# Poems of Felicia Hemans in The Winter's Wreath, 1831/Sebastian of Portugal

Sebastian of Portugal.
A DRAMATIC FRAGMENT.
BY MRS. HEMANS.
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
Scene I.—The Sea Shore near Lisbon.
Sebastian—Gonzalez—Zamor.
Sebastian.
With what young life and fragrance in its breath,
My native air salutes me!—from the groves
Of citron, and the mountains of the vine,
And thy majestic tide, thus foaming on
In power and freedom o'er its golden sands,
Fair stream, my Tajo!—Youth, with all its glow
And pride of feeling, through my soul and frame
Again seems rushing, as these noble waves
Past their bright shores flow joyously. Sweet land,
My own, my fathers' land of sunny skies,
And orange bowers! Oh! is it not a dream
That thus I tread thy soil? Or do I wake
From a dark dream but now? Gonzalez, say,
Doth it not bring the flush of early life
Back on th' awakening spirit, thus to gaze
On the far-sweeping river, and the shades
Which in their undulating motion speak
Of gentle winds amidst bright waters born;
After the fiery skies and dark red lands
Of the lone desert? Time and toil must needs
Have changed our mien; but this, our blessed land
Hath gained but richer beauty since we bade
Her glowing shores farewell? Seems it not thus?
Thy brow is clouded!
Gonzalez. To mine eye the scene
Wears, amidst all its quiet loveliness,
A hue of desolation; and the calm,
The solitude, and silence which pervade
Earth, air, and ocean, seem belonging less
To peace than sadness! We have proudly stood
Even on this shore, beside th' Atlantic wave,
When it hath looked not thus!
Sebastian. Aye, now thy soul
Is in the past! Oh no! it looked not thus,
When the morn smiled upon our thousand sails,
And the winds blew for Afric! How that hour,
With all its hues of glory, seems to burst
Again upon my vision! I behold
The stately barks, the arming, the array,
The crests, the banners of my chivalry
Swayed by the sea-breeze, till their motion showed
Like joyous life. How the proud billows foamed!
And the oars flashed, like lightnings of the deep,
And the tall spears went glancing to the sun,
And scattering round quick rays, as if to guide
The valiant unto fame! Aye, the blue heaven
Seemed for that noble scene a canopy
Scarce too majestic, while it rung afar
To peals of warlike sound! My gallant bands!
Where are ye now?
Gonzalez. Bid the wide desert tell
Where sleep its dead! To mightier hosts than thine
Hath it lent graves ere now; and on its breast
Is room for nations yet!
Sebastian. It cannot be,
That all have perished! Many a noble man,
Made captive on that war-field, may have burst
His bonds like us. Cloud not this fleeting hour, Which to my soul is as the fountain's draught
To the parched lip of fever, with a thought
So darkly sad!
Gonzalez. Oh! never, never cast
That deep remembrance from you! When once more
Your place is midst earth's rulers, let it dwell
Around you, as the shadow of your throne,
Wherein the land may rest! My king, this hour
(Solemn as that which to the voyager's eye
In far and dim perspective doth unfold
A new and boundless world;) may haply be
The last in which the courage and the power
Of Truth's high voice shall reach you! Who may stand
As man to man, as friend to friend, before
Th' ancestral throne of monarchs? Or, perchance,
Toils, such as tame the loftiest to endurance,
Henceforth may wait us here! But howsoe'er
This be, the lessons won from sufferings past,
Befit all time, all change. Oh! by the blood,
The free, the generous blood of Portugal
Shed on the sands of Afric; by the names
Which, with their centuries of high renown,
There died, extinct for ever; let not those
Who stood in hope and glory at our side
Here, on this very sea beach, whence they passed
To fall, and leave no trophy; let them not
Be soon, be e'er forgotten! for their fate
Bears a deep warning in its awfulness,
Whence power might well learn wisdom!
Sebastian. Thinkest thou then
That years of sufferance and captivity,
Such as have bowed down eagle hearts ere now,
And made high energies their spoil, have passed
So lightly o'er my spirit ? It is not thus!
