University of Virginia Library

SCENE IV.

Guyomar enters.
Odm.
My brother Guyomar!—his steps are hasty;
And his amazed countenance foretells
Uncommon tidings.

Mont.
What, my Guyomar,
So soon return'd?—I sent thee to the frontiers.

Guy.
I went, dread sir, by your command, to view
The utmost limits of our land; that shore,
Beyond whose beaten verge no world is found,
Save a wild waste of waters and of air,
Illimitable. There I stood, awhile,
And ponder'd on the vast expanse, stretch'd out,
Perhaps, to infinite: when, as I look'd,
As far as my capacious ken could take
The wide horizon in, even to the line
Where the low bending vault of Heaven appear'd
To rest on ocean—somewhat thence arose
Like clouds, at first unshapely; large, and larger,
As near, and nearer they approach'd, they grew
In bulk and figures, of amazing form,
And terrible distinction!

Mont.
Say, my son,
To what known figures may you best compare
Their wonderful appearance?

Guy.
First, they seem'd
A moving forest; but, instead of leaves
And spreading branches, they assumed such wings,
As left it doubtful if they swam in air,
Or skim'd the surface of the seas—Anon,
As near and nearer they approach'd, they grew
Of wondrous bulk beneath; and now they seem'd
A floating city, with aspiring tops
Of sheeted towers, and pinnacles that gave
Their streamers to the wind.

Mont.
Ye mighty gods!
What may these monsters bode?—Did they appear
As things inanimate?

Guy.
If voice and motion
Give evidence of life, they lived too surely.
To right and left I saw them turn, with ease,
Their vast enormity: I heard their word;
They breathed destructive fires, and spoke in thunders.
They are, surely, of the race of those above,
Who whirl the rapid tempest from on high,
And launch the dreaded lightnings. Mortal courage
No longer could sustain the horrid vision—
I do confess, I fled—for the first time,
My feet avowed my fears.

H, Priest.
A prophecy of ancient date imports
The failure of our state, when bearded men
Shall land in floating palaces.

Mont.
Go straight—
Solicit, and enquire of all our gods,
What these portents foreshew, that we may learn
To stand the fate that cannot be avoided.—
[Exeunt Priests.
In the mean season, let our rites proceed.
Odmar, our kingdom's heir, our eldest born,
Let thine electing wreath, in public here,
Avow the secret mistress of thine heart.
Within this starry round of dazzling beauties,
All daughters of the Sun, all fair and bright
As the refulgent sire from whom they sprung,
Thou canst not chuse amiss.

Odm.
Alas, my father,
I have no choice to make—long since determin'd
By fond and irresistible attractions,
My movements center here—

[Places his Wreath on the Head of Alibech.
Mont.
Well placed, my son!—
Next to the beauties of divine Almeria,
The world could yield no choice like Alibech,
The sister of Perfection.

Alib.
Pray you, pardon.
My humble state permits me not to scorn
The grace you mean me—I accept your garland,
But must reserve my heart.

Mont.
Now, Guyomar,
Our kingdom's second hope!—to what fair shrine
Does thy devotion bend?

Guy.
I have no garland,
No fading sweets, no transitory pledge
Of passion to confer. My wreath is form'd
By links of plighted love, and truth that breathes
A never dying fragrance!—Pardon, brother!
I speak my approbation of your choice,
By humbly bending here.—

[Bends on one knee to Alibech.
Odm.
How, Guyomar!—
Does thy presumption overleap the bounds,
That guard my rights of eldership?

Guy.
No, Odmar—
The kingdom, by priority of birth,
Is thine, unenvied: eldership, my brother,
Though a good plea in empire, never yet
Was held a plea in love.

Mont.
'Tis true, my children.
Since you, unhappily, have fix'd your hearts
On the same object, let her choice decide
Your rights of rivalship.

Alib.
My heart, my lord,
Is that of a cold virgin; though long woo'd,
Not lightly won. Who serves his country best;
Who e'er in council, or the field of danger,
Shall vest his name with a peculiar lustre;
To him I yield my person and my heart—
Not as a gift, but the reward of virtue.

Mont.
Greatly determin'd. Honourable maiden,
Happy, as glorious, be thy fair election!—
Orbellan, has thy garland been composed
To wither in thine hand?

Orbel.
Not so, my liege,
Might I assume the boldness to approach,
Where the aspiring ardour of my love
Would breath its incense!

Mont.
Love, Orbellan, is
An arbitrary lord; nor will submit
His rule to our direction. 'Tis enough,
However high and dignified the object,
To sue with reverence, and to hope with honour.

Orbel.
Suppose the daughter of my sovereign?—

Mont.
How!—
O, I do see—the gods, in spight of victory,
In spight of death, are bent to vindicate
The empire of Traxalla; while his progeny,
With galling retribution, cast their chains
O'er me and mine!

Alm.
Proud monarch!—Yet reflect,
Who scorns the suit or person of my brother,
Makes light of the displeasure of Almeria!

Mont.
I strive in vain—the lion's struggling heart
Is wound about with toils!—Cyderia, take
Thy lover's wreath; and, if thou dost esteem
Thy father's welfare, treat him not unkindly.

Cyder.
Obedient to your pleasure, royal sir,
Though much repugnant to my own, I take
A pledge of love I never can return—
Nature and deep disgust would therein prove,
Too strong for your commands.

Officer enters hastily.
Offic.
Break up your rites!—
A host of foes, who lurk'd within the wood,
Burst from their ambush, and enclose the temple.

Mont.
Make to the city, by the postern gate.
Freedom, and conquest, or a glorious death,
Best fits a soldier and a king!

[Exeunt.
Alarm without. They all re-enter as driven back by the enemy.
Mont.
Confusion!—on all sides beset!—Here, stand,
And let us make this passage good—If not
For victory, why, let us fight for vengeance!
So shall our valour raise one trophy more,
Even in the gate of death!

Cortez without.
Cort.
Slaves, villains, cowards!—Stay, restrain your outrage.