University of Virginia Library

SCENE IV.

Gernando, Henriques, in Indian habits; Sylvia apart.
Hen.
Is this the land, Gernando, we have sought?

Ger.
Even this, my friend: its well-known image here,
Remains engraven by the hand of Love:
My beating heart confirms it for the same.

Syl.
[looking out.]
Might I but view their face—

Hen.
Perchance, my friend,
We yet may be deceiv'd.

Ger.
No, my Henriques,
This is the fatal place, I well remember
Each craggy rock. Behold the cave, where laid
In gentle sleep, with Sylvia in her arms,
I left my wife, the treasure of my soul!
I left her, never to behold her more.
'Twas there the pirate-band assail'd me first;
I here receiv'd my wound; there from my hand
The weapon dropp'd. O! let us haste, my friend,
For each delay is criminal. Do thou
Yon' quarter visit, this to search be mine.
This island stretches but to small extent,
Nor can we wander far. My heart, alas!
Has scarce a hope to find Constantia here.
Yet fate at least one comfort shall afford;
That precious earth which holds her breathless corse,
Shall form Gernando's tomb.

[Exit.