THE FAIR PENITENT. CALISTA, Daughter of SCIOLTO, is betrayed by LOTHARIO. Her Father, unconscious of her shame, forces her to marry ALTAMONT, who afterwards discovers the faithlessness of his Wife, and kills her Seducer. A Room hung with black. On one side, LOTHARIO'S body on a bier; on the other, a table, with a skull and other bones, a book and a lamp on it.—CALISTA is discovered on a couch, in black; her hair hanging loose and disordered. After soft music, she rises and comes forward. Cal. 'Tis well! these solemn sounds, this pomp of horror, Are fit to feed the frenzy in my soul. Here's room for meditation even to madness, Till the mind burst with thinking. This dull flame Sleeps in the socket. Sure the book was left To teach me something;-for instruction, then— [Throwing away the book. I have more real anguish in my heart, Than all their pedant discipline e'er knew. That dear, perfidious-Ah !-how pale he looks! And those dead eyes! Ascend, ye ghosts, fantastic forms of night, Enter ALTAMONT. Alt. Hail to you, horrors! hail, thou house of death! And thou, the lovely mistress of these shades, Whose beauty gilds the more than midnight darkness, And makes it grateful as the dawn of day. Oh, take me in, a fellow-mourner with thee, I'll number groan for groan, and tear for tear; And when the fountains of thine eyes are dry, Mine shall supply the stream, and weep for both. Cal. I know thee well,-thou art the injured Altamont; Thou com'st to urge me with the wrongs I've done thee. But know I stand upon the brink of life, And in a moment mean to set me free From shame and thy upbraiding. Alt. Falsely, falsely Dost thou accuse me ! Oh, forbid me not To mourn thy loss, To wish some better fate had ruled our loves, Cal. O Altamont! 'tis hard for souls like mine, Enter HORATIO. Hor. Now mourn indeed, ye miserable pair! Alt. That's a deadly stroke, indeed. Hor. Not long ago, he privately went forth, I heard which way he took, and straight pursued him; Too late we brought him aid, and drove them back: The death he seemed to wish for from their swords. Hide your fair heads in clouds, or I shall blast you; And Nature sickens at me. Rest, thou world, This parricide shall be thy plague no more: Thus, thus I set thee free. Hor. Oh, fatal rashness! [Stabs herself. Enter SCIOLTO, pale and bloody, supported by Servants. Cal. O my heart! Well mayst thou fail; for see, the spring that fed Thy vital stream is wasted, and runs low. My father! will you now, at last, forgive me, I call you once again by that dear name? Will you forget my shame, and those wide wounds? hand and bless me, ere I go Lift up your Sci. Alas, my daughter! Thou hast rashly ventured in a stormy sea, Where life, fame, virtue, all were wrecked and lost. And save thee from the malice of posterity; And mayst thou find with Heaven the same forgiveness, Cal. Celestial sounds! peace dawns upon my soul, Thy wondrous worth, thou excellent young man, ALMERIA, Princess of Granada, is secretly married to ALPHONSO, Son of ANSELMO, formerly King of Valencia, her Father's Rival. ALPHONSO is supposed to have been shipwrecked, but is saved, and lands in Tunis, where, under the name of OSMYN, he joins the Moors. In an attack on Granada, he is taken Prisoner by MANUEL, Father of ALMERIA. ALMERIA goes to the Tomb of ANSELMO, to mourn her supposed lost Husband, who is also attracted to the same spot, to pay devotion to the memory of his Father. The aisle of a Cathedral.—Enter ALMeria and Leonora. Alm. It was a fancied noise, for all is hushed. Leon. It bore the accent of a human voice. Alm. It was thy fear, or else some transient wind Whistling through hollows of this vaulted aisle. We'll listen Leon, Hark! Alm. No, all is hushed, and still as death-'tis dreadful! How reverend is the face of this tall pile, Whose ancient pillars rear their marble heads, Alm. It may my fears, but cannot add to that. Lead me o'er bones and skulls and mouldering earth Yet green in earth, rather than be the bride |