Deep in the gloomy dungeon’s lone domain, 45
Lost Ataliba wore the galling chain;
The earth’s cold bed refus’d oblivious rest,
While throb’d the pains of thousands at his breast;
Alzira’s desolating moan he hears,
And with the monarch’s, blends the lover’s tears—­ 50
Soon had Alzira felt affliction’s dart
Pierce her soft soul, and rend her bleeding heart;
Its quick pulsations paus’d, and, chill’d with dread,
A livid hue her fading cheek o’erspread;
No tear she gave to love, she breath’d no sigh, 55
Her lips were mute, and clos’d her languid eye;
Fainter, and slower heav’d her shiv’ring breast,
And her calm’d passions seem’d in death to rest!—­
At length reviv’d, mid rising heaps of slain
She prest with trembling step, the crimson plain; 60
The dungeon’s gloomy depth she fearless sought,
For love, with scorn of danger arm’d her thought: 
The cell that holds her captive lord she gains,
Her tears fall quiv’ring on a lover’s chains! 
Too tender spirit, check the filial tear, 65
A sympathy more soft, a tie more dear
Shall claim the drops that frantic passion sheds,
When the rude storm its darkest pinion spreads. 
Lo! bursting the deep cell where mis’ry lay,
The human vultures seize the dove-like prey! 70
In vain her treasur’d wealth Peruvia gave,
This dearer treasure from their grasp to save: 
Alzira! lo, the ruthless murd’rers come,
This moment seals thy Ataliba’s doom. 
Ah, what avails the shriek that anguish pours! 75
The look, that mercy’s lenient aid implores! 
Torn from thy clinging arms, thy throbbing breast,
The fatal cord his agony supprest: 
In vain the livid corse she fondly clasps,
And pours her sorrows o’er the form she grasps—­ 80
The murd’rers now their struggling victim tear
From the lost object of her keen despair: 
The swelling pang unable to sustain,
Distraction throbb’d in every beating vein: 
Its sudden tumults seize her yielding soul, 85
And in her eye distemper’d glances roll—­
“They come! (the mourner cried, with panting breath,)
“To give the lost Alzira rest in death! 
“One moment more, ye bloody forms, bestow,
“One moment more for ever cures my woe—­ 90
“Lo where the purple evening sheds her light
“On blest remains! oh hide them, pitying night! 
“Slow in the breeze I see the verdure wave
“That shrouds with tufted grass, my lover’s grave: 
“There, on its wand’ring wing in mildness blows 95
“The mournful gale, nor wakes his deep repose—­
“And see, yon hoary form still lingers there! 
“Dishevell’d by rude winds his silver hair;
“O’er his chill’d bosom falls the