should have lived to see this -day!—Blest, blest, was thy mother’s lot, that she died before the dawn -of so fatal a morning! (_Cora, overpowered with her father’s reproaches, -sinks to the ground with a sigh; Telasco exclaims with an emotion of -tenderness_) Zorai, support her! - -_Zorai._ (_Raising up his sister, in which Alonzo makes an effort to -assist him, but is thrust back by Zorai_) Hence, thou murderer of -innocence!—Oh that a hero should thus sink to nothing when we behold him -near!—How did I reverence this man at a distance!—how admire him when -I listened to the detail of his noble actions!—I felt my young heart -elevated, and wished for nothing so ardently as that I were myself in -his place!—Fool that I was!—His heroism was the effect of chance, not -principle; he is still but a man, and weak as the rest of mankind!—Look -here, and exult at this scene, it is thy work; and thou may’st thank -these chains that, even in the midst of the temple, and in the presence -of our god himself, thou art not made the victim of my vengeance. - -_Alonzo._ Did you know how my heart is tortured, how inexpressibly I -love, you would be more compassionate to my sorrows! - -_Telasco._ Say no more, my son—his fate is much more deplorable than -ours: we have one treasure left, which we shall carry with us to another -world, a pure conscience;—that treasure he has lost; he is poorer than -ourselves. - -_Cora._ Oh, my father, do not let me die in despair!—Can you refuse me -your blessing in the hour of death! (_She falls at his feet_) I will -cling round your knees, my anguish shall move you!—have pity on your -kneeling daughter!—bless me, my father!—forgive me, my brother! (_Telasco -and Zorai appear much affected_) See how I humble, how I twine myself -about you!—Oh, my agony is inconceivable!—Have compassion upon me, or my -heart will break! - -_Telasco._ Son! son!—let us not aggravate the bitter stroke of death!—the -wretched easily forgive!—Raise her up to my arms. (_Zorai raises up his -sister. Telasco clasps her to his breast_) Die in peace—I forgive thee! - -_Cora._ (_In a faint voice_) My brother! - -_Telasco._ Yes, yes, Zorai!—no resentment!—forgive the penitent!—call her -sister! - -_Zorai._ (_Embracing her_) Unhappy—sister! - -_Cora._ Ye gods, I thank you!—the bitterness of death is past. - -_Alonzo._ Your hearts are softened!—Might Alonzo venture!—Zorai, you -called me a weak man. Yes, I am weak; but I am not a villain!—Misery soon -unites the sufferers to each other—let us not die in enmity. - -_Telasco._ Stranger, I harbour no resentment against you!—Can I leave the -world in a better state of mind, than in speaking pardon to those by whom -I have been injured. Have you any parents living? - -_Alonzo._ An aged mother. - -_Telasco._ For her sake come hither, that I may bless thee in her place! -(_He embraces him_) - -_Alonzo._ From what a grievous burden is my heart relieved!—And you too -Zorai! (_Offering him his hand_) - -_Zorai._ Away! I admire my father’s conduct; but—I cannot follow his -example. - -_Alonzo._ Not to give peace to a dying man? - -_Zorai._ I cannot!—Would you have me dissemble reconciliation?—You are -hateful to me!—leave me!—I will endeavour to subdue this bitter feeling; -and should I succeed, I will reach out my hand as our last moments -approach, and you will understand my meaning. - -_Alonzo._ Accept my thanks even for this concession.—I acknowledge it to -be more than I deserve. (_Cora leans against a pillar, and endeavours to -recover herself_). - - -SCENE IV.—_Enter the HIGH-PRIEST, XAIRA, and several other PRIESTS._ - -_Xaira._ The king approaches! - -(_The Priests range themselves on the steps of the altar; CORA, TELASCO, -and ZORAI, remain in the front of the stage on one side; ALONZO stands -opposite to them; ATALIBA, attended by his suite, enters with slow and -solemn steps, and with a countenance marked with deep anxiety; he kneels -before the Image of the Sun, and remains for some time in an attitude of -devotion, while a solemn silence is observed by all present. When his -prayer is finished, he rises, and turns towards ALONZO, to whom he speaks -hastily, and in a low voice._) - -_Ataliba._ Save yourself, Alonzo!—Urge that you are a foreigner, and -were unacquainted with our laws and customs!—urge your services to -the state, to me, to the people!—urge, in short, whatever your danger -may suggest!—Your judge is your friend, let it be possible for him to -shew you mercy without incurring a suspicion partiality. (_Alonzo bows -silently, with a countenance expressive of ardent gratitude. Ataliba -turns to Telasco_) Good old man, you are free!—He who has hazarded -his life a thousand times in the service of his native country, has -sacrificed it already to the gods. I dare not proceed against you! - -_Telasco._ How, Inca!