This arm should then--but now it is too late!
I could redeem thee to a nobler fate.
As some huge rock,
Rent from its quarry, does the waves divide,
So I
Would souse upon thy guards, and dash them wide:
Then, to my rage left naked and alone,
Thy too much freedom thou should'st soon bemoan:
Dared like a lark, that, on the open plain
Pursued and cuffed, seeks shelter now in vain;
So on the ground wouldst thou expecting lie,
Not daring to afford me victory.
But yet thy fate's not ripe; it is decreed,
Before thou diest, that Almahide be freed.
My honour first her danger must remove,
And then revenge on thee my injured love. [_Exeunt severally._

SCENE II.

_The_ SCENE _changes to the Vivarambla, and appears
filled with Spectators; a Scaffold hung with black._

_Enter the_ QUEEN _guarded, with_ ESPERANZA.

_Almah._ See how the gazing people crowd the place,
All gaping to be filled with my disgrace. [_A shout within._
That shout, like the hoarse peals of vultures, rings,
When over fighting fields they beat their wings.--
Let never woman trust in innocence,
Or think her chastity its own defence;
Mine has betrayed me to this public shame,
And virtue, which I served, is but a name.

_Esper._ Leave then that shadow, and for succour fly
To Him we serve, the Christian's Deity.
Virtue's no god, nor has she power divine:
But He protects it, who did first enjoin.
Trust then in Him; and from his grace implore
Faith to believe, what rightly we adore.

_Almah._ Thou Power unknown, if I have erred, forgive!
My infancy was taught what I believe.
But if the Christians truly worship thee,
Let me thy Godhead in thy succour see:
So shall thy justice in my safety shine,
And all my days, which thou shalt add, be thine!

_Enter the_ KING, ABENAMAR, LYNDARAXA, BENZAYDA: _then_ ABDELMELECH
_guarded; and after him_ SELIN _and_ ALABEZ, _as Judges of the
Field._

_Boab._ You, judges of the field, first take your place.--
The accusers and accused bring face to face.
Set guards, and let the lists be opened wide;
And may just heaven assist the juster side!

_Almah._ What! not one tender look, one passing word?
Farewell, my much unkind, but still loved lord!
Your throne was for my humble fate too high,
And therefore heaven thinks fit that I should die.
My story be forgot, when I am dead,
Lest it should fright some other from your bed;
And, to forget me, may you soon adore
Some happier maid,--yet non