Almanz. Oh, I have erred; but fury made me blind;
And, in her just reproach, my fault I find! 
I promised even for him to fight, whom I—­
But since he’s loved by her, he must not die. 
Thus, happy fortune comes to me in vain,
When I myself must ruin it again.

  To him ABENAMAR, HAMET, ABDELMELECH, ZULEMA, Soldiers.

Aben. The foe has entered the Vermillion towers; And nothing but the Alhambra now is ours.

Almanz. Even that’s too much, except we may have more;
You lost it all to that last stake before. 
Fate, now come back; thou canst not farther get;
The bounds of thy libration here are set. 
Thou know’st this place,
And, like a clock wound up, strik’st here for me;
Now, Chance, assert thy own inconstancy,
And, Fortune, fight, that thou may’st Fortune be!—­
They come:  here, favoured by the narrow place, [A noise within.
I can, with few, their gross battalion face. 
By the dead wall, you, Abdelmelech, wind;
Then charge, and their retreat cut off behind. [Exeunt.
                                                   [An alarm within.

Enter ALMANZOR and his Party, with ABDALLA prisoner.

Almanz. You were my friend:  and to that name I owe [To ABDAL. 
The just regard, which you refused to show. 
Your liberty I frankly would restore,
But honour now forbids me to do more. 
Yet, sir, your freedom in your choice shall be,
When you command to set your brother free.

Abdal. The exchange, which you propose, with joy I take;
An offer easier than my hopes could make. 
Your benefits revenge my crimes to you,
For I my shame in that bright mirror view.

Almanz. No more; you give me thanks you do not owe: 
I have been faulty, and repent me now. 
But, though our penitence a virtue be,
Mean souls alone repent in misery;
The brave own faults when good success is given,
For then they come on equal terms to heaven. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.—­The Albayzyn.

  Enter OZMYN and BENZAYDA.

Benz. I see there’s somewhat which you fear to tell;
Speak quickly, Ozmyn, is my father well? 
Why cross you thus your arms, and shake your head? 
Kill me at once, and tell me he is dead.

Ozm. I know not more than you; but fear not less;
Twice sinking, twice I drew him from the press: 
But the victorious foe pursued so fast,
That flying throngs divided us at last. 
As seamen parting in a general wreck,
When first the loosening planks begin to crack;
Each catches one, and straight are far disjoined,
Some borne by tides, and others by the wind;
So, in this ruin, from each other rent,
With heaved-up hands we mutual farewells sent: 
Methought his eyes, when just I lost his view,
Were looking blessings to be sent to you.