Chapter II: Part 2

DIEGO. Soon as I trod the convent's court--impatient-- I ask--"Where is thy daughter?" Terror sate In every eye; and straight, with horror mute, I heard the worst.

[ISABELLA sinks, pale and trembling, upon a chair;
DON MANUEL is busied about her.

DON CAESAR. Say'st thou by pirates stolen? Who saw the band?--what tongue relates the spoil?

DIEGO. Not far a Moorish galley was descried, At anchor in the bay----

DON CAESAR. The refuge oft From tempests' rage; where is the bark?

DIEGO. At down, With favoring breeze she stood to sea.

DON CAESAR. But never One prey contents the Moor; say, have they told Of other spoil?

DIEGO. A herd that pastured near Was dragged away.

DON CAESAR. Yet from the convent's bound How tear the maid unseen?

DIEGO. 'Tis thought with ladders They scaled the wall.

DON CAESAR. Thou knowest what jealous care Enshrines the bride of Heaven; scarce could their steps Invade the secret cells.

DIEGO. Bound by no vows The maiden roved at will; oft would she seek Alone the garden's shade. Alas! this day, Ne'er to return!

DON CAESAR. Saidst thou--the prize of corsairs? Perchance, at other bidding, she forsook The sheltering dome----

ISABELLA (rising suddenly). 'Twas force! 'twas savage spoil! Ne'er has my child, reckless of honor's ties With vile seducer fled! My sons! Awake! I thought to give a sister to your arms; I ask a daughter from your swords! Arise! Avenge this wrong! To arms! Launch every ship! Scour all our coasts! From sea to sea pursue them! Oh, bring my daughter! haste!

DON CAESAR.
Farewell--I fly
To vengeance!
[He goes away.

[DON MANUEL arouses himself from a state of abstraction,
and turns, with an air of agitation, to DIEGO.

DON MANUEL. Speak! within the convent's walls When first unseen----

DIEGO.
This day at dawn.

DON MANUEL (to ISABELLA). Her name Thou say'st is Beatrice?

ISABELLA. No question! Fly! DON MANUEL. Yet tell me----

ISABELLA. Haste! Begone! Why this delay? Follow thy brother.

DON MANUEL.
I conjure thee--speak----

ISABELLA (dragging him away). Behold my tears!

DON MANUEL. Where was she hid? What region Concealed my sister?

ISABELLA. Scarce from curious eyes In the deep bosom of the earth more safe My child had been!

DIEGO. Oh! now a sudden horror Starts in my breast.

DON MANUEL.
What gives thee fear?

DIEGO. 'Twas I That guiltless caused this woe!

ISABELLA. Unhappy man! What hast thou done?

DIEGO. To spare thy mother's heart One anxious pang, my mistress, I concealed What now my lips shall tell: 'twas on the day When thy dead husband in the silent tomb Was laid; from every side the unnumbered throng Pressed eager to the solemn rites; thy daughter-- For e'en amid the cloistered shade was noised The funeral pomp, urged me, with ceaseless prayers, To lead her to the festival of Death. In evil hour I gave consent; and, shrouded In sable weeds of mourning, she surveyed Her father's obsequies. With keen reproach My bosom tells (for through the veil her charms Resistless shone), 'twas there, perchance, the spoiler Lurked to betray.

DON MANUEL (to himself). Thrice happy words! I live! It was another!

ISABELLA (to DIEGO). Faithless! Ill betide Thy treacherous age!

DIEGO. Oh, never have I strayed From duty's path! My mistress, in her prayers I heard the voice of Nature; thus from Heaven Ordained,--methought, the secret impulse moves Of kindred blood, to hallow with her tears A father's grave: the tender office owned Thy servant's care, and thus with good intent I wrought but ill.

DON MANUEL (to himself). Why stand I thus a prey To torturing fears! No longer will I bear The dread suspense---I will know all!

DON CAESAR (who returns). Forgive me, I follow thee.

DON MANUEL.
Away! Let no man follow.

[Exit.

DON CAESAR (looking after him in surprise). What means my brother? Speak----

ISABELLA. In wonder lost I gaze; some mystery lurks----

DON CAESAR. Thou mark'st, my mother, My quick return; with eager zeal I flew At thy command, nor asked one trace to guide My footsteps to thy daughter. Whence was torn Thy treasure? Say, what cloistered solitude Enshrined the beauteous maid?

