A thick Forest — In the back Ground, a But almost covered by Boughs storm, — A dreadful Storm, with Thunder and Lightning — CORA has covered her Child on a Bed of Leaves and Moss — Her whole appearance is wild and distracted.
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 farnt beneath thy lovely burden, could I refuse to give thy slumbers that poor bed of rest! O 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.
SONG.
Yes, yes, be merciless, thou Tempest dire;
Unaw’d, unsheltered, 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 at a great distance.
Alon. Cora!
Cora. Ha! [Rises.] —
Alon. [Again.] Cora!
Cora. O, 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 out-posts, and the word we heard just now was the countersign.
2d 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.
1st Sold. This way — The sun, though clouded, is on our left. [Perceives the Child.] What have we here? — A child! — as I’m a soldier.
2d Sold. ’Tis a sweet little babe. Now would it be a great charity to take this infant from its pagan mother’s power.
1st Sold. It would so — I have one at home shall play with it. — Come along.
[Takes the Child. Exeunt.
Re-enter CORA with ALONZO.
Cora. [Speaking without.] This way, dear Alonzo. Now am I right — there — there — under that tree. Was it possible the instinct of a mother’s heart could mistake the spot? Now will you look at him as he sleeps, or shall I bring him waking with his full blue laughing eyes to welcome you at once? — Yes — yes — Stand thou there — I’ll snatch him from his rosy slumber, blushing like the perfumed morn.
[She runs up to the spot, and finding only the mantle and veil, which she tears from the ground, and the Child gone, shrieks, and stands in speechless agony.]
Alon. [Running to her.] Cora! — my heart’s beloved!
Cora. He is gone!
Alon. Eternal God!
Cora. He is gone! — my child! my child!
Alon. Where did you leave him?
Cora. [Dashing herself on the spot.] Here!
Alon. Be calm, beloved Corar — he has waked and crept to a little distance — we shall find him — Are you assured this was the spot you left him in?
Cora. Did not these hands make that bed and shelter for him? — and is not this the veil that covered him?
Alon. Here is a hut yet unobserved.
Cora. Ha! yes, yes! there lives the savage that has robbed me of my child — the door, — exclaiming] Give me back my child — restore to me my boy! —
Enter LAS-CASAS from the Hut
Las-Cas. Who calls me from my wretched solitude?
Cora. Give me back my child! [Goes into the Hut, and calls] Fernando!
Alon. Almighty powers! do my eyes deceive me? Las-Casas!
Las-Cas. Alonzo, my beloved young friend!
Alon. My revered instructor! [Embracing.
Cora. [Returned.] Will you embrace this man before he restores my boy?
Alon. Alas, my friend — in what a moment of misery do we meet!
Cora. Yet his look is goodness and humanity. — Good old man, have compassion on a wretched mother — and I will be your servant while I live. — But do not, for pity’s sake — do not say you have him not — do not say you have not seen him. — [Runs into the Wood.
Las-Cas. What can this mean?
Alon. She is my wife. — Just rescued from the Spaniards’ prison, I learned she had fled to this wild forest — Hearing my voice, she left the child, and flew to meet me — he was left sleeping under yonder tree.
Las-Cas. How! did you leave him? —
[CORA returns.
Cora. O, you are right! — right! — unnatural mother, that I was — I left my child — I forsook my innocent — but I will fly to the earth’s brink but I will find him. — [Runs out.
Alon. Forgive me, Las-Casas, I must follow her: for at night I attempt brave Rolla’s rescue.
Las-Cas. I will not leave thee, Alonzo — you must try to lead her to the right — that way lies your camp — Wait not my infirm steps, — I follow thee, my friend. — [Exeunt.