De Chatillon

Front matter

De Chatillon; Or, The Crusaders

Draft of A Five Act Tragedy By

Felicia Hemans

Act I

DE CHATILLON; OR, THE CRUSADERS.

A TRAGEDY.1

["About this time, Mrs Hemans was engaged in the composition of another tragedy, entitled 'De Chatillon, or, The Crusaders;' in which, with that deference to fair criticism which she was always ready to avow, and to act upon, she made it her purpose to attempt a more compressed style of writing, avoiding that redundancy of poetic diction which had been censured as the prevailing fault of 'The Vespers.' It may possibly be thought that in the composition in question she has fallen into the opposite extreme of want of elaboration; yet, in its present state, it is, perhaps, scarcely amenable to criticism—for, by some strange accident, the fair copy transcribed by herself was either destroyed or mislaid in some of her subsequent removals, and the piece was long considered as utterly lost. Nearly two years after her death, the original rough MS., with all its hieroglyphical blots and erasures, was discovered amongst a mass of forgotten papers; and it has been a task of no small difficulty to decipher it, and complete the copy now first given to the world. Allowances must, therefore, be made for the disadvantages under which it appears,—thus deprived of her own finishing touches, and with no means of ascertaining how far it may differ from the copy so unaccountably missing."—Memoir, p. 80-1.]

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

Rainier de Chatillon, A French Baron. | Gaston, A Vassal of Rainier’s.

Aymer, His Brother. | Urban, A Priest.

Melech, A Saracen Emir. | Sadi.

Herman,

Du Mornay, } Knights. | Moraima, Daughter of Melech.

Knights, Arabs, Citizens, &c.

ACT I.

Scene I.—Before the gates of a city in Palestine.

Urban, Priests, Citizens, at the gates. Others looking from the walls above.

Urb. (to a Citizen on the walls above.) You see their lances glistening? You can tell The way they take?

Cit. Not yet. Their march is slow; They have not reach'd the jutting cliff, where first The mountain path divides.

Urb. And now?

Cit. The wood Shuts o'er their track. Now spears are flashing out— It is the banner of De Chatillon. (Very slow and mournful military music without.) This way! they come this way!

Urb. All holy saints Grant that they pass us not! Those martial sounds Have a strange tone of sadness! Hark, they swell Proudly, yet full of sorrow.

Rainier de Chatillon enters with knights, soldiers, &c.

Welcome, knights! Ye bring us timely aid! men's hearts were full Of doubt and terror. Brave De Chatillon! True soldier of the Cross! I welcome thee; I greet thee with all blessing! Where thou art There is deliverance!

Rai. (bending to receive the Priest's blessing.) Holy man, I come From a lost battle.

Urb. And thou bring'st the heart Whose spirit yields not to defeat.

Rai. I bring My father's bier.

Urb. His bier! I marvel not To see your brow thus darken'd! And he died, As he had lived, in arms?

Rai. (gloomily.) Not, not in arms— His war-cry had been silenced. Have ye place Amidst your ancient knightly sepulchres For a warrior with his sword? He bade me bear His dust to slumber here.

Urb. And it shall sleep Beside our noblest, while we yet can call One holy place our own! Heard you, my lord, That the fierce Kaled's host is on its march Against our city?

Rai. (with sudden exultation.) That were joy to know! That were proud joy!—Who told it?—there’s a weight That must be heaved from off my troubled heart By the strong tide of battle! Kaled?—ay, A gallant name! How heard you?

Urb. Nay, it seem'd As if a breeze first bore the rumour in. I know not how it rose; but now it comes Like fearful truth, and we were sad, thus left

Hopeless of aid or counsel—till we saw—

Rai. (hastily.) You have my brother here?

Urb. (with embarrassment.) We have; but he—

Rai. But he—but he!—Aymer de Chatillon! The fiery knight—the very soul o' the field— Rushing on danger with the joyous step Of a hunter o'er the hills!—is that a tone Wherewith to speak of him? I heard a tale— If it be true—nay, tell me!

