The Captain, Soldiers, LUIS a prisoner, The King.
CAPTAIN. Luis, sire, without delay
We secured; but not before
He killed three, and wounded more,
Of our company.
KING. Christian, say,
Why do you no fear display,
Seeing now in angry mood
My hand raised to shed your blood?
But in vain do I deplore,
Since he this deserves and more
Who has done a Christian good.
Gifts, not chastisement, should be
Thine to-day, for it is plain
It is I should feel the pain
For conferring good on thee.
Take him hence, and presently
Let him die; and be it known
Why from him has mercy flown.
'Tis not for his crimes or guilt
That this Christian's blood is spilt,
'Tis for Christ's belief alone.
[Exeunt.
* * * * *
* SCENE VI.
LUIS.
LUIS. If for this I die, to me
Thou the happiest death allottest,
Since he for his God will die,
He who dies to do Him honour.
And a man whose life is here
But a round of cares and crosses,
Should be grateful unto death
As the end of all his sorrows;
Since it comes the tangled thread
Of a wretched life to shorten,
Which to-day the evil Phoenix
Of its works that now prove mortal
Would revive amid the ashes
Of my wrong and my dishonour.
Then my life, my breath were poison,
Venom would my breast but foster,
Until I had shed in Ireland
Blood in such a copious torrent,
That though base it might wash out
The remembrance of my wronger.
Ah, my honour, low thou liest,
By a ruthless foot down trodden!--
I will die with thee, united
We two will together conquer
These barbarians. Then since little,
But a span at best, belongeth
To my life, a noble vengeance
Let this dagger take upon me!--
But, good God! what evil impulse
With demoniac instinct prompteth
Thus my hand? I am a Christian,
I've a soul, and share the godly
Light of faith: then were it right,
'Mid a crowd of Gentile mockers,
Thus the Christian faith to tarnish
By an action so improper?
What example would I give them
By a death so sad and shocking,
Save that I thus gave the lie
To the works that Patrick worketh.
Since they'd say, who worship only
Their own vices most immodest,
Who deny unto the soul
Its eternal joy or torment,
"Of what use is Patrick's preaching
That man's soul must be immortal,
If the Christian, Luis Enius,
Kills himself? He can't acknowledge
Its eternal life who'd lose it."--
Thus with actions so discordant,
He the light and I the shadow,
We would neutralize each other.
'Tis enough to be so wicked
As even now to feel no sorrow,
No repentance for past sins,
Rather a desire for others.
Yes, by God! for if escape
Fortune now my life would offer,
Europe, Africa, and Asia
I would fill with fear and horror;
First exacting here the debt
Of a vengeance so enormous,
That these islands of Egerius
Would not hold a single mortal
Who should not appease the thirst,
The insatiable longing
That I have for blood. The lightning,
When it bursts its prison portals,
Warns us in a voice of thunder,
And then 'twixt dark smoke and forked
Fires that take the shape of serpents,
Fills the trembling air with horror.
I, too, gave that thunder voice,
So that all men heard the promise,
But the lightning bolt was wanting.
Yes, ah me! it proved abortive,
And before it touched the earth
Was by dallying winds made sport of.
No, it is not death that grieves me,
Even a death of such dishonour,
'Tis because at last are ended,
In my youth's fresh opening blossom,
My offences. Life I wish for
To begin from this day forward
Greater and more dread excesses.
Heavens! 'tis for no other object.
* * * *