_Alvar._ A joy to thee! What if thou heard'st him now? What if his spirit Re-enter'd its cold corse, and came upon thee With many a stab from many a murderer's poniard? 90 What if (his stedfast eye still beaming pity And brother's love) he turn'd his head aside, Lest he should look at thee, and with one look Hurl thee beyond all power of penitence? _Valdez._ These are unholy fancies! _Ordonio._ Yes, my father, 95 He is in Heaven! _Alvar (still to Ordonio)._ But what if he had a brother, Who had lived even so, that at his dying hour, The name of Heaven would have convulsed his face, More than the death-pang? _Valdez._ Idly prating man! Thou hast guess'd ill: Don Alvar's only brother 100 Stands here before thee--a father's blessing on him! He is most virtuous. _Alvar (still to Ordonio)._ What, if his very virtues Had pampered his swoln heart and made him proud? And what if pride had duped him into guilt? Yet still he stalked a self-created god, 105 Not very bold, but exquisitely cunning; And one that at his mother's looking-glass Would force his features to a frowning sternness? Young Lord! I tell thee, that there are such beings-- Yea, and it gives fierce merriment to the damn'd, 110 To see these most proud men, that loath mankind, At every stir and buzz of coward conscience, Trick, cant, and lie, most whining hypocrites! Away, away! Now let me hear more music. [_Music again._ _Teresa._ 'Tis strange, I tremble at my own conjectures! 115 But whatsoe'er it mean, I dare no longer Be present at these lawless mysteries, This dark provoking of the hidden Powers! Already I affront--if not high Heaven-- Yet Alvar's memory!--Hark! I make appeal 120 Against the unholy rite, and hasten hence To bend before a lawful shrine, and seek That voice which whispers, when the still heart listens, Comfort and faithful hope! Let us retire. _Alvar (to Teresa)._ O full of faith and guileless love, thy Spirit 125 Still prompts thee wisely. Let the pangs of guilt Surprise the guilty: thou art innocent! [_Exeunt TERESA and_ Attendant. _Music as before._ The spell is mutter'd--Come, thou wandering shape, Who own'st no master in a human eye, Whate'er be this man's doom, fair be it, or foul, 130 If he be dead, O come! and bring with thee That which he grasp'd in death! But if he live, Some token of his obscure perilous life. [_The whole Music dashes into a Chorus._ CHORUS Wandering demons, hear the spell! Lest a blacker charm compel-- 135