Urb. He is here: Ask him to tell thee.

Rai. If that tale be true—

(He turns suddenly to his companions.)

—Follow me, give the noble dead his rites,

And we will have our day of vengeance yet, Soldiers and friends! [Exeunt omnes.

Scene II.—A Hall of Oriental architecture, opening upon gardens. A fountain in the centre.

Aymer de Chatillon, Moraima. Mor. (bending over a couch on which her brother is sleeping.)

He sleeps so calmly now; the soft wind here

Brings in such lulling sounds! Nay, think you not This slumber will restore him? See you not His cheek's faint glow?

Aym. (turning away) It was my sword which gave The wound he dies from!

Mor. Dies from! say not so! The brother of my childhood and my youth, My heart's first friend!—Oh! I have been too weak, I have delay'd too long! He could not sue, He bade me urge the prayer he would not speak, And I withheld it! Christian, set us free! You have been gentle with us! 'tis the weight, The bitter feeling, of captivity Which preys upon his life!

Aym. You would go hence?

Mor. For his sake!

Aym. You would leave me! 'Tis too late! You see it not—you know not, that your voice Hath power in its low mournfulness to shake Mine inmost soul?—that you but look on me, With the soft darkness of your earnest eyes, And bid the world fade from me, and call up A thousand passionate dreams, which wrap my life As with a troubled cloud? The very sound Of your light step hath made my heart o'erflow, Even unto aching, with the sudden gush Of its deep tenderness! You know it not? —Moraima!—speak to me!

Mor. (covering herself with her veil.) I can but weep!

Is it even so?—this love was born for tears! Aymer! I can but weep! (going to leave him, he detains her.)

Aym. Hear me, yet hear me! I was rear'd in arms; And the proud blast of trumpets, and the shouts Of banner'd armies—these were joy to me. Enough of joy! Till you!—I look'd on you— We met where swords were flashing, and the light Of burning towers glared wildly on the slain— And then—

Mor. (hurriedly.) Yes! then you saved me!

Aym. Then I knew, At once, what springs of deeper happiness Lay far within my soul; and they burst forth Troubled and dash'd with fear—yet sweet! I loved! Moraima! leave me not!

Mor. For us to love! Oh! is't not taking sorrow to our hearts, Binding her there? I know not what I say! How shall I look upon my brother? Hark! Did he not call? (she goes up to the couch.)

Aym. Am I beloved? She wept With a full heart! I am! and such deep joy Is found on earth! If I should lose her now! If aught— [an attendant enters. (To attendant.) You seek me!—why is this?

Att. My lord, Your brother and his knights—

Aym. Here! are they here? The knights—my brother, saidst thou?

Att. Yes, my lord, And he would speak with you.

Aym. I see—I know— (To attendant.) Leave me! I know why he is come: 'tis vain, They shall not part us! (Looking back on Moraima as he goes out.) What a silent grace Floats round her form! They shall not part us! no! [Exit—Scene closes.

Scene III.—A square of the city—a church in the background.

Rainier de Chatillon.

Rai. (walking to and fro impatiently.) And now, too! now! My father unavenged, Our holy places threaten'd, every heart Task'd to its strength! A knight of Palestine Now to turn dreamer, to melt down his soul In love-lorn sighs; and for an infidel! —Will he lift up his eyes to look on mine? Will he not——hush!

Aymer enters. (They look on each other for a moment without speaking.)

Rai. (suppressing his emotion.) So brothers meet! You know Wherefore I come?

Aym. It cannot be; 'tis vain. Tell me not of it!

Rai. How! you have not heard? (Turning from him.) He hath so shut the world out with his dreams, The tidings hare not reach'd him! or perchance Have been forgotten! You have captives here?

Aym. (hurriedly.) Yes, mine! my own—won by the right of arms! You dare not question it.

Rai. A prince, they say, And his fair sister:—is the maid so fair!

