SCENE II.
Pizarro to him, Carlos.
Carl.
What Tidings bears my Friend?
Piz.
Most opportune, our Bark is hir'd;
A trading Vessel, quick of Sail,
That, 'twixt Oran, and our Algiers,
Alternate shapes her Course:
And still, at her Return,
Moors in yon Creek that bounds Abdalla's Garden.
This happy Accident
Blunts all Suspicion, and befriends
Our secret, safe, Departure.
Carl.
'Would, that auspicious Hour were come!
Oh, that we now,
Rich in the Treasure of our Loves,
Were bounding o'er the briny Wave!
I, bless'd in my Zorayda;—
Piz.
I, in my Selima.
The Hour will come.
Anxious were th'expected Blessing,
Did not Hope of soon Possessing
Make Amends for Fate's Delay.
Hope insures the promis'd Treasure,
Hope, refining ev'ry Pleasure,
Paints the distant Prospect gay.