ISABELLA. 'Tis consecrate To St. Cecilia; deep in forest shades, Beyond the woody ridge that slowly climbs Toward's Etna's towering throne, it seems a refuge Of parted souls!

DON CAESAR. Have courage, trust thy sons; She shall be thine, though with unwearied quest O'er every land and sea I track her presence To earth's extremest bounds: one thought alone Disturbs,--in stranger hands my timorous bride Waits my return; to thy protecting arms I give the pledge of all my joy! She comes; Soon on her faithful bosom thou shalt rest In sweet oblivion of thy cares. [Exit.

ISABELLA. When will the ancient curse be stilled that weighs Upon our house? Some mocking demon sports With every new-formed hope, nor envious leaves One hour of joy. So near the haven smiled-- So smooth the treacherous main--secure I deemed My happiness: the storm was lulled; and bright In evening's lustre gleamed the sunny shore! Then through the placid air the tempest sweeps, And bears me to the roaring surge again!

[She goes into the interior of the palace,
followed by DIEGO.

The Scene changes to the Garden.

Both Choruses, afterwards BEATRICE.

The Chorus of DON MANUEL enters in solemn procession,
adorned with garlands, and bearing the bridal ornaments
above mentioned. The Chorus of DON CAESAR opposes their
entrance.

First Chorus (CAJETAN). Begone!

Second Chorus (BOHEMUND).
Not at thy bidding!

CAJETAN. Seest thou not Thy presence irks?

BOHEMUND.
Thou hast it, then, the longer!

CAJETAN. My place is here! What arm repels me?

BOHEMUND,
Mine!

CAJETAN. Don Manuel sent me hither.

BOHEMUND. I obey My Lord Don Caesar.

CAJETAN. To the eldest born Thy master reverence owes.

BOHEMUND. The world belongs To him that wins!

CAJETAN.
Unmannered knave, give place!

BOHEMUND. Our swords be measured first!

CAJETAN. I find thee ever A serpent in my path.

BOHEMUND. Where'er I list Thus will I meet thee!

CAJETAN. Say, why cam'st thou hither To spy?----

BOHEMUND.
And thou to question and command?

CAJETAN. To parley I disdain!

BOHEMUND. Too much I grace thee By words!

CAJETAN. Thy hot, impetuous youth should bow To reverend age.

BOHEMUND.
Older thou art--not braver.

BEATRICE (rushing from her place of concealment). Alas! What mean these warlike men?

CAJETAN (to BOHEMUND). I heed not Thy threats and lofty mien.

BOHEMUND. I serve a master Better than thine.

BEATRICE.
Alas! Should he appear!

CAJETAN. Thou liest! Don Manuel thousandfold excels.

BOHEMUND. In every strife the wreath of victory decks Don Caesar's brows!

BEATRICE. Now he will come! Already The hour is past!

CAJETAN. 'Tis peace, or thou shouldst know My vengeance!

BOHEMUND.
Fear, not peace, thy arm refrains.

BEATRICE. Oh! Were he thousand miles remote!

CAJETAN. Thy looks But move my scorn; the compact I obey.

BOHEMUND. The coward's ready shield!

CAJETAN.
Come on! I follow.

BOHEMUND. To arms!

BEATRICE (in the greatest agitation). Their falchions gleam--the strife begins! Ye heavenly powers, his steps refrain! Some snare Throw round his feet, that in this hour of dread He come not: all ye angels, late implored To give him to my arms, reverse my prayers; Far, far from hence convey the loved one!

[She runs into the alcove. At the moment when the two
Choruses are about to engage, DON MANUEL appears.

DON MANUEL, the Chorus.

DON MANUEL. What do I see!

First Chorus to the Second (CAJETAN, BERENGAR, MANFRED).
Come on! Come on!

Second Chorus (BOHEMUND, ROGER, HIPPOLYTE).
Down with them!

DON MANUEL (stepping between them with drawn sword). Hold!

CAJETAN.
'Tis the prince!

BOHEMUND.
Be still!

