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OTHUS.

Great sultan, thou hast conquer'd with such arms

As power has given to thee, th' imperial city
Of royal Constantine; but other arms,
That might the friends of Constantine subdue,
Heav'n has denied thee.

RODRIGO.

No, mighty prince; they who have serv'd for love,

Cannot like flying pennants be transferr'd
From bark to bark.

MAHOMET (impatiently).

I understand you well, and you are free.

Mine arms, such as they are, of heav'n are bless'd,
That is enough.

OTHUS.

That were indeed enough; but heaven oftimes

Success bestows where blessing is denied.
A secret spirit whispers to my heart,
That in these walls your weaken'd wretched race,
Slaves of their slaves, in gloomy prison'd pomp
Shall shed each others blood, and make these towers
A place of groans and anguish, not of bliss.
And think not when the good and valiant perish
By worldly power o'erwhelm'd, that heaven's high favour
Shines not on them.—Oh, no! then shines it most.