Ora. Pardon your servant; but the allotted priest who attends the sacred banner has pronounced that, the Inca’s blood once shed, no blessing can await the day until he leave the field.

Ata. Hard restraint! Oh, my poor brave soldiers! Hard that I may no longer be a witness of their valour.—But haste you; return to your comrades; I will not keep one soldier from his post. Go, and avenge your fallen brethren.—[Exeunt Orano, Officers, and Soldiers.] I will not repine; my own fate is the last anxiety of my heart. It is for you, my people, that I feel and fear.

Old Man. [Coming forward.] Did I not hear the voice of an unfortunate?—Who is it that complains thus?

Ata. One almost by hope forsaken.

Old Man. Is the king alive?

Ata. The king still lives.

Old Man. Then thou art not forsaken! Ataliba protects the meanest of his subjects.

Ata. And who shall protect Ataliba?

Old Man. The immortal powers, that protect the just. The virtues of our monarch alike secure to him the affection of his people and the benign regard of Heaven.

Ata. How impious, had I murmured! How wondrous, thou supreme Disposer, are thy acts! Even in this moment, which I had thought the bitterest trial of mortal suffering, thou hast infused the sweetest sensation of my life—it is the assurance of my people’s love.

[Aside.

Boy. [Turning forward.] O father!—stranger! see those hideous men that rush upon us yonder!

Ata. Ha! Spaniards! and I—Ataliba—ill-fated fugitive, without a sword even to try the ransom of a monarch’s life.

Enter Davilla, Almagro, and Spanish Soldiers.

Dav. ’Tis he—our hopes are answered—I knew him well—it is the king!

Alm. Away! Follow with your prize. Avoid those Peruvians, though in flight. This way we may regain our line.

[Exeunt Davilla, Almagro, and Soldiers, with Ataliba prisoner.

Old Man. The king!—wretched old man, that could not see his gracious form!—Boy, would thou hadst led me to the reach of those ruffians’ swords!

Boy. Father! all our countrymen are flying here for refuge.

Old Man. No—to the rescue of their king—they never will desert him.

[Alarms without.

Enter Peruvian Officers and Soldiers, flying across the stage; Orano following.

Ora. Hold! I charge you. Rolla calls you.

Officer. We cannot combat with their dreadful engines.