In misery, which makes the oppressed Man Lord of the Oppressor's-Knew I an hundred men This arm should shake the Kingdoms of the World; The deep foundations of iniquity Should sink away, earth groaning from beneath them; The strong holds of the cruel men should fall, Their Temples and their mountainous Towers should fall; Till Desolation seemed a beautiful thing, And all that were and had the Spirit of Life, [Alhadra hurries off with the Moors; the stage fills with armed peasants, and servants, Zulimez and Valdez at their head. Valdez rushes into Alvar's arms. ALVAR. Turn not thy face that way, my father! hide, Flow in unmingled stream through thy first blessing. [both kneel to Valdez. VALDEZ. My Son! My Alvar! bless, Oh bless him, heaven! Delights so full, if unalloyed with grief, Were ominous. In these strange dread events APPENDIX. THE following Scene, as unfit for the Stage, was taken from the Tragedy, in the year 1797, and published in the Lyrical Ballads But this work having been long out of print, and it having been determined, that this with my other Poems in that collection (the NIGHTINGALE, LOVE, and the ANCIENT MARINER) should be omitted in any future edition, I have been advised to reprint it, as a Note to the second Scene of Act the Fourth, p. 202. Enter TERESA and SELMA. TERESA. 'Tis said, he spake of you familiarly, As mine and Alvar's common foster-mother. SELMA. Now blessings on the man, whoe'er he be, That joined your names with mine! O my sweet Lady, As often as I think of those dear times, When you two little ones would stand, at eve, On each side of my chair, and make me learn All you had learnt in the day; and how to talk But that entrance, Selma? TERESA. SELMA. Can no one hear? It is a perilous tale! No one. TERESA. SELMA. My husband's father told it me, Poor old Sesina-angels rest his soul; He was a woodman, and could fell and saw With lusty arm. You know that huge round beam And so the babe grew up a pretty boy, And never learnt a prayer, nor told a bead, But knew the names of birds, and mocked their notes, And whistled, as he were a bird himself: And all the autumn 'twas his only play To gather seeds of wild-flowers, and to plant them The boy loved him, and, when the friar taught him, With holy men, nor in a holy place. But yet his speech, it was so soft and sweet, The late Lord Valdez ne'er was wearied with him. Of all the heretical and lawless talk Which brought this judgment: so the youth was seized, TERESA. 'Tis a sweet tale: Such as would lull a listening child to sleep, His rosy face besoiled with unwiped tears. And what became of him? SELMA. He went on shipboard With those bold voyagers who made discovery |