MISFORTUNE’S stings transfix the purest heart,
And souls, unknown to guilt, with anguish smart.
Not virtue can secure the good man’s state,
Nor shield his fortune from the frowns of fate.
A nobler guard she gives the tranquil mind,
Meek in prosperity, in ills resign’d.
Domestic discord griev’d the royal breast:
An elder brother sought his crown to wrest.
The conquer’d lands their royal sire had won,
He gave the portion of his younger son.
The elder’s bosom burns with envious rage;
Revenge and war his furious soul engage.
The threaten’d mischief eager to prevent,
The king to CUSCO ‘s court ALONZO sent,
To sooth his brother’s rage, to peace invite,
And ‘gainst a foreign foe their arms unite.
In vain ALONZO tries each art to move,
And touches every string of fear and love:
The vengeful monarch’s brutal rage remains,
And kindred ties and foreign foes disdains.
To QUITO’S regal seat the youth returns:
His unsuccessful cares the monarch mourns;
Reluctant bids his faithful chiefs prepare
Their fearless warriours for the impious war.
And now the tribes, by various chieftains led,
In shining ranks around the sovereign spread.
Each warlike hand the deathful spear assumes;
High on their temples wave the nodding plumes.
With martial pride the SPANISH hero trod,
Chief in command, and graceful as a god.
Fain would the Muse ALONZO’S deeds recite,
How wise in council, and how brave in fight!
What manly eloquence his tongue inspir’d!
What love of glory all his bosom fir’d!
How still, where danger press’d, the foremost found,
His arm victorious scatter’d deaths around!
How prostrate foes his lenity would praise,
Whose hand, that crush’d them, was alert to raise!
Thus the true hero softens wars alarms;
His valour conquers, but his mercy charms.
Yet from such scenes the Muse indignant flies,
And turns from blood and war her pitying eyes.
She unambitious strives in humbler strains
To sing the pleasures of the simple swains;
To paint the beauties of the vernal grove,
Or tell a tender tale of hapless love.
Suffice to know, that to ALONZO’S care
The king commits the conduct of the war;
Bids him from wanton murderous deeds abstain,
Nor with a brother’s blood pollute the plain.
With ardour fir’d, the hero’s bosom glows;
Nor strength, nor stratagem his course oppose.
At length their sovereign, captiv’d by his hand,
No longer dares the conquering chief withstand.
While deeds of glory, and love’s cogent claims
Urged different pleas, and point to different aims;
In sad suspense ALONZO’S mind is held,
Till bold ambition is by love expell’d;
Till the soft passion reigns without control,
And owns no rival power in CORA’S soul.
In solitude’s unvaried scene immur’d,
Her joy and sorrow love alone procur’d.
But now no more the ideal picture glows
With fancied raptures and imagined woes;
It shifts to real miseries and pain;
No heart could brook them, and no strength sustain.
The tender thefts of love, so long conceal’d,
Relentless time to public fame reveal’d.
The zealous priests, inflam’d with holy rage,
Unheard-of mischiefs to the state presage;
Unless due vengeance for the offence be giv’n,
To mitigate the wrath of angry heav’n.
A band deputed on the sovereign wait,
And the dire tale of vestal guilt relate.
They urge the sacred justice of the cause,
And gloss with piety their murderous laws.
The king, with horror struck, the story hears;
And much he pities, but still more he fears;
And, tho’ reluctant, yields the guilty dame
To public punishment and endless shame,
Heavens! could fierce priests, with zeal’s relentless fire
A prince so just, so merciful inspire?
Mad superstition, fury fierce and blind,
Thou blott’st each human feature from the mind!
On the sad eve of that disastrous day,
Which to the world must CORA’S guilt display,
With conquest crown’d, without one hostile scar,
The youth returns triumphant from the war;
His ardent soul with generous pride elate,
And all unconscious of this stroke of fate;
Yet oft a secret dread his joy suppress’d,
And strange forebodings fill’d his anxious breast.
The king receives the youthful chief with praise,
And hears his lips relate in modest phrase
The glorious deeds his faithful troops had done,
What countries conquer’d, and what battles won.
Now to the king perform’d all honours due,
He gladly from the applauding crowd withdrew.
In sleep he seeks forgetfulness of pain;
But oft implores the gentle power in vain.
The power at last the wish’d-for bliss bestows,
And lulls him for a while in soft repose.
Not long o’er every sense this bliss prevails;
For lo! a sudden noise his ear assails.
As yet the dawn diffus’d a glimmering light,
And morning hover’d on the rear of night:
Before his couch a reverend form appears;
Pale is his face, and wet with recent tears:
His form, like some tall ruin, strikes the sight;
Few are his scatter’d locks, and silver-white:
Graceful, erect, majestic in his woe,
Silent he stands, no word has power to flow.
