ABDULLAH.
ELMINA.
The lightning on their heads?—In your own land
Doth no fond mother, from the tents, beneath
Your native palms, look o'er the deserts out,
To greet your homeward step?—You have not yet
Forgot so utterly her patient love—
—For is not woman's, in all climes, the same?—
That you should scorn my prayer!—Oh Heaven! his eye
Doth wear no mercy!
ABDULLAH.
I have swept o'er the mountains of your land,
Leaving my traces, as the visitings
Of storms, upon them!—Shall I now be stay'd!
Know, unto me it were as light a thing,
In this, my course, to quench your children's lives,
As, journeying through a forest, to break off
The young wild branches that obstruct the way
With their green sprays and leaves.
ELMINA.
Amongst thy works, oh God?
