Alon. Alonzo answers thee, and Alonzo’s sword shall speak for Rolla.

Piz. Thou knowest the advantage of thy numbers. Thou darest not singly face Pizarro.

Alon. Peruvians, stir not a man! Be this contest only ours.

Piz. Spaniards! observe ye the same.—[Charge. They fight. Alonzo’s shield is broken, and he is beat down.] Now, traitor, to thy heart!

[At this moment Elvira enters, habited as when Pizarro first beheld her. Pizarro, appalled, staggers back. Alonzo renews the fight and slays him. Loud shouts from the Peruvians.

Enter Ataliba.

Ata. My brave Alonzo!

[Embraces Alonzo.

Alm. Alonzo, we submit. Spare us! we will embark, and leave the coast.

Val. Elvira will confess I saved her life; she has saved thine.

Alon. Fear not. You are safe.

[Spaniards lay down their arms.

Elv. Valverde speaks the truth; nor could he think to meet me here. An awful impulse, which my soul could not resist, impelled me hither.

Alon. Noble Elvira! my preserver! How can I speak what I, Ataliba, and his rescued country, own to thee! If amid this grateful nation thou wouldst remain—

Elv. Alonzo, no! the destination of my future life is fixed. Humble in penitence, I will endeavour to atone the guilty errors, which, however masked by shallow cheerfulness, have long consumed my secret heart. When, by my sufferings purified and penitence sincere, my soul shall dare address the Throne of Morcy in behalf of others, for thee, Alonzo, for thy Cora, and thy child, for thee, thou virtuous monarch, and the innocent race thou reignest over, shall Elvira’s prayers address the God of Nature.—Valverde, you have preserved my life. Cherish humanity, avoid the foul examples thou hast viewed.—Spaniards, returning to your native home, assure your rulers they mistake the road to glory or to power. Tell them that the pursuits of avarice, conquest, and ambition, never yet made a people happy, or a nation great.

Casts a look of agony on the dead body of Pizarro as she passes, and exit. Flourish of trumpets. Valverde, Almagro, and Spanish Soldiers, exeunt, bearing off Pizarro’s body.

Alon. Ataliba! think not I wish to check the voice of triumph, when I entreat we first may pay the tribute due to our loved Rolla’s memory.

[A solemn march. Procession of Peruvian Soldiers, bearing Rolla’s body on a bier, surrounded by military trophies. The Priests and Priestesses attending chant a dirge over the bier. Alonzo and Cora kneel on either side of it, and kiss Rolla’s hands in silent agony. The curtain slowly descends.