O that I had indeed the sorcerer's power.-- I would call up before thine eyes the image Of my betrothed Alvar, of thy first-born! His own fair countenance, his kingly forehead, His tender smiles, love's day-dawn on his lips! That spiritual and almost heavenly light In his commanding eye--his mien heroic, Virtue's own native heraldry! to man Genial, and pleasant to his guardian angel. Whene'er he gladden'd, how the gladness spread Wide round him! and when oft with swelling tears, Flash'd through by indignation, he bewail'd The wrongs of Belgium's martyr'd patriots, Oh, what a grief was there--for joy to envy, Or gaze upon enamour'd! O my father! Recall that morning when we knelt together, And thou didst bless our loves! O even now, Even now, my sire! to thy mind's eye present him, As at that moment he rose up before thee, Stately, with beaming look! Place, place beside him Ordonio's dark perturbed countenance! Then bid me (Oh thou could'st not) bid me turn From him, the joy, the triumph of our kind! To take in exchange that brooding man, who never Lifts up his eye from the earth, unless to scowl. Remorse. [274-86] (Thou shalt not stay . . . companion) om. Remorse. [Between 274-87:] _Teresa._ O grief! to hear Hateful intreaties from a voice we love! _Enter a PEASANT and presents a letter to VALDEZ._ _Valdez (reading it)._ 'He dares not venture hither!' Why what can this mean? 'Lest the Familiars of the Inquisition, That watch around my gates, should intercept him; But he conjures me, that without delay I hasten to him--for my own sake entreats me To guard from danger him I hold imprison'd-- He will reveal a secret, the joy of which Will even outweigh the sorrow.'--Why what can this be? Perchance it is some Moorish stratagem, To have in me a hostage for his safety. Nay, that they dare not! Ho! collect my servants! I will go thither--let them arm themselves. [_Exit VALDEZ._ _Teresa (alone)._ The moon is high in heaven, and all is hush'd. Yet anxious listener! I have seem'd to hear A low dead thunder mutter thro' the night, As 'twere a giant angry in his sleep. O Alvar! Alvar! &c. Remorse. [After 276] And all his wealth perhaps come to the Church MS. III. erased. [289] evening-tide] eventide Remorse. [296-334] om. Remorse. [After 296] [_A pause._ And this majestic Moor, seems he not one Who oft and long communing with my Alvar, Hath drunk in kindred lustre from his presence, And guides me to him with reflected light? What if in yon dark dungeon coward treachery Be groping for him with envenomed poniard-- Hence womanish fears, traitors to love and duty-- I'll free him. [_Exit TERESA._ SCENE III _The mountains by moonlight. ALHADRA alone in a Moorish dress._