The Complete Poetical Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge Volume II Part 33

_Naomi._ 'Tis thus by nature Wisely ordain'd, that so excess of sorrow 25 Might bring its own cure with it.

_Alhadra._ Would to Heaven That it had brought its last and certain cure!

That ruin in the wood.

_Naomi._ It is a place Of ominous fame; but 'twas the shortest road, Nor could we else have kept clear of the village. 30 Yet some among us, as they scal'd the wall, Mutter'd old rhyming prayers.

_Alhadra._ On that broad wall I saw a skull; a poppy grew beside it, There was a ghastly solace in the sight!

_Naomi._ I mark'd it not, and in good truth the night-bird 35 Curdled my blood, even till it p.r.i.c.k'd the heart.

Its note comes dreariest in the fall of the year:

[_Looking round impatiently._

Why don't they come? I will go forth and meet them.

[_Exit NAOMI._

_Alhadra (alone)._ The hanging woods, that touch'd by autumn seem'd As they were blossoming hues of fire and gold, 40 The hanging woods, most lovely in decay, The many clouds, the sea, the rock, the sands, Lay in the silent moonshine; and the owl, (Strange! very strange!) the scritch owl only wak'd, Sole voice, sole eye of all that world of beauty! 45 Why such a thing am I! Where are these men?

I need the sympathy of human faces To beat away this deep contempt for all things Which quenches my revenge. Oh!--would to Alla The raven and the sea-mew were appointed 50 To bring me food, or rather that my soul Could drink in life from the universal air!

It were a lot divine in some small skiff, Along some ocean's boundless solitude, To float for ever with a careless course, 55 And think myself the only being alive! [_NAOMI re-enters._

_Naomi._ Thy children----

_Alhadra._ Children? _Whose_ children?

[_A pause--then fiercely._

Son of Velez, This hath new-strung my arm! Thou coward tyrant, To stupify a woman's heart with anguish, 60 Till she forgot even that she was a mother!

[_A noise--enter a part of the_ Morescoes; _and from the opposite side of the stage a_ Moorish Seaman.

_Moorish Seaman._ The boat is on the sh.o.r.e, the vessel waits.

Your wives and children are already stow'd; I left them prattling of the Barbary coast, Of Mosks, and minarets, and golden crescents. 65 Each had her separate dream; but all were gay, Dancing, in thought, to finger-beaten timbrels!

[_Enter MAURICE and the rest of the_ Morescoes _dragging in FRANCESCO._

_Francesco._ O spare me, spare me! only spare my life!

_An Old Man._ All hail, Alhadra! O that thou hadst heard him When first we dragg'd him forth! [_Then turning to the band._ Here! in her presence---- 70

[_He advances with his sword as about to kill him. MAURICE leaps in and stands with his drawn sword between FRANCESCO and the_ Morescoes.

_Maurice._ Nay, but ye shall not!

_Old Man._ Shall not? Hah? Shall not?

_Maurice._ What, an unarm'd man?

A man that never wore a sword? A priest?

It is unsoldierly! I say, ye shall not!

_Old Man (turning to the bands)._ He bears himself most like an insolent Spaniard! 75

_Maurice._ And ye like slaves, that have destroy'd their master, But know not yet what freedom means; how holy And just a thing it is! He's a fallen foe!

Come, come, forgive him!

_All._ No, by Mahomet!

_Francesco._ O mercy, mercy! talk to them of mercy! 80

_Old Man._ Mercy to thee! No, no, by Mahomet!

_Maurice._ Nay, Mahomet taught mercy and forgiveness.

I am sure he did!

_Old Man._ Ha! Ha! Forgiveness! Mercy!

_Maurice._ If he did not, he needs it for himself!

_Alhadra._ Blaspheming fool! the law of Mahomet 85 Was given by him, who framed the soul of man.

This the best proof--it fits the soul of man!

Ambition, glory, thirst of enterprize, The deep and stubborn purpose of revenge, With all the boiling revelries of pleasure-- 90 These grow in the heart, yea, intertwine their roots With its minutest fibres! And that Being Who made us, laughs to scorn the lying faith, Whose puny precepts, like a wall of sand, Would stem the full tide of predestined Nature! 95

_Naomi (who turns toward Francesco with his sword)._ Speak!

_All (to Alhadra)._ Speak!

_Alhadra._ Is the murderer of your chieftain dead?

Now as G.o.d liveth, who hath suffer'd him To make my children orphans, none shall die Till I have seen his blood!

Off with him to the vessel!

[_A part of the_ Morescoes _hurry him off._

_Alhadra._ The Tyger, that with unquench'd cruelty, 100 Still thirsts for blood, leaps on the hunter's spear With prodigal courage. 'Tis not so with man.

_Maurice._ It is not so, remember that, my friends!

Cowards are cruel, and the cruel cowards.

_Alhadra._ Scatter yourselves, take each a separate way, 105 And move in silence to the house of Velez. [_Exeunt._

SCENE.--_A Dungeon._

_ALBERT (alone) rises slowly from a bed of reeds._

_Albert._ And this place my forefathers made for men!

This is the process of our love and wisdom To each poor brother who offends against us-- Most innocent, perhaps--and what if guilty? 110 Is this the only cure? Merciful G.o.d!

Each pore and natural outlet shrivell'd up By ignorance and parching poverty, His energies roll back upon his heart, And stagnate and corrupt till changed to poison, 115 They break out on him like a loathsome plague-spot!

Then we call in our pamper'd mountebanks-- And this is their best cure! uncomforted And friendless solitude, groaning and tears, And savage faces at the clanking hour 120 Seen thro' the steaming vapours of his dungeon By the lamp's dismal twilight! So he lies Circled with evil, till his very soul Unmoulds its essence, hopelessly deform'd By sights of ever more deformity! 125 With other ministrations thou, O Nature!