Kal. I looked and saw within the book of fate,
       Where, many days did lowr,
       When lo one happy hour
       Leapt up, and smiled to save thy sinking state;
       A day shall come when in thy power
       Thy cruel foes shall be;
       Then shall thy land be free,
       And thou in peace shalt reign. 
       But take, O take that opportunity,
       Which, once refused, will never come again.

[Descends.

Mont.  I shall deserve my fate, if I refuse
That happy hour which heaven allots to use: 
But of my crown thou too much care dost take;
That which I value more, my love’s at stake.

High Pr.  Arise, ye subtle spirits, that can spy,
When love is entered in a female’s eye;
You, that can read it in the midst of doubt,
And in the midst of frowns can find it out;
You, that can search those many cornered minds,
Where women’s crooked fancy turns and winds;
You, that can love explore, and truth impart,
Where both lie deepest hid in woman’s heart,
Arise—­

[The ghosts of TRAXALLA and ACACIS arise; they stand still, and point at MONTEZUMA.

High Pr.  I did not for these ghastly visions send;
Their sudden coming does some ill portend. 
Begone,—­begone,—­they will not disappear! 
My soul is seized with an unusual fear.

Mont.  Point on, point on, and see whom you can fright. 
Shame and confusion seize these shades of night! 
Ye thin and empty forms, am I your sport? [They smile. 
If you were flesh—­
You know you durst not use me in this sort.

[The ghost of the Indian Queen rises betwixt the ghosts, with a dagger in her breast.

Mont.  Ha!  I feel my hair grow stiff, my eye-balls roll!  This is the only form could shake my soul.

Ghost.  The hopes of thy successful love resign;
Know, Montezuma, thou art only mine;
For those, who here on earth their passion shew
By death for love, receive their right below. 
Why dost thou then delay my longing arms? 
Have cares, and age, and mortal life such charms? 
The moon grows sickly at the sight of day,
And early cocks have summoned me away: 
Yet I’ll appoint a meeting place below,
For there fierce winds o’er dusky vallies blow,
Whose every puff bears empty shades away,
Which guidless in those dark dominions stray. 
Just at the entrance of the fields below,
Thou shalt behold a tall black poplar grow;
Safe in its hollow trunk I will attend,
And seize thy spirit when thou dost descend.

[Descends.

Mont.  I’ll seize thee there, thou messenger of fate.—­
Would my short life had yet a shorter date! 
I’m weary of this flesh which holds us here,
And dastards manly souls with hope and fear;
These heats and colds still in our breast make war,
Agues and fevers all our passions are. [Exeunt.