Enter ROLLA, bleeding, with the CHILD, followed Rol. Thy child! [Gives the CHILD into CORA's arms, and falls Cora. Oh, God! there's blood upon him! Rol. 'Tis my blood, Cora! Alon. Rolla, thou diest! Rol. For thee, and Cora. [Dies Enter ORANO Ora. Treachery has revealed our asylum in the rocks. Even now the foe assails the peaceful band retired for protection there. Alon. Lose not a moment! wives and children cry to you. Soldiers, be quick! Your Bear our loved hero's body in the van: 'twill raise the fury of our men to madness. Now, fell Pizarro! the death of one of us is near! Be the word of assault, Revenge and Rolla! Away! [Exeunt. Charge SCENE IV.-A Recess among the Rocks Enter PIZARRO, Almagro, VALVERDE, and SPANISH SOLDIERS Piz. Well! if surrounded, we must perish in the centre of them. Where do Rolla and Alonzo hide their heads? Enter ALONZO, ORANO, and PERUVIAN WARRIORS Alon. Alonzo answers thee, and Alonzo's sword shall speak for Rolla. Piz. Thou knowest the advantage of thy numbers. Thou darest not singly face Pizarro. Alon. Peruvians, stir not a man! Be this contest only ours. Piz. Spaniards! observe ye the same. [Charge. They fight. ALONZo's shield is broken and he is beat down.] Now, traitor, to thy heart! [At this moment ELVIRA enters, habited as when PIZARRO first beheld her. PIZARRO, appalled, staggers back. ALONZO renews the fight and slays him. Loud shouts from the PERUVIANS Enter ATALIBA Ata. My brave Alonzo ! [Embraces ALONZO Alm. Alonzo, we submit. Spare us! we will embark, and leave the coast. Val. Elvira will confess I saved her life; she has saved thine. Alon. Fear not. You are safe. [SPANIARDS lay down their arms Elv. Valverde speaks the truth; nor could he think to meet me here. An awful impulse, which my soul could not resist, impelled me hither. Alon. Noble Elvira! my preserver! How can I speak what I, Ataliba, and his rescued country, owe to thee! If amid this grateful nation thou wouldst remain Elv. Alonzo, no! the destination of my future life is fixed. Humbled in penitence, I will endeavour to atone the guilty errors, which, however masked by shallow cheerfulness, have long consumed my secret heart. When, by my sufferings purified and penitence sincere, my soul shall dare address the Throne of Mercy in behalf of others, for thee, Alonzo, for thy Cora, and thy child-for thee, thou virtuous monarch, and the innocent race thou reignest over, shall Elvira's prayer address the God of Nature.-Valverde, you have preserved my life. Cherish humanity, avoid the foul examples thou hast viewed.-Spaniards, returning to your native home, assure your rulers they mistake the road to glory or to power. Tell them that the pursuits of avarice, conquests, and ambition never yet made a people happy, or a nation great. [Casts a look of agony on the dead body of Pizarro as she passes and exit. Flourish of trumpets. VALVERDE, ALMAGRO, and SPANISH SOLDIERS, exeunt, bearing off PIZARRO'S body. Alon. Ataliba! think not I wish to check the voice of triumph, when I entreat we first may pay the tribute due to our loved Rolla's memory. [A solemn march. Procession of PERUVIAN SOLDIERS, bearing ROLLA's body on a bier surrounded by military trophies. The PRIESTS and PRIESTESSES attending chant a dirge over the bier. ALONZO and CORA kneel on either side of it, and kiss ROLLA's hands in silent agony: The curtain slowly descends. EPILOGUE WRITTEN BY THE HON. WILLIAM LAMB Spoken by Mrs. Jordan ERE yet suspense has still'd its throbbing fear While e'en the miseries of a sinking state, To mar the work the tragic scene has wrought, To turn from all that pleased, from all that fired; The souls that pant, the grief they see, to share; The sigh, that sweet compassion owns with pride— That kindness heaves, and virtue loves to hear. This gentle homage to her sister-muse. O ye, who listen to the plaintive strain, With strange enjoyment and with rapturous pain, Does Rolla's pure affection less excite Do Cora's fears, which beat without control, Ah, no! your mind with kindred zeal approve You must approve where man exists below, In temperate climes, or midst drear wastes of snow, More vainly would his cold presumptuous art To touch his lips, though pale and cold, once more, To all that heavenly piety inspires, To all that praise repeats through lengthen'd years That honour sanctifies, and time reveres. |