Never.

Rod.  So deep in guilt, in treachery!
Forced to acknowledge it! forced to avow
The traitor!

Jul.  Not to thee, who reignest not,
But to a country ever dear to me,
And dearer now than ever: what we love
Is loveliest in departure!  One I thought,
As every father thinks, the best of all,
Graceful, and mild, and sensible, and chaste:
Now all these qualities of form and soul
Fade from before me, nor on any one
Can I repose, or be consoled by any.
And yet in this torne heart I love her more
Than I could love her when I dwelt on each,
Or clasped them all united, and thanked God,
Without a wish beyond.—Away, thou fiend!
O ignominy, last and worst of all!
I weep before thee—like a child—like mine—
And tell my woes, fount of them all! to thee!

ACT I.  SCENE 4.

Abdalazis enters.

Abd.  Julian, to thee, the terror of the faithless,
I bring my father’s order, to prepare
For the bright day that crowns thy brave exploits:
Our enemy is at the very gate!
And art thou here, with women in thy train,
Crouching to gain admittance to their lord,
And mourning the unkindness of delay!

[Julian, much agitated, goes towards the door, and returns.

Jul.  I am prepared: Prince, judge not hastily.

Abd.  Whether I should not promise all they ask,
I too could hesitate, tho’ earlier taught
The duty to obey, and should rejoice
To shelter in the universal storm
A frame so delicate, so full of fears,
So little used to outrage and to arms,
As one of these; so humble, so uncheer’d
At the gay pomp that smooths the track of war:
When she beheld me from afar dismount,
And heard my trumpet, she alone drew back,
And, as tho’ doubtful of the help she seeks,
Shudder’d to see the jewels on my brow,
And turn’d her eyes away, and wept aloud.
The other stood, awhile, and then advanced:
I would have spoken; but she waved her hand
And said, “Proceed, protect us, and avenge,
And be thou worthier of the crown thou wearest.”
Hopeful and happy is indeed our cause,
When the most timid of the lovely hail
Stranger and foe—

[Roderigo, unnoticed by Abdalazis.

Rod.  And shrink, but to advance.

Abd.  Thou tremblest! whence, O Julian! whence this change?
Thou lovest still thy country.

Jul.  Abdalazis!
All men with human feelings love their country.
Not the high-born or wealthy man alone,
Who looks upon his children, each one led
By its gay hand-maid, from the high alcove,
And hears them once aday; not only he
Who hath forgotten, when his guest inquires
The name of some far village all his own;
Whose rivers bound the province, and whose hills
Touch the last cloud upon the level sky:
No; better men still better love their country.
’Tis the old mansion of their earliest friends,
The chapel of their first and best devotions;
When violence, or perfidy, invades,
Or when unworthy lords hold wassail there,
And wiser heads are drooping round its moats,
At last they fix their steddy and stiff eye
There, there alone—stand while the trumpet blows,
And view the hostile flames above its towers
Spire, with a bitter and severe delight.

[Abdalazis, taking his hand.

Abd.  Thou feelest what thou speakest, and thy Spain
Will ne’er be shelter’d from her fate by thee
We, whom the Prophet sends o’er many lands
Love none above another; Heaven assigns
Their fields and harvests to our valiant swords,
And ’tis enough—we love while we enjoy.
Whence is the man in that fantastic guise?
Suppliant? or herald?—he who stalks about,
And once was even seated while we spoke,
For never came he with us o’er the sea.

Jul.  He comes as herald.

Rod.  Thou shalt know full soon,
Insulting Moor.

[Julian intercedes.

Abd.  He cannot bear the grief
His country suffers; I will pardon him.
He lost his courage first, and then his mind;
His courage rushes back, his mind still wanders.
The guest of heaven was piteous to these men,
And princes stoop to feed them in their courts.

ACT I.  SCENE 5.

Muza enters with Egilona.

Roderigo is going out when Muza enters—starts back on seeing Egilona.

[Muza, sternly, to Egilona, who follows.

Muza.  Enter, since ’tis the custom in this land.

[Egilona, passing Muza disdainfully, points to Abdalazis, and says to Julian—

Egil.  Is this our future monarch, or art thou?

Jul.  ’Tis Abdalazis, son of Muza, prince
Commanding Africa, from Abyla
To where Tunisian pilots bend the eye
O’er ruin’d temples in the glassy wave.
Till quiet times and ancient laws return,
He comes to govern here.

Rod.  To-morrow’s dawn
Proves that.

Muza.  What art thou?

[Roderigo, drawing his sword.

Rod.  King.

Abd.  Amazement!

Muza.  Treason!

Egil.  O horror!

Muza.  Seize him.

Egil.  Spare him! fly to me!

Jul.  Urge me not to protect a guest, a herald—
The blasts of war roar over him unfelt.

Egil.  Ah fly, unhappy!

Rod.  Fly! no, Egilona—
Dost thou forgive me? dost thou love me? still?

Egil.  I hate, abominate, abhor thee—go,
Or my own vengeance—

[Roderigo points with his own to the drawn swords of Muza and Abdalazis, who look with malice towards Julian, takes his hand, and seems inviting to attack them.  Julian casts his hand away.

Rod.  Julian!—

Jul.  Hence, or die.

ACT II.  SCENE 1.

Camp of Julian.

Julian and Covilla.

Jul.  Obdurate!  I am not as I appear.
Weep, my beloved child, Covilla weep
Into my bosom; every drop be mine
Of this most bitter soul-empoisoning cup:
Into no other bosom than thy father’s
Canst thou, or wouldst thou,