D.  Arcos. Discouraged with his death, the Moorish powers
Fell back, and, falling back, were pressed by ours;
But as, when winds and rain together crowd,
They swell till they have burst the bladdered cloud;
And first the lightning, flashing deadly clear,
Flies, falls, consumes, kills ere it does appear,—­
So from his shrinking troops, Almanzor flew,
Each blow gave wounds, and with each wound he slew: 
His force at once I envied and admired,
And rushing forward, where my men retired,
Advanced alone.

K.  Ferd. You hazarded too far Your person, and the fortune of the war.

D.  Arcos. Already both our arms for fight did bare,
Already held them threatening in the air,
When heaven (it must be heaven) my sight did guide
To view his arm, upon whose wrist I spied
A ruby cross in diamond bracelets tied;
And just above it, in the brawnier part,
By nature was engraved a bloody heart: 
Struck with these tokens, which so well I knew,
And staggering back some paces, I withdrew: 
He followed, and supposed it was my fear;
When, from above, a shrill voice reached his ear:—­
“Strike not thy father!”—­it was heard to cry;
Amazed, and casting round his wondrous eye,
He stopped; then, thinking that his fears were vain,
He lifted up his thundering arm again: 
Again the voice withheld him from my death;
“Spare, spare his life,” it cried, “who gave thee breath!”
Once more he stopped; then threw his sword away;
“Blessed shade,” he said, “I hear thee, I obey
Thy sacred voice;” then, in the sight of all,
He at my feet, I on his neck did fall.

K.  Ferd. O blessed event!

D.  Arcos. The Moors no longer fought;
But all their safety by submission sought: 
Mean time my son grew faint with loss of blood,
And on his bending sword supported stood;
Yet, with a voice beyond his strength, he cried,
“Lead me to live or die by Almahide.”

K.  Ferd. I am not for his wounds less grieved than you: 
For, if what now my soul divines prove true,
This is that son, whom in his infancy
You lost, when by my father forced to fly.

D.  Arcos. His sister’s beauty did my passion move,
(The crime for which I suffered was my love.)
Our marriage known, to sea we took our flight: 
There, in a storm, Almanzor first saw light. 
On his right arm a bloody heart was graved,
(The mark by which, this day, my life was saved:)
The bracelets and the cross his mother tied
About his wrist, ere she in childbed died. 
How we were captives made, when she was dead,
And how Almanzor was in Afric bred,
Some other hour you may at leisure hear,
For see, the queen in triumph does appear.

  Enter QUEEN ISABELLA, LYNDARAXA, Ladies, Moors and Spaniards
  mixed as Guards, ABDELMELECH, ABENAMAR, SELIN, Prisoners.