University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

—A retired woody place near the field of battle.
Almanzor,
Solus.
Such is the state of this distracted world,
Such are the freaks, that fortune loves to play
Upon the great and noble! Morning saw me
A brave and gallant prince, renown'd in arms,
The heir of proud Granada, lov'd, caress'd
And by the fickle mob extoll'd to heav'n.
What am I now? ah wounded, weak, forsaken,
Left by the army once led on by me
Ev'n to the very height of victory;
None sought the prince, when from the field victorious
They march'd in triumph to Granada's walls;
None ask'd, where is Almanzor, but contented
They all retir'd beneath the haughty Zamor,
And left me here unnotic'd and forgotten,
Is't not enough to fire this soul of mine?
I'st not enough to rouse my jealousy?
What, shall this low born wretch exult and triumph,
While I am left to pine with pain and anguish?
And shall Granada ring with Zamor's praise,
While every tongue is silent in Almanzor's?
But I am sick of life, I loathe a world,
Where every thing looks dark and melancholy,
Where sighs and groans are wafted on each gale,
And every breeze is charg'd with misery.
Look round, thou hero! on this bloody plain,
And view the field, where thou hast won thy glory;
See yonder dying wretch, how pale, how ghastly
That countenance, which courage once enliven'd,
How dim his eye, and what is that he utters?
Ah! 'tis the long protracted shriek of anguish,
The feeble prayer for but one cooling drop,
Or the last struggling, parting groan of death.
Perhaps, even now, an aged, tottering mother
Is fondly waiting for her son's return;
Perhaps some maiden weaves the victor's garland
To deck her hero's brow, and as she binds
Each graceful wreath, lets fall a silent tear:
But, ah, no anxious mother's straining eye
Shall see her son's return! for death has seal'd
His clay-cold lips forever! though his love
Look for him, till the year has roll'd around her,
He sleeps forgotten on this bloody plain,
Her sighs can ne'er awake him, nor her tears
Recall his spirit from his early tomb.

[Enter Amru.
Amru.
And art thou still alive, most noble prince!
This, this is heaven indeed! long had I look'd
In fruitless search, and o'er this plain had wander'd,
Until despair had almost sunk my soul:
But come, my prince! let's hasten to Granada
And save thy father and his falling throne.

Alm.
What dost thou say?

Amru.
Ruin awaits thy father,
Death from the traitor, he has nurs'd so long.

Alm.
From Zamor?

Amru.
Yes, from him.

Alm.
Oh, gracious heaven!
Dart all thy fury on that guilty head.
Come, let us hasten ere the blow is struck;
Perhaps this hand may stay his murdering arm.

Amru.
Yes, let us hasten; but, most noble prince!
The army is corrupted, every gate
Is firmly clos'd to aid the wretched traitor.

Alm.
But, oh! my dearest friend, what can I do?
How can I save my father's life and throne?
And must the traitor triumph?

Amru.
No, Almanzor!
Fatima will secure an easy entrance:
At yonder lonely corner, where the wall
Hangs o'er the narrow plain, beneath the palace,
She will secure an easy entrance for thee.

Alm.
Ah, is she safe, and is she still the same,
The same enchanting angel, firm in danger,
And ever prompt to aid the righteous cause?

Amru.
Yes, 'twas by her I learnt thy father's danger;
Oh! couldst thou then have seen her fortitude,
Have seen her countenance by sorrow soften'd,
But strengthened by a more than woman's firmness;
Have seen her eye, where the oft-starting tear
Was check'd in embryo by that god-like wisdom,
Which told her, danger was no time for weeping;
My dearest friend, thou'dst lov'd her more than ever.

Alm.
Oh, treasure more than all the wealth of India!
If heaven shall aid me in this enterprize,
I'll place thee on my throne, a fairer jewel,
Than ever sparkled in a caliph's crown.
But let us hasten, every fleeting moment
May be the one that ends my father's life,
And with it, all my happiness and hopes.