—Can you be so cruel as to deprive the aged tree of -all its branches, and yet leave the trunk standing? - -_Ataliba._ (_To Zorai_) Young man, you also are free! (_Turning to the -assembly_) For it is the will of my father, that henceforward the guilty -only shall suffer. (_A murmuring is heard among the priests; Ataliba -casts a look of displeasure upon them, and again addresses Zorai_) -Comfort your aged father, nurse him and attend upon him as long as he -lives; then come to me, as to your elder brother. (_Zorai attempts to -throw himself at the king’s feet, who prevents him, and turns to Cora_) -For you, Cora,—I can do nothing. - -_Cora._ Oh, you have done all that I could wish!—more than I could dare -to hope. - -_Ataliba._ Your offence comes immediately within the laws, and to the -laws the king himself is subject. (_He ascends to the upper step of the -altar, prostrates himself once more before the Image of the Sun, and then -turns towards the assembly_) High-Priest, execute your office! - -_High-Priest._ Pardon me, good Inca!—spare my age!—my infirm state of -health!—my throbbing heart!—Permit Xaira on this occasion to take my -place. - -_Ataliba._ Be it as you desire! - -_Xaira._ (_Approaching him with solemnity_) First born of the Sun, a -virgin, devoted to the gods, has broken her sacred vow!—Cora, come -forwards!—A stranger who sojourns in this land is the associate of her -crime!—Alonzo, come forwards!—We, the priests of the incensed gods, -and servants of the Temple which has been profaned, faithful to the -ordinances of thy great ancestor, have sat in judgment upon their crime, -and pronounced sentence upon both.—This sentence is DEATH!!! - -_Ataliba._ (_After a pause, addressing Cora and Alonzo_) Have you -anything to say in your defence? (_Cora and Alonzo remain silent_) I -ask you, Cora, and you, Alonzo, if you have any thing to urge in your -defence? - -_Cora._ Nothing. - -_Alonzo._ Nothing. - -_Ataliba._ How, Alonzo, have you nothing to urge in extenuation of your -conduct? - -_Alonzo._ Nothing. - -_Ataliba._ Do not speak rashly!—I give you time for -recollection!—Consider well—STRANGER! - -_Alonzo._ I have deserved death, and submit to it willingly. - -_Ataliba._ Once more I admonish you to consider well what you are about—a -few moments longer, and it will be too late.—Oh ye assembled judges, know -that I regard it as a sacred duty to grant this indulgence, since this -man is a stranger, and could not be impressed with that sacred reverence -for our faith, which the wisdom of our priests instils from their -earliest infancy into the breast of every Peruvian. Unacquainted with our -laws, he could not see with our eyes, could not know the magnitude of his -transgression. Once more, Alonzo, you are at liberty to speak.—Our gods -are just, reasonable, merciful! - -_Alonzo._ I have deserved death. - -_Ataliba._ Is that your last word? - -_Alonzo._ My last. - -_Ataliba._ (_Rests his elbow upon the altar, and conceals his face in his -hands for some moments, then, recovering himself, proceeds_) Priests, -perform your duty! - -(_Two priests ascend to the altar, one on each side of the king. One -takes the sword, the other the palm-branch from the altar, when, -descending again, they deliver them to Xaira._) - -_Xaira._ (_Presenting the sword to the king_) First born of the -Sun, receive from my hands the symbol of justice! (_Presenting the -palm-branch_) First born of the Sun, receive from my hands the symbol of -mercy!—The gods direct your judgment! - -_Ataliba._ (_Kneels_) Oh God, thou seest how my heart is racked at this -awful hour!—Grant that I may never again be compelled to the performance -of so mournful a duty!—Ye shades of my forefathers, hover over me!—let -me be enlightened by your wisdom, and since I exact no more than justice -demands, let my soul find rest in that reflection. (_He rises—Cora, -Alonzo, Telasco, and Zorai, kneel with their heads bowed down.—After a -few minutes struggle with himself, the king raises the sword, and is -about to speak._) - - -SCENE V.—_Enter the CHAMBERLAIN in great haste, and with a strong -impression of terror upon his countenance._ - -_Chamberlain._ Pardon me, royal Inca, that I must be the messenger of -evil tidings. The flame of insurrection rages among the people—they -run wildly hither and thither about the streets—the troops assemble -on all sides, crying to arms! to arms!—Drums beat, trumpets sound, -weapons clash, and a forest of lances are collected together. No answer -is to be obtained to a single question; all that is to be heard is -the name of Rolla shouted by ten thousand voices. The troop belonging -to the foreigner Velasquez, was drawn up in the meadow; I saw him run -hastily from one soldier to another; and could plainly perceive by his -gestures, that he entreated, threatened, expostulated, and employed every -effort to restrain them within their duty, but in vain, all by turns -deserted to Rolla. (_The whole assembly, except the king, manifest great -consternation and alarm._) - -_Ataliba._ What can this mean?