by my Aureng-Zebe, and since by you.
My soul grows hardy, and can death endure;
Your convoy makes the dangerous way secure.

_Mel._ Let me at least a funeral marriage crave,
Nor grudge my cold embraces in the grave.
I have too just a title in the strife;
By me, unhappy me, he lost his life:
I called him hither, 'twas my fatal breath,
And I the screech-owl that proclaimed his death. [_Shout within._

_Abas._ What new alarms are these? I'll haste and see. [_Exit._

_Nour._ Look up and live; an empire shall be thine.

_Mor._ That I condemned, even when I thought it mine.--
Oh, I must yield to my hard destinies, [_To_ IND.
And must for ever cease to see your eyes!

_Mel._ Ah turn your sight to me, my dearest lord!
Can you not one, one parting look afford?
Even so unkind in death:--but 'tis in vain;
I lose my breath, and to the winds complain.
Yet 'tis as much in vain your cruel scorn;
Still I can love, without this last return.
Nor fate, nor you, can my vowed faith controul;
Dying, I follow your disdainful soul:
A ghost, I'll haunt your ghost; and, where you go,
With mournful murmurs fill the plains below.

_Mor._ Be happy, Melesinda; cease to grieve,
And for a more deserving husband live:--
Can you forgive me?

_Mel._ Can I! Oh, my heart!
Have I heard one kind word before I part?
I can, I can forgive: Is that a task
To love like mine? Are you so good to ask!
One kiss--Oh, 'tis too great a blessing this! [_Kisses him._
I would not live to violate the bliss,

_Re-enter_ ABAS.

_Abas._ Some envious devil has ruined us yet more:
The fort's revolted to the emperor;
The gates are opened, the portcullis drawn,
And deluges of armies from the town
Come pouring in: I heard the mighty flaw,
When first it broke; the crowding ensigns saw,
Which choked the passage; and, what least I feared,
The waving arms of Aureng-Zebe appeared,
Displayed with your Morat's:
In either's flag the golden serpents bear
Erected crests alike, like volumes rear,
And mingle friendly hissings in the air.
Their troops are joined, and our destruction nigh.

_Neur._ 'Tis vain to fight, and I disdain to fly.
I'll mock the triumphs which our foes intend,
And spite of fortune, make a glorious end.
In poisonous draughts my liberty I'll find,
And from the nauseous world set free my mind. [_Exit._

_At the other end of the Stage enter_ AURENG-ZEBE, DIANET, _and
Attendants._ AUR