Enter Rolla.

Rol. Hold! recreants! cowards! What, fear ye death, and fear not shame? By my soul’s fury, I cleave to the earth the first of you that stirs; or plunge your dastard swords into your leader’s heart, that he no more may witness your disgrace. Where is the king?

Ora. From this old man and boy I learn that the detachment of the enemy, which you observed so suddenly to quit the field, have succeeded in surprising him; they are yet in sight.

Rol. And bear the Inca off a prisoner?—Hear this, ye base, disloyal rout! Look there! The dust you see hangs on the bloody Spaniards’ track, dragging with ruffian taunts your king, your father—Ataliba—in bondage! Now fly, and seek your own vile safety if you can.

Old Man. Bless the voice of Rolla—and bless the stroke I once lamented, but which now spares these extinguished eyes the shame of seeing the pale trembling wretches who dare not follow Rolla, though to save their king!

Rol. Shrink ye from the thunder of the foe—and fall ye not at this rebuke? Oh! had ye each but one drop of the loyal blood which gushes to waste through the brave heart of this sightless veteran! Eternal shame pursue you, if you desert me now!—But do—alone I go—alone—to die with glory by my monarch’s side!

Soldiers. Rolla! we’ll follow thee.

[Trumpets sound; Rolla rushes out, followed by Orano, Officers, and Soldiers.

Old Man. O godlike Rolla!—And thou sun, send from thy clouds avenging lightning to his aid! Haste, my boy; ascend some height, and tell to my impatient terror what thou seest.

Boy. I can climb this rock, and the tree above.—[Ascends a rock, and from thence into the tree.] Oh—now I see them—now—yes—and the Spaniards turning by the steep.

Old Man. Rolla follows them?

Boy. He does—he does—he moves like an arrow! Now he waves his arm to our soldiers.—[Report of cannon heard.] Now there is fire and smoke.

Old Man. Yes, fire is the weapon of those fiends.

Boy. The wind blows off the smoke: they are all mixed together.

Old Man. Seest thou the king?

Boy. Yes—Rolla is near him! His sword sheds fire as he strikes!

Old Man. Bless thee, Rolla! Spare not the monsters.

Boy. Father! father! the Spaniards fly!—Oh—now I see the king embracing Rolla.

[Waves his cap for joy. Shouts of victory, flourish of trumpets, &c.

Old Man. [Falls on his knees.) Fountain of life! how can my exhausted breath bear to thee thanks for this one moment of my life!—My boy, come down, and let me kiss thee—my strength is gone.

Boy. [Running to the Old Man.] Let me help you, father—you tremble so—

Old Man. ’Tis with transport, boy!