DON MANUEL. I stretch him dead Upon this verdant turf that with one glance Of scorn prolongs the strife, or threats his foe! Why rage ye thus? What maddening fiend impels To blow the flames of ancient hate anew, Forever reconciled? Say, who began The conflict? Speak----

First Chorus (CAJETAN, BERENGAR).
My prince, we stood----

Second Chorus (ROGER, BOHEMUND) interrupting them.
They came

DON MANUEL (to the First Chorus). Speak thou!

First Chorus (CAJETAN). With wreaths adorned, in festal train, We bore the bridal gifts; no thought of ill Disturbed our peaceful way; composed forever With holy pledge of love we deemed your strife, And trusting came; when here in rude array Of arms encamped they stood, and loud defied us!

DON MANUEL. Slave! Is no refuge safe? Shall discord thus Profane the bower of virgin innocence, The home of sanctity and peace? [To the Second Chorus. Retire-- Your warlike presence ill beseems; away! I would be private. [They hesitate. In your master's name I give command; our souls are one, our lips Declare each other's thoughts; begone! [To the First Chorus. Remain! And guard the entrance.

BOHEMUND. So! What next? Our masters Are reconciled; that's plain; and less he wins Of thanks than peril, that with busy zeal In princely quarrel stirs; for when of strife His mightiness aweary feels, of guilt He throws the red-dyed mantle unconcerned On his poor follower's luckless head, and stands Arrayed in virtue's robes! So let them end E'en as they will their brawls, I hold it best That we obey.

[Exit Second Chorus. The first withdraws to the
back of the stage; at the same moment BEATRICE rushes
forward, and throws herself into DON MANUEL'S arms.

BEATRICE. 'Tis thou! Ah! cruel one, Again I see thee--clasp thee--long appalled, To thousand ills a prey, trembling I languish For thy return: no more--in thy loved arms I am at peace, nor think of dangers past, Thy breast my shield from every threatening harm. Quick! Let us fly! they see us not!--away! Nor lose the moment. Ha! Thy looks affright me! Thy sullen, cold reserve! Thou tear'st thyself Impatient from my circling arms, I know thee No more! Is this Don Manuel? My beloved? My husband?

DON MANUEL.
Beatrice!

BEATRICE. No words! The moment Is precious! Haste.

DON MANUEL.
Yet tell me----

BEATRICE. Quick! Away! Ere those fierce men return.

DON MANUEL. Be calm, for naught Shall trouble thee of ill.

BEATRICE. Oh, fly! alas, Thou know'st them not!

DON MANUEL. Protected by this arm Canst thou fear aught?

BEATRICE. Oh, trust me; mighty men Are here!

DON MANUEL.
Beloved! mightier none than I!

BEATRICE. And wouldst thou brave this warlike host alone?

DON MANUEL. Alone! the men thou fear'st----

BEATRICE. Thou know'st them not, Nor whom they serve.

DON MANUEL.
Myself! I am their lord!

BEATRICE. Thou art--a shudder creeps through all my frame!

DON MANUEL. Far other than I seemed; learn at last To know me, Beatrice. Not the poor knight Am I, the stranger and unknown, that loving Taught thee to love; but what I am--my race-- My power----

BEATRICE. And art thou not Don Manuel? Speak-- Who art thou?

DON MANUEL. Chief of all that bear the name, I am Don Manuel, Prince of Messina!

BEATRICE. Art thou Don Manuel, Don Caesar's brother?

DON MANUEL. Don Caesar is my brother.

BEATRICE.
Is thy brother!

DON MANUEL. What means this terror? Know'st thou, then, Don Caesar? None other of my race?

BEATRICE. Art thou Don Manuel, That with thy brother liv'st in bitter strife Of long inveterate hate?

DON MANUEL. This very sun Smiled on our glad accord! Yes, we are brothers! Brothers in heart!

BEATRICE.
And reconciled? This day?

DON MANUEL. What stirs this wild disorder? Hast thou known Aught but our name? Say, hast thou told me all? Is there no secret? Hast thou naught concealed? Nothing disguised?

BEATRICE. Thy words are dark; explain, What shall I tell thee?

DON MANUEL. Of thy mother naught Hast thou e'er told; who is she? If in words I paint her, bring her to thy sight----

BEATRICE. Thou know'st her! And thou wert silent!

