University of Virginia Library

SCENE VIII.

THE VICEROY, MOLINA; GARCIA entering with CONSTANTIA, and VELORA, in veils.
THE VICEROY.
Still, gentle lady, in the veil of sorrow!
Thy son's exploits shall turn these mourning weeds
To robes of triumph:—now, Molina, speak
The deeds of this young conqueror!

MOLINA.
Our foes,
Who on the neighbouring hills encamped apart,
Disclaimed all treaty; threatening e'en the siege
Of this imperial city: with this aim
The artful Renegado had assembled
All the confederate princes in a fort
On the adjacent shore, whose chosen guard
Trebled our scanty number: by surprise
The brave Sylveyra made a fierce attack;
Twice to the earth he struck the base Coutino,
And slew the author of this dangerous league.

THE VICEROY.
By Heaven this action binds him to my heart.

CONSTANTIA.
Great God of battles! to thy throne I bend
And thank thee with my tears.

MOLINA.
Beside that traitor,
The Moorish Chieftain fell: instant dismay
Seized all their host; and infinite had been
The general slaughter, but the just Sylveyra
Proclaimed free pardon to the native Indians.

VELORA.
Reward him for it, all ye host of heaven,
Who teach him still to emulate your nature,
And be the guardian of a fallen race!

MOLINA.
This well-timed mercy ratified our conquest;
And, the great business of his mission ended,
Ere now Sylveyra is embarked for Goa.

THE VICEROY.
He shall have noble welcome. Gentle mourner!
Let every trace of your past grief be lost,
In the gay triumph of your gallant son!

CONSTANTIA.
Your generous kindness to a mother claims
Her praise, but my full heart can only thank you
With silence, and with tears.

(Exit with Velora.
THE VICEROY.
Molina haste!
And bid our Citizens with festive triumph
Meet this young Victor!
(Exit Molina.
Garcia, though I love him.
As if he were my son, for he inherits
The noble virtues of our vauled friend,
Yet my heart tells me, his return portends
I know not what of ill.—Didst thou observe
With what a fond idolatry of praise
The warm Velora magnified his mercy?

GARCIA.
O! my dear lord! remember, that we stand
Upon enchanted ground! hence, let us fly!
Then may I clear your heart, that field of honor,
From weeds of love and jealousy, whose growth
Would choke the harvest of your rich renown.

THE VICEROY.
Yes! honest Garcia, thou shalt freely use
A right inherent in a soul like thine;
Search, and correct, my foibles, till thy friend
Shall bless thee as the guardian of his glory.

(Exeunt.