 | The Christian Hero |  |
SCENE III.
Turkish Camp.Alarm, Soldiers flying.
Soldiers
within.
Fly, fly; Scanderbeg, Scanderbeg; Fly, fly.
Enter Amurath and Visier, meeting the Rout.
Am.
Turn back you Slaves.
Soldiers
within.
Fly, fly; Scanderbeg, fly!
Am.
Ah! Cowards, Villains! doth his Name affright you?
Are there such Terrors in an empty Sound?
And is my Rage contemn'd? but you shall find
Death is as certain from my Arm as his.
Vis.
O spare your faithful Slaves! What can Men do
Against a Power, invincible, like Heaven's?
Am.
And must it be, like Heaven's, eternal too?
Vis.
Retire, my Lord, into the inner Camp,
And there securely wait a better Hour:
For this is the Epirots.
Am.
Slave, thou liest!
This Hour is mine: I'll triumph o'er him yet.
This Hour his Friend and Mistress both shall die.
The Royal Brute, tho' in the Hunters Toils,
Pierc'd with a thousand Wounds is still a Lion;
Dreadful in Death and dang'rous to the last.
[Exeunt.
| The Christian Hero | |