No More Learning

_ Who but yourself did that rebellion move:
Did I e'er promise to receive your love?
Is it my fault you are not fortunate?
I love a king, but a poor rebel hate.

_Abdal. _ Who follow fortune, still are in the right;
But let me be protected here this night.

_Lyndar. _ The place to-morrow will be circled round;
And then no way will for your flight be found.

_Abdal. _ I hear my enemies just coming on; [_Trampling within. _
Protect me but one hour, till they are gone.

_Lyndar. _ They'll know you have been here; it cannot be;
That very hour you stay, will ruin me:
For if the foe behold our interview,
I shall be thought a rebel too, like you.
Haste hence; and, that your flight may prosperous prove,
I'll recommend you to the powers above. [_Exit_ LYND. _from above. _

_Abdal. _ She's gone: Ah, faithless and ungrateful maid! --
I hear some tread; and fear I am betrayed.
I'll to the Spanish king; and try if he,
To countenance his own right, will succour me:
There is more faith in Christian dogs, than thee. [_Exit. _

_Enter_ OZMYN, BENZAYDA, _and_ ABENAMAR.

_Benz. _ I wish
(To merit all these thanks) I could have said,
My pity only did his virtue aid;
'Twas pity, but 'twas of a love-sick maid.
His manly suffering my esteem did move;
That bred compassion, and compassion love.

_Ozm. _ O blessing sold me at too cheap a rate!
My danger was the benefit of fate. [_To his father. _
But that you may my fair deliverer know,
She was not only born our house's foe,
But to my death by powerful reasons led;
At least, in justice, she might wish me dead.

_Aben. _ But why thus long do you her name conceal?

_Ozm. _ To gain belief for what I now reveal:
Even thus prepared, you scarce can think it true,
The saver of my life from Selin drew
Her birth; and was his sister whom I slew.

_Aben. _ No more; it cannot, was not, must not be:
Upon my blessing, say not it was she.
The daughter of the only man I hate!
Two contradictions twisted in a fate!

_Ozm. _ The mutual hate, which you and Selin bore,
Does but exalt her generous pity more.
Could she a brother's death forgive to me,
And cannot you forget her family?
Can you so ill requite the life I owe,
To reckon her, who gave it, still your foe?
It lends too great a lustre to her line,
To let her virtue ours so much out-shine.

_Aben. _ Thou gav'st her line the advantage which they have,
By meanly taking of the life they gave.
Grant that it did in her a pity shew;
But would my son be pitied by a foe?
She has the glory of thy act defaced:
Thou kill'dst her brother; but she triumphs last:
Poorly for us our enmity would cease;
When we are beaten, we receive a peace.

_Benz. _ If that be all in which you disagree,
I must confess 'twas Ozmyn conquered me.
Had I beheld him basely beg his life,
I should not now submit to be his wife;
But when I saw his courage death controul,
I paid a secret homage to his soul;
And thought my cruel father much to blame,
Since Ozmyn's virtue his revenge did shame.

_Aben. _ What constancy can'st thou e'er hope to find
In that unstable, and soon conquered mind?
What piety can'st thou expect from her,
Who could forgive a brother's murderer?
Or, what obedience hop'st thou to be paid,
From one who first her father disobeyed?

_Ozm. _ Nature, that bids us parents to obey,
Bids parents their commands by reason weigh;
And you her virtue by your praise did own,
Before you knew by whom the act was done.

_Aben. _ Your reasons speak too much of insolence;
Her birth's a crime past pardon or defence.
Know, that as Selin was not won by thee,
Neither will I by Selin's daughter be.
Leave her, or cease henceforth to be my son:
This is my will; and this I will have done. [_Exit_ ABEN.

_Ozm. _ It is a murdering will,
That whirls along with an impetuous sway,
And, like chain-shot, sweeps all things in its way.
He does my honour want of duty call;
To that, and love, he has no right at all.

_Benz. _ No, Ozmyn, no; it is a much less ill
To leave me, than dispute a father's will:
If I had any title to your love,
Your father's greater right does mine remove:
Your vows and faith I give you back again,
Since neither can be kept without a sin.

_Ozm. _ Nothing but death my vows can give me back:
They are not yours to give, nor mine to take.

_Benz. _ Nay, think not, though I could your vows resign,
My love or virtue could dispense with mine.
I would extinguish your unlucky fire,
To make you happy in some new desire:
I can preserve enough for me and you,
And love, and be unfortunate, for two.

