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Scene, a Wood.

GONSALVO and Spaniards. Gons. We must be near them now, yet all is still, Perez, you mark'd the spot ? Perez.

Yes, my lord, we are within A stone's throw of it. Gons. Hark! who comes ?

(ABDALLAH hails them from without.) Perez. It is the slave Abdallah. (He enters.) Abd. Yes, 'tis he.

(The other Spaniards retire, and leave

. ABDALLAH and GONSALVO.)
Gons. Well, is he dead ?
Abd. Yes.
Gons. Did you poison him ?
Abd. No, stabb’d him as he slept.
Gons. Good ! and the body ?

Abd. Thrown into the sea.
Gons. There let it sink or swim: to-morrow's sun
Lights thee to liberty.
Now Spaniards on, th' accursed spot is near,
Tread softly, where with unwash'd hands they lie,
And faces grim with human sacrifice.
Yet pause a moment should his mangled limbscam

My boy! my boy! tho' by the moon's pale light Gleam on mine eyes : well they shall rouse my ven

geance. Come.

[Exeunt. (The Creeks steal from their ambush on all sides,

and Telico and POTOWMAK come for

ward.) Tel. (To PotowMAK.) Stabb’d in his sleep: didst hear?

Pot. Had I been deaf, those words had broke the spell.

Tel. Yet 'twas foul play: this hatchet should have done it.

Pot. No matter, since 'tis done: he sleeps sound for ever.

Tel. Yes, we are sleeping too, these Spaniards say: Silent we are, and dark, but not to sleep ;Couch'd in the rustling grass — but not to sleep :Close ambush'd in the tree -- yet not to sleep :Or, if we must repose, we do not lie Stretch'd at full length to doze our surfeit out, Like dull white fools: we close our eyes, indeed, Yet, fearfully, our senses still keep watch, Quick to alarm, and start at distant perils, Which, broad awake, these Spaniards would not

dream of.

Now on them silent, and invisible
Steal like the night dew.

[Exeunt Creeks. (The Creeks return, with the Spaniards prisoners.) Tel. Bring them along. You would have caught

us sleeping;
Like vermin, on the roost have suck'd our blood.
The mighty hunters are for once the spoil.
Well, if you had surpris'd us sunk in slumber,
What had our doom been?
Gons.

Death! merciful death,
Compared with your inflictions: ye had died
Untortured, at a blow.
Tel.

I understand ye. (Makes a sign to one of the Creeks, who retires.) Gons. What can be mean by that ? Tel.

If we had slept, Ungrasp'd these tomahawks, these bows unstrung, Ye would have macle our passing rest eternal: Upon death's image stampt your noble vengeance; Then, o'er the dead, clapp'd your triumphant wings, And crow'd your mighty victory: such had been Your mercy, had you found us unprepared; Now, witness ours.

The Creeks enter with FERNANDEZ and Florio. Gons. Alive ! Yes, 'tis my boy.

(Goes to embrace them.) Tel. (Stopping him.) A moment's patience, sir :

these are our captives; Fresh in complexion still, and sound in limb; Look at them well; you will not find a hair." Of either touch'd, or a scratch on their white skins: You have a prisoner, sir, of ours: a brave one. Now burst the dungeon that our chief entombs, And lead him forth unalter’d. What, you cannot. You've put him to the torture? Well, no matter : Come bring him forth with dislocated bones; If life breathes in him, all may yet be well. Still do you hang the head? Then he is murder'd: Poison’d perhaps, or -- butcher'd in his sleep! Why do your haggard eyes thus cleave to the earth; He is not there: you'll find him in the waters.

Gons. (After a pause.) Merciful heav'n! who sent the message ?

Tel, I.
Gons. What, that my son was tortur'd ?
Tel. Yes, I sent it.
Gons. Wherefore ?

Tel. That Raymond's body, as thou doom’dst it, Might glut the ocean cannibals.

Gons. Thou fiend !
Fern. Horrible!
Flor. Who ever heard of such a devil !

Gons. Oh, Raymond ! Raymond !

Tel. Shall I call him for thee? -
Raymond, awake! 'tis thine assassin calls;
The noble Spaniard who did stab thee sleeping,
By yonder trembling victim of hís power,
Would breath back life into thy mortal wounds.
He will not hear. Raymond, awake!
The watry shroud shake off,
That dins about thine ears; and, like the sun,
Kindling anew from thy sepulchral waves,
Spread forth reanimate. — .

Enter RAYMOND, Zoa, and ALMANZA.

Thou? or thy spirit?
Raym. It is no apparition.
Tel.

.. Would it were. Gons. (To ABDALLAH.) Did you not tell me,

slave Raym.

He is no slave.
His freedom was the price for shedding blood,
Shall he have less for sparing it? Potowmak -
Telico — what can you say?
Pot.

Nothing.
Raym. (To TELICO.). You, sir ?

Tel. I was not born to speak at thy commands. Somewhat thine unexpected presence moved me,

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