At length to speak his quivering lips essay,
And thus the voice of sorrow finds its way:
‘Tis CORA’S father now before thee stands;
Receive my dying daughter’s last commands.
Tho’ doom’d to fall the victim of thy crimes,
A tale of sorrow to succeeding times,
She dreads lest thou our bitter lot may’st share:
Leave us, unhappy youth, our woes to bear.
He ceas’d: no more the powers of voice remain;
No more his feeble knees his weight sustain.
With dread and wonder struck, ALONZO gaz’d,
And eager in his arms the mourner rais’d.
Oh! speak, he cries; say, how am I the cause,
That on thy house and thee destruction draws?
Ah, cruel! dost thou ask! and canst thou bear,
From mine, a parent’s lips, the tale to hear;
Fair on thy face each kind affection glow’d;
Warm from thy lips the voice of virtue flow’d;
But, ah! ’twas falshood, all the gloss of art;
Deceit and treachery lurk’d within thine heart.
She was, alas! too willing to believe;
And thou wert form’d thus specious to deceive.
The fatal proofs of sacrilegious love,
Too obvious to conceal, her perjury prove.
Yon rising sun reveals her guilt to all;
And, ere he sinks, involves us in her fall.
Free of her guilt, her punishment we bear,
Condemn’d, tho’ innocent, her fate to share:
To us are no sepulchral rites assign’d;
Our ashes curs’d are scatter’d with the wind;
Our dwelling, doom’d to solitude and shame,
With lasting infamy transmits our name.
But thou my daughter’s dying wish fulfil;
She cannot hate, alas! she loves thee still.
Cause of her death, do not its partner be;
She uncomplaining falls, if thou art free.
Fear not; the fatal secret unreveal’d
Shall die, within my faithful breast conceal’d.
He spoke; ALONZO shudder’d with despair;
Pale grew his face, uprose his bristling hair.
Now self-condemn’d, and motionless he stands;
Now beats his breast, and wildly wrings his hands.
Then, sunk on earth, the old man’s knees he press’d,
And thus the anguish of his soul confess’d.
My crime you know, but not the fatal cause,
That urg’d me to profane your sacred laws.
You know not, O my sire, what dread alarms
Compell’d your dying daughter to my arms.
We both are lost, and you our ruin share:
Behold my sword, behold my bosom bare.
Now boldly strike; let justice guide your hands;
Think what your wrongs, and what my guilt demands.
Alas! replied the sire, revenge is vain:
‘Tis her’s with crimes misfortune’s hand to stain;
She only on the wicked joy bestows;
Thy blood can never wash away my woes:
It might with shame oppress my latest breath;
But ne’er my spouse, my children, save from death.
Leave me my virtue, of all else bereft;
Nor rob me of my only treasure left.
Perhaps thou wert not treacherous, but frail;
For strong temptations o’er the best prevail.
But he who all things knows, wilt judge aright;
And bring thy guilt, or innocence to light.
Divine old man, the youth enraptur’d cries,
My soul is lost in pity and surprise.
Heavens! must such virtue no reward obtain?
Is all thy portion infamy and pain?
And must the best, the loveliest of her kind,
The soften’d image of thy godlike mind–
It cannot–must not be–ye shall not die.
Ah! do not think I basely mean to fly.
Haste; to your consort, and your children go;
Tell them to hope, and try to sooth their woe.
Chief to my love my firm resolve declare,
In all her griefs an equal part to bear.
Your king, your chiefs shall hear me urge my claim,
And glory in a parent’s sacred name.
What are the dangers that I fear to prove,
Impell’d by nature, and inspir’d by love?
But, oh! my father, ere once more we part,
Or grant my pardon, or transfix my heart.
Think what a load of woes that heart must bear
Nor let your anger sink me in despair.
The good old man embrac’d him, and forgave,
And heaven besought to pity him and save.
Fast from their eyes a shower of sorrow fell,
And oft their lips pronounc’d a last farewel.
Now rose the fatal morn, with clouds o’erspread;
The sun reluctant veil’d his mournful head;
The solemn gloom, on nature’s face impress’d,
With double horrour fill’d each anxious breast.
The king appears before the palace-gate;
On either hand a crowd unnumber’d wait.
Slow thro’ the parting throng the priests proceed,
And to the throne the hapless victim lead.
Behind, each parent’s reverend form appears;
(Bent with the double load of grief and years)
Two beauteous maids, almost as CORA fair;
Three lovely youths, condemn’d her fate to share.
