Who gave to thee that life he might have taken? De Mon. Ha! thou hast heard it, then ! But most of all from thee, I thought it hid. From all the Jane. I heard a secret whisper, and resolved Upon the instant to return to thee. Didst thou receive my letter? De Mon. I did! I did! 'Twas that which drove me hither. I could not bear to meet thine eye again. Jane. Alas! that, tempted by a sister's tears, And then, as says report, you parted friends. De Mon. When he disarmed this cursed, this worthless hand Of its most worthless weapon, he but spared From devilish pride, which now derives a bliss Until that day, till that accursed aay, I knew not half the torment of this hell Which burns within my breast. Heaven's lightnings blast him! Jane. Oh, this is horrible! Forbear, forbear! De Mon. Then let it light. Torments more fell than I have known already It cannot send. To be annihilated, What all men shrink from; to be dust, be nothing, Were bliss to me, compared to what I am! Jane. Oh! wouldst thou kill me with these dreadful words? De Mon. Let me but once upon his ruin look, Then close mine eyes forever! Ha! how is this? Thou'rt ill; thou'rt very pale; Alas! alas! I meant not to distress thee-O my sister! Jane. I cannot now speak to thee. De Mon. I have killed thee. Turn, turn thee not away! Look on me still! Jane. Thou, too, De Montfort, In better days wast wont to be my pride. De Mon. I am a wretch, most wretched in myself, And still more wretched in the pain I give. O curse that villain, that detested villain! He has spread misery o'er my fated life; Jane. I've held my warfare through a troubled world, And borne with steady mind my share of ill; For then the helpmate of my toil wast thou. And hideous passion tears thee from my heart, Samuel Taylor Coleridge. REMORSE. The OR ISIDORE DON ALVAR and DON ORDONIO, Sons of the MARQUIS VALDEZ, equally love DONNA TERESA, an orphan Heiress, brought up by VALDEZ. Lady returns the love of DON ALVAR, and they are betrothed. DONIO, instigated by jealousy, conspires against his Brother's life. He employs ISIDORE, a Morisco Chieftain, professing Christianity, to assassinate DON ALVAR, on his return from the Belgic Wars. and his Companions attack DoN ALVAR, but are overpowered by the bravery of their intended Victim, who learns from ISIDORE that DONNA TERESA has proved false to him, and is about to marry ORDONIO. "Wearied with life," he returns to the Wars, is wounded in battle, and taken Prisoner. After an absence of six years, he returns to his own Country, and in the disguise of a Moorish Necromancer is found by ORDONIO, who engages him to use his necromantic art to raise the Spirit of ALVAR before TERESA, who, true to her vows to her supposed dead Lover, refuses the proffered hand of ORDONIO. ALVAR consents, his only desire being that— "Remorse might fasten on his brother's breast," the punishment that cleanses hearts." SCENE-A Hall of Armory, with an Altar at the back of the Stage. Soft Music from an instrument of glass or steel. VALDEZ, ORDONIO, and ALVAR in a Sorcerer's robe, are discovered. Ord. This was too melancholy, father. My Alvar loved sad music from a child. Some strangely moving notes; and these, he said, Him we first saw Stretched on the broad top of a sunny heath-bank: And lower down poor Alvar, fast asleep, Alv. My tears must not flow! I must not clasp his knees, and cry, My father! Enter TERESA and Attendants. Ter. Lord Valdez, you have asked my presence here, Ord. Believe you, then, no preternatural influence ? That the dead hear the voice of witch or wizard. [TO ALVAR.] Stranger, I mourn and blush to see you here On such employment! With far other thoughts I left you. Ord. [Aside.] Ha! he has been tampering with her! Alv. O high-souled maiden! and more dear to me Than suits the stranger's name! swear to thee I will uncover all concealèd guilt. Doubt, but decide not! Stand ye from the altar. [Here a strain of music is heard from behind the scene. Alv. With no irreverent voice or uncouth charm I call up the departed! Soul of Alvar! Hear our soft suit, and heed my milder spell: Cease thy swift toils! Since haply thou art one Who in broad circle, lovelier than the rainbow, my head! [Music.] [Music expressive of the movements and images Ye, as ye pass, toss high the desert sands, |