Transcribed from the 1812 John Murray edition ,
A
TRAGEDY.
LONDON:
PRINTED FOR JOHN MURRAY, FLEETSTREET,
By James Moyes, Greville Street, Hatton Garden.
1812.
The daughter of Count Julian isusually called Florinda—a fictitious appellation,unsuitable to the person and to the period. Never was onedevised more incompatible with the appearance of truth, or morefatal to the illusions of sympathy. The city of Covilla, itis reported, was named after her. Here is no improbability:there would be a gross one in deriving the word, as is alsopretended, from La Cava. Cities, in adopting a name, bearit usually as a testimony of victories or as an augury ofvirtues. Small and obscure places, occasionally, receivewhat their neighbours throw against them; as Puerto de la malamuger in Murcia. A generous and enthusiastic people, beyondall others in existence or on record, would affix no stigma toinnocence and misfortune.
It is remarkable that the most important era in Spanishhistory should be the most obscure. This is propitious tothe poet, and above all to the tragedian. Few characters ofsuch an era can be glaringly misrepresented, few factsoffensively perverted.
Count Julian.
Roderigo, King of Spain.
Opas, Metropolitan of Seville.
Sisabert, betrothed to Covilla.
Muza, Prince of Mauritania.
Abdalazis, son of Muza.
Tarik, Moorish Chieftain.
Covilla, daughter of Julian.
Egilona, wife of Roderigo.
Officers.
Hernando, Osma, Ramiro,&c.
Camp of Julian.
OPAS. JULIAN.
Opas. See her, Count Julian: ifthou lovest God,
See thy lost child.
Jul. I have avenged me, Opas,
More than enough: I sought but to have hurled
The brands of war on one detested head,
And died upon his ruin. O my country!
O lost to honour, to thyself, to me,
Why on barbarian hands devolves thy cause,
Spoilers, blasphemers!
Opas. Is it thus, Don Julian,
p. 2When thy ownofspring, that beloved child,
For whom alone these very acts were done
By them and thee, when thy Covilla stands
An outcast, and a suppliant at thy gate,
Why that still stubborn agony of soul,
Those struggles with the bars thyself imposed?
Is she not thine? not dear to thee as ever?
Jul. Father of mercies! show menone, whene’er
The wrongs she suffers cease to wring my heart,
Or I seek solace ever, but in death.
Opas. What wilt thou do then, toounhappy man?
Jul. What have I donealready? All my peace
Has vanished; my fair fame in