_Inis._ Its love? Can flowers then love?

_Amel._ Oh! what cannot?
There's nothing lives, in air, on earth, in ocean,
But lives to love! for when the Great Unknown
Parted the elements, and out of chaos
Formed this fair world with one blest blessing word,
That word was Love? Angels, with golden clarions,
Prolonged in heavenly strain the heavenly sound:
The mountain-echoes caught it: the four winds
Spread it, rejoicing o'er the world of waters;
And since that hour, in forest, or by fountain,
On hill or moor, whate'er be Nature's song,
Love is her theme, Love! universal Love!

_Est._ See, lady where the king----

_Amel._ I haste to meet him.

_Enter_ Alfonso, _and attendants._

_Amel._ [_Kneeling._] My father! my dear father!

_Alfon._ Heaven's best dews
Fall on thy beauteous head, my Amelrosa,
And be each drop a blessing!--Cheered by morning
Fair smile the skies; but nothing smiles on me,
Till I have seen thee well, and know thee happy.

_Amel._ And I _were_ happy, if my eyes perceived not
Tears clouding thine. Oh! what has power to grieve thee
On this proud day, when rich in spoils and glory
Caesario brings thee back thy conquering troops,
That brave young warrior? Spite of Moorish hosts,
And all their new-found engines of destruction,
Sulphureous mines and mouths of iron thunder,
He forced their gates! He leap'd their flaming gulphs!
Pale as their banner'd crescent fled the Moors,
And proudly streamed our flag o'er Algesiras!

_Alfon._ And with them fled--Oh! have I words to speak it?
Thy brother, Amelrosa!

_Amel._ How! my brother?

_Alfon._ Oh! 'tis too true. He thinks I live too long,
So joined the Moors to hurl me from my throne,
Guided their councils, sharpened their resentment,
And, when they fled, fled with them.

_Amel._ Powers of mercy!
Can there be hearts so black!

_Alfon._ Poor wretched man,
Where shall I turn me? where, since lust of power
Makes a son faithless, find a friend that's true?
Where fly for comfort?----

_Amel._ To this heart, my father!
This heart, which, while it throbs, shall throb to love thee.
Stream thy dear eyes? my hand shall dry those tears;
Aches thy poor head? My bosom shall support it!
And when thou sleep'st, I'll watch thy dreams, and pray----
"Changed be to joy the sorrow which afflicts
My king, my father, my soul's best friend!"--

_Alfon._ My child! my comfort!--Yes, yes! here's the chain,
The only chain that binds me to existence--
And should t