To drag the steady prop from failing age,
Break the young stem that fondness twines around,
Widen the solitude of lonely sighs,
And scatter to the broad bleak wastes of day
The ruins and the phantoms that replied,
Ne'er be it thine.
JUL. Arise, and save me, Spain!
FIRST ACT: SECOND SCENE.
MUZA enters.
MUZA. Infidel chief, thou tarriest here too long,
And art perhaps repining at the days
Of nine continued victories, o'er men
Dear to thy soul, tho' reprobate and base.
Away! [He retires.
JUL. I follow. Could my bitterest foes
Hear this! ye Spaniards, this! which I foreknew
And yet encountered; could they see your Julian
Receiving orders from and answering
These desperate and heaven-abandoned slaves,
They might perceive some few external pangs,
Some glimpses of the hell wherein I move,
Who never have been fathers.
OPAS. These are they
To whom brave Spaniards must refer their wrongs!
JUL. Muza, that cruel and suspicious chief,
Distrusts his friends more than his enemies,
Me more than either; fraud he loves and fears,
And watches her still footfall day and night.
OPAS. O Julian! such a refuge! such a race!
JUL. Calamities like mine alone implore.
No virtues have redeemed them from their bonds;
Wily ferocity, keen idleness,
And the close cringes of ill-whispering want,
Educate them to plunder and obey;
Active to serve him best whom most they fear,
They show no mercy to the merciful,
And racks alone remind them of the name.
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