_Ordonio._ Why no: he was afraid of accidents, 135 Of robberies, and shipwrecks, and the like. In secrecy he gave it me to keep, Till his return. _Alvar._ What! he was your friend then? _Ordonio._ I was his friend.-- Now that he gave it me, 140 This lady knows not. You are a mighty wizard-- Can call the dead man up--he will not come.-- He is in heaven then--there you have no influence. Still there are tokens--and your imps may bring you Something he wore about him when he died. 145 And when the smoke of the incense on the altar Is pass'd, your spirits will have left this picture. What say you now? _Alvar._ Ordonio, I will do it. _Ordonio._ We'll hazard no delay. Be it to-night, In the early evening. Ask for the Lord Valdez. 150 I will prepare him. Music too, and incense, (For I have arranged it--music, altar, incense) All shall be ready. Here is this same picture, And here, what you will value more, a purse. Come early for your magic ceremonies. 155 _Alvar._ I will not fail to meet you. _Ordonio._ Till next we meet, farewell! [_Exit ORDONIO._ _Alvar (alone, indignantly flings the purse away and gazes passionately at the portrait)._ And I did curse thee! At midnight! on my knees! and I believed Thee perjur'd, thee a traitress! thee dishonour'd! O blind and credulous fool! O guilt of folly! 160 Should not thy inarticulate fondnesses, Thy infant loves--should not thy maiden vows Have come upon my heart? And this sweet Image Tied round my neck with many a chaste endearment, And thrilling hands, that made me weep and tremble-- 165 Ah, coward dupe! to yield it to the miscreant, Who spake pollution of thee! barter for life This farewell pledge, which with impassioned vow I had sworn that I would grasp--ev'n in my Death-pang! I am unworthy of thy love, Teresa, 170 Of that unearthly smile upon those lips, Which ever smiled on me! Yet do not scorn me-- I lisp'd thy name, ere I had learnt my mother's. Dear portrait! rescued from a traitor's keeping, I will not now profane thee, holy image, 175 To a dark trick. That worst bad man shall find A picture, which will wake the hell within him, And rouse a fiery whirlwind in his conscience. FOOTNOTES: [842:1] The following lines I have preserved in this place, not so much as explanatory of the picture of the assassination, as (if I may say so without disrespect to the Public) to gratify my own feelings, the passage being no mere _fancy_ portrait; but a slight, yet not unfaithful, profile of one[842:A], who still lives, nobilitate felix, arte clarior, vitâ colendissimus.