A wild Retreat among stupendous Rocks. — CORA and her Child, with other Wives and Children of the Peruvian Warriors, are scattered about the scene in groups. They sing alternately, stanzas expressive of their situation, with a Chorus, in which all join.
1st Peruv. Wom. Zuluga, seest thou nothing yet?
Zul. Yes, two Peruvian soldiers — one on the hill, the other entering the thicket in the vale.
2d Perwu. Wom. One more has passed. — He comes — but pale and terrified.
Cora. My heart will start from my bosom.
Enter a Peruvian Soldier, panting for breath.
Wom. Well! joy or death?
Sold. The battle is against us. The king is wounded, and a prisoner.
Wom. Despair and misery! —
Cora. [In a faint voice.] — And Alonzo?
Sold. I have not seen him.
1st Wom. Oh! whither must we fly?
2d Wom. Deeper into the forest.
Cora. I shall not move.
Another Peruvian Soldier. — Victory! victory! — [He enters — Rejoice! rejoice! We are victorious!
Wom, [Springing up] — Welcome! welcome, thou messenger of joy: but the king!
Sold. He leads the brave, warriors, who approach. —
[The triumphant march of the army is heard at a distance. The Women and Children join in a strain expressive of anxiety and exultation. The Warriors enter, singing the Song of Victory, in which all join. The King: — and ROLLA follow, and are met with furous and affectionate respect. CORA, during this scene, with her Child in her arms, runs through the ranks searching and inquiring for ALONZO.]
Ata. Thanks, thanks, my children! I am well believe it; the blood once stopped, my wound was nothing. — [CORA; at length approaches ROLLA, who appears to have been mournfully avoiding her.] — Where is Alonzo?
[ROLLA turns away in silence. Cora. [Falling at the King’s — Give me my husband; give this child his father.
Ata. I grieve that Alonzo is not here.
Cora. Hoped you to find him?
Ata. Most anxiously.
Cora. Ataliba! is he not dead?
Ata. No! the gods will have heard our prayers.
Cora. Is he not dead, Ataliba?
Ata. He lives — in my heart.
Cora. Oh, king! torture me not thus! speak out, is this child fatherless?
Ata. Dearest Cora! do not thus dash aside the little hope that still remains.
Cora. The little hope! yet still there is hope! Speak to me, Rolla: you are the friend of truth.
Rol. Alonzo has not been found.
Cora. Not found! What mean you? will not you, Rolla, tell me truth? Oh! let me not hear the thunder rolling at a distance; let the bolt fall and crush my brain at once. Say not that he is not found: say at once that he is dead.
Rol. Then should I say false.
Cora. False! Blessings on thee for that word! But snatch me from this terrible suspense. Lift up thy little hands, my child; perhaps thy-ignorance may plead better than thy mother’s agony.
Rol. Alonzo is taken prisoner. —
Cora.: Prisoner! and by the Spaniards? — Pizarro’s prisoner? — Then is he dead.
Ata. Hope better; — the richest ransom which our realm can yield a herald shall this instant bear.
Peruv. Worn. Oh! for Alonzo’s ransom — our gold, our gems! — all! all! — Here, dear Cora, — here! here!
[The Peruvian Women eagerly tear off all their ornaments, and run and take them from their children, to offer them to CORA.
Ata. Yes, for Alonzo’s ransom they would give all! — I thank thee, Father, who hast given me such hearts to rule over!
Cora. Now one boon more, beloved monarch. Let me go with the herald.
Ata. Remember, Cora, thou art not a wife only, but a mother too: hazard not your own honour, and the safety of your infant. Among these barbarians the sight of thy youth, thy loveliness, and innocence, would but rivet faster your Alonzo’s chains, and rack his heart with added fears for thee. Wait, Cora, the return of the herald.
Cora. Teach me how to live till then.
Ata. Now we go to offer to the gods thanks for our victory, and prayers for our Alonzo’s safety.
[March and procession. Exeunt omnes.