Mont. It should be

In the full city, when some festival

Hath gathered throngs, and lulled infatuate hearts
To brief security. Then may we mix

With the flushed revelers, making their gay feast
The harvest of the grave.

Proc. There are noblemen

Sentenced to die, for whom we fain would purchase
Reprieve with other blood.

Mont. Be it then the day

Preceding that appointed for their doom.

Gui. My brother, thou shalt live !-Oppression boasts No gift of prophecy! It but remains

To name our signal, chiefs!

Mont. The vesper-bell.

Proc. Even so, the vesper-bell, whose deep-toned peal Is heard o'er land and wave.-The vesper-bell!

That sound shall wake the avenger; for 'tis come,

The time when power is in a voice, a breath,

To burst the spell which bound us. But the night
Is waning, with her stars, which, one by one,

Warn us to part. Friends, to your homes !—your homes?
That name is yet to win.

XXX.-FROM PIZARRO.-Sheridan.

ALONZO-SENTINEL-ROLLA.

Scene. A dungeon-Alonzo in chains--the Sentinel walking near.

Alonzo. For the last time, I have beheld the shadowed ocean close upon the light. For the last time, through my cleft dungeon's roof, I now behold the quivering luster 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 reckoning of the hours and days which thou hast breathed: a life spent worthily should be measured by a nobler line; by deeds, not years. Then 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.[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, Power Supreme! 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 his cell.] Sentinel. Who's there? answer quickly! who's there? Rolla. [Within. A friar comes to visit your prisoner [Rolla enters, disguised as a monk.]

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

Sen. He is.

Rol. I must speak with him.

Sen. You must not.

Rol. He is my friend.

[Stopping him with his spear.]

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 entreatest 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

obev. 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.

Sen.

Rol.

Soldier! hast thou a wife?

I have.

Hast thou children?

Sen. Four-honest lively boys.

Rol.
Sen.

Where didst thou leave them?

In my native village; even in the cot where my

self was born.

Rol.

Sen.
Rol.

Dost thou love thy children and thy wife?

Do I love then.! God knows my heart-I do.

Soldier! imagine thou wert doomed to die a cruel death in a 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 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 unshelled brood the murmuring 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 cell, 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 of a friar, as I passed 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.
And die for me? No!

Al. rack me.

Rather eternal tortures

It is thy life Pizarro

Rol. I shall not die. Alonzo. 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 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 re

turn.

Al. Oh God!

Rol. If thou art yet irresolute, Alonzo, now heed me well. I think thou hast not known that Rolla ever pledged his word, and shrunk from its fulfillment. 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'lt but have the desperate triumph of seeing Rolla perish by thy side, with the assured conviction that Cora and thy child are lost forever.

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 will treat with Pizarro, as for surrender and submission; I shall gain time, no doubt, while thou, with a chosen band, passing the secret way, mayest at night return, release thy friend, and bear him back in triumph. Yes, hasten, dear Alonzo! Even now I hear thy frantic wife, poor Cora, call thee! Haste, Alonzo ! Haste Haste!

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

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

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

Ai 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. Forgive me, God of Truth! if I am wrong. Alonzo flatters himself that we shall meet again! Yes, there! [Lifting his hands to heaven.] Assuredly we shall meet again; there, possess in peace the joys of everlasting love and friendship-on earth, imperfect and embittered. I will retire, lest the guard return before Alonzo may have passed their lines.

[Retires into the cell.]

XXXI-FROM PIZARRO.-Sheridan.

PIZARRO-VALVERDE-LAS CASAS-ALMAGRO-DAVILLO

Pizarro. Alonzo! the traitor! How I once loved that man! His noble mother intrusted him, a boy, to my protection. At my table did he feast-in my tent did he repose. I had marked his early genius, and the valorous spirit that grew with it. Often had I talked to him of our first adventures-what storms we struggled with-what perils we surmounted! When landed with a slender host upon an unknown land-then, when I told how famine and fatigue, discord and toil, day by day did thin our ranks; amid close pressing enemies, how still undaunted I endured and dared -maintained my purpose and my power, in despite of growling mutiny or bold revolt, till, with my faithful few remaining, I became at last victorious! When, I say, of these things I spoke, the youth Alonzo, with tears of wonder and delight, would throw him on my neck, and swear his soul's ambition owned no other leader.

Valverde. What could subdue attachment so begun?

Piz. Las Casas.—He it was, with fascinating craft and canting precepts of humanity, raised in Alonzo's mind a new enthusiasm, which forced him, as the stripling termed it, to forego his country's claims for those of human nature