A Bank surrounded by a wild Wood, and Rocks.
CORA, sitting on the root of a tree, is playing with her Child. — ALONZO hangs over them with delight and cheerfulness.
Cora. Now confess, does he resemble thee, or not?
Alm. Indeed he is liker thee — thy rosy softness, thy smiling gentleness.
Cora. But his auburn hair, the colour of his eyes, Alonzo. — O! my lord’s image, and my heart’s adored! [Pressing the Child to her bosom.
Alon. The little daring urchin robs me, I doubt, of some portion of thy love, my Cora. At least he shares caresses, which till his birth were only mine.
Cora. Oh no, Alonzo! a mother’s love for her sweet babe is not a stealth from the dear father’s store; it is a new delight that turns with quickened gratitude to Him, the author of her augmented bliss. —
Alon. Could Cora think me serious?
Cora. I am sure he will speak soon; then will be the last of the three holydays allowed by Nature’s sanction to the fond anxious mother’s heart.
Alon. What are those three?
Cora. The ecstacy of his birth I pass; that in part is selfish: but when first the white blossoms of his teeth appear, breaking the crimson buds that did incase them; that is a day of joy: next, when from his father’s arms he runs without support, and clings, laughing and delighted, to his mother’s knee; that is the mother’s heart’s next holyday: and sweeter still the third, whene’er his little stammering tongue shall utter the grateful sound of father! mother! — O! that is the dearest joy of all!
Alon. Beloved Cora!
Cora. Oh! my Alonzo! daily, hourly, do I pour thanks to Heaven for the dear blessing I possess in him and thee, Alon. To Heaven and Rolla!
Cora. Yes, to Heaven and Rolla: and art thou not grateful to them too, Alonzo? art thou not happy?
Alon. Can Cora ask that question?
Cora. Why then of late so restless on thy couch? Why to my waking, watching ear so Often does the stillness of the night betray thy struggling sighs?
Alon. Must not I fight against my country, against my brethren?
Cora. Do they not seek our destruction; and are not all men brethren?
Alon. Should they prove victorious?
Cora. I will fly, and meet thee in the mountains.
Alon. Fly, with thy infant, Cora? —
Cora. What! think you a mother, when she runs from danger, can feel the weight of her child?
Alon. Cora, my beloved, do you wish to set my heart at rest?
Cora. Oh yes! yes! yes!
Alon. Hasten then to the concealment in the mountains; where all our matrons and virgins, and our warriors’ offspring, are allotted to await the issue of the war. Cora will not alone resist her husband’s, her sisters’, and her monarch’s wish.
Cora. Alonzo, I cannot leave you: Oh! how in every moment’s absence would my fancy paint you, wounded, alone, abandoned! No, no, I cannot leave you.
Alon. Rolla will be with me.
Cora. Yes, while the battle rages, and where it rages most, brave Rolla will be found. He may revenge, but cannot save thee. To follow danger, he will leave even thee. But I have sworn never to forsake thee but with life. Dear, dear Alonzo! can you wish that I should break my vow?
Alm. Then be it so. Oh! excellence in all that’s great and lovely, in courage, gentleness, and truth; my pride, my content, my all! Can there on this earth be fools who seek for happiness, and pass by love in the pursuit?
Cora. Alonzo, I cannot thank you: silence is the gratitude of true affection: who seeks to follow it by sound will miss the track. [Shout without.] Does the king approach?
Alon. No, ’tis the general placing the guard that will surround the temple during the sacrifice. ’Tis Rolla comes, the first and best of heroes. [Trumpets sound.]
Rol. [As entering.] Then place them on the hill fronting the Spanish camp. [Enters.]
Cora. Rolla! my friend, my brother!
Alon. Rolla! my friend, my benefactor! how can our lives repay the obligations which we owe you?
Rol. Pass them in peace and bliss. — Let Rolla witness it, he is overpaid.
Cora. Look on this child — He is the life-blood of my heart; but if ever he loves or reveres thee less than his own father, his mother’s hate fall on him!
Rol. Oh, no more! — What sacrifice have I made to merit gratitude? The object of my love was Cora’s happiness. — I see her happy. — Is not my object gained, and am I not rewarded? Now, Cora, listen to a friend’s advice. You must away; you must seek the sacred caverns, the unprofaned recess, whither, after this day’s sacrifice, our matrons, and e’en the Virgins of the Sun, retire.
Cora. Not secure with Alonzo and with thee, Rolla?
Rol. We have heard Pizarro’s plan is to surprise us. — Thy presence, Cora, cannot aid, but may impede our efforts.
Cora. Impede!
Rol. Yes, yes. Thou know’st how tenderly we love thee; we, thy husband and thy friend. Art thou near us? our thoughts, our valour — vengeance will not be our own. — No advantage will be pursued that leads us from the spot where thou art placed; no succour will be given but for thy protection. The faithful lover dares not be all himself amid the war, until he knows that the beloved of his soul is absent from the peril of the fight.
Alon. Thanks to my friend! ’tis this I would have urged.
Cora. This timid excess of love, producing fear instead of valour, flatters, but does not convince me: the wife is incredulous.
Rol. And is the mother unbelieving too?
Cora. No more — Do with me as you please. My friend, my husband! place me where you will.
Alon. My adored! we thank you both. [without.] Hark! the king approaches to the sacrifice. You, Rolla, spoke of rumours of surprise. — A servant of mine, I hear, is missing; whether surprised or treacherous, I know not.
Rol. It matters not. We are every where prepared. Come, Cora, upon the altar ‘mid the rocks thou’lt implore a blessing on our cause. The pious supplication of the trembling wife, and mother’s heart, rises to the throne of mercy, the most resistless prayer of human homage.’
[Exeunt.