Aym. (turning suddenly upon him.) What, you would see her!

Rai. (scornfully) I!—oh, yes! to quell My soul's deep yearnings! Let me look on swords. Boy, boy! recall yourself!—I come to you With the last blessing of our father!

Aym. Last! His last!—how mean you? Is he——

Rai. Dead?—yes! dead. He died upon my breast.

Aym, (with the deepest emotion.) And I was here! Dead!—and upon your breast! You closed his eyes— While I—he spoke of me?

Rai. With such deep love! He ever loved you most! His spirit seem'd To linger for your coming.

Aym. What! he thought That I was on my way! He look'd for me? And I—

Rai. You came not! I had sent to you, And told you he was wounded.

Aym. Yes—but not— Not mortally!

Rai. 'Twas not that outward wound— That might have closed; and yet he surely thought That you would come to him! He call'd on you When his thoughts wander'd! Ay, the very night, The very hour he died, some hasty step Enter'd his chamber—and he raised his head, With a faint lightning in his eyes, and ask'd If it were yours! That hope's brief moment pass'd— He sank then.

Aym. (throwing himself upon his brother's neck.) Brother! take me to his grave, That I may kneel there, till my burning tears,

With the strong passion of repentant love, Wring forth a voice to pardon me!

Rai. You weep! Tears for the garlands on a maiden's grave! You know not how he died!

Aym, Not of his wound?

Rai. His wound!—it is the silent spirit’s wound, We cannot reach to heal! One burning thought Prey'd on his heart.

Aym. Not—not—he had not heard— He bless'd me, Rainier?

Rai. Have you flung away Your birthright? Yes! he bless’d you!—but he died —He whose name stood for Victory's—he believed The ancient honour from his gray head fall'n, And died—he died of shame!

Aym, What feverish dream—

Rai. (vehemently.) Was it not lost, the warrior’s latest field, The noble city held for Palestine Taken—the Cross laid low? I came too late To turn the tide of that disastrous fight, But not to rescue him. We bore him thence Wounded, upon his shield——

Aym. And I was here!

Rai. He cast one look back on his burning towers, Then threw the red sword of a hundred fields To the earth—and hid his face! I knew, I knew His heart was broken! Such a death for him! —The wasting—the sick loathing of the sun— Let the foe's charger trample out my life, Let me not die of shame! But we will have—

Aym. (grasping his hand eagerly.) Yes! vengeance!

Rai. Vengeance! By the dying once, And once before the dead, and yet once more Alone with heaven's bright stars, I took that vow For both his sons! Think of it, when the night Is dark around you, and in festive halls Keep your soul hush'd, and think of it!

A low Chant of female voices, heard from behind the scenes.

Fall'n is the flower of Islam's race! Break ye the lance he bore, And loose his war-steed from its place: He is no more—Single voice. No more! Weep for him mother, sister, bride! He died, with all his fame—Single voice. He died!

Aym, (Pointing to a palace, and eagerly speaking to his attendant, who enters.) Came it not thence? Rudolf, what sounds are these?

Att. The Moslem prince, your captive—he is dead: It is the mourners' wail for him.

Aym. And she— His sister—heard you—did they say she wept? [Hurrying away.

Rai. (indignantly.) All the deep stirring tones of honour's voice In a moment silenced! [Solemn military music.

(A funeral procession, with priests, &c., crosses the background to enter the church.)

Rai. (following Aymer and grasping his arm.) Aymer! there—look there! It is your father's bier!

Aym. (returning.) He bless'd me, Rainier? You heard him bless me? Yes! you closed his eyes: He look'd for me in vain!

[He goes to the bier, and bends over it, covering his face.

Act II

ACT II.

Scene I.—A room in the Citadel.

Rainier, Aymer, Knights, assembled in council.

A Knight. What! with our weary and distracted bands To dare another field! Nay, give them rest.

