Mercy Otis Warren

“ False glory throbs within thy beating breast--- Thy lifted sword displays its whetted point, Not to dispel the fierce, barbarian Moor, Or chase the alien from these blighted shores: It wounds the sons---the citizens of Spain. Conde Haro
Upbraid me not---nor sharpen thus the pangs That rankle here, and wound thy brother's breast, Words cannot paint---nor can Louisa feel, The agonizing pains that pierce my heart. Donna Louisa
What can disturb the hero arm'd for fame?--- The prince's favour, and his father's love, Anticipate the glory he pursues. ”

“ Nor yet in slavery meet a lingering death, Beneath a tyrant's foot. I will avenge my lord--------- Though the rough surges in loud tempests roar, 'Till the rude billows meet the lowering clouds--- I never will despair, till my soul flies And mixes with the bold exalted shades, The stern brow'd spirits of the feudal lords--- Who now bend down, and frowning from the skies, Chide back their dastard sons to take the field, Bravely to fight---to conquer or to die. ”

“ Then why disturb'd with these ill omen'd fears?--- Yet what am I, if my Padilla falls?--- Ah! if the dastard citizens have fled--- Just anger'd heaven surely has decreed That on the point of Charles's conquering sword, Each vestige of their ancient rights should die. I'll wander down to yonder darksome grove, (And prostrate fall before the etherial king, Who holds his empire o'er a jarring world, Makes peace and freedom smile at his command, Or the fell tyrant's suffer'd to succeed, To chain the will, or manacle the mind;) ”

“ Ye powers who sit in judgment o'er the world, Or ye malignant fiends who blast our hopes, Grant Charles's restless soul may be condemn'd With Sisyphus to roll in endless pain, Up the Tartarean hill---the load of empire--- That envy'd bauble which mankind adore ”

“ The cypress gloom, in dark fix'd shades shall bow, And weeping willows drop a silent tear, 'Till rolling years see that last sands run out, When wither'd Time throws down his useless glass, And shrouds beneath eternity's big orb. ”

“ Yet feel within a manly force of mind Urging to deeds heroic and sublime, Which but to name, one half my timid sex, Would fall the victims of their own despair. I scorn the feeble soul that cannot brave, With magnanimity, the storms of life. ”

“ Thy husband!---hah---rash maid--- Donna Louisa
Yes---by each sacred tie.--- Thus incoherent my distracted prayer, Prophanes the altar when to God I bow; I start---I tremble---left kind heaven grant The boon I ask. Affrighted at myself, I call it back, and quick revoke my wish, Lest it involve me in supreme distress. (Trumpets and martial music without)
Conde Haro
A day decides---the trumpet sounds to arms; Tomorrow will disclose new scenes of woe, Or ope the gates to happiness and peace. Donna Louisa
My heart's too full---it bends me to the grave ”