Piz. [With a smile of contempt.]I have heard thee, Elvira, and know well the noble motives which inspire thee, fit advocate in virtue's cause! Believe me, I pity thy tender feelings for the youth Alonzo! He dies at sunrise ! [Exit.

Ew. 'Tis well! 'tis just I should be humble-I had forgot myself, and in the cause of innocence assumed the tone of virtue. 'Twas fit I should be rebuked—and by Pizarro. Fall, fall, ye few reluctant drops of weaknessthe last these eyes shall ever shed. How a woman can love Pizarro, thou hast known too well-how se can hate, thou hast yet to learn. Yes, thou undaunted! Thou, whom yet no mortal hazard has appalled! Thou, who on Panama's brow didst make alliance with the raging elements, that tore the silence of that horrid nightwhen thou didst follow, as thy pioneer, the crushing thunder's drift, and, stalking o'er the trembling earth, didst plant thy banner by the red volcano's mouth! Thou, who when battling on the sea, and thy brave ship was blown to splinters, wast seen-as thou didst bestride a fragment of the smoking wreck-to wave thy glittering sword above thy head-as thou wouldst defy the world in that extremity; Come, fearless man—now meet the last and fellest peril of thy life :-meet,and survivean injured woman's fury, if thou canst. [Exit.

ACT IV.

SCENE I.-A Dungeon.-ALONZO in chains.
A Sentinel walking near.

Al. For the last time, I have beheld the shadow'd ocean close upon the light. For the last time, through my cleft dungeon's roof, I now behold the quivering lustre of the stars. For the last time, Oh, Sun! (and soon the hour) I shall behold thy rising, and thy level beams melting the pale mists of morn to glittering dew drops. Then comes my death, and in the morning of my day, I fall, which-No, Alonzo, date not the life which thou hast run, by the mean reck'ning of the hours and days which thou hast breathed: a life spent worthily should by measured by a nobler line; by deeds, not years. Then

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wouldst thou murmur not, but bless providence, which in so short a span made thee the instrument of wide and spreading blessings, to the helpless and oppressed! Though sinking in decrepid age, he prematurely falls, whose memory records no benefit conferred by him on man. They only have lived long, who have lived virtuously.

Enter a SOLDIER-shews the SENTINEL a passport, who withdraws.

Al. What bear you there?

Sol. These refreshments I was ordered to leave in your dungeon.

At By whom ordered?

Sol. By the Lady Elvira; she will be here herself before the dawn.

Al. Bear back to her my humblest thanks; and take thou the refreshments, friend. I need them not.

Sol. I have served under you, Don Alonzo. Pardon my saying, that my heart pities you.

[Exit. Al. In Pizarro's camp, to pity the unfortunate, no doubt, requires forgiveness. [Looking out.] Surely, even now, thin streaks of glimmering light steal on the darkness of the east. If so, my life is but one hour more. I will not watch the coming dawn; but in the darkness of my cell, my last prayer to thee, PowerSupreme! shall be for my wife and child! Grant them to dwell in innocence and peace; grant health and purity of mind—all else is worthless. [Enters the Cavern.

Sen. Who's there! answer quickly! who's there.
Rol. [Within.] A friar come to visit your prisoner.

Enters, disguised as a Monk.

Rol. Inform me, friend, is not Alonzo, the Spanish prisoner, confined in this dungeon?

Sen. He is.

Rol. I must speak with him.

Sen. You must not. [Stopping him with his spear.
Rol. He is my friend.

Sen. Not if he were thy brother.

Rol. What is to be his fate?
Sen. He dies at sunrise.

Rol. Ha! Then I am come in time.
Sen. Just--to witness his death.
Rol. Soldier, I must speak to him.
Sen. Back, back.-It is impossible.

Rol. I do entreat thee, but for one moment. Sen. Thou entreat'st in vain-my orders are most strict.

Rol. Even now, I saw a messenger go hence.

Sen. He brought a pass which we are all accustomed to obey.

Rol. Look on this wedge of massive gold-look on these precious gems. In thy own land they will be wealth for thee and thine-beyond thy hope or wish. Take them-they are thine. Let me but pass one minute with Alonzo.

Sen. Away!-wouldst thou corrupt me? Me! an old Castilian! I know my duty better.

Rol. Soldier!-hast thou a wife?
Sen. I have.

Rol. Hast thou children?

Sen. Four, honest,-lovely boys.