Rai. (impatiently.) Rest! and that sleepless thought——

Knight. These walls have strength To baffle siege. Let the foe gird us in— We must wait aid; our soldiers must forget That last disastrous day.

Rai. (coming forward.) If they forget it, in the combat's press May their spears fail them!

Knight. Yet, bethink thee, chief.

Rai. When I forget it—how! you see not, knights! Whence we must now draw strength. Send down your thoughts Into the very depths of grief and shame, And bring back courage thence! To talk of rest! How do they rest, unburied on their field, Our brethren slain by Gaza? Had we time To give them funeral rites? and ask we now Time to forget their fall? My father died— I cannot speak of hirn! What! and forget The infidel's fierce trampling o'er our dead? Forget his scornful shout? Give battle now, While the thought lives as fire lives!—there lies strength! Hold the dark memory fast! Now, now—this hour!

—Aymer, you do not speak!

Aym. (starting.) Have I not said? Battle!—yes, give us battle!—room to pour The troubled spirit forth upon the winds, With the trumpet’s ringing blast! Way for remorse! Free way for vengeance!

All the Knights. Arm! Heaven wills it so!

Rai. Gather your forces to the western gate! Let none forget that day! Our field was lost, Our city's strength laid low—one mighty heart Broken! Let none forget it! [Exeunt.

Scene II.—Garden of a Palace.

Moraima.

Mor. Yes! his last look—my brother's dying look Reproach'd me as it faded from his face. And I deserved it! Had I not given way To the wild guilty pleadings of my heart, I might have won his freedom! Now, 'tis past. He is free now!

Aymer enters, armed as for battle.

Aymer! you look so changed!

Aym. Changed!—it may be. A storm o' the soul goes by Not like a breeze! There's such a fearful grasp Fix'd on my heart! Speak to me—lull remorse! Bid me farewell!

Mor. Yes! it must be farewell! No other word but that.

Aym. No other word! The passionate, burning words that I could pour From my heart's depths! 'Tis madness! What have I To do with love? I see it all—the mist Is gone—the bright mist gone! I see the woe, The ruin, the despair! And yet I love, Love wildly, fatally! But speak to me! Fill all my soul once more with reckless joy! That blessèd voice again!

Mor. Why, why is this? Oh! send me to my father! We must part.

Aym. Part!—yes, I know it all! I could not go Till I had seen you! Give me one farewell, The last—perchance the last!—but one farewell, Whose mournful music I may take with me Through tumult, horror, death! [A distant sound of trumpets.

Mor. (starting.) You go to battle!

Aym. Hear you not that sound? Yes! I go there, where dark and stormy thoughts Find their free path!

Mor. Aymer! who leads the foe? (Confused.) I meant—I mean—my people! Who is he, My people's leader?

Aym. Kaled. (Looking at her suspiciously.) How! you seem— The name disturbs you!

Mor. My last brother's name!

Aym. Fear not my sword for him!

Mor. (turning away. If they should meet! I know the vow he made. (To Aymer.) If thou—if thou Shouldst fall!

Aym. Moraima! then your blessed tears Would flow for me? then you would weep for me?

Mor. I must weep tears of very shame; and yet— If—if your words have been love's own true words, Grant me one boon! [Trumpet sounds again.

Aym. Hark! I must hence. A boon! Ask it, and hold its memory to your heart, As the last token, it may be, of love So deep and sad.

Mor. Pledge me your knightly faith!

Aym. My knightly faith, my life, my honour—all, I pledge them all to grant it!

Mor. Then, to-day, Go not this day to battle! He is there, My brother Kaled!

Aym. (wildly.) Have I flung my sword Down to dishonour? [Going to leave her—she detains him.

Mor. Oh! your name hath stirr'd His soul amidst his tents, and he had vow'd, Long ere we met, to cross his sword with yours, Till one or both should fall. There hath been death Since then, amongst us; he will seek revenge. And his revenge—forgive me!—oh! forgive! —I could not bear that thought!