_Ozm. _ In all that's good and great
You vanquish me so fast, that in the end
I shall have nothing left me to defend.
From every post you force me to remove;
But let me keep my last entrenchment, love.

_Benz. _ Love then, my Ozmyn; I will be content [_Giving her hand. _
To make you wretched by your own consent:
Live poor, despised, and banished for my sake,
And all the burden of my sorrows take;
For, as for me, in whatsoe'er estate,
While I have you, I must be fortunate.

_Ozm. _ Thus then, secured of what we hold most dear,
(Each other's love) we'll go--I know not where.
For where, alas, should we our flight begin?
The foe's without; our parents are within.

_Benz. _ I'll fly to you, and you shall fly to me;
Our flight but to each other's arms shall be.
To providence and chance permit the rest;
Let us but love enough, and we are blest. [_Exeunt. _


SCENE II.

_Enter_ BOABDELIN, ABENAMAR, ABDELMELECH, _Guards:_ ZULEMA _and_
HAMET, _Prisoners. _

_Abdelm. _ They are Lyndaraxa's brothers; for her sake,
Their lives and pardon my request I make.

_Boab. _ Then, Zulema and Hamet, live; but know,
Your lives to Abdelmelech's suit you owe.

_Zul. _ The grace received so much my hope exceeds,
That words come weak and short to answer deeds.
You've made a venture, sir, and time must shew,
If this great mercy you did well bestow.

_Boab. _ You, Abdelmelech, haste before 'tis night,
And close pursue my brother in his flight.
[_Exeunt_ ABDELMELECH, ZULEMA, _and_ HAMET.

_Enter_ ALMANZOR, ALMAHIDE, _and_ ESPERANZA.

But see, with Almahide
The brave Almanzor comes, whose conquering sword
The crown, it once took from me, has restored.
How can I recompence so great desert!

_Almanz. _ I bring you, sir, performed in every part,
My promise made; your foes are fled or slain;
Without a rival, absolute you reign.
Yet though, in justice, this enough may be,
It is too little to be done by me:
I beg to go,
Where my own courage and your fortune calls,
To chase these misbelievers from our walls.
I cannot breathe within this narrow space;
My heart's too big, and swells beyond the place.

_Boab. _ You can perform, brave warrior, what you please;
Fate listens to your voice, and then decrees.
Now I no longer fear the Spanish powers;
Already we are free, and conquerors.

_Almanz. _ Accept, great king, to-morrow, from my hand,
The captive head of conquered Ferdinand.
You shall not only what you lost regain,
But o'er the Biscayan mountains to the main,
Extend your sway, where never Moor did reign.

_Aben. _ What, in another, vanity would seem,
Appears but noble confidence in him;
No haughty boasting, but a manly pride;
A soul too fiery, and too great to guide:
He moves excentric, like a wandering star,
Whose motion's just, though 'tis not regular.

_Boab. _ It is for you, brave man, and only you,
Greatly to speak, and yet more greatly do.
But, if your benefits too far extend,
I must be left ungrateful in the end:
Yet somewhat I would pay,
Before my debts above all reckoning grow,
To keep me from the shame of what I owe.
But you
Are conscious to yourself of such desert,
That of your gift I fear to offer part.

_Almanz. _ When I shall have declared my high request,
So much presumption there will be confest,
That you will find your gifts I do not shun;
But rather much o'er-rate the service done.

_Boab. _ Give wing to your desires, and let 'em fly,
Secure they cannot mount a pitch too high.
So bless me, Alha, both in peace and war,
As I accord, whate'er your wishes are.

_Almanz. _ Emboldened by the promise of a prince,
[_Putting one knee to the ground. _
I ask this lady now with confidence.

_Boab. _ You ask the only thing I cannot grant.
[_The King and_ ABENAMAR _look amazedly on
each other. _
But, as a stranger, you are ignorant
Of what by public fame my subjects know;
She is my mistress.

_Aben. _ --And my daughter too.

_Almanz. _ Believe, old man, that I her father knew:
What else should make Almanzor kneel to you? --
Nor doubt, sir, but your right to her was known:
For had you had no claim but love alone,
I could produce a better of my own.

_Almah. _ [_softly to him. _]
Almanzor, you forget my last request:
Your words have too much haughtiness expressed.
Is this the humble way you were to move?

_Almanz. _ [_to her. _]
I was too far transported by my love.
Forgive me; for I had not learned to sue
To any thing before, but heaven and you. --
Sir, at your feet, I make it my request-- [_To the King. _
[_First line kneeling: second, rising, and boldly. _
Though, without boasting, I deserve her best;
For you her love with gaudy titles sought,
But I her heart with blood and dangers bought.

