King. Garcia, that search shall be your care: For, ling'ring there, in long fufpence fhe ftands, Unus'd to wait, I broke through her delay, 'Fix'd her by force, and fnatch'd the doubtful day. Now late I find that war is but her fport; In love the goddess keeps her awful court;' But rules with fettled fway in Zara's eyes. [Exit. ACT II. SCENE, reprefenting the isle of a temple. 'GARCIA. THIS way, we're told, Ofmyn was feen to walk; Choosing this lonely manfion of the dead, • To mourn, brave Heli, thy mistaken fate. "Heli. Let heav'n with thunder to the centre ftrike me, 'If to arise in very deed from death, And to revifit with my long-clos'd eyes This living light, cou'd to my foul or fenfe Gar. I've heard, with admiration, of your friend- Per. Yonder, my lord, behold the noble Moor. Hel. Where? Where? Gar. I law him not, nor any like him Per. I law him when I fpoke, thwarting my view, And ftriding with diftemper'd hafte; his eyes • Seem'd flame, and flash'd upon me with a glance; • Then THE MOURNING BRIDE.. • Then forward fhot their fires which he purfu'd, As to fome object frightful, yet not fear'd. • Gar. Let's hafte to follow him, and know the cause. Hel. My lord, let me intreat you to forbear; Leave me alone, to find and cure the caufe. I know his melancholy, and fuch starts Are ufual to his temper. It might raise him • To act fome violence upon himself, So to be caught in an unguarded hour, I know his noble heart would burst with shame, Gar. Go, generous Heli, and relieve your friend. Far be it from me, officiously to pry 'Or prefs upon the privacies of others. • Perez, the king expects from our return [Exit Heli, " Per. To me 'twas long fince plain, 'And ev'ry look from him and her confirms it. Gar. If fo, unhappiness attends their love, And I could pity 'em. I hear fome coming. The friends, perhaps, are met; let us avoid 'em. [Exeunt. Enter Almeria and Leonora. Alm. It was a fancy'd noise, for all is hush'd. Alm. It was thy fear, or else fome tranfient wind We'll liften Leon. Hark! Alm. No, all is hush'd, and still as death-'tis dread How reverend is the face of this tall pile, [ful! Whofe antient pillars rear their marble heads, To bear aloft its arch'd and pond'rous roof, By its own weight made ftedfaft and immoveable, And terror on my aking fight; the tombs And THE MOURNING BRIDE. And monumental caves of death look cold, Alm. It may my fears, but cannot add to that. Leon. I go; but Heav'n can tell with what regret. Enter Heli. I wander through this maze of monuments, [Exeunt. Of one complaining-There it founds-I'll follow it. [Exit. The SCENE opening discovers a place of tombs: one monument fronting the view greater than the reft. Enter Almeria and Leonora. Leon. Behold the facred vault, within whofe womb The poor remains of good Anfelmo rest, Yet fresh and unconfum'd by time or worms. What do I fee? Oh, heav'n! either my eyes Alm. Sure 'tis the friendly yawn of death for me; Shall reft; fhews me the grave, where nature, weary And And long opprefs'd with woes and bending cares, Ofmyn afcending from the tomb. Ofm. Who calls that wretched thing that was Alphonfo? Alm. Angels, and all the host of Heav'n, fupport me! Ofm. Whence is that voice, whofe fhrillness, from the grave, And growing to his father's shroud, roots up Alm. Mercy! Providence! Oh, speak, And from my eyes. Ofm. Amazement and illufion! Rivet and nail me where I ftand, ye pow'rs, [Coming forward, That motionlefs I may be still deceiv'd. Enter Heli. Leon. Alas! the ftirs not yet, nor lifts her eyes; He He too is fainting-Help me, help me, ftranger, These bodies. Hel. Ha! 'tis he! and with -Almeria! Oh, miracle of happiness! Oh, joy Let me behold and touch her, and be sure Alm. I've fworn I'll not wed Garcia: why d'ye force Is this a father? Ofm. Look on thy Alphonfo. Thy father is not here, my love, nor Garcia: [me • Wilt thou not know me? Haft thou then forgot me? Haft thou thy eyes, yet canft not fee Alphonfo?' Am I fo alter'd, or art thou fo chang'd, That feeing my disguise, thou feeft not me? To feas beneath, where thou fo long haft dwelt. Ofm. Oh, I'll not ask, nor answer how, or why To fold thee thus, to prefs thy balmy lips, Alm. Stay a while 'Let me look on thee yet a little more. • Ofm. |