 | The Viceroy |  |
SCENE VIII.
THE VICEROY, GARCIA and INDIANS.THE VICEROY.
Spare your vain search,
Ye madding croud! behold that Viceroy here,
Whose power ye question, and whose blood ye thirst for!
Ungrateful people! can ye thus forget
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I raised your plundered race? there was a time,
When cruel rapine, with unbridled rage,
Preyed on your wasted wealth; when every voice,
That rose from India to unpitying Heaven,
Poured wild complaint, and bitter execration,
Against the insatiate sons of sordid Europe:
Those scenes of wretchedness our cares have changed
To the mild blessings of protected commerce,
And equal justice; yet your mutinous spirits
Insult the power, that saves you from perdition.
GARCIA.
Behold, my lord, how their misguided fury,
With just contrition, sinks to silent shame!
AN AGED INDIAN.
Hear! mighty Castro, hear the suppliant voice
Of age! forgive, and soothe thy troubled people!
They own thy mild dominion; they revere
Thy princely virtues: yet in wildest terror
Dread, lest insidious passion should betray thee
To trample on those laws, in whose defence
Thy steady virtue has so long upheld
The sword of justice, and the shield of mercy.
O! be their guardian still! in generous pity
Give, to the humblest prayers of duty, give
The captive child of that unhappy Bramin,
Whose terrors for his daughter torn away,
Piercing his soul, abridged his virtuous days!
THE VICEROY.
Thou good old man! thy mildness has more power
To move the heart of Castro, than the threats
Of fiercest war, when, in his wildest fury,
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My troubled subjects! just and gentle spirits!
I have obtained an empire in your hearts;
'Twas my ambition:—'tis my noblest pride;
Nor shall base passions tempt me now to forfeit
This best dominion: let the coward tyrant
Enshroud in falsehood's veil his crimes, his fears!
My heart shall own its errors, and retrieve them.
INDIAN.
Ye sons of India, hear your gracious lord!
He has no thought of impious violation.
THE VICEROY.
My fatal passion—I retain it still—
But deeply conscious, this afflictive love,
This cruel source of horrors unforeseen,
Must wound your dearest rights: those hallowed laws
Which I am bound to cherish, not invade,
Know that my soul has vowed to see no more
That lovely maid! whose fascinating charms
Tempt justice from its throne: ye now have heard
Our serious purpose; to confirm it farther
To you, my people! that unshaken honor
May be the guard of feebler continence,
I give this sacred pledge, your Sovereign's truth:
If now ye think us worthy of your trust,
Dismiss your every fear, disperse, and leave us!
INDIANS.
May Heaven long guard the just, the generous Castro!
He may command our treasures, and our blood.
THE VICEROY and GARCIA come forward, and the Scene closes behind them.
| The Viceroy | |