But he too well their weakness knows, to rest His fortune on their prowess.

Man. Well I know

Thy valour, Corbred; else I should suspect
Thy keenness for this new-invented mode
Of waging war, by bargaining and treaty;
It looks so strange for Normans, sprung from
heroes,

While victory smiles on our streaming banners,
And our fierce steeds impatient paw the ground,
To stand in arms, and barter provinces,
Like subtle merchants; try to over-reach,
Where we might conquer; and intrust our cause
To heralds' tongues, parchment, and lazy pen-
men!

Cor. Had we ne'er fought with loss, this confidence

In headstrong valour might become us well:
But in disgrace from these invaded shores
So lately driven, and by this same Alcanzor,
Our camp abandoned, and those lovely flowers,
The boast of Christendom, thy fair Tamira,
And Raimond's daughter, wretched captives left,

We soon shall know. Lo, from the castle gate,
A Moorish chief advances. 'Tis Benascar,
A generous, though a formidable foe.
The prime account which in their state he bears,
For prudent councils, claims our best regard.
Enter BENASCAR.

Ben. Christians, once more, and but this once,
I come

With words of peace in great Alcanzor's name.
Your insolent demands of territory

He scoffs and laughs at; scorns your false aliiance,
And your vain threats indignant spurns away.
Already thundering on your haughty crests
His sabre you had felt, if not restrained
By the persuasive eyes of fair Zimorna,
And soft enchantment of her snowy arms.
She, our adored sultana, sadly mindful
Of your late general, her gallant brother,
And in her heart perhaps half Christian still,
Sends you these terms of safety. In three days
Abandon Sicily, fly to your ships,

Crowd all your sails, and carry home for booty
The spoils and treasures in Palermo won;
You may be needy-we can spare them well:
Take also, a far richer prize, our captive,
Lord Manfred's daughter; and may gracious
Allah

Forgive your crimes, and favour your retreat!
Man. Is this the language of a conquer'd foe?
This the submission, Corbred, which you dream-
ed of?

Well-we have lost some time, and what remains In words shall not be wasted. To your master Return, Benascar. Tell him, with our swords His mockery shall be answered.-Ho! my helmet!

Caparison the horses!-Fly, Sicardo,

And bid them sound to arms.-To arms, I say!

pets,

For we must bustle too. [Exit Sic.] This foolish fellow

We'll trust no farther. He begins to totter
Upon ambition's ladder-talks of conscience-
Sees visions and ali night must have a monk
To sleep within his tent.-Your martial fit
Comes rather suddenly. I hardly thought
Your new suitana would have let her lord
So soon escape from love.

Ben. You know her not.

The spirit of her brother dwells within her.
With boundless passion she adores Alcanzor,
Yet even the very trifling of her fondness
Has something glorious. She will toss his spear
Around the hall; with plumes bedeck his hel-
met;

Play with his sword, or, like an Amazon,
Come with her quiver, bow, and buskined feet,
And at him smiling shoot a harmless arrow.
By Heav'n, I think, when slumbering on her
breast,

His dreams must be of victory and triumph!
Cor. What didst thou hint, as if he had suspi-
cion

Of our designs?

Ben. The time admits not now

Of free discourse, our matters to unfold.

I am expected back with utmost speed.

About an hour hence, ere we march our troops, Among the ruins of the ancient temple,

Beneath the hill, we'll meet. Thou know'st the place.

Cor. I do, and will not fail thee.

[Exit BENASCAR.

Shallow fool!
That, knowing me false to my faith and friends,
Canst blindly think I will be true to thee !-
In the approaching fight, if fortune smile,
This racked and burning heart may find relicf.
When loud alarm and danger rage around,
What ecstacy to force yon towers, and there
Revenge my love despised, satiate each craving,
And o'er this gull exult!-Sweet opportunity,
If thou appear'st, and I neglect to seize thee,
May each curst pang that tears me prove eternal!
[Exit.

The appointed signal of rejected peace.
Let all prepare for battle!-To my breast,
Zagan, once more in friendship let me strain
thee.

Most generous prince! the warmth of thine affection

Had ne'er to me been known, but for those clouds
That lour upon my fortune. lo disperse them
Thou comest; as when the sun, from out the main
Emerging, chases off the mists of night.
Thy speed, like his, outstrips the flight of thought.
I scarce believed Assad had reached thy court,
And told my adverse plight, when on the coast
The gallant fleet appeared.

Assad. My lord, he staid not
To hear my message out.
Soon as he knew
That to solicit aid for thee I came,
He started up, and called his chiefs around,
Summoned their troops, quick to the harbour
marched,

Filled every galley, and, ere morning rose,
We skimmed along the waves.

