 | The Viceroy |  |
SCENE IX.
CONSTANTIA,(entering alone.)
At length he's gone; and my o'erburdened heart
May vent its perturbation: cruel Castro!
How has thy presence wakened all my wrongs,
Yet with them all my love! O! did not memory
Still haunt me with thy base neglect and scorn,
How would my heart again embrace delusion,
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Shall I, as if ascending from the grave,
Burst like a spectre on thy aching sight,
And while thou'rt lost in horror and amazement,
Speak transport to thee in soul-piercing sounds,
And fondly cry, Sylveyra is thy son?—
Perhaps the hardened heart, that could endure
To leave his infant innocence an outcast,
Might still disclaim the offspring, it deserted;
And shall I court thy pride to own thy child?
Save me from such abasement! my proud soul
Its secret shall retain:—in my last hour
I will amaze thee with a wondrous tale,
And teach the libertine, the cruel father,
To melt, and to revere the sacred force
Of female virtue, and maternal love!
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