Poems (Campbell)/Alonzo

by Dorothea Primrose Campbell

ALONZO.

The setting sun with burning gold
 Had clad the western sky,
And fair Erema softly roll'd
 Her limpid waters by.

With balmy breath the wanton breeze
 Sigh'd o'er the vernal vale,
Disportive shook the trembling trees,
 And kiss'd their blossoms pale.

A captive knight of high degree,
 In fam'd Segovia's tow'r,
Cried "Happy breeze! would I, like thee,
 Could sport from flow'r to flow'r!

No more a wretched captive here
 Inglorious would I stay,
But rush, with glitt'ring lance and spear,
 To join the battle-fray.

The vaunting Spaniard yet should feel
 Alonzo's wonted might,
And crouch again beneath my steel,
 In valour's struggling fight.

For thee, Algarvé, yet my sword
 Should wake its vengeful gleam,
And proudly for thy injur'd lord
 My latest life-blood stream.

But here, in clanking fetters bound,
 Proclaim'd a rebel too!
By heav'n! methinks each angry wound
 Bleeds at the thought anew!"

As thus in dark disdainful mood
 He watch'd the close of day,
And saw on river, tow'r, and wood,
 The sun's departing ray,—

Night's shadows slowly gather'd round;
 While pensive, cold, and pale,
The moonbeam kiss'd the dewy ground,
 And sadly sigh'd the gale.

Sudden was heard through court and yard,
 The noise of tramping steed,
And loud the massy bolts unbarr'd—
 "Oh! fly with instant speed!"

Quick they unclasp'd the galling chains,
 The captive knight is free:
They quit the castle, scour the plains,
 And reach the roaring sea.

There, anchor'd in a lonely bay,
 A bark roll'd on the sea—
"Speak, speak, my friend, oh! speak, I pray,
 And tell who sets me free."

"Forbear the thought—I may not breathe
 That all-mysterious name!
But fly thee hence—the hero's wreath
 Be thine, and deathless fame!"

"Now, by mine honour, till I know
 By whom this aid is giv'n,
From hence I must not, will not go,
 So hear, and help me, Heav'n!

"Then list! a lady sets thee free;
 But spare that lady's name,
Nor give to her who rescues thee
 A load of guilt and shame.

It matters not to tell thee now
 Her equal pow'r and will—
Enough that Heav'n has heard my vow
 To wait and tend thee still.

The pleasing task at length is mine,
 Nor spurn my help I pray;
But quit these bloody foes of thine—
 Already dawns the day!"

The boat was near—the rower strain'd
 With sinewy arms the oar;
But ere the sandy beach he gain'd,
 Fierce horsemen lin'd the shore.

"Return, proud rebel-slave, return,
 Return thou traitress too!"
Alonzo felt his hot blood burn,
 And quick his bright sword drew.

But round his neck in anguish clung
 The page—the heaving breast,
The voice, the locks dishevell'd hung,
 Her softer sex confess'd.

"They shall not touch thy gallant heart
 Or only reach through mine;
In life, in death, we will not part,
 For I am only thine.

Farewell, farewell, the ruffian steel
 Has pierc'd my bosom through,
But, ah! the only death I feel
 Is parting, love! from you.

Deride me not, nor brand with scorn,
 When I am laid in earth,
Nor think me one inglorious born,
 For royal was my birth.

The daughter I of scepter'd king,
 The Spanish monarch's child,
But fled the court on eager wing,
 By love for thee beguil'd."

"Stay, wond'rous saint! a moment stay;
 My soul is bursting free,
And oh! if death such love repay,
 'Tis bliss to die with thee!"

Commingling in a purple stream
 Together flow'd their blood,
While dewy morning's first wan beam
 Glanc'd on the heaving flood.