Part 278 (1/2)

CARLOS. I'll follow straight.

[Exit DOMINGO.

CARLOS (after a short silence).

O wretched Philip! wretched as thy son!

Soon shall thy bosom bleed at every pore, Torn by suspicion's poisonous serpent fang.

Thy fell sagacity full soon shall pierce The fatal secret it is bent to know, And thou wilt madden, when it breaks upon thee!

SCENE II.

CARLOS, MARQUIS OF POSA.

CARLOS.

Lo! Who comes here? 'Tis he! O ye kind heavens, My Roderigo!

MARQUIS. Carlos!

CARLOS. Can it be?

And is it truly thou? O yes, it is!

I press thee to my bosom, and I feel Thy throbbing heart beat wildly 'gainst mine own.

And now all's well again. In this embrace My sick, sad heart is comforted. I hang Upon my Roderigo's neck!

MARQUIS. Thy heart!

Thy sick sad heart! And what is well again What needeth to be well? Thy words amaze me.

CARLOS.

What brings thee back so suddenly from Brussels?

Whom must I thank for this most glad surprise?

And dare I ask? Whom should I thank but thee, Thou gracious and all bounteous Providence?

Forgive me, heaven! if joy hath crazed my brain.

Thou knewest no angel watched at Carlos' side, And sent me this! And yet I ask who sent him.

MARQUIS.

Pardon, dear prince, if I can only meet With wonder these tumultuous ecstacies.

Not thus I looked to find Don Philip's son.

A hectic red burns on your pallid cheek, And your lips quiver with a feverish heat.

What must I think, dear prince? No more I see The youth of lion heart, to whom I come The envoy of a brave and suffering people.

For now I stand not here as Roderigo-- Not as the playmate of the stripling Carlos-- But, as the deputy of all mankind, I clasp thee thus:--'tis Flanders that clings here Around thy neck, appealing with my tears To thee for succor in her bitter need.

This land is lost, this land so dear to thee, If Alva, bigotry's relentless tool, Advance on Brussels with his Spanish laws.

This n.o.ble country's last faint hope depends On thee, loved scion of imperial Charles!

And, should thy n.o.ble heart forget to beat In human nature's cause, Flanders is lost!

CARLOS.

Then it is lost.

MARQUIS.

What do I hear? Alas!

CARLOS.

Thou speakest of times that long have pa.s.sed away.

I, too, have had my visions of a Carlos, Whose cheek would fire at freedom's glorious name, But he, alas! has long been in his grave.