_Boab. _ The blood, which you have shed in her defence,
Shall have in time a fitting recompence:
Or, if you think your services delayed,
Name but your price, and you shall soon be paid.

_Almanz. _ My price! --why, king, you do not think you deal
With one who sets his services to sale?
Reserve your gifts for those who gifts regard;
And know, I think myself above reward.

_Boab. _ Then sure you are some godhead; and our care
Must be to come with incense and with prayer.

_Almanz. _ As little as you think yourself obliged,
You would be glad to do't, when next besieged.
But I am pleased there should be nothing due;
For what I did was for myself, not you.

_Boab. _ You with contempt on meaner gifts look down;
And, aiming at my queen, disdain my crown.
That crown, restored, deserves no recompence.
Since you would rob the fairest jewel thence.
Dare not henceforth ungrateful me to call;
Whate'er I owed you, this has cancelled all.

_Almanz. _ I'll call thee thankless, king, and perjured both:
Thou swor'st by Alha, and hast broke thy oath.
But thou dost well; thou tak'st the cheapest way;
Not to own services thou canst not pay.

_Boab. _ My patience more than pays thy service past;
But now this insolence shall be thy last.
Hence from my sight! and take it as a grace,
Thou liv'st, and art but banished from the place.

_Almanz. _ Where'er I go, there can no exile be;
But from Almanzor's sight I banish thee:
I will not now, if thou wouldst beg me, stay;
But I will take my Almahide away.
Stay thou with all thy subjects here; but know,
We leave thy city empty when we go. [_Takes_ ALMAHIDE'S _hand. _

_Boab. _ Fall on; take; kill the traitor.
[_The Guards fall on him; he makes at the King
through the midst of them, and falls upon
him; they disarm him, and rescue the King. _

_Almanz. _ --Base and poor,
Blush that thou art Almanzor's conqueror.
[ALMAHIDE _wrings her hands, then turns and
veils her face. _
Farewell, my Almahide!
Life of itself will go, now thou art gone,
Like flies in winter, when they lose the sun.
[ABENAMAR _whispers the King a little, then
speaks aloud. _

_Aben. _ Revenge, and taken so secure a way,
Are blessings which heaven sends not every day.

_Boab. _ I will at leisure now revenge my wrong;
And, traitor, thou shalt feel my vengeance long:
Thou shalt not die just at thy own desire,
But see my nuptials, and with rage expire.

_Almanz. _ Thou darest not marry her while I'm in sight:
With a bent brow thy priest and thee I'll fright;
And in that scene,
Which all thy hopes and wishes should content,
The thought of me shall make thee impotent.
[_He is led off by Guards. _

_Boab. _ As some fair tulip, by a storm oppressed, [_To_ ALMAH.
Shrinks up, and folds its silken arms to rest;
And, bending to the blast, all pale and dead,
Hears, from within, the wind sing round its head,--
So, shrouded up, your beauty disappears:
Unveil, my love, and lay aside your fears.
The storm, that caused your fright, is passed and done.
[ALMAHIDE _unveiling, and looking round for_
ALMANZOR.

_Almah. _ So flowers peep out too soon, and miss the sun.
[_Turning from him. _

_Boab. _ What mystery in this strange behaviour lies?

_Almah. _ Let me for ever hide these guilty eyes,
Which lighted my Almanzor to his tomb;
Or, let them blaze, to show me there a room.

_Boab. _ Heaven lent their lustre for a nobler end;
A thousand torches must their light attend,
To lead you to a temple and a crown.
Why does my fairest Almahide frown?
Am I less pleasing then I was before,
Or, is the insolent Almanzor more?

_Almah. _ I justly own that I some pity have,
Not for the insolent, but for the brave.

_Aben. _ Though to your king your duty you neglect,
Know, Almahide, I look for more respect:
And, if a parent's charge your mind can move,
Receive the blessing of a monarch's love.

_Almah. _ Did he my freedom to his life prefer,
And shall I wed Almanzor's murderer?
No, sir; I cannot to your will submit;
Your way's too rugged for my tender feet.

_Aben. _ You must be driven where you refuse to go;
And taught, by force, your happiness to know.

_Almah. _ To force me, sir, is much unworthy you,
[_Smiling scornfully. _
And, when you would, impossible to do.
If force could bend me, you might think, with shame,
That I debase the blood from whence I came.
My soul is soft, which you may gently lay
In your loose palm; but, when 'tis pressed to stay,
Like water, it deludes your grasp, and slips away.