—Rolla, did you say, at the head of the -army?—that cannot be insurrection.—Rolla’s name can never be united with -insurrection—this must be a mistake. Did you see him yourself? - -_Chamberlain._ Only at a distance. The officers had made a little -circle round him, he harangued them eagerly, and with a loud voice, -his eyes flashed fire, which seemed to communicate to those about him, -who frequently interrupted his harangue with impetuous shouts, then -brandishing their swords and shaking their lances, they began to throng -towards the Temple, the whole multitude following them, while I hastened -on before, to prepare you for their reception. - -_Ataliba._ (_Without changing countenance_) Well, all will soon be -explained. (_He looks around_) I see terror pourtrayed on every -countenance.—Why are you dismayed?—He who only studies to promote his -people’s happiness, has no reason to fear his people. In that conviction -my heart finds repose. Let them come! (_A noise is heard behind the -scenes._) - -_All present cry with confusion._ They come!—they are here already! - - -SCENE VI.—_ROLLA rushes in with a drawn sword in his right hand, a -javelin in his left, and a bow and quiver at his back. He is followed by -a considerable number of OFFICERS and SOLDIERS._ - -_Rolla._ Be guided by me, my friends. - -_Xaira._ A profanation of the Temple! - -_Rolla._ You have profaned it by a sanguinary sentence. - -_Xaira._ (_To the assembled Priests_) Avenge your gods! (_A confused -murmuring is heard among them_) - -_Ataliba._ (_To Xaira_) Silence!—(_He makes a motion with his hand, -signifying that he is about to speak, when a general silence is observed. -He then turns to Rolla, and addresses him_) Who are you? - -_Rolla._ Do you not know me? - -_Ataliba._ I had once a chieftain, who much resembled you in features—his -name was Rolla, and he was a noble-minded man.—But who are you? - -_Rolla._ No mockery Inca!—for the love of God no mockery!—Yet you may be -right—I am no longer Rolla—I no longer know myself!—A storm drives me -on!—a rapid stream hurries me forwards!—but have compassion upon me!—I -honour you, Inca—I love and honour you truly. - -_Ataliba._ You honour me?—Once indeed I indulged in such glorious -visions, I said within myself, as long as I have Rolla for a chieftain, -the monarch of Cuzco may rage, may try to seduce my provinces from their -obedience, yet Rolla’s heroic courage is a tree under whose shade I shall -always repose in peace. - -_Rolla._ But answer me, I entreat?—is the tree under whose shade you were -reposing thus quietly, responsible to itself, if a whirlwind should come, -tear it up by the roots, and throw it down upon you? - -_Ataliba._ What whirlwind has seized upon you?—what is it you -desire?—speak, and thank your former services, that you are now indulged -with the liberty of speaking. I have never sufficiently rewarded your -heroic achievements, I do it now, in granting this permission. - -_Rolla._ I have only a plain story to urge in my defence, let it suffice -for my vindication, if you partake more of the human, than of the divine -nature!—I love to excess!—While I was still a boy, this passion stole -into my heart so sweetly, so pleasantly, so devoid of all uneasiness, -that I felt delight in cherishing and indulging it. Love was at that -time like a day of serenity to my soul, and remained so, till the period -of youth intervened, when my passion became a storm, to which all must -bend,—when nothing could restrain the impetuosity of my feelings. To love -and be beloved were the highest objects to which I aspired—I thought of -nothing but enjoying my sweet intoxication in Cora’s arms, regardless of -honour or of the services due to my country, and to the noble race of -our Incas, of which tree I am a branch. My good uncle sought to stem the -torrent, or at least to conduct it into another channel, and sent me to -serve my king in battle, trusting that the fever which burned within me, -might thus in time be wholly exhausted. But vain was the hope, that in -urging my steps to climb the lofty heights of honour, I might be enabled -when I had gained their summit, to look down with calmness on the passion -I had left below. This passion would not be shaken off—it accompanied me -up the steep, and it was that alone which prompted all my heroic actions. -Yes, Inca, whatever great or good I have performed in your service, is to -be ascribed solely to love—it was my companion in the field of battle, -and in my most adventurous moments, I thought not of my king nor of his -throne, neither of the welfare of my country; I only thought of Cora—that -I should become the object of Cora’s admiration—You owe nothing to me, -all to my love for that matchless woman, and that love you must this day -pardon. I am past the days of youth indeed, but my heart remains the -same, it retains all the impetuosity of my earlier years; I still cherish -the lovely visions of childhood; my passion is become like a tree, the -root of which is so deeply entwined with my life, that the one cannot be -plucked up without destroying the other. Oh, Inca, shew that you have the -feelings of a man!