 | Almida |  |
SCENE IV.
Tancred, Arnolph. Aldamon at a distance.ARNOLPH.
Hasten, kind Gods,
Death's friendly stroke, to save me from distraction!
TANCRED.
Most noble Arnolph, you behold in me
One of those knights, who in these holy wars,
Beneath your sacred banners seek for glory;
Nay, I came here to meet—forgive my weakness—
[agitated.
Your sorrows move my soul—O let me mingle
With yours these tears that sympathetic rise!
ARNOLPH.
By all abandon'd, no kind voice but thine
Has dar'd speak comfort to a wretched father.
Excuse these eyes, obscur'd by age and grief;
Who art thou?
36
I'm a stranger,
Full of respect, of pity for your woes.
Like you unfortunate, taught by my own
Too well I guess the pangs that wring your soul;
Anxious—yet fearful—I would learn the cause—
Can it be true—your daughter—
ARNOLPH.
Yes—she dies—
TANCRED.
Gods! is she guilty?
ARNOLPH.
Spare a father's blush,
Who childless had not known the dreadful curse,
In his last days, of infamy and woe!
TANCRED.
Yet fame spoke loudly of her worth and beauty.
Tho' born in distant climes, inspir'd esteem
And veneration for Almida fill'd me.
I should have thought had virtue left the skies,
Her throne on earth had been your daughter's bosom.
ARNOLPH.
What aggravates my grief, and to the grave
Drives me with shame and rage, is that she loves,
She glories in her crime. Thus not a knight
Will stir to save her. Tho' with deep regret
They sign'd unanimous the deadly sentence,
In spight of our most ancient solemn law,
Which grants the fair, when injur'd or accus'd,
A knight, whose gen'rous arm in single combat
Her cause may fight, and if victorious clear her;
O shame to these white hairs! my daughter dies,
And not one knight appears—
TANCRED.
One will appear.
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Can there be hope for a sad father?
TANCRED.
Yes,
One will appear; not for Almida's sake,
Guilty she merits not the hero's sword;
But your fair fame, your virtue, and your years
Deserve protection, and will find a champion.
ARNOLPH.
Methinks you raise my sinking soul from death:
Yet I must doubt—who will, alas! for us
Enter the lists? all shun us; every heart
Turns with aversion from us. Ah, you flatter;
Whose arm will venture—
TANCRED.
Mine.
ARNOLPH.
Yours!
TANCRED.
Yes, mine;
And if the gods should grant my sword success,
The only favour or reward I ask,
Is not to be detain'd; and by Almida
Unseen, unknown, immediate to depart.
ARNOLPH.
Sure heaven in pity sent thee to my aid;
But tell me first to whom in my misfortunes
Such kind respect, such gratitude I owe;
All speaks thee noble and of high descent.
TANCRED.
Arnolph explore no further; my dark fate,
In sorrow's gloom plung'd deep, would shun enquiry.
| Almida | |