their scanty fare To please the children while the parent sleeps.

p. 25

Cov. Spaniards? must they, dear father, lead such lives?

Jul. All are not Spaniards who draw breath in Spain, Those are, who live for her, who die for her, Who love her glory and lament her fall. O may I too—

p. 26Cov. —But peacefully, and late, Live and die here!

p. 26

Jul. I have, alas! myself Laid waste the hopes where my fond fancy strayed, And view their ruins with unaltered eyes.

Cov. My mother will at last return to thee. Might I, once more, but—could I now! behold her. Tell her—ah me! what was my rash desire? No, never tell her these inhuman things, For they would waste her tender heart away As they waste mine; or tell where I have died, Only to show her that her every care Could not have saved, could not have comforted; That she herself, clasping me once again To her sad breast, had said, Covilla! go, Go, hide them in the bosom of thy God. Sweet mother! that far-distant voice I hear, And, passing out of youth and out of life, I would not turn at last, and disobey.

p. 27ACT II. SCENE 2.

p. 27

Sisabert enters.

Sisabert

Sis. Uncle, and is it true, say, can it be, That thou art leader of these faithless Moors? That thou impeachest thy own daughter’s fame Thro’ the whole land, to seize upon the throne By the permission of these recreant slaves? What shall I call thee? art thou, speak Count Julian, A father, or a soldier, or a man?

Jul. All—or this day had never seen me here.

Sis. O falsehood! worse than woman’s!

Cov. Once, my cousin, Far gentler words were uttered from your lips; If you loved me, you loved my father first, More justly and more steddily, ere love Was 

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