ATALIBA’S Tent.
Enter ATALIBA, followed by CORA and ALONZO.
Cora. Oh! Avoid me not, Ataliba! To whom, but to her king, is the wretched mother to address her griefs? — The gods refuse to hear my prayers! Did not my Alonzo fight for you? — And will not my sweet boy, if thou’lt but restore him to me, one day fight thy battles too?
Alm. Oh! my suffering love — my poor heartbroken Cora! — you but wound our sovereign feeling soul, and not relieve thy own.
Cora. Is he our sovereign, and has he not the power to give me back my child?
Ata. When I reward desert, or can relieve my people, I feel what is the real glory of a king — when I hear them suffer, and cannot aid them, I mourn the impotence of all mortal power.
[Voices behind.] Rolla! Rolla! Rolla!
Enter ROLLA, — bleeding, the followed by Peruvian Soldiers.
Rol. Thy child!
[Gives the Child into CORA’S arms, and falls.
Cora. Oh God! — there’s blood upon him!
Rol. ’Tis my blood, Cora!
Alon. Rolla, thou diest!
Rol. For thee, and Cora. — [Dies.
Enter ORANO.
Ora. Treachery has revealed our asylum in the rocks. Even now the foe assails the peaceful band retired for protection there.
Alon. Lose not a moment! — Swords be quick! — Your wives and children cry to you — Bear our loved hero’s body in the van— ‘Twill raise the fury of our men to madness. — Now, fell Pizarro! the death of one of us is near! — Away! Be the word of assault, Revenge and Rolla! — [Exeunt. Charge.