The awful scene unable to survey,
She trembles, sobs, and sinks, and faints away.
To life restor’d, she lifts her languid eyes,
And to the monarch’s questions thus replies:
‘Twas midst the tumults of that dreadful night,
That fill’d the boldest bosoms with affright,
A youth beheld, and pitied my alarms;
Distraction, terrour gave me to his arms.
Thence, thence my guilt and my misfortunes flow;
Nor farther seek the fatal tale to know.
But, oh! in mercy hear my dying pray’r;
My guiltless parents, and their children spare.
The crime I own; the punishment be mine;
Nor to my infamy their virtues join.
She ceas’d; and thus the reverend sire express’d
The tender feelings of a parent’s breast:
O king! let pity o’er thy soul prevail;
Think of her sex, her age, alas! how frail.
The God who sees, can only judge the heart;
Now to accuse the guilty be my part.
Mine be the guilt, who first my child betray’d;
Beneath her feet the fatal snare I laid:
With heart unpitying steel’d, to reason blind,
With vows I sought to chain the free-born mind.
To shun the ruthless tyrant that oppress’d,
She fled for refuge to her mother’s breast.
In vain, alas! her tears unpitied flow’d;
No kind relentings in my bosom glow’d.
Too well she lov’d me, and too well obey’d:
These were thine only crimes, unhappy maid.
And must for this my wretched daughter fall?
And I, alas! the guilty cause of all?
He could no more; his voice with grief suppress’d,
He held her weeping to his aged breast.
His tender sorrows melt the standers-by,
And drops of pity fall from every eye.
The monarch’s heart with soft compassion glow’d;
But to the laws severer rights he ow’d.
He bade with awful voice the guilty fair
The rash accomplice of her crime declare.
Silent and motionless awhile she stands;
At length thus answers to his stern commands:
O thou, whose glorious lineage first begun
From yon bright orb, the ever-glorious sun,
Wilt thou, than ev’n the laws still more severe,
With double pangs my wretched bosom tear?
Ah! could my single death atone for all!
But father, mother, children too must fall.
Yet cannot these your cruel rage suffice;
For other victims still your vengeance cries.
The wretched babe, to whom you light refuse,
Must I, the author of its life, accuse?
Say, to the fatal pit while I descend,
Would’st thou behold my bleeding bowels rend?
And, midst the horrours of this fatal day,
The guiltless victim of your rage display?
She spoke: the monarch’s soul with pity thrill’d,
And life’s warm stream a sudden tremour chill’d.
Deeply he groan’d then bade proclaim aloud
The awful sentence to the listening crowd:
When breathless, pale, with all a lover’s fears,
ALONZO struggling thro’ the throng appears.
As now before the throne he trembling stands,
He thus adjures the king with lifted hands:
Here turn thine eyes, O prince, and view in me
The guilty cause of all this misery.
Your vengeance pour on my devoted head;
CORA is innocent, my blood be shed.
Wild with her fears, a scarcely conscious prey.
I bore her from the sacred grove away,
Her fate she neither sought, nor could she shun;
And terrour did, what love would ne’er have done.
The wondering king, with grief and pity mov’d,
Thus eager spoke to save the man he lov’d:
Our laws, O stranger, are to thee unknown,
And bind my people and myself alone:
What’s guilt in CORA of the deepest die,
In thee is frailness of humanity.
Bound by no vow, far less dost thou offend;
Nor can to thee her punishment extend;
At least if brutal force thou didst forbear:
Let CORA freely now the truth declare.
Ah! no, she cries; no force, but love’s alone,
A secret charm resistless and unknown,
O’erpower’d my reason, every fear suppress’d,
And fill’d with tender wishes all my breast.
Why wilt thou add new horrours to my fate?
ALONZO , cease my guilt to arrogate.
She proves your innocence, the king rejoin’d;
To blame or punish you we nothing find.
And am I innocent, ALONZO cries,
When for my guilt that wretched victim dies?
O depth of horrour! mark that yawning tomb
Whose opening jaws must seal my CORA’S doom.
You call me innocent; behold that fire,
Where now her hapless kindred must expire.
O Inca! friendship blinds your better sense;
In vain you try to hide my foul offence.
But I more just reject the thin disguise;
Your laws I fear not, nor my safety prize.
Forgive, ye victims of a guilty flame;
My tears accept, my penitence, and shame:
Accept my death, and with you let me share
My portion of these wrongs for me you bear.
First to the fatal pile your steps I’ll lead;
And first on me the raging flames shall feed.
This sword, which once was destin’d to defend
A king, I dare no longer call my friend,
This faithful sword shall do its sad last part,
And kindly pierce its wretched master’s heart.
