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MAHOMET.

Widow of Constantine; I come not here

In the stern spirit of a conqu'ror.
The slaughter of your people, by my order,
Is stopp'd; and to your bravely fallen lord
I have decreed such fun'ral obsequies
As suits a valiant warrior and a king.
Othus, and brave Rodrigo, and those men
Who to the last their master's corpse defended,
I have with honour grac'd.—Lacks there aught still
That, from the dark cloud which so deeply shades
That awful beauty, one approving ray
Might softly draw? Speak, and it shall be done.

VALERIA.

Ask aught from thee!

MAHOMET.

Yes, whatsoe'er thou wilt:

For now too well I feel I have no power
That can oppose thy will.

VALERIA.

I give you thanks: I have a thing to ask.

MAHOMET.

Name it, and it is granted.