Zag. Shame on that friend

Who in the hour of danger can deliberate,
And sit at ease, debating with Dame Counsel,
While action frowns, and beckons him away!
Was it for me to lend a lazy ear

To his long dismal tales of battles lost,
And telling me the goodness of the quarrel?
Alcanzor, from thine infant days I've known thee,
And therefore know thy quarrel must be good.
Alc. The praise and fair esteem of men like

thee

Are to my soul so grateful, that to lose them Were worse than death; and therefore still I strive

To keep in honour's track, though it should lead

me

Through ways perplexed, darksome and danger

ous.

My boyish years were spent in peace profound;
And, as my youth advanced, I had no joy
But o'er these vales to see fair plenty sinile,
And to the princes my allies to boast
My people's happiness. Some twelve months

since,

In a large fleet, those wandering Normans came,
Adventurers from the shores of further Gaul,
Led by young Valdemar, whom Fame avouched
The first of Christian knights in proof of arms.
Benascar, who opposed them first, was routed,
With shameful loss: But, in a night alarm,
I broke their camp, and drove them to their ships,
While, by some hand unknown, their gallant
leader

Fell, and was seen no more. His matchless sister,
Then my sad captive, now my happy queen,
With fair Tamira, daughter of Count Manfred,
My triumph graced.

Zug. By Mahomet, this welcome,

So warm and hearty, must have brought them back,

If broken limbs and bruises they delight in ! Alc. In number treble, they this year renew Their unprovoked invasion: But old Manfred

Poorly supplies the place of Valdemar,
Who was himself an host. And yet, my friend,
Blushing I tell thee, they have driven my troops
As tygers drive poor trembling sheep before them.
Benascar's honesty and soldiership

I would not lightly question;—but Palermo,
So strongly garrisoned, so tamely yielded,
I cannot bear the thought :—with half his force,
I've held them here at bay.

Zag. Why, try him, try him.

Give him to-day some charge of little confidence, But where a true man might do special service, And if he's found a knave-here are dumb fellows,

And good tough bow-strings.

Alc. Justly thought, my lord.

It shall be so. I'll find some apt occasion,
Whate'er the fortune of the fight may be.
Now haste, advance your friends; here, on the
steep,

We'll join our ranks, and rush upon those rovers.
Sunimon our captains, Assad, to the square.
Anon I'll meet thee.

Assad. Think it done, my lord.

Erit.

Zug And think me here again, ere you can

kiss

Will fate allow the day to love and thee.
Those insolent and lawless men refuse
Our friendly terms; the pleadings of mild peace
Reach not their ears, and therefore we must try
Amid the clamours of rough war to move them.
To-day I draw my sabre, unrestrained
By pity's touch; and every stroke shall fall
With all the force that hope of fame and glory,
Or dread of foul defeat, can give this arm.
Thou hast no friend among them, for whose safety
Thy partial wish might bid me pause?

Zim. O none!

Zim. And yet, my lord, if my dear brother lived,

Perhaps I should not dare to talk thus nobly.
Strong nature will be heard; and hence I see
With more regret the terrors of Tamira.
What if her father in the battle fall ?
And by thy hand?-How shall I meet the mourn-
er?

How comfort her, while in her grief's distraction
She curses thee?—'Tis terrible !—O think
Of some prevention !-Ere the battle joins,
Might you not send her to the Christian camp,
That when they fly before thee, as they must,
Among them she may 'scape to Gaul again,
And in some sacred solitude conceal
Her grief incurable?—'Tis all she wishes.

Alc. That may not be; she is Benascar's captive.

Zim. And him she fears and hates.

Alc. If her escape

Could be unknown to me

Zem. Enough, my lord,

Indulgent still to thy Zimorna's wishes! Thou set'st my heart at ease. I have no fear For thy dear life: I think of nought but triumph. [Trumpets. Ale. Hark-'tis the Arabian horse.-A short adieu.[Embracing. Ascend the western tower, my love; from thence Thou may'st behold the field.-One more embrace.

Farewell-we soon shall meet in joy again.

[Exit.
Zim. Go-and the God of battles be thy guard!
Now shall the gentle offices of friendship
Shorten the anxious hours till he return.
Hither she slowly wanders. Hapless maid,
Untimely 'reft of her affection's idol!

O could I charm to peace her woe-worn heart,
The spirit of my brother, now in Heav'n,
Would thank me for the enhancement of his bliss.
Enter TAMIRA.

