Читать книгу The Ladies of Castile - Mercy Otis Warren - Страница 6

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Place of Velasco

(Enter Don Velasco and Conde Haro)

Don Velasco

The brighten'd dawn lifts up its cheerful face;The sun beams play to lighten thee to fame;hill tops smile, and each propitious gale,Wafts victory onward, with expanded wing,To crown the glory of Velasco's house.

Conde Haro

Unhappy Spain, by civil factions torn,Assaulting friends, while foreigners invade.Her burning cities, and her reeking sons,Are drench'd in blood, our valour should protect;While fierce disunion scowls on every brow,And rancour whets the sword against ourselves,The Turkish banners spread the German plains,And France, resolv'd to humble Charles's pride,Unites the crescent with the sacred cross.

Don Velasco

Francis indeed may triumph at our gates,Unless Don Juan, and the restless Cortes,Are soon subdu'd, and peace restor'd to Spain.One glorious conflict, one successful day,Will shew the world the heir of FerdinandFor empire born, in spite of all his foes.

Conde Haro

The sword is drawn, and down the gulph of time,Perhaps, its useless scabbard may be toss'd,'Till years roll on, and revolution's wheelWhirls nations down, and empire sweeps away,Ere peace benignant smiles on hapless Spain.

Don Velasco

Then lose no time to crush this rebel race.

Conde Haro

The noblest blood that ancient Spain can boast,Thrills through their veins, and warms their gallant chiefsWith great ideas of liberty and law.They claim the rights their ancient fires possess'd,When, ere allegiance sworn, or fealty paid,They bade the sov'reign recollect the claim,That each, as good by nature as himself,Were, when united, arm'd with power replete,To smite the brow, and dath the scepter'd handThat dare invade the meanest subject's right.

Don Velasco

'Tis but a faction of cabal an strife,Bound by no ties of dignity or worth;Devoid of honour, discipline, or faith;Discord will waste, and jealousy divide,And drive them backward from the routed field,Dispers'd by thee, as dust before the wind.

Conde Haro

Inur'd to arms, my foul's estrang'd to fear;Yet I lament my fate;---my fire and prince,Point me to glory, combating my will,And make my duty lead to deeds I hate.This contest is no democratic rage,No lewd tumultuous fury just let loose---Dauntless and bold as fam'd Numantia's sons,They wield the lance and bear the target high,And boast their ancient independent race;Unfold their pedigree, in freedom's line,E'er since for liberty, the haughty CeltsIn blood contested with the furious Goths.

Don Velasco

Methinks some latent cause beclouds thy zealAnd checks the vigour of thy val'rous arm,Retards thy glory, and may blast thy fame.

Conde Haro

Not less resolv'd, or fearless than thyself,No tongue shall e'er reproach thy house or nameWith glory tarnish'd, by De Haro's fallFrom valour, virtue, dignity, or fame,

Don Velasco

Then haste, and chase these miscreants from the land---Cut down their line, and blast their idle hopes,And extirpate the bold seditious race.Their houses wrap in one devouring flame---The sword shall quell all factions in the land.

Conde Haro

When virtue's vanquish'd, justice bids us spare,And lend compassion to an hapless foe.I ne'er will tinge the field with human blood,If milder means can bloodless victory win.

Don Velasco

Adieu, my son---my soul is all on fire.Proud glory waits to make thy name immortal,By promis'd triumphs ere the morrow close.

Conde Haro

Urg'd on by thee, by glory and renown,I'll serve my sov'reign as a soldier ought,And take the field against my former friends,But in the hero ne'er forget the man.

(Exeunt)