And oft, at night, when all have been retir'd,
Have ftol'n from bed, and to his prifon crept;
Where, while his gaoler flept, I thro' the grate
Have foftly whisper'd, and enquir'd his health;
Sent in my fighs and pray'rs for his deliv❜rance;
For fighs and pray'rs were all that I could offer.

Alm. Indeed thou hast a foft and gentle nature.
That thus could melt to see a stranger's wrongs.
Oh, Leonora, hadft thou known Anfelmo,
How wou'd thy heart have bled to see his sufferings !
Thou had it no caufe, but general compaffion.

Leon. Love of my royal mifirefs gave me caufe;
My love of you begot my grief for him;
For I had heard, that when the chance of war
Had blefs'd Anfelmo's arms with victory,
And the rich spoil of all the field, and you,
The glory of the whole, were made the prey
Of his fuccefs; that then, in spite of hate,
Revenge, and that hereditary feud

• Between Valentia's and Granada's kings,'
He did endear himself to your affection,
By all the worthy and indulgent ways.

His most industrious goodness cou'd invent;
Propofing, by a match between Alphonfo
His fon, the brave Valentian prince, and you,
To end the long diffention, and unite
The jarring crowns.

Alm. Alphonfo! O, Alphonfo!"

Thou too art quiet-long haft been at peace-
Both, both- -father and fon are now no more.

Then why am I? Oh, when shall I have rest?
Why do I live to fay you are no more?

'Why are all these things thus ?-Is it of force?
Is there neceffity I must be miserable?

Is it of moment to the peace of Heav'n

That I fhou'd be afflicted thus?.

-If not,

Why is it thus contriv'd? Why are things laid

By fome unfeen hand, fo, as of fure confequence,
They must to me bring curfes, grief of heart,

The laft diftrefs of life, and fure defpair?

Leon. Alas! you fearch too far, and think too deeply.' Alm. Why was I carry'd to Anfelmo's court?

Or

Or there, why was I us'd fo tenderly ?
Why not ill treated, like an enemy?

For fo my father wou'd have us'd his child.
Oh, Alphonfo, Alphonfo!

Devouring feas have wash'd thee from my fight.
No time fhall raze thee from my memory;
No, I will live to be thy monument:
The cruel ocean is no more thy tomb:
But in my heart thou art interr'd; there, there,
Thy dear resemblance is for ever fix'd ;
My love, my lord, my husband still, tho' lost.
Leon. Hufband! Oh, Heav'ns !

Alm. Alas! what have I faid?

My grief has hurry'd me beyond all thought.
I wou'd have kept that fecret; though I know
Thy love, and faith to me deserve all confidence.
But 'tis the wretch's comfort ftill to have
• Some small reserve of near and inward woe,
• Some unfuspected hoard of darling grief,
Which they unfeen may wail, and weep, and mourn,
And, glutton-like, alone devour.

• Leon. Indeed,

• I knew not this.

'Alm. Oh, no, thou know'st not half,

Know'ft nothing of my forrows-if thou didft

• If I fhou'd tell thee, would'st thou pity me? Tell me; I know thou would'ft; thou art compaffionate." Leon. Witness these tears

Alm. I thank thee, Leonora

Indeed I do, for pitying thy fad mistress : • For 'tis, alas! the poor prerogative • Of greatnefs to be wretched, and unpitiedBut I did promise I wou'd tell thee What? My miferies? Thou doft already know 'em. • And when I told thee thou didst nothing know, • It was because thou didst not know Alphonfo: For to have known my lofs, thou must have known His worth, his truth, and tenderness of love.' Leon. The memory of that brave prince stands fair In all report

And I have heard imperfectly his lofs;

But

But fearful to renew your troubles past,

I never did prefume to afk the story.

Alm. If for my fwelling heart I can, I'll tell thee.
I was a welcome captive in Valentia,
E'en on the day when Manuel, my father,
Led on his conqu'ring troops high as the gates
Of king Anfelmo's palace; which in rage,
And heat of war, and dire revenge, he fir'd.
The good king flying to avoid the flames,
Started amidst his foes, and made captivity
His fatal refuge-Wou'd that I had fall'n
Amidst thofe flames-but 'twas not so decreed.
Alphonfo, who forefaw my father's cruelty,
Had borne the queen and me on board a fhip
Ready to fail; and when this news was brought
We put to fea; but being betray'd by fome
Who knew our flight, we clofely were purfu'd,
And almoft taken; when a fudden storm
Drove us, and those that follow'd, on the coaft
Of Afric: There our veffel ftruck the shore
And bulging 'gainst a rock, was dafh'd in pieces;
But Heav'n fpar'd me for yet much more affliction!
Conducting them who follow'd us, to fhun
The fhore, and fave me floating on the waves,
While the good queen and my Alphonfo perish'd.
Leon. Alas! were you then wedded to Alphonfo?
Alm. That day, that fatal day, our hands were join'd.
For when my lord beheld the ship purfuing,
And faw her rate fo far exceeding ours,

