University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

Queen, Eleonora, Dunbar.
Queen.
Say, Youth, how fares the King!

Dunbar.
Fair Princess, hail!
To you my Duty and my Speed were bent—
Your royal Consort triumphs.

Queen.
Lives he then!
Lives he, deliver'd from the fatal Snares
Which had enclos'd him!

Dunbar.
To their Hills repell'd,
The vanquish'd Rebels curse his conqu'ring Arm—
He bade me fly before him to the Queen;
With the glad Tidings chear her drooping Soul;
And bear his kindest Wishes to the Shrine
Himself will soon adore.

Queen.
Will he then come
And wipe the Tear of Sorrow from my Cheek!—
Ah, no!—thy Pity flatters me in vain!

Dunbar.
Let me not dally with my Queen's Distress.—
What were it, but to lift incumbent Woe,
That it might fall more grievous.—By the Faith
Of my Allegiance, hither speeds the King,
By Love attended, and by Conquest crown'd.

Queen.
O welcome Messenger!—How sweetly sounds
Thy Prelude!—Thus, the warbler of the Morn,
To the sick Wretch who moan'd the tedious Night,
Brings balmy Slumber, Ease and Hope and Health!
O wondrous Destiny!

Eleonora.
Thus, on my Queen
May Fortune ever smile.—May Bliss to Bliss
Succeed, a tranquil Scene!—Say, noble Youth,
Returns my Sire in Safety from the Field?—

Dunbar.
Safe as thy fondest filial Wish can form.—
In War's Variety, mine Eyes have seen
Variety of Valour and of Skill:
But such united Excellence of both—
Such Art to baffle and amuse the Foe;—
Such Intrepidity to execute
Repeated Efforts,—never, save in him
My Observation trac'd!—Our Monarch's Acts
My feeble Praise would sully and profane.

Eleonora.
Thy Words, like genial Showers to the parch'd Earth,
Refresh my languid Soul!—

Queen.
The Trumpet swells!
My Conqueror approaches!—Let me fly
With Extasy of Love into his Arms!—
He comes!—the Victor comes!—