The things thou wouldst recall are not of those
To be forgotten! But my heart hath still
A sense, a bounding pulse for hope and joy,
And it is joy which whispers in the breeze
Sent from my own free mountains. Brave Gonzalez!
Thou art one to make thy fearless heart a shield
Unto thy friend, in the dark stormy hour
When knightly crests are trampled, and proud helms
Cleft, and strong breast-plates shivered. Thou art one
To infuse the soul of gallant fortitude
Into the captive's bosom, and beguile
The long slow march beneath the burning noon
With lofty patience; but for those quick bursts,
Those buoyant efforts of the soul to cast
Her weight of care to earth, those brief delights
Whose source is in a sunbeam, or a sound Which stirs the blood, or a young breeze, whose wing
Wanders in chainless joy; for things like these
Thou hast no sympathies!
And thou, my Zamor,
Art wrapt in thought! I welcome thee to this
The kingdom of my fathers. Is it not
A goodly heritage?
Zamor. The land is fair;
But he, the archer of the wilderness,
Beholdeth not the palms beneath whose shade
His tents are scattered, and his camels rest;
And therefore is he sad!
Sebastian. Thou must not pine
With that sick yearning of th' impatient heart
Which makes the exile's life one fevered dream
Of skies, and hills, and voices far away,
And faces wearing the familiar hues
Won from his native sunbeams. I have known
Too much of this, and would not see another
Thus daily die. If it be so with thee,
My gentle Zamor, speak. Behold, our bark
Yet, with her white sails catching sunset's glow,
Lies within signal reach. If it be thus,
Then fare thee well, farewell, thou brave, and true,
And generous friend! How often is our path
Crossed by some being whose bright spirit sheds
A passing gladness o'er it, but whose course
Leads down another current, never more
To blend with ours! Yet far within our souls,
Amidst the rushing of the busy world,
Dwells many a secret thought, which lingers yet
Around that image. And e'en so, kind Zamor,
Shalt thou be long remembered!
Zamor. By the fame
Of my brave sire, whose deeds the warrior tribes
Tell round the desert's watch fire, at the hour
Of silence, and of coolness, and of stars,
I will not leave thee. 'Twas in such an hour
The dreams of rest were on me, and I lay
Shrouded in slumber's mantle, as within
The chambers of the dead. Who saved me then,
When the Pard, soundless as the midnight, stole
Soft on the sleeper? Whose keen dart transfixed
The monarch of the solitudes? I woke,
And saw thy javelin crimsoned with his blood,
Thou, my deliverer! and my heart e'en then
Called thee its brother.
Sebastian. For that gift of life,
With one of tenfold price, even freedom's self,
Thou hast repaid me well.
Zamor. Then bid me not
Forsake thee ! Though my father's tents may rise
At times upon my spirit, yet my home
Shall be amidst thy mountains, Prince, and thou
Shalt be my chief, until I see thee robed
With all thy power. When thou canst need no more
Thine Arab's faithful heart and vigorous arm,
From the green regions of the setting sun
Then shall the wanderer turn his steps, and seek
His orient wilds again.
Sebastian. Be near me still,
And ever, oh my warrior! I shall stand
Again amidst my hosts, a mail-clad king,
Begirt with spears and banners, and the pomp
And the proud sounds of battle. Be thy place
Then at my side. When doth a monarch cease
To need true hearts, bold hands? Not in the field
Of arms, nor on the throne of power, nor yet
The couch, of sleep. Brave friend, we will not part.
Gonzalez.
Be all thy friends thus faithful, for even yet They may be fiercely tried.
Sebastian. I doubt them not.
E'en now my heart beats high to meet their welcome.
Let us away.
Gonzalez. Yet hear once more, my liege:
The humblest pilgrim, from his distant shrine
Returning, finds not even his peasant home
Unchanged amidst its vineyards. Some loved face
Which made the sun-light of his lowly board,
Is touched by sickness, some familiar voice
Greets him no more; and shall not fate and time
Have done their work, since last we parted hence,
Upon an Empire? Aye, within those years,
Hearts from their ancient worship have fallen off
And bowed before new stars; high names have sunk
From their supremacy of place, and others
Gone forth, and made themselves the mighty sounds
At which thrones tremble. Oh! be slow to trust
E'en those to whom your smiles were wont to seem
As light is unto flowers. Search well the depths
Of bosoms in whose keeping you would shrine
The secret of your state. Storms pass not by,
Leaving earth's face unchanged.