DON MANUEL. If I know thy mother, Horrors betide us both!

BEATRICE. Oh, she is gracious As the sun's orient beam! Yes! I behold her; Fond memory wakes;--and from my bosom's depths Her godlike presence rises to my view! I see around her snowy neck descend The tresses of her raven hair, that shade The form of sculptured loveliness; I see The pale, high-thoughted brow; the darkening glance Of her large lustrous orbs; I hear the tones Of soul-fraught sweetness!

DON MANUEL.
'Tis herself!

BEATRICE. This day, Perchance had give me to her arms, and knit Our souls in everlasting love;--such bliss I have renounced, yes! I have lost a mother For thee!

DON MANUEL. Console thyself, Messina's princess Henceforth shall call thee daughter; to her feet I lead thee; come--she waits. What hast thou said?

BEATRICE. Thy mother and Don Caesar's? Never! never!

DON MANUEL. Thou shudderest! Whence this horror? Hast thou known My mother? Speak----

BEATRICE. O grief! O dire misfortune! Alas! that e'er I live to see this day!

DON MANUEL. What troubles thee? Thou know'st me, thou hast found, In the poor stranger knight, Messina's prince!

BEATRICE. Give me the dear unknown again! With him On earth's remotest wilds I could be blest!

DON CAESAR (behind the scene). Away! What rabble throng is here?

BEATRICE. That voice! Oh heavens! Where shall I fly!

DON MANUEL. Know'st thou that voice? No! thou hast never heard it; to thine ear 'Tis strange----

BEATRICE.
Oh, come--delay not----

DON MANUEL. Wherefore I fly? It is my brother's voice! He seeks me--how He tracked my steps----

BEATRICE. By all the holy saints! Brave not his wrath! oh quit this place--avoid him-- Meet not thy brother here!

DON MANUEL. My soul! thy fears Confound; thou hear'st me not; our strife is o'er. Yes! we are reconciled.

BEATRICE. Protect me, heaven, In this dread hour!

DON MANUEL. A sudden dire presage Starts in my breast--I shudder at the thought: If it be true! Oh, horror! Could she know That voice! Wert thou--my tongue denies to utter The words of fearful import--Beatrice! Say, wert thou present at the funeral rites Of my dead sire?

BEATRICE.
Alas!

DON MANUEL.
Thou wert!

BEATRICE.
Forgive me!

DON MANUEL. Unhappy woman!

BEATRICE.
I was present!

DON MANUEL.
Horror!

BEATRICE. Some mighty impulse urged me to the scene-- Oh, be not angry--to thyself I owned The ardent fond desire; with darkening brow Thou listened'st to my prayer, and I was silent, But what misguiding inauspicious star Allured, I know not; from my inmost soul The wish, the dear emotion spoke; and vain Aught else:--Diego gave consent--oh, pardon me! I disobeyed thee.

[She advances towards him imploringly; at the same moment
DON CAESAR enters, accompanied by the whole Chorus.

BOTH BROTHERS, BOTH CHORUSES, BEATRICE.

Second Chorus (BOHEMUND) to DON CAESAR. Thou heliev'st us not-- Believe thine eyes!

DON CAESAR (rushes forward furiously, and at the sight of his brother starts back with horror). Some hell-born magic cheats My senses; in her arms! Envenomed snake! Is this thy love? For this thy treacherous heart Could lure with guise of friendship! Oh, from heaven Breathed my immortal hate! Down, down to hell, Thou soul of falsehood!

[He stabs him, DON MANUEL falls.

DON MANUEL. Beatrice!--my brother! I die!

[Dies. BEATRICE sinks lifeless at his side.

First Chorus (CAJETAN). Help! Help! To arms! Avenge with blood The bloody deed!

Second Chorus (BOHEMUND). The fortune of the day Is ours! The strife forever stilled:--Messina Obeys one lord.

First Chorus (CAJETAN, BERENGAR, MANFRED). Revenge! The murderer Shall die! Quick, offer to your master's shade Appeasing sacrifice!

Second Chorus (BOHEMUND, ROGER, HIPPOLYTE). My prince! fear nothing, Thy friends are true.

