TAMERLANE.
15
Oh! turn thee from me, or I die with blushing.
Ax.No— let me rather gaze, for ever gaze,And bless the new-born Glories that adorn thee;From every Blush, that kindles in thy Cheeks,Ten thousand little Loves, and Graces spring,To revel in the Roses.———'two'not be, [Trumpets.This envious Trumpet calls, and tears me from thee———
Sel.My Fears increase, and doubly press me now.I charge thee, if thy Sword comes cross my Father,Stop for a moment, and remember me.
Ax.Oh! doubt not, but his Life shall be my care,Even dearer, than my own———
Sel.Guard that, (for me) too.
Ax.Oh! Selima! thou hast restor'd my Quiet,The noble ardour of the War, with LoveReturning brightly, burns within my Breast,And bids me be secure of all hereafter.So chears some pious Saint a dying Sinner,(Who trembled at the thought of Pains to come)With Heav'ns Forgiveness, and the hopes of Mercy:At length the Tumult of his Soul appeas'd,And every Doubt, and anxious Scruple eas'd,Boldly he proves the dark, uncertain Road,The Peace, his holy Comforter bestow'd,Guides, and protects him, like a Guardian God.[Exit Axalla.
Manent Selima, and Guards.
Sel.In vain all Arts a Love-sick Virgin tries,Affects to frown, and seem severely wise,In hopes to cheat the wary Lover's Eyes.If the dear Youth her Pity strives to move,And pleads, with Tenderness, the cause of Love;Nature asserts her Empire in her Heart,And kindly takes the faithful Lover's part.
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