Sebastian. Where didst thou learn
The cold distrust which casts so deep a shadow
O'er a most noble nature?
Gonzalez. Life hath been
My stern and only teacher. I have known
Vicissitudes in all things, but the most
In human hearts. Oh! yet awhile tame down
That royal spirit, till the hour be come
When it may burst its bondage! On thy brow
The suns of burning climes have set their seal,
And toil, and years, and perils, have not passed
O'er the bright aspect, and the ardent eye,
As doth a breeze of summer. Be that change
The mask beneath whose shelter thou may'st read
Men's thoughts, and veil thine own,
Sebastian. Am I thus changed
From all I was? And yet it needs must be,
Since e'en my soul hath caught another hue,
From its long sufferings. Did I not array
The gallant flower of Lusian chivalry,
And lead the mighty of the land, to pour
Destruction on the Moslem? I return,
And, as a fearless and a trusted friend,
Bring, from the realms of my captivity,
An Arab of the desert!
But the Sun
Hath sunk below th' Atlantic. Let us hence—
Gonzalez, fear me not.Exeunt.
Scene II.—A street in Lisbon illuminated. Many Citizens.
First Citizen.
In sooth, our city wears a goodly mien
With her far-blazing fanes, and festive lamps
Shining from all her marble palaces,
Countless as heaven's fair stars. The humblest lattice
Sends forth its radiance. How the sparkling waves
Fling back the light!
Second Citizen. Aye, 'tis a gallant shew;
And one which serves, like others, to conceal
Things which must not be told.
First Citizen. What wouldst thou say?
Second Citizen.
That which may scarce, in perilous times like these,
Be said with safety. Hast thou looked within
Those stately palaces? Were they but peopled
With the high race of warlike nobles, once
Their princely lords, think'st thou, good friend, that now
They would be glittering with this hollow pomp,
To greet a conqueror's entrance?
Third Citizen. Thou sayest well.
None but a land forsaken of its chiefs,
Had so been lost and won.
Fourth Citizen. The lot is cast;
We have but to yield. Hush!—for some strangers come:
Now, friends, beware.
First Citizen. Did the King pass this way
At morning, with his train?
Second Citizen. Aye, saw you not
The long and rich procession?
[Sebastian enters with Gonzalez and Zamor]
Sebastian (to Gonzalez.) This should be
The night of some high festival. E'en thus
My royal city to the skies sent up
From her illumined fanes and towers, a voice
Of gladness, welcoming our first return
From Afric's coast. Speak thou, Gonzalez, ask
The cause of this rejoicing. To my heart
Deep feelings rush, so mingled and so fast,
My voice perchance might tremble.
Gonzalez. Citizens,
What festal night is this, that all your streets
Are thronged and glittering thus?
First Citizen. Hast thou not heard
Of the King's entry, in triumphal pomp,
This very morn?
Gonzalez. The King! triumphal pomp!
Thy words are dark.
Sebastian. Speak yet again; mine ears
Ring with strange sounds. Again!
First Citizen. I said the King,
Philip of Spain, and now of Portugal,
This morning entered with a conqueror's train,
Our city's royal palace; and for this,
We hold our festival.
Sebastian, (in a low voice.)
Thou saidst—the King!
His name? I heard it not.
First Citizen. Philip of Spain.
Sebastian.
Philip of Spain! We slumber, till aroused
By th' earthquake's bursting shock. Hath there not fall'n
A sudden darkness? All things seem to float
Obscurely round me. Now 'tis past. The streets
Are blazing with strange fire. Go, quench those lamps!
They glare upon me, till my very brain
Grows dizzy, and doth whirl. How dared ye thus
Light up your shrines for him?
