The Siege of Numantia Page #11

The Siege of Numantia is a tragedy by Miguel de Cervantes set at the siege of Numantia. The play is divided into four acts. The dialogue is sometimes in tercets and sometimes in redondillas, but for the most part in octaves.

• History

								

      Ye come at last, although ye come by force.
      Lift up this stone, ye curs, whate'er betide,
      And show the body that lies buried here.
      What means this sluggishness? Where do ye hide?
      Why at my mandate do ye not appear?
      Ye infidels, ye put my threats aside,
      Because ye think ye have no more to fear;
      But this black water of the Stygian lake
      Will give your tardiness a speedy shake!
      Thou water, drawn upon a dismal night
      Of darkness dread, from out the fatal lake,
      By that dread power which doth with thee unite,
      Before which any other power must quake,
      Give forth thy diabolic strength aright!
      And him who first the Serpent's form did take
      I conjure, I constrain, beseech, command,
      To come with speedy wings at my demand!

            [He sprinkles the sepulchre with water, and it opens.

      Come forth, thou ill-starred youth, stay not behind,
      Return to see the sun, serene and blest!
      Forsake that realm, where thou shalt never find
      One single happy day of cloudless rest!
      And since thou canst, unbosom now thy mind,
      Of all that thou hast seen in its dark breast;
      I mean, regarding that which I demand,
      And more, if it concerns the case in hand.

            [The body comes forth in its shroud, with masked face,
                discoloured like a dead man's, and walks, dragging
                itself by little and little, and at length falls
                flat on the stage, without moving foot or hand,
                till its time comes.

      What! Dost not answer? Dost not live again,
      Or haply hast thou tasted death once more?
      Then will I quicken thee anew with pain,
      And for thy good the gift of speech restore.
      Since thou art one of us, do not disdain
      To speak and answer, as I now implore;
      If thou be dumb, then I'll use measures strong,
      To loosen thy most timid, worthless tongue.

            [He sprinkles the body with the yellow water, and
                whips it with a thong.

      Ye spirits vile, it worketh not, ye trust!
      But wait, for soon the enchanted water here
      Will show my will to be as strong and just
      As yours is treacherous and insincere.
      And though this flesh were turned to very dust,
      Yet being quickened by this lash austere,
      Which cuts with cruel rigour like a knife,
      It will regain a new though fleeting life.

            [At this point the body moves and shudders.

      Thou rebel soul, seek now the home again
      Thou leftest empty these few hours ago!

The Body.[9]

      Restrain the fury of thy reckless pain;
      Suffice it, O Marquino, man of woe,
      What I do suffer in the realms obscure,
      Nor give me pangs more fearful to endure.
      Thou errest, if thou thinkest that I crave,
      For greater pleasure and for less dismay,
      This painful, pinched, and narrow life I have,
      Which even now is ebbing fast away.
      Nay, rather dost thou cause me dolour grave,
      Since Death a second time, with bitter sway,
      Will triumph over me in life and soul,
      And gain a double palm, beyond control.
      For he and others of the dismal band
      Who do thy bidding, subject to thy spell,
      Are raging round and round, and waiting stand,
      Till I shall finish what I have to tell:
      The woeful end, most terrible and grand,
      Of our Numantia, since I know it well:
      For she shall fall, and by the hands austere
      Of those who are to her most near and dear.
      The Romans ne'er shall victory obtain
      O'er proud Numantia; still less shall she
      A glorious triumph o'er her foemen gain;
      Twixt friends and foes, both brave to a degree,
      Think not that settled peace shall ever reign
      Where rage meets rage in strife eternally.
      The friendly hand, with homicidal knife,
      Will slay Numantia, and will give her life.

            [He hurls himself into the sepulchre, and says:

      I say no more, Marquino, time is fleet;
      The Fates will grant to me no more delay,
      And though my words may seem to thee deceit,
      Thou'lt find at last the truth of what I say.

MARQUINO.

      O fearful signs! O misery complete!
      If such events, my friend, are on the way,
      Before I gaze on this my people's doom
      I'll end my wretched being in this tomb!

            [MARQUINO hurls himself into the sepulchre.

MORANDRO.

      Say, Leoncio, am I right,
      Are not my forebodings true?
      That my hopes and pleasures too
      Change into the opposite?
      Who can Fate and Fortune brave?
      Shut and barred is every way,
      Save, and let Marquino say,
      Certain death and speedy grave.

LEONCIO.

      What are all these strange illusions?
      Terrors grim and phantasies.
      What are signs and witcheries?
      Diabolical delusions.
      Thinkest thou such things have worth?
      Slender knowledge dost thou show;
      Little care the dead below
      For the living here on earth.

MILVIO.

      Such a monstrous sacrifice
      Never had Marquino made,
      Could our fate have been delayed,
      Which he saw with prophet's eyes.
      Let us tell this tale of woe
      To the town whose end is near;
      But on such an errand drear
      Who will stir one step to go?

            [Exeunt.

END OF ACT II.

ACT III.

SCENE I.

    Enter SCIPIO, QUINTUS FABIUS, and CAIUS MARIUS; afterwards
    CORABINO.

SCIPIO.

      In very sooth, I am content to view
      How Fortune's wishes tally with mine own;
      For this free haughty nation I subdue
      Without a struggle, by my wits alone.
      The occasion comes, I seize it as my due,
      For when it flits and runs, and once hath flown,
      Full well I know in war we pay the cost,
      Our credit vanishes, and life is lost.
      It may be judged a foolish, monstrous thing,
      To hold our enemies beleaguered there;
      That shame on Roman chivalry we bring,
      By using arts of conquest strange and rare.
      If such be said, then to this hope I cling,
      That shrewd and practised soldiers will declare
      That victory to be of most repute,
      Which yields with least of blood the most of fruit.
      What glory more exalted can we know,
      Within the range of war affairs, I mean,
      Than thus to conquer and subdue the foe,
      Nor let our naked weapons once be seen?
      For when the blood of friends is forced to flow,
      To gain a triumph when the fight is keen,
      I wot the pleasure is not half so high
      As that which springs from bloodless victory.

            [Here a trumpet sounds from the wall of Numantia.

QUINTUS FABIUS.

      Listen, my lord, there comes a trumpet's blast
      From out Numantia's town, and sure am I
      They mean to speak to thee from thence at last,
      For this strong wall impedes their coming nigh.
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