Yet, ere I die, Oh! lend your listening ear;
From me the words of truth with patience hear,
Say, can you think the glorious lord of day,
Who cheers all nature with his genial ray,
Who life, and joy, and warmth on all bestows,
Whose flame prolific in each bosom glows;
Say, can a deity, so bounteous, prove
The foe of nature, and the bane of love?
Has love, whose powers the brave, the wise control,
O’ercome a tender virgin’s softer soul?
Must she for this in infamy expire?
For this her parents glut the raging fire?
Ah! dare not heaven with deeds so horrid stain;
No god could e’er such cruel laws ordain.
Some savage tyrant, foe of human kind,
With rage inspir’d, with superstition blind,
‘Twas he, who first this barbarous law decreed,
And bade with joy the wretched victims bleed.
But thou, O king, whose soul the virtues sway,
Whose people, not from dread, but love, obey;
‘Tis thine to rise in truth and mercy’s cause;
Nor rule thy subjects by a tyrant’s laws
Behold! (as by some god inspir’d, he cried)
That bosom view–and tore her veil aside;
See there the great Creator’s will display’d;
And learn the end why woman first was made:
Not to be prison’d in a cloister’s cell,
Condemn’d in useless solitude to dwell;
But all the joys of social life to prove,
And taste the sweets of friendship and of love;
To bless an husband with her chaste embrace,
And see around them rise a blooming race.
He spoke: a murmur of applause was heard,
And glad conviction on each face appear’d.
The favouring signs the joyful monarch pleas’d;
He rose, and thus the happy moment seiz’d:
O people, from his lips persuasion flows,
And genuine truth in every accent glows;
His valour and his wisdom nobly shown,
Well may such merit one offence atone.
Henceforth let errour yield, and reason sway,
While we with joy her just commands obey.
Now with due reverence hear my fix’d decree;
Forthwith the virgins of the sun are free.
No vow constrain’d the God we serve delights;
He to his fane no abject slave invites.
The monarch’s generous heart with transport swell’d,
To see ALONZO sav’d, the law repeal’d.
Around his knees the aged father hung,
The voice of rapture dying on his tongue.
While loud acclaims the people’s transports tell,
At CORA ‘s feet her happy lover fell.
She on her mother’s bosom lifeless lay,
Cold, breathless, pale, inanimated clay.
When for her sake the generous youth she saw,
The willing victim of a cruel law,
Faint, speechless in her mother’s arms she fell,
And seemed of life to take a last farewell:
A fond, a sad embrace the mother gave,
Nor sought nor wish’d her parting life to save.
Well-pleas’d she saw a period to her woes,
And bade her soft in death’s cold arms repose.
But nature’s voice dissolves death’s slumberous charms;
She wakes encircl’d in ALONZO’S arms.
Oh! live thou dearest object of my heart,
The youth exclaims; we never more shall part.
Awake to joy, and banish all thy woes;
No vows shall more our faithful love oppose.
Leave me, she cries, nor double thus my pain:
Ah! must I, cruel! must I die again?
No; thou shalt live; (the ardent youth rejoin’d)
Nature, and love, and fortune all are kind.
Nor gods, nor men, our tender union blame;
We live to glory in our constant flame.
Too weak the rushing tide of bliss to bear,
She sinks o’erborn with joy, as late with fear.
Thus the fair lily droops its fragrant head,
And dying sinks upon its native bed;
Or pinch’d by night, when rigorous frosts assail,
Or scorch’d by day, when burning suns prevail.
What pangs, ALONZO , thy fond heart sustain’d,
Robb’d of a treasure scarce a moment gain’d!
With horrour froze, his blood forgets to flow;
He stands the image of extremest woe.
And now a thousand prayers ascend the skies;
And heaven propitious listens to their cries.
Her pallid cheeks with new-born roses bloom;
Her languid eyes their wonted fires resume.
His silent raptures all his soul confess:
Their kindred round, the happy lovers press.
With tears of joy their bliss the people share;
And love and fortune crown the favour’d pair.
(Elizabeth Scot)
More Poetry from Elizabeth Scot:
Elizabeth Scot Poems based on Topics: Hope, Joy & Excitement, Love, Life, Art, Youth, Fairness, Sadness, Night, Fate & Destiny, Anger- Leander And Hero (Elizabeth Scot Poems)
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Based on Topics: Love Poems, Man Poems, God Poems, Life Poems, World Poems, Night Poems, Light Poems, Mind Poems, Sadness Poems, Death & Dying Poems, Soul PoemsBased on Keywords: involves, expell, accomplice, transfix, implores, forebodings, horrour, inflam, thefts, pronounc, falshood