Aym. Now must the glance Of a brave man strike me to the very dust! Ay, this is shame. [Covering his face. (Turning wildly to Moraima.) You scorn me too? Away!—She does not know What she hath done! [Rushes out.

Scene III.—Before a gateway within the city.

Rainier, Herman, Knights, Men-at-arms, &c.

Her. 'Tis past the hour.

Rai. (looking out anxiously.) Away! 'tis not the hour— Not yet! When was the battle's hour delay'd For a Chatillon? We must have come too soon! All are not here.

Her. Yes, all!

Rai. They came too soon! [Going up to the knights. Couci, De Foix, Du Mornay—here, all here! And he the last!—my brother! (To a Soldier.) Where's your lord? (Turning away.) Why should I ask, when that fair Infidel—

Aymer enters.

The Saracen at our gates—and you the last! Come on, remember all your fame!

Aym. (coming forward in great agitation.) My fame! —Why did you save me from the Paynim's sword, In my first battle?

Rai. What wild words are these?

Aym. You should have let me perish then—yes, then! Go to your field and leave me!

Knights. (thronging round him.) Leave you!

Rai. Aymer! Was it your voice?

Aym. Now talk to me of fame! Tell me of all my warlike ancestors, And of my father's death—that bitter death! Never did pilgrim for the fountains thirst As I for this day's vengeance! To your field! —I may not go!

Rai. (turning from him.) The name his race hath borne Through a thousand battles—lost! (Returning to Aymer.) A Chatillon! Will you live and wed dishonour?

Aym. (covering his face.) Let the grave Take me and cover me! I must go down To its rest without my sword!

Rai. There's some dark spell upon him! Aymer, brother! Let me not die of shame! He that died so Turn'd sickening from the sun!

Aym. Where should I turn? [Going up abruptly to the knights. Herman—Du Mornay! ye have stood with me I' the battle's front—ye know me! ye have seen The fiery joy of danger bear me on As a wind the arrow! Leave me now—'tis past!

Rai. (with bitterness.) He comes from her!—the infidel hath smiled, Doubtless, for this.

Aym. I should have been to-day Where shafts fly thickest, and the crossing swords Cannot flash out for blood!—Hark! you are call'd!

[Wild Turkish music heard without. The background of the scene becomes more and more crowded with armed men.

Lay lance in rest!—wave, noble banners! wave! [Throwing down his sword. Go from me!—leave the fallen!

Her. Nay, but the cause! Tell us the cause!

Rai. (approaching him indignantly.) Your sword—your crested helm And your knight's mantle—cast them down! your name Is in the dust!—our father's name! The cause! —Tell it not, tell it not! [Turning to the soldiers and waving his hand. Sound, trumpets! sound! On, lances! for the Cross!

[Military music. As the knights march out, he looks back at Aymer. I would not now Call back my noble father from the dead, If I could with but a breath!—Sound, trumpets, sound! [Exeunt knights and soldiers.

Aym. Why should I bear this shame? 'tis not too late! [Rushing after them, he suddenly checks himself. My faith! my knightly faith pledged to my fall! [Exit.

Scene IV. Before a Church.

Groups of Citizens passing to and fro. Aymer standing against one of the pillars of the church in the background, and leaning on his sword.

1st Cit. (to 2d.) From the walls, how goes the battle?

2d. Cit. Well, all well, Praise to the Saints! I saw De Chatillon fighting, as if upon his single arm The fate o' the day were set.

3d. Cit. Shame light on those That strike not with him in their place!

1st Cit. You mean His brother? Ay, is't not a fearful thing That one of such a race—a brave one too— Should have thus fallen?

2d Cit. They say the captive girl Whom he so loved, hath won him from his faith To the vile Paynim creed.

Aym. (suddenly coming forward.) Who dares say that? Show me who dares say that! [They shrink back—he laughs scornfully. Ha! ha! ye thought To play with a sleeper's name!—to make your mirth As low-born men sit by a tomb, and jest

O'er a dead warrior! Where's the slanderer? Speak!

