[Boy leads the Old Man off. Shouts, flourish, &c.

Re-enter Ataliba, Rolla, and Peruvian Officers and Soldiers.

Ata. In the name of my people, the saviour of whose sovereign thou hast this day been, accept this emblem of his gratitude.—[Giving Rolla his sun of diamonds.] The tear that falls upon it may for a moment dim its lustre, yet does it not impair the value of the gift.

Rol. It was the hand of Heaven, not mine, that saved my king.

Enter Peruvian Officer and Soldiers.

Roll. Now, soldier, from Alonzo?

Off. Alonzo’s genius soon repaired the panic which early broke our ranks: but I fear we have to mourn Alonzo’s loss: his eager spirit urged him too far in the pursuit!

Ata. How! Alonzo slain?

1st Sold. I saw him fall.

2nd Sold. Trust me, I beheld him up again and fighting—he, was then surrounded and disarmed.

Ata. O victory, dearly purchased!

Rol. O Cora! who shall tell thee this?

Ata. Rolla, our friend is lost—our native country saved! Our private sorrows must yield to the public claim for triumph. Now go we to fulfil the first, the most sacred duty which belongs to victory—to dry the widowed and the orphaned tear of those whose brave protectors have perished in their country’s cause.

[Triumphant march, and exeunt.