_Sis._ Will be now consoled. Thy father comes to mount my father’s throne; But though I would not an usurper king, I prize his valour and defend his crown: No stranger, and no traitor, rules o’er me, Or unchastized inveigles humbled Spain. Covilla, gavest thou no promises? Nor thou, Don Julian? Seek not to reply— Too well I know, too justly I despise, Thy false excuse, thy coward effrontery; Yes, when thou gavest them across the sea, An enemy wert thou to Mahomet, And no appellant to his faith or leagues. _Jul._ ’Tis well: a soldier hears, throughout, in silence. I urge no answer: to those words, I fear, Thy heart with sharp compunction will reply. [_Sisabert_, _to Covilla_. _Sis._ Then I demand of thee, before thou reign, Answer me, while I fought against the Frank Who dared to sue thee? blazon’d in the court, Trailed not thro’ darkness, were our nuptial bands; No: Egilona join’d our hands herself, The peers applauded, and the king approved. _Jul._ Hast thou yet seen that king since thy return? _Cov._ Father! O father! _Sis._ I will not implore Of him or thee what I have lost for ever, These were not, when we parted, thy alarms; Far other, and far worthier of thy heart Were they! which Sisabert could banish then! Fear me not, now, Covilla! thou hast changed, I am changed too—I lived but where thou livedst, My very life was portioned off from thine. Upon the surface of thy happiness Day after day, I gazed, I doated—there Was all I had, was all I coveted, So pure, serene, and boundless, it appear’d: Yet, for we told each other every thought, Thou knowest well, if thou rememberest, At times I fear’d; as tho’ some demon sent Suspicion without form into the world, To whisper unimaginable things; Then thy fond arguing banished all but hope, Each wish, and every feeling, was with thine, Till I partook thy nature, and became Credulous, and incredulous, like thee. We, who have met so alter’d, meet no more. [_Takes her hand_. Mountains and seas! ye are not separation— Death! thou dividest, but unitest too, In everlasting peace and faith sincere. Confiding love! where is thy resting-place! Where is thy truth, Covilla! where? {32}—go, go, I should adore thee and believe thee still. [_Sisabert goes_. _Cov._ O Heaven! support me, or desert me quite, And leave me lifeless this too trying hour! He thinks me faithless. _Jul._ He must think thee so.