DON CAESAR (steps between them, looking around). Be still! The foe is slain That practised on my trusting, honest heart With snares of brother's love. Oh, direful shows The deed of death! But righteous heaven hath judged.

First Chorus (CAJETAN). Alas to thee, Messina! Woe forever! Sad city! From thy blood-stained walls this deed Of nameless horror taints the skies; ill fare Thy mothers and thy children, youth and age, And offspring yet, unborn!

DON CAESAR. Too late your grief-- Here give your help. [Pointing to BEATRICE. Call her to life, and quick Depart this scene of terror and of death. I must away and seek my sister:--Hence! Conduct her to my mother-- And tell her that her son, Don Caesar, sends her!

[Exit.

[The senseless BEATRICE is placed on a litter and
carried away by the Second Chorus. The First Chorus
remains with the body, round which the boys who bear
the bridal presents range themselves in a semicircle.

Chorus (CAJETAN).

List, how with dreaded mystery
Was signed to my prophetic soul,
Of kindred blood the dire decree:--
Hither with noiseless, giant stride
I saw the hideous fiend of terror glide!
'Tis past! I strive not to control
My shuddering awe--so swift of ill
The Fates the warning sign fulfil.
Lo! to my sense dismayed,
Sudden the deed of death has shown
Whate'er my boding fears portrayed.
The visioned thought was pain;
The present horror curdles every vein

One of the Chorus (MANFRED).

Sound, sound the plaint of woe!
Beautiful youth!
Outstretched and pale he lies,
Untimely cropped in early bloom;
The heavy night of death has sealed his eyes;--
In this glad hour of nuptial joy,
Snatched by relentless doom,
He sleeps--while echoing to the sky,
Of sorrow bursts the loud, despairing cry!

A second (CAJETAN).

We come, we come, in festal pride,
To greet the beauteous bride;
Behold! the nuptial gifts, the rich attire
The banquet waits, the guests are there;
They bid thee to the solemn rite
Of hymen quick repair.
Thou hear'st them not--the sportive lyre,
The frolic dance, shall ne'er invite;
Nor wake thee from thy lowly bed,
For deep the slumber of the dead!

The whole Chorus.

No more the echoing horn shall cheer
Nor bride with tones of sweetness charm his ear.
On the cold earth he lies,
In death's eternal slumber closed his eyes.

A third (CAJETAN).

What are the hopes, and fond desires
Of mortals' transitory race?
This day, with harmony of voice and soul,
Ye woke the long-extinguished fires
Of brothers' love--yon flaming orb
Lit with his earliest beams your dear embrace
At eve, upon the gory sand
Thou liest--a reeking corpse!
Stretched by a brother's murderous hand.
Vain projects, treacherous hopes,
Child of the fleeting hour are thine;
Fond man! thou rear'st on dust each bold design,

Chorus (BERENGAR).

To thy mother I will bear
The burden of unutterable woe!
Quick shall yon cypress, blooming fair,
Bend to the axe's murderous blow
Then twine the mournful bier!
For ne'er with verdant life the tree shall smile
That grew on death's devoted soil;
Ne'er in the breeze the branches play,
Nor shade the wanderer in the noontide ray;
'Twas marked to bear the fruits of doom,
Cursed to the service of the tomb.

First (CAJETAN).

Woe to the murderer! Woe
That sped exulting in his pride,
Behold! the parched earth drinks the crimson tide.
Down, down it flows, unceasingly,
To the dim caverned halls below,
Where throned in kindred gloom the sister train,
Of Themis progeny severe,
Brood in their songless, silent reign!
Stern minister of wrath's decree,
They catch in swarthy cups thy streaming gore,
And pledge with horrid rites for vengeance evermore.

Second (BERENGAR).

Though swift of deed the traces fade
From earth, before the enlivening ray;
As o'er the brow the transient shade
Of thought, the hues of fancy flit away:--
Yet in the mystic womb unseen,
Of the dark ruling hours that sway
Our mortal lot, whate'er has been,
With new creative germ defies decay.
The blooming field is time
For nature's ever-teeming shoot,
And all is seed, and all is fruit.

[The Chorus goes away, bearing the corpse of DON MANUEL on a bier.

SCENE--The hall of pillars. It is night.