He came to me, and begg'd me by my love,
I wou'd confent the priest shou'd make us one;
That whether death or victory enfu'd

I might be his, beyond the power of fate :
The queen too did affift his fuit-I granted;
And in one day was wedded and a widow,
Leon. Indeed 'twas mournful-

Alm. 'Twas as I have told thee-
For which I mourn, and will for ever mourn;
Nor will I change these black and dismal robes,
Or ever dry these swoln and watery eyes;

Or ever taste content, or peace of heart,

While I have life, and thought of my Alphonfo.

Leon. Look down, good Heav'n, with pity on her forrows,

And grant that time may bring her fome relief.

Alm. Oh, no! time gives increase to my afflictions. The circling hours, that gather all the woes Which are diffus'd thro' the revolving year, • Come heavy laden with th' oppreffing weight To me; with me, fucceffively, they leave

The fighs, the tears, the groans, the reftlefs cares, And all the damps of grief, that did retard their flight :• They shake their downy wings, and scatter all The dire collected dews on my poor head:

Then fly with joy and swiftness from me.'

Leon. Hark!

[Shouts at a diftance.

The distant fhouts proclaim your father's triumph.
O ceafe, for Heav'n's fake, affuage a little
This torrent of your grief, for, much I fear,
'Twill urge his wrath, to see you drown'd in tears,
When joy appears in ev'ry other face.

Aim. And joy he brings to ev'ry other heart,
But double, double weight of woe to mine:
For with him Garcia comes-Garcia, to whom
I must be facrific'd, and all the vows

I

gave my dear Alphonfo bafely broken.

No, it fhall never be; for I will die

First, die ten thoufand deaths-Look down, look down,

Alphonfo, hear the facred vow I make ;

One moment, cease to gaze on perfect bliss,

And bend thy glorious eyes to earth and me;'
And thou, Anfelmo, if yet thou art arriv'd
Thro' all impediments of purging fire,

[Kneels.

To that bright Heav'n, where my Alphonfo reigns,
Behold thou alfo, and attend my vow.

If ever I do yield, or give confent,
By any action, word, or thought, to wed
Another lord; may then juft Heav'n fhow'r down
Unheard of curfes on me, greater far

(If fuch there be in angry Heaven's vengeance)

Than

[Rifing,

Than any I have yet endur'd-And now
My heart has fome relief; having fo well
Difcharg'd this debt, incumbent on my love.
Yet, one thing more I wou'd engage from thee.
Leon. My heart, my life, and will, are only yours.
Alm. I thank thee. 'Tis but this: anon, when all
Are wrapp'd and bufied in the general joy,
Thou wilt withdraw, and privately with me
Steal forth, to vifit good Anfelmo's tomb.
Leon. Alas! I fear fome fatal refolution.
Alm. No, on my life, my faith, I mean no ill,
Nor violence-I feel myfelf more light,
And more at large, fince I have made this vow.
Perhaps I would repeat it there more folemnly.
"Tis that, or fome fuch melancholy thought,
Upon my word, no more.

Leon. I will attend you.

Enter Alonzo.

Alon. The lord Gonfalez comes to tell your highness

The king is just arriv'd.

Alm. Conduct him in.

[Exit Alon.

That's his pretence; his errand is, I know,
To fill my ears with Garcia's valiant deeds;
And gild and magnify his fon's exploits.
But I am arm'd with ice around my heart,
Not to be warm'd with words, or idle eloquence.
Enter Gonfalez.

Gon. Be ev'ry day of your long life like this.
The fun, bright conqueft, and your brighter eyes,
Have all confpir'd to blaze promifcuous light,
And bless this day with most unequal luftre.
Your royal father, my victorious lord,
Loaden with spoils, and ever-living laurel,
Is ent'ring now, in martial pomp, the palace.
Five hundred mules precede his folemn march,
Which groan beneath the weight of Moorish wealth.
Chariots of war, adorn'd with glitt'ring gems,
Succeed; and next, a hundred neighing steeds,
White as the fleecy rain on Alpine hills,
That bound and foam, and champ the golden bit,
As they difdain'd the victory they grace.
Prisoners of war in fhining fetters follow:

And