_Ricar._ From yonder height I caught distinctly The gleam of arms.
_Orsi._ 'Tis well--Away, my sovereign, And join your troops; then shape your march tow'rds Burgos, Nor doubt the event, for who that loves his country. To save his king shall fear to die himself? None, surely none! The patriot glow shall catch From heart to heart throughout Castile, as swiftly As sparks of fire disperse through summer forests; Till all in care of thee forget themselves, And every good man's bosom bucklers thine! Forward, my king!--Lead on! [_Exeunt._
_Mel._ And the grave council Fell blindfold in the snare?
_Hen._ They could not fail, So well Cæsario spread it--With such art He told his tale, and in such glowing colours Painted Alfonso's worth, and his son's guilt, That all cried vengeance on the prince Don Pedro, And bade Cæsario mount his forfeit throne.
_Hen._ In modest guise He owned his union with the princess gave him Some rights, but vowed, so heavy seemed its weight, He feared to wear a crown, so prayed them spare him: Till won by urgent prayer at length he yielded, And kindly deigned to be a king.
_Enter_ Cæsario, _father_ Bazil, _and attendants._
_Cæsa._ (_Entering._) Bid her rest assured, Her king is her first subject. But, good father, How bears her health, this shock? Say, looks she pale? Does she e'er name----
_Bazil._ She bade me lead thee hither, And claimed my promise not to tell thee more. I'll warn her, thou art here. [_Going._]
_Cæsa._ Say too, my heart Shares every pang of her's; that crowns are worthless Bought with her tears; that could my prayers my blood, Restore Alfonso's life----
_Bazil._ Hold!--On that subject What thou wouldst tell her, will come best from thee. [_Exit._
_Cæsa._ Ha!--Meant he----No! Sure had he known my secret, The monk had canted 'gainst the guilt of treason, Thundering out saint-like curses!----Vile, vile chance, Which led the princess.--Yet what fear I now? She keeps my secret: then she loves me still, And, loving, must forgive me--Hark! I hear her. Now all ye powers of bland persuasion, shed Your honey on my lips. Come to my aid, Ye soft memorials of departed pleasures, Kind words, fond looks, sweet tears, and melting kisses! Sighs of compassion, drown her anger's voice! Smooth ye her frown, smiles of delight and love! Make her but mine once more, and this day crowns me Monarch of all my soul e'er wished from fate: Yes, in my wildest dreams I asked but this, "Love and revenge! A throne and Amelrosa!"-- Retire!--I dread to meet her.