_Boab. _ I find I must revoke what I decreed:
Almanzor's death my nuptials must precede.
Love is a magic which the lover ties;
But charms still end when the magician dies.
Go; let me hear my hated rival's dead; [_To his Guard. _
And, to convince my eyes, bring back his head.

_Almah. _ Go on: I wish no other way to prove
That I am worthy of Almanzor's love.
We will in death, at least, united be:
I'll shew you I can die as well as he.

_Boab. _ What should I do! when equally I dread
Almanzor living and Almanzor dead! --
Yet, by your promise, you are mine alone.

_Almah. _ How dare you claim my faith, and break your own?

_Aben. _ This for your virtue is a weak defence:
No second vows can with your first dispense.
Yet, since the king did to Almanzor swear,
And in his death ungrateful may appear,
He ought, in justice, first to spare his life,
And then to claim your promise as his wife.

_Almah. _ Whate'er my secret inclinations be,
To this, since honour ties me, I agree:
Yet I declare, and to the world will own,
That, far from seeking, I would shun the throne.
And with Almanzor lead a humble life:
There is a private greatness in his wife.

_Boab. _ That little love I have, I hardly buy;
You give my rival all, while you deny:
Yet, Almahide, to let you see your power,
Your loved Almanzor shall be free this hour.
You are obeyed; but 'tis so great a grace,
That I could wish me in my rival's place.
[_Exeunt_ KING _and_ ABENAMAR.

_Almah. _ How blessed was I before this fatal day,
When all I knew of love, was to obey!
'Twas life becalmed, without a gentle breath;
Though not so cold, yet motionless as death.
A heavy quiet state; but love, all strife,
All rapid, is the hurricane of life.
Had love not shewn me, I had never seen
An excellence beyond Boabdelin.
I had not, aiming higher, lost my rest;
But with a vulgar good been dully blest:
But, in Almanzor, having seen what's rare,
Now I have learnt too sharply to compare;
And, like a favourite quickly in disgrace,
Just knew the value ere I lost the place.

_To her_ ALMANZOR, _bound and guarded. _

_Almanz. _ I see the end for which I'm hither sent,
To double, by your sight, my punishment.
There is a shame in bonds I cannot bear;
Far more than death, to meet your eyes I fear.

_Almah. _ That shame of long continuance shall not be:
[_Unbinding him. _
The king, at my entreaty, sets you free.

_Almanz. _ The king! my wonder's greater than before;
How did he dare my freedom to restore?
He like some captive lion uses me;
He runs away before he sets me free,
And takes a sanctuary in his court:
I'll rather lose my life than thank him for't.

_Almah. _ If any subject for your thanks there be,
The king expects them not, you owe them me.
Our freedoms through each other's hands have past;
You give me my revenge in winning last.

_Almanz. _ Then fate commodiously for me has done;
To lose mine there where I would have it won.

_Almah. _ Almanzor, you too soon will understand,
That what I win is on another's hand.
The king (who doomed you to a cruel fate)
Gave to my prayers both his revenge and hate;
But at no other price would rate your life,
Than my consent and oath to be his wife.

_Almanz. _ Would you, to save my life, my love betray?
Here; take me; bind me; carry me away;
Kill me! I'll kill you if you disobey. [_To the Guards. _

_Almah. _ That absolute command your love does give,
I take, and charge you by that power to live.

_Almanz. _ When death, the last of comforts, you refuse,
Your power, like heaven upon the damned, you use;
You force me in my being to remain,
To make me last, and keep me fresh for pain.
When all my joys are gone,
What cause can I for living longer give,
But a dull, lazy habitude to live?

_Almah. _ Rash men, like you, and impotent of will,
Give chance no time to turn, but urge her still;
She would repent; you push the quarrel on,
And once because she went, she must be gone.

_Almanz. _ She shall not turn; what is it she can do,
To recompense me for the loss of you?

_Almah_, Heaven will reward your worth some better way:
At least, for me, you have but lost one day.
Nor is't a real loss which you deplore;
You sought a heart that was engaged before.
'Twas a swift love which took you in his way;
Flew only through your heart, but made no stay:
'Twas but a dream, where truth had not a place;
A scene of fancy, moved so swift a pace,
And shifted, that you can but think it was;--
Let then, the short vexatious vision pass.

_Almanz. _ My joys, indeed, are dreams; but not my pain:
'Twas a swift ruin, but the marks remain.
When some fierce fire lays goodly buildings waste,
Would you conclude
There had been none, because the burning's past?