Rol. Where didst thou leave them?

Sen. In my native village; even in the cot where myself was born.

Rol. Dost thou love thy children and thy wife? Sen. Do I love them! God knows my heart-I do. Rol. Soldier! imagine thou wert doomed to die a cruel death in this strange land. What would be thy last request.

Sen. That some of my comrades should carry my dying blessing to my wife and children.

Rol. Oh! but if that comrade was at thy prison gate, and should there be told- -thy fellow soldier dies at sunrise, yet thou shalt not for a moment see him, nor shalt thou bear his dying blessing to his poor children or his wretched wife, what wouldst thou think of him who thus could drive thy comrade from the door? Sen. How!

Rol. Alonzo has a wife and child. I am come but to receive for her, and for her babe, the last blessing of my friend.

Sen. Go in. [Shoulders his spear, and walks away.

Rol. Oh, holy Nature! thou dost never plead in vain. There is not, of our earth, a creature bearing form, and life, human or savage-native of the forest wild, or giddy air around whose parent bosom thou hast not a cord entwined of power to tie them to their offspring's claims, and at thy will to draw them back to thee. On iron pinions borne, the blood-stained vulture cleaves the storm, yet is the plumage closest to her breast, soft as the cygnet's down, and o'er her unshell'd brood the murm'ring ring-dove sits not more gently!—Yes, now he is beyond the porch, barring the outer gate! Alonzo! Alonzo! my friend! Ha! In gentle sleep! Alonzo-rise ! Al. How! is my hour elapsed? Well, [Returning from the recess.] I am ready.

Rol. Alonzo-know me.
Al. What voice is that?
Rol. 'Tis Rolla's.

[Takes off his disguise. Al. Rolla! my friend! [Embraces him.] Heavens! -how couldst thou pass the guard? Did this habit

Rol. There is not a moment to be lost in words: this disguise I tore from the dead body ofa friar, as I pass'd our field of battle: it has gained me entrance to thy dungeon; now take it, thou, and fly.

Al. And Rolla

Rol. Will remain here in thy place.

Al. And die for me? No! Rather eternal tortures rack me.

Rol. I shall not die, Alonzo. It is thy life Pizarro seeks, not Rolla's; and from my prison soon will thy arm deliver me; or, should it be otherwise, I am as a blighted plantain, standing alone amid the sandy desert. Nothing seeks or lives beneath my shelter. Thou art—a husband and a father-the being of a lovely wife and a helpless infant hangs upon thy life. Go! go, Alonzo! Go, to save, not thyself, but Cora and thy child!

Al. Urge me not thus, my friend; I had prepared to die in peace.

Rol. To die in peace! devoting her thou'st sworn to live for, to madness, misery, and death! For be assured the state I left her in forbids all hope, but from thy quick

return.

Al. Oh God!

Rol. If thou art yet irresolute, Alonzo, now heed me well. I think thou hast not known that Rolla ever pledg'd his word, and shrunk from its fulfilment. And by the heart of truth I swear, if thou art proudly obstinate to deny thy friend the transport of preserving Cora's life, in thee, no power that sways the will of man shall stir me hence; and thou'lț but have the desperate triumph of seeing Rolla perish by thy side, with the assured conviction that Cora and thy child-are lost for ever!

Al. Oh, Rolla! thou distractest me!

Rol. Begone! A moment's further pause, and all is lost. The dawn approaches. Fear not for me; I wil treat with Pizarro, as for surrender and submission; I shall gain time, doubt not, while thou, with a chosen band, passing the secret way, mayst at night return, release thy friend, and bear him back in triumph. Yes hasten, dear Alonzo. Even now I hear the frantic Cora call thee! Haste, Alonzo!-Haste! Haste!

Al. Rolla, I fear thy friendship drives me from honour and from right.

Rol. Did Rolla ever counsel dishonour to his friend? Al. Oh! my preserver! [Embracing him.

Rol. I feel thy warm tears dropping on my cheek. -Go! I am rewarded. [Throws the Friar's garment over Alonzo.] There, conceal thy face; and, that they may not clank, hold fast thy chains. Now, God be with thee!

Al. At night we meet again. Then, so aid me Heaven! I return to save, or perish with thee! [Exit.

Rol. [Looking after him.] He has passed the outer porch-he is safe! he will soon embrace his wife and child! Now, Cora, didst thou not wrong me? This is the first time throughout my life, I ever deceived man. For