—extend your mercy to Cora!—on my knees I intreat for -her life! (_He kneels_) Since she has called the forsaken Rolla, brother, -he is become proud, yet he still condescends on his knees to beg his -sister’s life. - -_Ataliba._ (_Endeavouring to conceal his emotions and preserve his -dignity_) Rise! - -_Rolla._ Mercy! - -_Ataliba._ Rise!—lay thy arms at my feet, dismiss thy followers, and then -wait silently, and submissively, the judgment of thy king. - -_Rolla._ Mercy!—Mercy!—Uncle, Sister, aid me to entreat!—I have been so -little accustomed to entreaty, that I scarcely know the form in which it -should be clothed. - -_Ataliba._ A petitioner in arms!—would you mock your sovereign? - -_Rolla._ (_Rising up_) Oh no!—but you require impossibilities—you expect -a man in a burning fever to sleep. Can Rolla behold Cora in chains, and -lay down his arms?—by Heaven that cannot be! - -_Ataliba._ I command you to deposit them at my feet. - -_Rolla._ Pronounce her pardon Inca!—declare her absolved from her -detested vow, and you shall instantly be obeyed. - -_Ataliba._ No conditions—your arms must instantly be resigned. - -_Rolla._ Impossible!—Come to my heart, Cora!—be my breast your shield, -and let my sword hew asunder those chains! - -_Ataliba._ Rebel, do whatever you please.—whatever the gods will -permit—but know that Ataliba will not pronounce sentence till he beholds -you kneeling disarmed at his feet. Never shall it be said, that you -_extorted_ mercy from the king. (_In a pathetic tone_) Ye people of -Quito, listen to the voice of your sovereign!—I stand here at this -moment, in the temple, in the presence of our God himself!—For seven -years have I now reigned over you, I ask if any one can charge me during -that time with a wilful injustice?—if any can, let him come forwards!—Has -any one been dismissed from before my throne without assistance, where -assistance could be granted?—if any has, let him come forwards!—I have -conquered other countries, I have triumphed over other kings, but that -is little.—When a few years ago the anger of the gods had cursed the -country with unfruitfulness, I threw open the doors of my full barns, fed -the hungry, and revived the sick, while many a night I lay sleepless in -my own bed, because your misery oppressed my soul, and I had not power -to relieve all. Ye people of Quito your present conduct is undeserved by -me!—Seize that man, chain him, or I lay down my sceptre at this moment. -(_A confused murmuring is heard among the crowd._) - -_Rolla._ (_Turning to his followers_) You seize me!—you put me in -chains!—which among you will do this?—You perhaps, my old companion in -battle, with whom I once shared my last morsel when famine stared us -in the face?—or you, whose life I saved in the field of Tumibamba?—or -you, whose son I rescued from the enemy’s hands, even at the moment when -the lance was pointed against his breast?—Which among you will seize -me?—Speak? - -_High-Priest._ Rolla, my adopted son, how am I bowed down by this scene. -Would you see me, miserable old man, as I am, prostrate at your feet? - -_Rolla._ Forbear!—I honour you as a father, but do not spread out your -hands to the stormy winds,—it is in vain! (_The High-Priest is about to -proceed in his entreaties, but Rolla prevents him impatiently_) Uncle, -no more!—the lots are cast, and whatever may be the consequence I am -resolved to save Cora. - -_Cora._ (_Goes up to Rolla, embraces and kisses him_) Brother, take -this kiss from your sister, and let these tears speak my gratitude -for love so ardent. Your soul is truly noble,—this day, for the first -time in my life, have I really known you. But one so great, so good, -must be his sovereign’s friend. Cora has been guilty of a crime, and -would you seek to shelter her by the commission of another? Oh, what -an added weight of remorse would that reflection heap upon my already -overburthened conscience!—No, Rolla, do not act thus beneath yourself!—do -not seek to snatch the reins from the hands of God, who assuredly -directs my fate!—Suffer me to die!—I have received my father’s and my -brother’s forgiveness; Alonzo dies with me, and I die contentedly. Our -spirits shall hover around you, and will rejoice when they behold you -true to your king, and devoting all your powers to the service of your -country.—resolve to endure the remainder of your life without me!