SCENE VII.
Abroad.
Two Officers of the Spahis.
First OFFICER.
This Eagerness to turn our Faces home,
Exceeds the Preparations for the War:
My Men have scarcely loaded all the Beasts,
But they must mount unfed, and quit the Field.
Second OFFICER.
'Tis true; we've had a toilsome Task to-day:
But cloudy Visages and buzzing Murmurs,
Distract my Mind with Sense of future Ills.
It is amazing to behold a City
(For lesser Name can't comprehend our Camp)
Of vast Extent, shining in pompous Pride,
At the Third Hour of Day, depopulated,
Raz'd to the Ground, no Traces left behind,
All in full March, Miles from its Situation—
E're the same Sun, which found it flourishing,
Hath three Fourths pass'd of his Diurnal Arch.
First OFFICER.
The Sight is strange; but why this urgent Speed?
This sudden Change in Osman's Resolution?
Had but his Highness study'd Victory,
No Time like this hath ever been afforded:
The Polanders and Cossacks press'd with Famine,
Grown sickly and consum'd with three-fold Toil,
Are scarce a twentieth Part effective Men—
Then why this Speed—this, I may almost say,
This Flight precipitate from certain Conquest?
Second OFFICER.
Sure, thour't inform'd of Osman's old Amour
Wi'th'Mufti's Daughter—Beauteous Ashada
Still claims her Conquest o'er the Sultan's Will.
He's young and amorous, and can't withstand
The Force of Love—Tho' such a Prize as this,
Might warm the Heart of the most rigid Dervise—
But see, our Troops are on the Stretch to Choczim,
And we must wing it after them apace.
