SCENE VII.
A Prison.
Gozanes.
Goz.
Curst Fate of War! Uncertainty of Grandeur!
No Hopes of Liberty for lost Gozanes!
Here must I linger out a wretched Life;
Wretched indeed! for such a train of Sorrows,
Demonstrate me but born to know distress.
Surely some Vengeance from offended Heav'n,
Pursues me to the utmost Verge of Woe.
Oh ye vindictive Powers! that punish me,
Spare my Xarino, spare my hapless Son!
But lives he to be spar'd? that's the sad Question.
AIR.
Let me behold my Son once more,
In life's sweet Bloom array'd;
Or waft me to th'Elysian Shore,
To clasp his darling Shade.
On me your destin'd Vengeance shew,
Let him be spar'd and blest;
Pity a wretched Father's Woe,
And grant his last Request.
[Exit.
