Act V
Scene I.—A Forest. In the background a hut.
Cora is discovered leaning over her Child, who is laid on a bed of leaves and moss.—A storm, with thunder and lightning.
Cora. O Nature! thou hast not the strength of love. My anxious spirit is untired in its march; my wearied shivering frame sinks under it. And for thee, my boy, when faint beneath thy lovely burden, could I refuse to give thy slumbers that poor bed of rest! Oh my child! were I assured thy father breathes no more, how quickly would I lay me down by thy dear side!—but down—down for ever!—[Thunder and lightning.] I ask thee not, unpitying storm! to abate thy rage in mercy to poor Cora’s misery; nor while thy thunders spare his slumbers will I disturb my sleeping cherub; though Heaven knows I wish to hear the voice of life, and feel that life is near me. But I will endure all while what I have of reason holds.
[Sings.
| Yes, yes, be merciless, thou tempest dire; | |
| Unaw’d, unshelter’d, I thy fury brave: | |
| I’ll bare my bosom to thy forked fire, | |
| Let it but guide me to Alonzo’s grave! | |
| O’er his pale corse then, while thy lightnings glare, | |
| I’ll press his clay-cold lips, and perish there. | |
| But thou wilt wake again, my boy, | |
| Again thou’lt rise to life and joy— | |
| Thy father never!— | |
| Thy laughing eyes will meet the light, | |
| Unconscious that eternal night | |
| Veils his for ever. | |
| On you green bed of moss there lies my child, | |
| Oh! safer lies from these chill’d arms apart; | |
| He sleeps, sweet lamb! nor heeds the tempest wild, | |
| Oh! sweeter sleeps than near this breaking heart. | |
| Alas! my babe, if thou wouldst peaceful rest, | |
| Thy cradle must not be thy mother’s breast. | |
| Yet thou wilt wake again, my boy, | |
| Again thou’lt rise to life and joy— | |
| Thy father never!— | |
| Thy laughing eyes will meet the light. | |
| Unconscious that eternal night | |
| Veils his for ever. | |
—Thunder and lightning.
Still, still implacable; unfeeling elements! yet still dost thou sleep, my smiling innocent! O Death! when wilt thou grant to this babe’s mother such repose? Sure I may shield thee better from the storm; my veil may—
While she is wrapping her mantle and her veil over him, Alonzo’s voice is heard in the distance.
Alon. Cora!
Cora. Ha!
[Rises.
Alon. Cora!
Cora. Oh, my heart! Sweet Heaven, deceive me not! Is it not Alonzo’s voice?
Alon. [Nearer.] Cora!
Cora. It is—it is Alonzo!
Alon. [Nearer still.] Cora! my beloved!
Cora. Alonzo!—Here! here!—Alonzo!
[Runs out.
Enter two Spanish Soldiers.
1st Sold. I tell you we are near our outposts, and the word we heard just now was the countersign.
2nd Sold. Well, in our escape from the enemy, to have discovered their secret passage through the rocks will prove a lucky chance to us. Pizarro will reward us.
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