Gonzalez. Away, away,
This is no time, no scene—
Sebastian. Philip of Spain!
How name ye this fair land? Why—is it not
The free, the chivalrous Portugal? the land
By the proud ransom of heroic blood
Won from the Moor of old? Did that red stream
Sink to the earth, and leave no fiery current
In the veins of noble men, that so its tide,
Full swelling at the sound of hostile steps,
Might be a kingdom's barrier?
Second Citizen. That high blood
Which should have been our strength, profusely shed
By the rash King Sebastian, bathed the plains
Of fatal Alcazar. Our monarch's guilt
Hath brought this ruin down.
Sebastian. Must this be heard,
And borne, and unchastised? Man, darest thou stand
Before me face to face, and thus arraign
Thy sovereign?
Zamor (aside to Sebastian. )
Shall I lift the sword, my Prince,
Against thy foes?
Gonzalez. Be still!—or all is lost.
Second Citizen.
I dare speak that which all men think and know.
'Tis to Sebastian, and his waste of life,
And power, and treasure, that we owe these bonds.
Third Citizen.
Talk not of bonds. May our new monarch rule
The weary land in peace! But who art thou,
Whence com'st thou, haughty stranger, that these things,
Known to all nations, should be new to thee?
Sebastian (wildly.)
I come from regions where the cities lie
In ruins, not in chains.
(Exit with Gonzalez and Zamor.)
Second Citizen. He wears the mien
Of one that hath commanded; yet his looks
And words were strangely wild.
First Citizen. Marked you his fierce
And haughty gesture, and the flash that broke
From his dark eye, when King Sebastian's name
Became our theme?
Second Citizen. Trust me, there's more in this
Than may be lightly said. These are no times
To breathe men's thoughts in th' open face of Heaven
And ear of multitudes. They that would speak
Of monarchs and their deeds, should keep within
Their quiet homes. Come, let us hence, and then
We'll commune of this stranger.Exeunt.
Scene III.—The Portico of a Palace.
Sebastian—Gonzalez—Zamor.
Sebastian.
Withstand me not! I tell thee that my soul,
With all its passionate energies, is roused
Unto that fearful strength which must have way,
E'en like the elements, in their hour of might,
And mastery o'er creation.
Gonzalez. But they wait
That hour in silence. Oh! be calm awhile,
Thine is not come. My king—
Sebastian. I am no King,
While in the very palace of my sires,
Aye, where mine eyes first drank the glorious light,
Where my soul's thrilling echoes first awoke
To the high sound of earth's immortal names,
Th' usurper lives and reigns. I am no king,
Until I cast him thence.
Zamor. Shall not thy voice
Be as a trumpet to th' awakening land?
Will not the bright swords flash like sunbursts forth,
When the brave hear their Chief?
Gonzalez. Peace, Zamor, peace:
Child of the desert, what hast thou to do
With the calm hour of counsel?
Monarch, pause!
A kingdom's destiny should not be the sport
Of passion's reckless winds. There is a time,
When men, in very weariness of heart
And careless desolation, tamed to yield
By misery, strong as death, will lay their souls
E'en at the conqueror's feet, as nature sinks
After long torture, into cold, and dull,
And heavy sleep. But comes there not an hour
Of fierce atonement? Aye, the slumberer wakes
With gathered strength and vengeance. And the sense,
And the remembrance of his agonies
Are in themselves as power, whose fearful path
Is like the path of Ocean, when the Heavens
Take off its interdict. Wait thou the hour
Of that high impulse.
Sebastian. Is it not the Sun
Whose radiant bursting through th' embattled clouds
Doth make it morn? The hour of which thou speak'st
Itself, with all its glory, is the work
Of some commanding nature, which doth bid
The sullen shades disperse. Away!—e'en now
The land's high hearts, the fearless and the true,
Shall know they have a leader. Is not this
The mansion of mine own, mine earliest friend,
Sylveira?
Gonzalez. Aye, its glittering lamps too well
Illume the stately vestibule, to leave
Our sight a moment's doubt. He ever loved
Such pageantries.
Sebastian. His dwelling thus adorned
On such a night! Yet will I seek him here.