The stage is lighted from above by a single large lamp.
DONNA ISABELLA and DIEGO advance to the front.

ISABELLA. As yet no joyful tidings, not a trace Found of the lost one!

DIEGO. Nothing have we heard, My mistress; yet o'er every track, unwearied, Thy sons pursue. Ere long the rescued maid Shall smile at dangers past.

ISABELLA. Alas! Diego, My heart is sad; 'twas I that caused this woe!

DIEGO. Vex not thy anxious bosom; naught escaped Thy thoughtful care.

ISABELLA. Oh! had I earlier shown The hidden treasure!

DIEGO. Prudent were thy counsels, Wisely thou left'st her in retirement's shade; So, trust in heaven.

ISABELLA. Alas! no joy is perfect Without this chance of ill my bliss were pure.

DIEGO. Thy happiness is but delayed; enjoy The concord of thy sons.

ISABELLA. The sight was rapture Supreme, when, locked in one another's arms, They glowed with brothers' love.

DIEGO. And in the heart It burns; for ne'er their princely souls have stooped To mean disguise.

ISABELLA. Now, too, their bosoms wake To gentler thoughts, and own their softening sway Of love. No more their hot, impetuous youth Revels in liberty untamed, and spurns Restraint of law, attempered passion's self, With modest, chaste reserve. To thee, Diego, I will unfold my secret heart; this hour Of feeling's opening bloom, expected long, Wakes boding fears: thou know'st to sudden rage Love stirs tumultuous breasts; and if this flame With jealousy should rouse the slumbering fires Of ancient hate--I shudder at the thought! If these discordant souls perchance have thrilled In fatal unison! Enough; the clouds That black with thundering menace o'er me hung Are past; some angel sped them tranquil by, And my enfranchised spirit breathes again.

DIEGO. Rejoice, my mistress; for thy gentle sense And soft, prevailing art more weal have wrought Than all thy husband's power. Be praise to thee And thy auspicious star!

ISABELLA. Yes, fortune smiled; Nor light the task, so long with apt disguise To veil the cherished secret of my heart, And cheat my ever-jealous lord: more hard To stifle mighty nature's pleading voice, That, like a prisoned fire, forever strove To rend its confines.

DIEGO. All shall yet be well; Fortune, propitious to our hopes, gave pledge Of bliss that time will show.

ISABELLA. I praise not yet My natal star, while darkening o'er my fate This mystery hangs: too well the dire mischance Tells of the fiend whose never-slumbering rage Pursues our house. Now list what I have done, And praise or blame me as thou wilt; from thee My bosom guards no secret: ill I brook This dull repose, while swift o'er land and sea My sons unwearied, track their sister's flight, Yes, I have sought; heaven counsels oft, when vain All mortal aid.

DIEGO. What I may know, my mistress, Declare.

ISABELLA. On Etna's solitary height A reverend hermit dwells,--benamed of old The mountain seer,--who to the realms of light More near abiding than the toilsome race Of mortals here below, with purer air Has cleansed each earthly, grosser sense away; And from the lofty peak of gathered years, As from his mountain home, with downward glance Surveys the crooked paths of worldly strife. To him are known the fortunes of our house; Oft has the holy sage besought response From heaven, and many a curse with earnest prayer Averted: thither at my bidding flew, On wings of youthful haste, a messenger, To ask some tidings of my child: each hour I wait his homeward footsteps.

DIEGO. If mine eyes Deceive me not, he comes; and well his speed Has earned thy praise.

MESSENGER, ISABELLA, DIEGO.

ISABELLA (to MESSENGER). Now speak, and nothing hide Of weal or woe; be truth upon thy lips! What tidings bear'st thou from the mountain seer?

MESSENGER. His answer: "Quick! retrace thy steps; the lost one Is found."

ISABELLA. Auspicious tongue! Celestial sounds Of peace and joy! thus ever to my vows. Thrice honored sage, thy kindly message spoke! But say, which heaven-directed brother traced My daughter?

MESSENGER. 'Twas thy eldest born that found The deep-secluded maid.

ISABELLA. Is it Don Manuel That gives her to my arms? Oh, he was ever The child of blessing! Tell me, hast thou borne My offering to the aged man? the tapers To burn before his saint? for gifts, the prize Of worldly hearts, the man of God disdains.

