 | Montezuma |  |
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SCENE VI.
To Cyderia enter Montezuma, Odmar, and Alibech, attended by Mexican Nobles and Guards.Mont.
He comes, the glory of our Indian world!—
My son, my Guyomar, my hero comes,
The champion, the deliverer of his country!
Shouts, and sound of numerous instruments. Guyomar enters in triumph, followed by Mexican Officers. To them succeed the Spanish Officers and Soldiers in chains. The Mexicans range themselves on each side, while the Spaniards are led off. Then enter the Chief Priest, followed by a train of Priests and Priestesses.
Guy.
My King, my father!
[Bends his knee.
Mont.
O, my honour'd child!—
The weight of Heaven, in blessings, fall upon thee;
For thou art worthy of its glory!—Alibech!
Here, take thy soldier, recent from his toils—
Beauty, like thine, can best reward them!—
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Begin your song of triumph and thanksgiving!
SONG,
By Priests and Priestesses.
I.
Thunder sleeps—the storm is o'er;War and terror are no more.
See their horrid hosts retire—
Fainting worlds again respire!
By our conquering hero fell'd,
Spain is shackled, force is quell'd!
Peace revisits India's shore—
Thunder sleeps—the storm is o'er!
Peace revisits, &c.—
II.
Now, through every glen and glade,In the sunshine, in the shade,
Vacant Innocence shall stray,
Fearing neither wile nor way!
Sons shall laugh within the shed,
By their sires and grand-sires spread;
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Wars and terrors are no more.
Peace shall, &c.
III.
In wedlock, again, loving pairs shall be tied,And children shall run by their glad father's side;
Long poles shall be fix'd, where the minstrel shall sound,
And where holy-day crowds shall dance chearly around;
Birds shall chirp in the groves, and beasts frisk in the plain,
Nor be scared by the thunders and lightnings of Spain.
Through our clime, Mirth shall carol, and Laughter shall roar;
For war, tumult, terror, and Spain are no more!
Through our clime, &c.
[Priests and Priestesses go off in order, followed by a procession of Mexicans, laden with the spoils of the Spaniards and Traxallans. As they go off Montezuma speaks.
Mont.
Now to the temple lead our grand procession,
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Our vows for safety!—then, in lasting bands
Of happy rites, and nuptial sanctitude,
Be Valour join'd to Beauty—Nor thou, Odmar,
Grudge, to the worth of thy triumphant brother,
This small, tho' lovely portion of the world,
Which he hath saved for thee, my eldest born,
Now thy sure heirship!—Sound your instruments—
Let festal clarions rouze the slumbering night,
And the long triumph hail the coming light!
[Exeunt.
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