Count Julian | Page 6

are equal in the eyes of men, The humblest and most wretched of our kind, No peace for me, no comfort, no--no child!
OPAS. No pity for the thousands fatherless, The thousands childless like thyself, nay more, The thousands friendless, helpless, comfortless - Such thou wilt make them, little thinking so, Who now perhaps, round their first winter fire, Banish, to talk of thee, the tales of old, Shedding true honest tears for thee unknown: Precious be these, and sacred in thy sight, Mingle them not with blood from hearts thus kind. If only warlike spirits were evoked By the war-demon, I would not complain, Or dissolute and discontented men; But wherefore hurry down into the square The neighbourly, saluting, warm-clad race, Who would not injure us, and cannot serve; Who, from their short and measured slumber risen, In the faint sunshine of their balconies, With a half-legend of a martyrdom And some weak wine and withered graces before them, Note by their foot the wheel of melody That catches and rolls on the sabbath dance. To drag the steady prop from failing age, Break the young stem that fondness twines around, Widen the solitude of lonely sighs, And scatter to the broad bleak wastes of day The ruins and the phantoms that replied, Ne'er be it thine.
JUL. Arise, and save me, Spain!
FIRST ACT: SECOND SCENE.
MUZA enters.
MUZA. Infidel chief, thou tarriest here too long, And art perhaps repining at the days Of nine continued victories, o'er men Dear to thy soul, tho' reprobate and base. Away! [He retires.
JUL. I follow. Could my bitterest foes Hear this! ye Spaniards, this! which I foreknew And yet encountered; could they see your Julian Receiving orders from and answering These desperate and heaven-abandoned slaves, They might perceive some few external pangs, Some glimpses of the hell wherein I move, Who never have been fathers.
OPAS. These are they To whom brave Spaniards must refer their wrongs!
JUL. Muza, that cruel and suspicious chief, Distrusts his friends more than his enemies, Me more than either; fraud he loves and fears, And watches her still footfall day and night.
OPAS. O Julian! such a refuge! such a race!
JUL. Calamities like mine alone implore. No virtues have redeemed them from their bonds; Wily ferocity, keen idleness, And the close cringes of ill-whispering want, Educate them to plunder and obey; Active to serve him best whom most they fear, They show no mercy to the merciful, And racks alone remind them of the name.
OPAS. O everlasting curse for Spain and thee!
JUL. Spain should have vindicated then her wrongs In mine, a Spaniard's and a soldier's wrongs.
OPAS. Julian, are thine the only wrongs on earth? And shall each Spaniard rather vindicate Thine than his own? is there no Judge of all? Shall mortal hand seize with impunity The sword of vengeance, from the armoury Of the Most High? easy to wield, and starred With glory it appears: but all the host Of the archangels, should they strive at once, Would never close again its widening blade.
JUL. He who provokes it hath so much to rue. Where'er he turn, whether to earth or heaven, He finds an enemy, or raises one.
OPAS. I never yet have seen where long success Hath followed him who warred upon his king.
JUL. Because the virtue that inflicts the stroke Dies with him, and the rank ignoble heads Of plundering faction soon unite again, And prince-protected share the spoil at rest.
FIRST ACT: THIRD SCENE.
Guard announces a herald. OPAS departs.
GUARD. A messenger of peace is at the gate, My lord, safe access, private audience, And free return, he claims.
JUL. Conduct him in.
RODERIGO enters as a herald.
A messenger of peace! audacious man! In what attire appearest thou? a herald's? Under no garb can such a wretch be safe.
ROD. Thy violence and fancied wrongs I know, And what thy sacrilegious hands would do, O traitor and apostate!
JUL. What they would They cannot: thee of kingdom and of life 'Tis easy to despoil, thyself the traitor, Thyself the violator of allegiance. Oh would all-righteous Heaven they could restore The joy of innocence, the calm of age, The probity of manhood, pride of arms, And confidence of honour! the august And holy laws trampled beneath thy feet. And Spain! O parent, I have lost thee too! Yes, thou wilt curse me in thy latter days, Me, thine avenger. I have fought her foe, Roderigo, I have gloried in her sons, Sublime in hardihood and piety: Her strength was mine: I, sailing by her cliffs, By promontory after promontory, Opening like flags along some castle-towers, Have sworn before the cross upon our mast Ne'er shall invader wave his standard there.
ROD. Yet there thou plantest it, false man, thyself.
JUL. Accursed he who makes me this reproach, And made it just! Had I been happy still, I had