Why, dear Tamira, this unceasing sorrow?
Can nothing bring thee comfort? Must thy youth
Fade like a blighted flow'r, which one sharp blast
Has struck so sore, that neither cooling showers
Nor cheering sunshine can its bloom restore?
My brother's fall untimely well deserved
Our tears, and we have paid them: 'Twas a duty
By love demanded; but its obligation
Is not eternal. Other cares arise,
To claim attention from the active mind,
And rouse it from the lethargy of grief.

Tam. Never, Zimorna. Under the wide sky There's nought to claim my care. My heart is dead:

The world to me is desert.

Zim. Has it then

This moment forth to battle, all thy wishes,
Thy sighs, thy prayers for victory following him?
And goes he not to lift his angry sword
Against my father?—O forlorn old man !

He has no hero now to fight beside him,

With arms invincible! no daughter now

| To bathe his wounds, to wash the dust and blood From his grey hairs!-Protect him, holy Virgin, And pity me!

Zim. Couldst thou, with less distraction, Within Lord Manfred's tent await the issue Of this impending fight?

Tam. Thou knowest I could:

Thou knowest I have on earth no other wish,
But there to fly, till to a Christian land
Once more conveyed, I find some holy cell,
And waste my life in prayers and penitence.
Zim. Then take thy wish. Behind the arras
here,

There is a secret way, contrived of old,
When the famed Grecians flourished in this isle ;
Far winding down the woody hill it leads,
And in a ruined temple's deep recess,
Among thick bushes ends. The Christian camp
Is not far distant.

Tum. Heaven for ever bless thee!
Quick let me take my country's dress again.
O my dear father-yet once more I'll see him!
Zim. And when thou dost, Tamira, talk not
lightly

Of her who gives thee freedom. Do not paint

SCENE I.-The Portico of a ruinous Temple.

Enter VALDEMAR—the mask of his helmet

down.

Till this distracting rumour struck mine ear
Of the fair Christian captive made his queen;
Tamira, doubtless. For my happy rival,
I like a dotard should have spent my blood.
Yet-'tis beyond belief!-So soon forgotten,
By one so dear-O woman!-Why, by Heav'n,
A whimpering widow would have longer worn
The hypocritic badges of feigned sorrow!
Yet she whom my poor doating heart had
shrined,

The spotless pattern of unchanging truth,
Thus to fall off, ere yet the grass was green
Upon her lover's grave-O false Tamira!

Enter TAMIRA, from the Temple.

Tam. Methought I heard my name-protect me Heaven!

Which thou, fair princess, even to a stranger
Mayest grant securely. If there be a man
In either host, Norman or Saracen,
Whose life to thee is dear, that happy man
Give me to know. This is my only wish.
Hard by him I will tread the bloody field,
Happy, if I can swell thy hero's triumph,
If I can ward a javelin from his breast,
Receive the stroke of death for him designed,
And falling think I spare Tamira's tears.

Tam. Stranger, whoe'er thou art, thy soul is noble.

This battle to the victor glory brings,
And dazzling conquest-bitter grief to me.
Friends of my heart on either side contend:
Yet duty, faith, and nature's powerful voice,
Compel my vows the Christians' part to take.
My father leads them; him if thou canst serve,
Thou hast my prayers.

Val. No other but thy father?

O Valdemar !

Val. Lady, these precious tears Are vain: that Valdemar yet lives. Tum. Lives!-How?

Where? O assure me-swear it-make me certain

That I'm in Heaven!

Val. Then by that heaven thou namest, By every saint and sacred power there dwel ing,

I saw him three days since on Afric's shore! Tum. What shall I give thee, gallant, galant stranger,

Angel of bliss to my despairing heart?
Here, take my scarf-I'll bind it on thy helmet-
But yet, O do not mock me-sure he could not
Linger on Afric's shore, and leave me here
A wretched captive. No, he would have flown,
I know he would, through waves, and storms, and
foes,

Tam. O Valdemar,

Brief is the history of hopeless woe.
I think I've slept a long and gloomy night,
Little expecting such a glorious morning.
Thou livest-I see thee-O distracting joy!
What wretch could falsely say my hero fell
In the night-battle?

Val. No, 'twas truly said;

I fell by a base traitor's coward hands.
That night when brave Alcanzor forced our camp,
As I was mounting hastily my horse,
Corbred behind me came, and struck me down:
I turned and knew the villain, but my senses
Instant forsook me. When I waked again,
I found a dagger stuck across my cuirass,
Directed at my heart, as plainly seemed,
But by my guardian angel turned awry.
'Twas then deep night: Around me nought ap
peared

But dead and dying men, and empty tents.
Wandering down slowly to the shore, I found

Most busily in plundering. Me they seized, Unable to resist

[Trumpet sounds at a distance. Those warlike sounds, Sweet music to my soul, forbid at large To tell thee how to Africa I past; What chequered fortune there I since have