A Citizen enters hastily.

Cit. Haste to the walls! De Chatillon hath slain The Paynim chief! [They all go out.

Aym. Why should they shrink? I, I should ask the night To cover me! I that have flung my name Away to scorn! Hush! am I not alone? [Listening eagerly. There's a voice calling me—a voice i' the air— My father's!—'Twas my father's! Are the dead, Unseen, yet with us? Fearful! (Loud shouts without, he rushes forward exultingly.) 'Tis the shout Of victory! We have triumph'd!—We! my place Is midst the fallen!

[Music heard, which approaches, swelling into a triumphant march. Knights enter in procession, with banners, torch-bearers, &c. The gates of the church are thrown open, and the altar, tombs, &c. within, are seen illuminated. Knights pass over, and enter the church. One of them takes a torch, and lifts it to Aymer's face in passing. He strikes it down with a sword; then, seeing Rainier approach, drops the sword, and covers his face. Aym. (grasping Rainier by the mantle, as he is about to pass.) Brother! forsake me not!

Rai. (suddenly drawing his sword, and showing it him.) My sword is red With victory and revenge! Look—dyed to the hilt! —We fought—and where were you!

Aym. Forsake me not!

Rai. (pointing with his sword to the tombs within the church.) Those are proud tombs! The dead, the glorious dead, Think you they sleep, and know not of their sons In the mysterious grave? We laid him there! —Before the ashes of your father, speak! Have you abjured your faith?

Aym, (indignantly.) Your name is mine—your blood—and you ask this! Wake him to hear me answer!—Have you? No! —You have not dared to think it.

[Breaks from him, and goes out. Rai. (entering the church, and bending over one of the tombs.) Not yet lost! Not yet all lost! He shall be thine again! So shalt thou sleep in peace!

Music and Chorus of Voices from the church.

Praise, praise to heaven! Sing of the conquer'd field, the Paynim flying,— Light up the shrines, and bid the banners wave! Sing of the warrior for the red-cross dying— Chant a proud requiem o'er his holy grave! Praise, praise to heaven! Praise!—lift the song through night's resounding sky! Peace to the valiant for the Cross that die! Sleep soft, ye brave!

Act III

ACT III.

Scene I.—A platform before the Citadel. Knights entering.

Her. (to one of the Knights.) You would plead for him?

Knight. Nay, remember all His past renown!

Her. I had a friend in youth— This Aymer's father had him shamed for less Than his son's fault—far less! We must accuse him;—he must have his shield Reversed—his name degraded.

Knight. He might yet—

All the Knights. Must his shame cleave to us? We cast him forth— We will not bear it.

Rainier enters.

Rai. Knights! ye speak of him— My brother—was't not so? All silent! Nay, Give your thoughts breath! What said ye?

Her. That his name Must be degraded.

Rai. Silence! ye disturb The dead. Thou hear'st, my father! [Going up indignantly to the Knights. Which of ye Shall first accuse him? He, whose bold step won The breach at Ascalon ere Aymer's step, Let him speak first! He that plunged deeper through the stormy fight, Thence to redeem the banner of the Cross, On Cairo's plain, let him speak first! Or he Whose sword burst swifter o'er the Saracen, I' the rescue of our king, by Jordan's waves— I say, let him speak first!

Her. Is he not an apostate?

Rai. No, no, no! If he were that, had my life's blood that taint, This hand should pour it out! He is not that.

Her. Not yet.

Rai. Not yet, nor ever! Let me die In a lost battle first!

Her. Hath he let go Name—kindred—honour—for an infidel, And will he grasp his faith?

Rai. (after a gloomy pause.) That which bears poison—should it not be crush’d? What though the weed look lovely? [Suddenly addressing Du Mornay. You have seen My native halls, Du Mornay, far away In Languedoc?

Du Mor. I was your father's friend— I knew them well.