MESSENGER. He took the torches from my hands in silence And stepping to the altar--where the lamp Burned to his saint--illumed them at his fire, And instant set in flames the hermit cell, Where he has honored God these ninety years!

ISABELLA. What hast thou said? What horrors fright my soul?

MESSENGER. And three times shrieking "Woe!" with downward course, He fled; but silent with uplifted arm Beckoned me not to follow, nor regard him So hither I have hastened, terror-sped.

ISABELLA. Oh, I am tossed amid the surge again Of doubt and anxious fears; thy tale appals With ominous sounds of ill. My daughter found-- Thou sayest; and by my eldest born, Don Manuel? The tidings ne'er shall bless, that heralded This deed of woe!

MESSENGER. My mistress! look around Behold the hermit's message to thine eyes Fulfilled. Some charm deludes my sense, or hither Thy daughter comes, girt by the warlike train Of thy two sons!

[BEATRICE is carried in by the Second Chorus on a litter,
and placed in the front of the stage. She is still without
perception, and motionless.

ISABELLA, DIEGO, MESSENGER, BEATRICE.

Chorus (BOHEMUND, ROGER, HIPPOLYTE, and the other nine followers
of DON CAESAR.)

Chorus (BOHEMUND). Here at thy feet we lay The maid, obedient to our lord's command: 'Twas thus he spoke--"Conduct her to my mother; And tell her that her son, Don Caesar, sends her!"

ISABELLA (is advancing towards her with outstretched arms, and starts back in horror). Heavens! she is motionless and pale!

Chorus (BOHEMUND). She lives, She will awake, but give her time to rouse From the dread shock that holds each sense enthralled.

ISABELLA. My daughter! Child of all my cares and pains! And is it thus I see thee once again? Thus thou returnest to thy father's halls! Oh, let my breath relume thy vital spark; Yes! I will strain thee to a mother's arms And hold thee fast--till from the frost of death Released thy life-warm current throbs again.

[To the Chorus.

Where hast thou found her? Speak! What dire mischance Has caused this sight of woe?

Chorus (BOHEMUND). My lips are dumb! Ask not of me: thy son will tell thee all-- Don Caesar--for 'tis he that sends her.

ISABELLA 'Tell me Would'st thou not say Don Manuel?

Chorus (BOHEMUND). 'Tis Don Caesar That sends her to thee.

ISABELLA (to the MESSENGER). How declared the Seer? Speak! Was it not Don Manuel?

MESSENGER. 'Twas he! Thy elder born.

ISABELLA. Be blessings on his head Which e'er it be; to him I owe a daughter, Alas! that in this blissful hour, so long Expected, long implored, some envious fiend Should mar my joy! Oh, I must stem the tide Of nature's transport! In her childhood's home I see my daughter; me she knows not--heeds not-- Nor answers to a mother's voice of love Ope, ye dear eyelids--hands be warm--and heave Thou lifeless bosom with responsive throbs To mine! 'Tis she! Diego, look! 'tis Beatrice! The long-concealed--the lost--the rescued one! Before the world I claim her for my own!

Chorus (BOHEMUND). New signs of terror to my boding soul Are pictured;--in amazement lost I stand! What light shall pierce this gloom of mystery?

ISABELLA (to the Chorus, who exhibit marks of confusion and embarrassment). Oh, ye hard hearts! Ye rude unpitying men! A mother's transport from your breast of steel Rebounds, as from the rocks the heaving surge! I look around your train, nor mark one glance Of soft regard. Where are my sons? Oh, tell me Why come they not, and from their beaming eyes Speak comfort to my soul? For here environed I stand amid the desert's raging brood, Or monsters of the deep!

DIEGO. She opes her eyes! She moves! She lives!

ISABELLA. She lives! On me be thrown Her earliest glance!

DIEGO. See! They are closed again-- She shudders!

ISABELLA (to the Chorus).
Quick! Retire--your aspect frights her.

[Chorus steps back.

RORER. Well pleased I shun her sight.

DIEGO. With outstretched eyes, And wonderstruck, she seems to measure thee.

BEATRICE. Not strange those lineaments--where am I?