_Almah. _ It was your fault that fire seized all your breast;
You should have blown up some to save the rest:
But 'tis, at worst, but so consumed by fire,
As cities are, that by their fall rise higher.
Build love a nobler temple in my place;
You'll find the fire has but enlarged your space.

_Almanz. _ Love has undone me; I am grown so poor,
I sadly view the ground I had before,
But want a stock, and ne'er can build it more.

_Almah. _ Then say what charity I can allow;
I would contribute if I knew but how.
Take friendship; or, if that too small appear,
Take love,--which sisters may to brothers bear.

_Almanz. _ A sister's love! that is so palled a thing,
What pleasure can it to a lover bring?
'Tis like thin food to men in fevers spent;
Just keeps alive, but gives no nourishment.
What hopes, what fears, what transports can it move?
'Tis but the ghost of a departed love.

_Almah. _ You, like some greedy cormorant, devour
All my whole life can give you in an hour.
What more I can do for you is to die,
And that must follow, if you this deny.
Since I gave up my love, that you might live,
You, in refusing life, my sentence give.

_Almanz. _ Far from my breast be such an impious thought!
Your death would lose the quiet mine had sought.
I'll live for you, in spite of misery;
But you shall grant that I had rather die.
I'll be so wretched, filled with such despair,
That you shall see, to live was more to dare.

_Almah. _ Adieu, then, O my soul's far better part!
Your image sticks so close,
That the blood follows from my rending heart.
A last farewell!
For, since a last must come, the rest are vain,
Like gasps in death, which but prolong our pain.
But, since the king is now a part of me,
Cease from henceforth to be his enemy.
Go now, for pity go! for, if you stay,
I fear I shall have something still to say.
Thus--I for ever shut you from my sight. [_Veils. _

_Almanz. _ Like one thrust out in a cold winters night,
Yet shivering underneath your gate I stay;
One look--I cannot go before 'tis day. --
[_She beckons him to be gone. _
Not one--Farewell: Whate'er my sufferings be
Within, I'll speak farewell as loud as she:
I will not be out-done in constancy. -- [_She turns her back. _
Then like a dying conqueror I go;
At least I have looked last upon my foe.
I go--but, if too heavily I move,
I walk encumbered with a weight of love.
Fain I would leave the thought of you behind,
But still, the more I cast you from my mind,
You dash, like water, back, when thrown against the wind. [_Exit. _

_As he goes off, the_ KING _meets him with_ ABENAMAR; _they stare at
each other without saluting. _

_Boab. _ With him go all my fears: A guard there wait,
And see him safe without the city gate.

_To them_ ABDELMELECH.

Now, Abdelmelech, is my brother dead?

_Abdelm. _ Th' usurper to the Christian camp is fled;
Whom as Granada's lawful king they own,
And vow, by force, to seat him on the throne.
Mean time the rebels in the Albayzyn rest;
Which is in Lyndaraxa's name possest.

_Boab. _ Haste and reduce it instantly by force.

_Abdelm. _ First give me leave to prove a milder course.
She will, perhaps, on summons yield the place.

_Boab. _ We cannot to your suit refuse her grace.
[_One enters hastily, and whispers_ ABENAMAR.

_Aben. _ How fortune persecutes this hoary head!
My Ozmyn is with Selin's daughter fled.
But he's no more my son:
My hate shall like a Zegry him pursue,
'Till I take back what blood from me he drew.

_Boab. _ Let war and vengeance be to-morrow's care;
But let us to the temple now repair.
A thousand torches make the mosque more bright:
This must be mine and Almahide's night.
Hence, ye importunate affairs of state,
You should not tyrannize on love, but wait.
Had life no love, none would for business live;
Yet still from love the largest part we give;
And must be forced, in empire's weary toil,
To live long wretched, to be pleased a while. [_Exeunt. _


EPILOGUE.

