Rule my o'ermastered soul. What can you say ?
Is there a power in eloquence or reason
To cure the heart's deep malady?-ha! tell me.
Have you e'er seen her face? have you beheld
That rare assemblage of all nature's beauties?
Ha! have you ever seen her? where is the remedy
For passion like to mine?

Hal. You should have found it,

If not in duty, in despair.-You know

Our Spanish tyrants spurn, as well as hate us—
Would not Alvarez deem it infamy

That e'en a Moorish prince should wed Florinda?
When you approach his palace, ev'ry slave,
The menials of his threshold cry, in scorn,
"Behold the Moor!" and e'en the fair Florinda
Has ne'er confessed she smiles upon your passion.
And yet you love-

Hem. And must love on forever.

Love is a fire self-fed, and dʊes not need
Hope to preserve its flame. Full well I know
I must despair! and yet, when I behold her
And her blue eyes are lifted—

Ham. What avails it?

Even if she love, she never could be yours-
Is she not promised to Grenada's governor?
Hem. Kind heaven, let not that fell Pescara clasp
Those beauties to his bosom, and profane
An angel's form in his accursed embrace!
Oh, no! it will not be-for she abhors him!
She shudders when she sees that man of blood,
Whom Philip sends to crush us. Well she feels
That he was once the Inquisition's satellite,
Till Philip plucked the cowl from off his front,
To raise him to his councils. Oh! Florinda,
Before I see thee his, may heaven's swift fire
Fall on my head!

Hal. Weak and degenerate passion!
How it unmans your nature! I perceive
Malec alone can break this fatal charm.

Would that the agéd Moor, to whom your father
Upon his death bed gave you, had returned !
Too long amid the Moorish mountaineers

He lingers from Grenada. Would he were here,
To wake your slumb'ring virtue !

Hem. [Going.] Fare you well!

Crosses, R.

Hal. Where wouldst thou go? 'tis midnight's silent

hour.

Nightly you wander forth. No couch now strews
Repose and sleep for you; nor, till the morn,
Pale and aghast you come

Hem. This is my hour,

My only hour of joy.. Haly, I go

To stand beside her lattice; there, sometimes,
I hear her distant voice, when up to heav'n
It goes in midnight melody. The moon
Throws sometimes, on her face, its tender beams;
And e'en when I no longer can behold her,

I see the light that from the casement shines,
And gaze upon it, as it were the star

Of lovers, till the morning. [Shout, R.] Hark!
Hal. A sound

Of far-off tumult murmurs on mine ear,
Like ocean's chafing surge-

Ham. Behold, the sky

Doth redden in the black horizon's verge;

A strong unnatural light streams o'er the dark,

And mocks the dawn of morn.

Enter a Moor, r.

[Fire-bell heard.

Moor. My lord, the palace of Count Alvarez

Stands inwrapt in fire!

Hem. Florinda? speak!

Moor. She has not yet been seen.

Hem. Oh, heavens, Florinda !.

[Exeunt, R.

SCENE II-A Street in Grenada.

Enter ALVAREZ, L., supported by two SERVANTS.

Alv. Where is my child? where is my child, Florinda? Where do you drag me? let me go! unhand me! Let me go back and die! unnatural men,

You should not force the father from the child.

1st Ser. The thought is frenzy! from the rolling smoke You scarce were ta'en alive! and here we lead you

To breathe the fresh'ning air; you shall not go;
For, should you pass the flaming gates again,
They would swallow you forever.

Alv. Oh, my daughter!

Enter a SPANIARD, L.

Speak-tell me-speak!

[Exit, L.

Span. Your daughter has appeared
Amid the flames at last, and at her casement
Stands with her face and arms to heaven uplifted,
And seems a suff'ring angel-while below

The multitude in speechless horror stands.

Alv. [Kneeling.] Hear, and record my oath! he that shall bear

Florinda to my arms, shall win her hand,

And be inheritor of all my treasures;

And, if I break that oath, the heaviest curse

Fall on my head!

What's that I hear?

[A loud shout is heard, L

Enter a SPANIARD, L.—after a short pause.

Span. My lord, a desp'rate man with furious force Bursts through the gathered thousands, scales the walls, And plunges through the flame.

Alv. Oh, heaven reward him!

[Another shout, L.

That sound sends life again through every vein,

And my heart bounds

[Voices without, L.] She is saved! she is saved! Alv. O heaven!

Lead me from hence, and let me sce my child.

[Exeunt, L. SCENE III-A Garden adjoining the Palace of Alvarez part of which appears already consumed and blackened. Enter HEMEYA, L. U. E., bearing Florinda in his arms. Hem. I feel thy pressure in my heart—I have thee— I clasp thee here, while all my senses rush

In the full throb of rapture! all my being

Seems gathered in the pulse that beats to thee:
I am beloved, I am beloved!

Flor. Hemeya!

Heaven, let me thank thee, that this generous man

Has saved me! I will look on thee, Hemeya!-
My eyes will tell thee;—I am very

faint;

I cannot speak;-but I am grateful to thee.
Hem. Florinda! my beloved!

Oh, pardon me,

If for one moment of delirious joy,

I held thee to my heart; but here, behold,
A slave before thy feet; all that I ask
Is to gaze long upon thee, till my soul
Forgets all earthly sorrow: oh, Florinda!
What sleepless nights, what days of desperation,
Since first thy form came on my raptured sight,
And rested in my heart!

I did not know you loved me.

Flor. I confess that I am grateful to thee.
Hem. Do not talk

Of chilling gratitude; in the dread moment
When death hung hov'ring o'er thee, I did hear-
Oh! I did hear thee say, that death itself
Was welcome here! was welcome in my arms.
Flor. Don't look upon me! for within thy gaze
I sink into the earth.

Hem. Why would Florinda,

She who is made of gentleness and pity,
Deny that beam of dawning happiness,

That glimpse of op'ning heaven?

Flor. Because Florinda

Scarce to her shuddering heart had dared to tell, What she has told to thee! I ne'er can wed thee,

And what a pang it is to love thee still!

Dost thou not know my father frowns upon thee? Dost thou not know I never can be thine?

Yet, wretched that I am, I have revealed

What I must blush to think of.-But he comes,
My father comes: oh! I must dry these tears;
Within his arms forget my ev'ry grief;
And feel I am a daughter.-My dear father!

Enter ALVAREZ, L., crosses, c.

Alv. My child!

Hem. Yes, take her, clasp her to your heart, And as that heart beats with a father's transport,

Moor as

I am,

don't blame me that I love her.