DON CARLOS, governor of Peru, for the Spaniards.
DON ALVAREZ, father of Don Carlos, and former governor.
ZAMOR, Indian sovereign of one part of the country.
EZMONT, Indian sovereign of another part.
ALZIRA, daughter of Ezmont.
EMIRA } Alzira's women.
Spanish and American captains and soldiers.
SCENE, in the city of Lima.
Enter Don ALVAREZ and Don CARLOS.
Ar length the council, partial to my prayer,
Has to a son I love, transferr'd my power.
Carlos, rule happy; be a viceroy long;
Long for thy prince, and for thy God, maintain
This younger, richer, lovelier, half the globe;
Too fruitful, heretofore, in wrongs and blood;
Crimes, the lamented growths of powerful gold!
Safe to thy abler hand devolve, resign'd,
Those sovereign honours which oppress'd my years,
And dimm'd the feeble lamp of wasted age.
Yet had it long, and not unuseful, flam'd.
I first o'er wond'ring Mexico in arms
March'd the new horrors of a world unknown!
I steer'd the floating towers of fearless Spain
Through the plow'd bosom of an untried sea.
Too happy had my labours been so bless❜d,
To change my brave associate's rugged souls,
And soften stubborn heroes into men.
Their cruelties, my son, eclips'd their glory:
And I have wept a conqu'ror's splendid shame,
Whom Heaven not better made, and yet made great.
Wearied at length, I reach my life's last verge;
Where I shall peaceful veil my eyes in rest;
If, ere they close, they but behold my Carlos
Ruling Potosi's realm by Christian laws,
And making gold more rich by gifts from Heav'n.
D. Carlos. Taught and supported by your great
example,
I learnt beneath your eye to conquer realms,
Which, by your counsels, I may learn to govern;
Giving those laws I first receive from you.
Alv. Not so.-Divided power is power
Outworn by labour, and decay'd by time,
Pomp is no more my wish. Enough for me
That, heard in council, age may temper rashness.
Trust me, mankind but ill rewards the pains
Of over-prompt ambition.. 'Tis now time
To give my long-neglected God those hours,
Which close the languid period of my days.
One only gift I ask; refuse not that;
As friend I ask it; and as father claim.
Pardon those poor Americans, condemn'd
For wand'ring hither, and this morning seiz❜d.
To my disposal give 'em kindly up,
That liberty, unhop'd, may charm the more.
A day like this should merit smiles from all;
And mercy, soft'ning justice, mark it bless'd.
D. Carlos. Sir, all that fathers ask, they must com
Yet condescend to recollect how far
This pity, undeserv'd, might hazard all.
In infant towns like ours, methinks 'twere safe
Not to familiarize these savage spics.
If we accustom foes to look too near,
We teach 'em, at our cost, to slight those swords
They once flew trembling from, whene'er they saw.
Frowning revenge, and awe of distant dread,
Not smiling friendship, tames these sullen souls.
The sour American, unbroke, and wild,
Spurns with indignant rage, and bites his chain,
Humble when punish'd; if regarded, fierce.
Power sickens by forbearance: rigid men,
Who feel not pity's pangs, are best obey'd.
Spaniards, 'tis true, are rul'd by honour's law,
Submit unmurm'ring, and unforc'd go right.
But other nations are impell'd by fear,
And must be rein'd, and spurr'd, with hard control.
The gods themselves in this ferocious clime,
Till they look grim with blood, excite no dread.
Alu. Away, my son, with these detested schemes!
Perish such politic reproach of rule!
Are we made captains in our Maker's cause,
O'er these new Christians call'd to stretch his name,
His peaceful name! and shall we, unprovok'd,
Bear murders, which our holy cheats presume
To mispronounce his injur'd altar's due ?
Shall we dispeople realms, and kill to save ?
Such if the fruits of Spain's religious care,
I, from the distant bounds of our old world,
Have to this new one stretch'd a Saviour's name,
To make it hateful to one half the globe,
Because no mercy grac'd the other's zeal.
No, my misguided Carlos, the broad eye
Of one Creator takes in all mankind:
His laws expand the heart; and we, who thus
Wou'd by destruction propagate belief,
And mix with blood and gold religion's growth,
Stamp in these Indians' honest breasts a scorn
Of all we teach, from what they see we do.
D. Carlos. Yet the learned props of our unerring church,
Whom zeal for saving souls deprives of rest,
Taught my late youth, committed to their care,
That ignorance, averse, must be compell'd.
Alv. Our priests are all for vengeance, force, and fire:
And only in his thunder act their God.
Hence we seem thieves; and what we seem we are.
Spain has robb'd every growth of this new world,
Even to its savage nature !-Vain, unjust,
Proud, cruel, covetous, we, we alone
Are the barbarians here!-An Indian heart
Equals, in courage, the most prompt of ours,
But in simplicity of artless truth,
And every honest native warmth, excels us.
Had they, like us, been bloody; had they not,
By pity's power been mov'd, and virtue's love,
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