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. Aureng-Zebe turns back, and speaks entering.
Aur. The lives of all, who cease from combat, spare;
My brother's be your most peculiar care:
Our impious use no longer shall obtain;
Brothers no more by brothers shall be slain.— [Seeing Indamora and Morat.
Ha! do I dream? Is this my hoped success?
I grow a statue, stiff and motionless.
Look, Dianet; for I dare not trust these eyes;
They dance in mists, and dazzle with surprise.