Egilona enters.

Abd. Advance, O queen.
Now let the turbulence of faction cease.

Muza. Whate’er thy purpose, speak, and be composed.

Egil. He goes; he is afar; he follows her;
He leads her to the altar, to the throne,
For, calm in vengeance, wise in wickedness,
The traitor hath prevailed, o’er him, o’er me,
O’er you—the slaves, the dupes, the scorn, of Julian.
What have I heard! what have I seen!

Muza. Proceed—

Abd. —And I swear vengeance on his guilty head
Who intercepts from thee the golden rays
Of sovranty; who dares rescind thy rights;
Who steals upon thy rest, and breathes around
Empoisoned damps o’er that serenity
Which leaves the world, and faintly lingers here.

Muza. Who shuns thee—

Abd. —Whose desertion interdicts
Homage, authority, precedency—

Muza. Till war shall rescue them—

Abd. —And love restore.

Egil. O generous Abdalazis! never! never!
My enemies—Julian alone remains—
The worst, in safety, far beyond my reach,
Breathe freely on the summit of their hopes;
Because they never stopt, because they sprang
From crime to crime, and trampled down remorse.
Oh! if her heart knew tenderness like mine!
Grant vengeance on the guilty; grant but that,
I ask no more; my hand, my crown, is thine.
Fulfill the justice of offended heaven,
Assert the sacred rights of royalty,
Come not in vain, crush the rebellious crew,
Crush, I implore, the indifferent and supine.

Muza. Roderigo thus escaped from Julian’s tent?

Egil. No, not escaped—escorted—like a king.
The base Covilla first pursued her way
On foot; but after her the royal car,
Which bore me from San Pablos to the throne,
Empty indeed, yet ready at her voice,
Rolled o’er the plain, amid the carcases
Of those who fell in battle or in flight:
She, a deceiver still, to whate’er speed
The moment might incite her, often stopt
To mingle prayers with the departing breath,
Improvident! and those with heavy wounds
Groaned bitterly beneath her tottering knee.

Tarik. Now, by the clement and the merciful!
The girl did well: when I breathe out my soul,
Oh! if compassion give one pang the more,
That pang be mine; here be it, in this land—
Such women are they in this land alone.

Egil. Insulting man!

Muza. We shall confound him yet.
Say, and speak quickly, whither went the king?
Thou knewest where was Julian.

Abd. I will tell
Without his answer: yes, my friends! yes, Tarik,
Now will I speak, nor thou, for once, reply.
There is, I hear, a poor half-ruin’d cell
In Xeres, whither few indeed resort;
Green are the walls within, green is the floor
And slippery from disuse; for christian feet
Avoid it, as half-holy, half-accurst.
Still in its dark recess fanatic sin
Abases to the ground his tangled hair,
And servile scourges and reluctant groans
Roll o’er the vault uninterruptedly,
Till, such the natural stilness of the place,
The very tear upon the damps below
Drops audible, and the heart’s throb replies.
There is the idol maid of christian creed,
And taller images, whose history
I know not, nor inquired—a scene of blood,
Of resignation amid mortal pangs,
And other things, exceeding all belief.
Hither the aged Opas of Seville
Walked slowly, and behind him was a man
Barefooted, bruized, dejected, comfortless,
In sack-cloth; the white ashes on his head
Dropt as he smote his breast—he gathered up,
Replaced them all, groan’d deeply, looked to heaven,
And held them, like a treasure, with claspt hands.

Egil. O! was Roderigo so abased?

Muza. ’Twas he.
Now, Egilona, judge between your friends
And enemies—behold what wretches brought
The king, thy lord, Roderigo, to disgrace.

Egil. He merited—but not from them—from me
This, and much worse: had I inflicted it,
I had rejoiced—at what I ill endure.

Muza. For thee, for thee alone, we wished him here,
But other hands released him—

Abd. —With what aim
Will soon appear to those discerning eyes.

Egil. I pray thee, tell what past until that hour.

Abd. Few words, and indistinct: repentant sobs
Filled the whole space; the taper in his hand,
Lighting two small dim lamps before the altar,
He gave to Opas—at the idol’s feet
He laid his crown, and wiped his tears away:
The crown reverts not, but the tears return.

Egil. Yes, Abdalazis! soon, abundantly.
If he had only called upon my name,
Seeking my pardon ere he looked to heaven’s,
I could have—no! he thought not once on me!
Never shall he find peace or confidence;
I will rely on fortune and on thee
Nor fear my future lot: sure, Abdalazis,
A fall so great can never happen twice,
Nor man again be faithless, like Roderigo.

Abd. Faithless he may be still, never so faithless.
Fainter must be the charms, remote the days,
When memory and dread example die,
When love and terror thrill the heart no more,
And Egilona is herself forgotten.