_Muza._ No, Isabel. The ties of blood are severed; The tie of gratitude alone can bind My heart to others. Shall I not live for those Who’ve fostered in this breast the spark of honor, And roused my soul to deeds of noble daring? Aye, the Moor! Though your proud chivalry may curl the lip In haughty scorn, claims gratitude from me, And shall this be uncancelled? No, by Allah! His cause is mine, his holy faith is mine-- But did I say the ties of gratitude Alone could bind my heart? Ah! there I erred. There is another bond still closer, dearer, Entwining with the very strings of life, A bond I would not break to gain the world-- Canst thou not guess it, Isabel? Ah, yes; That timid, down-cast eye, that tell-tale glance Unfolds the mystery. Strange, indeed, ’twould be, If the bright maid that twined the silken bonds, Knew not her captive. Would to heaven I knew What noble parents, happy in their love, Possess so fair a daughter! _Isabel._ Muza, I know not what to say; my fearful heart Is full of dread forebodings for the future. I see thee now in arms against my country,-- A scoffer and despiser of my faith; And with thy hand yet stained in Christian blood, Thou com’st to woo me! Alas! what can I do? I cannot hate thee; gratitude forbids it. Heaven aid me in the conflict! But seek not, Muza, I beseech thee, seek not The knowledge of my rank. ’Twould only widen The breach of separation. Will’t not suffice To know that in the breast of Isabel The cherished name of Muza ne’er shall die? Farewell! (_Going._) _Muza._ One moment stay; we ne’er may meet again. (_Exit Isabel._) She’s gone, and nought but solitude remains. Angel of hope! come on thy downy wings, Descend and be my comforter and guide! (_Enter a Moorish guard._) _Guard._ My lord! The torches of a Spanish band are flashing Upon the westward of the orange grove! _Muza._ Away, then! follow me! (_Exeunt omnes._) THE COFFEE CLUB. No. 1.