—it is -my last request, and I know that Rolla will yield to Cora’s entreaty; -then will she have performed a good action at her departure from the -world, and will be indebted to her brother for that grateful reflection. -Yes, Rolla, I see the clouds upon your brow dispersing, I see tears start -into your eyes—do not repress them,—give them free scope—they are no -disgrace even to the eyes of a warrior.—And now, my brother, give me your -sword, your javelin!—(_She takes his sword and javelin gently out of his -hands, and lays them at Ataliba’s feet_) Behold now a hero indeed!—With -those tears that are trembling on his cheeks, has he washed away the -stain which was beginning to tarnish his fame and virtue—now Rolla, I am -indeed proud of your love!—One only effort sill remains, throw yourself -at the feet of our good king—kneel to him, and let virtue remain sole -victor! (_She draws him gently towards Ataliba, at whose feet she throws -herself.—Rolla, after a few moments’ struggle with himself, kneels by -her—Cora addresses the king_) Oh sovereign of Quito, I bring you back -your hero!—pardon him!—he deserves your pardon! (_She rises and returns -to her former station._) Now Inca, proceed to judgment! (_Rolla remains -kneeling before the king_) - -_Telasco._ (_Embracing Cora_) My daughter!—for as such I may now embrace -thee without shame. - -_Ataliba._ Does Rolla submit to his king? - -_Rolla._ Entirely. - -_Ataliba._ Your life is forfeited. - -_Rolla._ Of that I am sensible. - -_Ataliba._ You have my free pardon. - -_Rolla._ (_Raising up his eyes to the king with haste and anxiety_) And -Cora? - -_Ataliba._ You are pardoned. - -_Rolla._ (_Casting his eyes again to the ground_) Oh God! - -_Ataliba._ Rise! - -_Rolla._ No, let me hear the sentence upon my knees, for in pronouncing -Cora’s doom you pronounce mine. - -_Ataliba._ Well then! (_He takes again into his hands the sword and -palm-branch, which at the beginning of the tumult he had laid upon the -altar._) - -_High-Priest._ (_Throwing himself suddenly at the king’s feet_) Oh Inca, -pardon them! - -_Ataliba._ (_Raising him up with mildness_) Do you also ask this, my -father?—have the gods manifested their will to you? - -_High-Priest._ Mercy is the will of the gods!—Those rude times when your -illustrious ancestor first established the worship of the sun are no -more. Naked as the beasts of the forest, our race then lived under the -open canopy of Heaven alone, while their women were considered like the -dates upon the palm-tree, as fruit which every one might pluck according -to his fancy. At that time they had no subsistence but what they could -snatch precariously from day to day,—they were without religion, without -laws, without property. Then Manco-Capac, endowed with supernatural -powers, appeared among them—he built a temple to the sun, and consecrated -virgins to his service, instituting at the same time the vow of chastity, -because vice reigned so triumphantly throughout the kingdom, and reason -was so much in its infancy, that without such a precaution, the temple -on the solemn days of festival had become a theatre of debauchery. But -a long series of years has changed what was then a forced obedience to -the laws of order, into an inward feeling of their beauty, and where -this rules, compulsive institutions are no longer necessary. Therefore, -Inca, I stand here in the name of the gods, and call upon you, as the -benefactor of your people, to crown all your noble deeds with a sacrifice -due to reason, and through her to the gods themselves. Shrink not from -the trial!—be eager to do what is right, or if any thing still be wanting -to your conviction, let the supplication of an old man at least move -you!—the supplication of one by whom you were educated, who loves you as -his own son, who has watched with anxious care your infant slumbers, and -who now asks this mercy as the recompence of all his cares! (_He takes -the fillet from his head and shews his grey hair._) Grant this request, -oh Inca, for the sake of these grey hairs, become thus silvery in your -service! - -_Ataliba._ Enough!—Come forwards, Cora!—and you, Alonzo! - -_High-Priest._ Ye gods, direct his noble heart! - -(_CORA and ALONZO come forwards trembling._) - -_Telasco._ (_To Zorai_) Support me, my son,—support me! - -(_ATALIBA after a solemn pause, with his right hand strikes the sword -against the ground and breaks it, then with his left presents the -palm-branch to CORA._) - -_Ataliba._ Be the law abolished, and Cora released! - -(_CORA sinks down in a swoon,—ALONZO throws himself by her—ROLLA springs -up and presses the king wildly to his breast.—The HIGH-PRIEST raises -his hands gratefully towards Heaven—TELASCO supported by ZORAI totters -towards his daughter,—The people shout repeatedly, crying_) - -_All._ Long live the Inca!!! 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