Rai. (thoughtfully) The weight of gloom that hangs— The very banners seem to droop with it— O'er some of those old rooms! Were we there now, With a dull wind heaving the pale tapestries, Why, I could tell you—— [Coming closer to Du Mornay. There's a dark-red spot Grain'd in the floor of one—you know the tale?

Du Mor. I may have heard it by the winter fires, —Now 'tis of things gone by.

Rai. (turning from him displeased.) Such legends give Some minds a deeper tone. (To Herman.) If you had heard That tale i' the shadowy tower——

Her. Nay, tell it now!

Rai. They say the place is haunted—moaning sounds Come thence at midnight—sounds of woman's voice.

Her. And you believe——

Rai. I but believe the deed Done there of old. I had an ancestor— Bertrand, the lion-chief—whose son went forth (A younger son—I am not of his line) To the wars of Palestine. He fought there well— Ay, all his race were brave; but he return'd, And with a Paynim bride.

Her. The recreant!—say, How bore your ancestor?

Rai. Well may you think It chafed him—but he bore it—for the love Of that fair son, the child of his old age. He pined in heart, yet gave the infidel A place in his own halls.

Her. But did this last?

Rai. How should it last? Again the trumpet blew, And men were summon'd from their homes to guard The city of the Cross. But he seem'd cold— That youth! He shunn'd his father's eye, and took No armour from the walls.

Her. Had he then fallen? Was his faith wavering?

Rai. So the father fear'd.

Her. If I had been that father——

Rai Ay, you come Of an honour'd lineage. What would you have done?

Her. Nay, what did he?

Rai. What did the lion-chief? [Turning to Du Mornay. Why, thou hast seen the very spot of blood On the dark floor! He slew the Paynim bride. Was it not well? (He looks at them attentively, and as he goes out exclaims—) My brother must not fall!

Scene II.—A deserted Turkish burying-ground in the city—tombs and stones overthrown—the whole shaded by dark cypress-trees.

Mor. (leaning over a monumental pillar, which has been lately raised.) He is at rest;—and I!—is there no power In grief to win forgiveness from the dead! When shall I rest? Hark! a step—Aymer's step! The thrilling sound! [She shrinks back as reproaching herself. To feel that joy even here! Brother! oh, pardon me!

Rai. (entering, and slowly looking round.) A gloomy scene! A place for——Is she not an infidel? Who shall dare call it murder? [He advances to her slowly, and looks at her. She is fair— The deeper cause! Maid, have you thought of death Midst these old tombs?

Mor. (shrinking from him fearfully.) This is my brother's grave.

Rai. Thy brother's! That a warrior's grave had closed O'er mine—the free and noble knight he was! Ay, that the desert-sands had shrouded him Before he look'd on thee!

Mor. If you are his— If Aymer's brother—though your brow be dark, I may not fear you!

Rai. No? why, thou shouldst fear The very dust o' the mouldering sepulchre, If it had lived, and borne his name on earth! Hear'st thou?—that dust hath stirr'd, and found a voice, And said that thou must die!

Mor. (clinging to the pillar as he approaches.) Be with me, heaven! You will not murder me?

Rai. (turning away.) A goodly word To join with a warrior's name!—a sound to make Men's flesh creep. What!—for Paynim blood Did he stand faltering thus—my ancestor— In that old tower? [He again approaches her—she falls on her knees.

Mor. So young, and thus to die! Mercy—have mercy! In your own far land If there be love that weeps and watches for you, And follows you with prayer—even by that love Spare me—for it is woman's! If light steps Have bounded there to meet you, clinging arms Hung on your neck, fond tears o'erflow'd your cheek, Think upon those that loved you thus, for thus Doth woman love! and spare me!—think on them; They, too, may yet need mercy! Aymer, Aymer! Wilt thou not hear and aid me?

Rai. (starting) There's a name To bring back strength! Shall I not strike to save His honour and his life? Were his life all——