Success, which can no more than beauty last,
Makes our sad poet mourn your favours past:
For, since without desert he got a name,
He fears to lose it now with greater shame.
Fame, like a little mistress of the town,
Is gained with ease, but then she's lost as soon:
For, as those tawdry misses, soon or late,
Jilt such as keep them at the highest rate;
And oft the lacquey, or the brawny clown,
Gets what is hid in the loose-bodied gown,--
So, fame is false to all that keep her long;
And turns up to the fop that's brisk and young.
Some wiser poet now would leave fame first;
But elder wits are, like old lovers, cursed:
Who, when the vigour of their youth is spent,
Still grow more fond, as they grow impotent.
This, some years hence, our poet's case may prove;
But yet, he hopes, he's young enough to love.
When forty comes, if e'er he live to see
That wretched, fumbling age of poetry,
'Twill be high time to bid his muse adieu:--
Well may he please himself, but never you.
Till then, he'll do as well as he began,
And hopes you will not find him less a man.
Think him not duller for this year's delay;
He was prepared, the women were away;
And men, without their parts, can hardly play.
If they, through sickness, seldom did appear,
Pity the virgins of each theatre:
For, at both houses, 'twas a sickly year!
And pity us, your servants, to whose cost,
In one such sickness, nine whole months are lost.
Their stay, he fears, has ruined what he writ:
Long waiting both disables love and wit.
They thought they gave him leisure to do well;
But, when they forced him to attend, he fell!
Yet, though he much has failed, he begs, to-day,
You will excuse his unperforming play:
Weakness sometimes great passion does express;
He had pleased better, had he loved you less.


* * * * *


ALMANZOR AND ALMAHIDE:

OR, THE

CONQUEST OF GRANADA

BY THE

_SPANIARDS. _

A TRAGEDY.

THE SECOND PART.


_--Stimulos dedit æmula virtus. _
LUCAN.




PROLOGUE

TO THE SECOND PART.


They, who write ill, and they, who ne'er durst write,
Turn critics, out of mere revenge and spite:
A playhouse gives them fame; and up there starts,
From a mean fifth-rate wit, a man of parts.
(So common faces on the stage appear;
We take them in, and they turn beauties here. )
Our author fears those critics as his fate;
And those he fears, by consequence must hate,
For they the traffic of all wit invade,
As scriveners draw away the bankers' trade.
Howe'er, the poet's safe enough to day,
They cannot censure an unfinished play.
But, as when vizard-mask appears in pit,
Straight every man, who thinks himself a wit,
Perks up, and, managing his comb with grace,
With his white wig sets off his nut-brown face;
That done, bears up to th' prize, and views each limb,
To know her by her rigging and her trim;
Then, the whole noise of fops to wagers go,--
"Pox on her, 'tmust be she;" and--"damme, no! "--
Just, so, I prophesy, these wits to-day
Will blindly guess at our imperfect play;
With what new plots our Second Part is filled,
Who must be kept alive, and who be killed.
And as those vizard-masks maintain that fashion,
To soothe and tickle sweet imagination;
So our dull poet keeps you on with masking,
To make you think there's something worth your asking.
But, when 'tis shown, that, which does now delight you,
Will prove a dowdy, with a face to fright you.




ALMANZOR AND ALMAHIDE,

OR, THE

CONQUEST OF GRANADA.

THE SECOND PART.


ACT I

SCENE I. --_A Camp. _

_Enter_ KING FERDINAND, QUEEN ISABELLA, ALONZO D'AGUILAR;
_Attendants, Men and Women. _

_K. Ferd. _ At length the time is come, when Spain shall be
From the long yoke of Moorish tyrants free.
All causes seem to second our design,
And heaven and earth in their destruction join.
When empire in its childhood first appears,
A watchful fate o'ersees its tender years;
Till, grown more strong, it thrusts and stretches out,
And elbows all the kingdoms round about:
The place thus made for its first breathing free,
It moves again for ease and luxury;
Till, swelling by degrees, it has possessed
The greater space, and now crowds up the rest;
When, from behind, there starts some petty state,
And pushes on its now unwieldy fate;
Then down the precipice of time it goes,
And sinks in minutes, which in ages rose.

_Q. Isabel. _ Should bold Columbus in his search succeed,
And find those beds in which bright metals breed;
Tracing the sun, who seems to steal away,
That, miser-like, he might alone survey
The wealth which he in western mines did lay,--
Not all that shining ore could give my heart
The joy, this conquered kingdom will impart;
Which; rescued from these misbelievers' hands,
Shall now, at once, shake off its double bands:
At once to freedom and true faith restored,
Its old religion and its ancient lord.

_K. Ferd. _ By that assault which last we made, I find,
Their courage is with their success declined:
Almanzor's absence now they dearly buy,
Whose conduct crowned their arms with victory.

_Alonzo. _ Their king himself did their last sally guide;
I saw him, glistering in his armour, ride
To break a lance in honour of his bride:
But other thoughts now fill his anxious breast;
Care of his crown his love has dispossest.

_To them_ ABDALLA.

_Q. Isabel.