He must he faithful, and to him the first
My tale shall be revealed. A sudden chill
Falls on my heart; and yet I will not wrong
My friend with dull suspicion. He hath been
Linked all too closely with mine inmost soul.
And what have I to lose?
Gonzalez. Is their blood nought
Who, without hope, will follow where thou leadest,
Even unto death?
Sebastian. Was that a brave man's voice?
Warrior and friend! how long then hast thou learned
To hold thy blood thus dear?
Gonzalez. Of mine, mine own,
Thinkest thou I spoke? When all is shed for thee,
Thou'lt know me better.
Sebastian (entering the palace.)
For awhile, farewell.Exit.
Gonzalez.
Thus Princes read men's hearts. Come, follow me,
And if a home is left me still, brave Zamor,
There will I bid thee welcome.Exeunt.
Scene IV.—A Hall within the Palace.
Sebastian—Sylveira.
Sylveira.
Whence art thou, stranger; what wouldst thou with me?
There is a fiery wildness in thy mien,
Startling and almost fearful.
Sebastian. From the stern
And vast, and desolate wilderness, whose lord
Is the fierce lion, and whose gentlest wind
Breathes of the tomb, and whose dark children make
The bow and spear their law, men bear not back
That smilingness of aspect, wont to mask
The secrets of their spirit, 'midst the stir
Of courts and cities. I have looked on scenes,
Boundless, and strange, and terrible; I have known
Sufferings, which are not in the shadowy scope
Of wild imagination; and these things
Have stamped me with their impress. Man of peace,
Thou lookest on one familiar with th' extremes
Of grandeur and of misery.
Sylveira. Stranger, speak,
Thy name and purpose briefly, for the time
Ill suits these mysteries. I must hence; to-night
I feast the lords of Spain.
Sebastian. Is that a task
For King Sebastian's friend?
Sylveira. Sebastian's friend!
That name hath lost its meaning. Will the dead
Rise from their silent dwellings, to upbraid
The living for their mirth? The grave sets bounds
Unto all human friendship.
Sebastian. On the plain
Of Alcazar, full many a stately flower,
The pride and crown of some high house, was laid
Low in the dust of Afric; but of these
Sebastian was not one.
Sylveira. I am not skilled
To deal with men of mystery. Take thou off
The strange dark scrutiny of thine eye from mine.
What mean'st thou? Speak!
Sebastian. Sebastian died not there.
I read no joy in that cold doubting mien.
Is not thy name—Sylveira?
Sylveira. Aye.
Sebastian. Why, then,
Be glad. I tell thee that Sebastian lives!
Think thou on this, he lives! Should he return,
—For he may yet return; and find the friend
In whom he trusted with such perfect trust
As should be Heaven's alone,—Mark'st thou my words?
Should he then find this man, not girt and armed,
And watching o'er the heritage of his lord,
But, reckless of high fame and loyal faith,
Holding luxurious revels with his foes;
How wouldst thou meet his glance?
Sylveira. As I do thine,
Keen tho' it be, and proud.
Sebastian. Why, thou dost quail
Before it, even as if the burning eye
Of the broad Sun, pursued thy shrinking soul,
Through all its depths.
Sylveira. Away! He died not there!
He should have died then, with the chivalry,
And strength, and honour of his kingdom, lost
By his impetuous rashness.
Sebastian. This from thee.
Who hath given power to falsehood, that one gaze
At its unmasked and withering mien should blight
High souls at once? I wake. And this from thee!
There are, whose eyes discern the secret springs
Which lie beneath the desert, and the gold
And gems within earth's caverns, far below
The everlasting hills: but who hath dared
To dream that heaven's most awful attribute
Invested his mortality, and to boast
That through its inmost folds his glance could read
One heart, one human heart? Why then to love,
And trust, is but to lend a traitor arms
Of keenest temper, and unerring aim,
Wherewith to pierce our souls. But thou, beware,
Sebastian lives!
Sylveira. If it be so, and thou
Art of his followers still, then bid him seek
Far in the wilds which gave one sepulchre
To his proud hosts, a kingdom and a home,
For none is left him here.
