 | Poems, dramatic and miscellaneous |  |
136
SCENE II.
DON VELASCO and DONNA LOUISA.Velasco.
Fond foolish maid—what secret guilt's conceal'd,
That thus in tears—all pensive and alone,
Thou seek'st to hide, e'en from a father's eye?—
Louisa.
Alas! I weep for human woes at large:—
I weep my country and my hapless friends.
Man, the vile sport of restless passion, roves
Through sad inquietudes and painful cares,
'Till his ambition sets the world on fire.
I weep my country and my hapless friends.
Man, the vile sport of restless passion, roves
Through sad inquietudes and painful cares,
'Till his ambition sets the world on fire.
'Mongst all the ills that hover o'er mankind,
Unfeign'd, or fabled, in the poet's page,
The blackest scrawl the sister furies hold
For red ey'd wrath, or malice to fill up,
Is incomplete to sum up human woe;
'Till civil discord, still a darker fiend,
Stalks forth unmask'd from his infernal den,
With mad Alecto's torch in his right hand
To light the flame, and rend the soul of nature.
Unfeign'd, or fabled, in the poet's page,
The blackest scrawl the sister furies hold
For red ey'd wrath, or malice to fill up,
Is incomplete to sum up human woe;
'Till civil discord, still a darker fiend,
Stalks forth unmask'd from his infernal den,
With mad Alecto's torch in his right hand
To light the flame, and rend the soul of nature.
Velasco.
But most of all, a daughter is a curse,
Whene'er she lets her wanton thoughts run loose.
Weak maid retire—in thy apartment hide,
Nor dare to shew thy weeping face abroad,
'Till war shall cease, and business gives me time
To crown thy nuptials with a noble lord,
To whom thou art betroth'd—who claims thy hand:
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These bold conspirators—I've pledg'd my faith.
Louisa.
Let thy Louisa wake compassion up.
[Falls on her knee.
Revoke thy vow, and let me live a maid.
Velasco.
Both by the host, and by St. Peter's key,
I've sworn, nor will revoke my plighted faith;
Prepare thyself for wedlock's sacred vows;
One week completes the matrimonial tie.
Louisa.
O let me live in some dark hermitage,
Or in some gloomy cell—I'll cloister'd die,
But can't this once obey my father's will.
[Louisa trembling and faint—Velasco, enraged, leads her off.
| Poems, dramatic and miscellaneous | |