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86
SCENE II.
CONSTANTIA, VELORA.CONSTANTIA,
(entering.)
Still at thy orisons! my dear Velora;
Good angels waft thy every vow to Heaven,
And plead for purity so like their own!
VELORA.
Then will they teach me to repay your kindness,
And all the bounty of your generous son,
Which soothed my woes, and makes captivity,
Beneath your provident parental care,
More sweet than freedom.
CONSTANTIA.
In thy glowing heart,
My lovely Indian, like thy genial clime,
Rich nature reigns; thy gratitude o'er-rates
Compassion's casual services.
VELORA.
Your pardon!
To rate them justly is my reason's pride:
Hence memory paints them in her strongest colours:
I see the furious sons of Portugal,
Roused to fierce anger on Cambaya's shore
By Moorish fraud, and our perfidious king;
I see them, bursting like a flood of fire
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To the mild precepts of our aged sire:
The ruffian soldiers in his hoary locks
Twist their fell hands; and with uplifted falchions
Demand his hidden treasure.
CONSTANTIA.
What a scene
For thy soft filial heart!
VELORA.
The holy Bramin
Pleads only for his child:—the furious robbers
Tear from my neck the strings of precious pearl,
Threatening worse violence:—but swift to save us
The blest Sylveyra comes.
CONSTANTIA.
'Twas Heaven, that sent him
In pity to thy virtues.
VELORA.
His bright eye
Flashes rebuke; and at his awful mandate
Keen avarice and murder shrink abashed,
As from the presence of an angry God.
CONSTANTIA.
Thy flattering picture charms a mother's heart.
VELORA.
O! had you heard with what angelic sweetness
He banished terror from our troubled minds!
Music is harsh to that consoling voice:
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To place my father, and his helpless child
In the protecting walls of distant Goa.
CONSTANTIA.
Tho' difficult the task, he has achieved it,
And thy full gratitude exceeds his bounty.
VELORA.
No! dear Constantia! why is Heaven adored,
But for such blessings, as I owe to him?
Is he not all maternal love can wish?
CONSTANTIA.
Yes! my Velora, with a conscious pride
I watched his youth, have seen the richest bloom
Of honor, glowing on his ripened spirit:
O! how unlike his sex! those hypocrites,
Who humbly bend to innocence and beauty,
But cover falsehood with devotion's mask!
VELORA.
What injuries excite thy gentle nature
To these severer thoughts?
CONSTANTIA.
In some fit hour
I will unfold to thee a wretched story,
Touching the cruel father of Sylveyra,
That will amaze thy tenderness, and make
E'en the warm current of thy glowing veins
Run cold with horror: but thy present danger
Claims, dear Velora, our immediate care:
Thou'rt still a captive; still a Bramin's daughter.
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O! do not think that even love can tempt
Velora to forget her filial duties,
And wound the bosom of an aged father,
Who watched unceasing o'er her early youth,
Nor asked existence, but to guard his child!
I know how firmly his pure heart is wedded
To all our ancient rites; and that his spirit
Would rather give me to the tomb, much rather,
Than yield his daughter to a foreign hand;
That worst pollution to the race of Brama!
CONSTANTIA.
When first my generous son, beneath my care
Placed thee, a lovely captive, I observed
His growing passion with a mother's fears:
But charmed, Velora, by thy winning sweetness,
I own I gazed upon your chaste affections
With such pure joy, as the good angels felt,
When first o'er Eden's infant bowers they hovered,
And fondly viewed the new created pair,
While innocence and love were all their portion:
Yet still there's danger, lest ye should imbitter
The virtuous Bramin's closing eve of life:
Canst thou believe thy love will long elude
The quick observance of an anxious father?
VELORA.
Alas! too soon will that unhappy father,
Worn out with age, the martyr of affliction,
Be severed from the idol of his care:
One dying wish he formed, and thy dear son
Has nobly promised to restore his captives
Safe to their native seat: 'tis there my father
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There will I tend his short remains of life,
Calm all his fears, and sooth his latest pang.
CONSTANTIA.
O! thou dear paragon of filial duty!
Blest be thy every purpose! but my child,
I have yet heavier fears!
VELORA.
Whate'er they are,
O! yet awhile suppress them! for behold
My father bends his feeble steps towards us.
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