Sebastian. This is to live
An age of wisdom in an hour! The man
Whose Empire, as in scorn, o'erpassed the bounds
E'en of the infinite Deep; whose orient realms
Lay bright beneath the Morning, while the clouds
Were brooding, in their sunset mantle still,
O'er his majestic regions of the West;
This heir of far dominion shall return,
And, in the very city of his birth,
Shall find no home! Aye, I will tell him this,
And he will answer that the tale is false,
False as a traitor's hollow words of love,
And that the stately dwelling, in whose halls
We commune now—a friend's, a monarch's gift,
Unto the chosen of his heart, Sylveira,
Should yield him still a welcome.
Sylveira. Fare thee well.
I may not pause to hear thee, for thy words
Are full of danger, and of snares, perchance
Laid by some treacherous foe. But all in vain.
I mock thy wiles to scorn.
Sebastian. Ha! ha! the snake
Doth pride himself in his distorted cunning
Deeming it wisdom. Nay, thou goest not thus.
My heart is bursting, and I will he heard.
What! know'st thou not my spirit was born to hold
Dominion over thine? Thou shalt not cast
Those bonds thus lightly from thee. Stand thou there,
And tremble in the presence of thy lord.
Sylveira.
This is all madness.
Sebastian. Madness! No; I say
'Tis reason starting from her sleep, to feel
And see, and know, in all their cold distinctness
Things which come o'er her, as a sense of pain
O'th' sudden wakes the dreamer. Stay thee yet.
Be still. Thou art used to smile and to obey,
Aye, and to weep. I have seen thy tears flow fast,
As from the fulness of a heart o'ercharged
With loyal love. Oh! never, never more,
Let smiles or tears be trusted! When thy King
Went forth on his disastrous enterprise,
Upon thy bed of sickness thou wast laid,
And he stood o'er thee with the look of one
Who leaves a dying brother, and his eyes
Were filled with tears like thine. No! not like thine:
His bosom knew no falsehood, and he deemed
Thine clear and stainless as a warrior's shield,
Wherein high deeds and noble forms alone
Are brightly imaged forth.
Sylveira. What now avail
These recollections?
Sebastian. What? I have seen thee shrink
As a murderer from the eye of light before me.
I have earned (how dearly and how bitterly
It matters not, but I have earned at last)
Deep knowledge, fearful wisdom. Now, begone!
Hence to thy guests, and fear not, though arraigned
E'en of Sebastian's friendship. Make his scorn
(For he will scorn thee, as a crouching slave
By all high hearts is scorned,) thy right, thy charter
Unto vile safety. Let the secret voice
Whose low upbraidings will not sleep within thee,
Be as a sign, a token of thy claim
To all such guerdons as are showered on traitors,
When noble men are crushed. And fear thou not.
'Tis but the kingly cedar which the storm
Hurls from his mountain throne; th' ignoble shrub,
Grovelling beneath, may live.
Sylveira. It is thy part
To tremble for thy life.
Sebastian. They that have looked
Upon a heart like thine, should know too well
The worth of life, to tremble. Such things make
Brave men and reckless. Aye—and they, whom fate
Would trample, should be thus. It is enough.
Thou may'st depart.
Sylveira. And thou, if thou dost prize
Thy safety, speed thee hence.Exit Sylveira.
Sebastian (alone.) And this is he
Who was as mine own soul: whose image rose
Shadowing my dreams of glory with the thought,
That on the sick man's weary couch he lay,
Pining to share my battles!—
(Music heard within, and voices.)
Chorus.
 Ye wlnds, that sweep
The conquered billows of the Western Deep,
 Or wander where the morn
'Midst the resplendent Indian Heavens is born,
Waft o'er bright isles and glorious Worlds the fame
 Of the crowned Spaniard's name:
 Till in each glowing zone,
 Its might the nations own,
And bow to him the vassal knee,
Whose sceptre shadows realms from Sea to Sea!
Sebastian.
Away, away!—this is no place for him
Whose name hath thus resounded, but is now
A word of desolation!Exit.