ISABELLA. Slowly Her sense returns.

DIEGO. Behold! upon her knees She sinks.

BEATRICE.
Oh, angel visage of my mother!

ISABELLA. Child of my heart!

BEATRICE. See! kneeling at thy feet The guilty one!

ISABELLA. I hold thee in my arms! Enough--forgotten all!

DIEGO. Look in my face, Canst thou remember me?

BEATRICE. The reverend brows Of honest old Diego!

ISABELLA. Faithful guardian Of thy young years.

BEATRICE. And am I once again With kindred?

ISABELLA.
Naught but death shall part us more!

BEATRICE. Will thou ne'er send me to the stranger?

ISABELLA. Never! Fate is appeased.

BEATRICE. And am I next thy heart? And was it all a dream--a hideous dream? My mother! at my feet he fell! I know not What brought me hither--yet 'tis well. Oh, bliss! That I am safe in thy protecting arms; They would have ta'en me to the princess, mother-- Sooner to death!

ISABELLA. My daughter, calm thy fears; Messina's princess----

BEATRICE. Name her not again! At that ill-omened sound the chill of death Creeps through my trembling frame.

ISABELLA.
My child! but hear me----

BEATRICE. She has two sons by mortal hate dissevered, Don Manuel and Don Caesar----

ISABELLA. 'Tis myself! Behold thy mother!

BEATRICE.
Have I heard thee? Speak!

ISABELLA. I am thy mother, and Messina's princess!

BEATRICE. Art thou Don Manuel's and Don Caesar's mother?

ISABELLA. And thine! They are thy brethren whom thou namest.

BEATRICE. Oh, gleam of horrid light!

ISABELLA. What troubles thee? Say, whence this strange emotion?

BEATRICE. Yes! 'twas they! Now I remember all; no dream deceived me, They met--'tis fearful truth! Unhappy men! Where have ye hid him?

[She rushes towards the Chorus; they turn away from her.
A funeral march is heard in the distance.

CHORUS.
Horror! Horror!

ISABELLA. Hid! Speak--who is hid? and what is true? Ye stand In silent dull amaze--as though ye fathomed Her words of mystery! In your faltering tones-- Your brows--I read of horrors yet unknown, That would refrain my tongue! What is it? Tell me! I will know all! Why fix ye on the door That awe-struck gaze? What mournful music sounds?

[The march is heard nearer.

Chorus (BOHEMUND). It comes! it comes! and all shall be declared With terrible voice. My mistress! steel thy heart, Be firm, and bear with courage what awaits thee-- For more than women's soul thy destined griefs Demand.

ISABELLA. What comes? and what awaits me? Hark With fearful tones the death-wail smites mine ear-- It echoes through the house! Where are my sons?

[The first Semi-chorus brings in the body of DON MANUEL
on a bier, which is placed at the side of the stage.
A black pall is spread over it.

ISABELLA, BEATRICE, DIEGO.

Both Choruses.

First Chorus (CAJETAN).

With sorrow in his train,
From street to street the King of Terror glides;
With stealthy foot, and slow,
He creeps where'er the fleeting race
Of man abides
In turn at every gate
Is heard the dreaded knock of fate,
The message of unutterable woe!

BERENGAR.

When, in the sere
And autumn leaves decayed,
The mournful forest tells how quickly fade
The glories of the year!
When in the silent tomb oppressed,
Frail man, with weight of days,
Sinks to his tranquil rest;
Contented nature but obeys
Her everlasting law,--
The general doom awakes no shuddering awe!
But, mortals, oh! prepare
For mightier ills; with ruthless hand
Fell murder cuts the holy band--
The kindred tie: insatiate death,
With unrelenting rage,
Bears to his bark the flower of blooming age!

CAJETAN.

When clouds athwart the lowering sky
Are driven--when bursts with hollow moan
The thunder's peal--our trembling bosoms own
The might of awful destiny!
Yet oft the lightning's glare
Darts sudden through the cloudless air:--
Then in thy short delusive day
Of bliss, oh! dread the treacherous snare;
Nor prize the fleeting goods in vain,
The flowers that bloom but to decay!
Nor wealth, nor joy, nor aught but pain,
Was e'er to mortal's lot secure:--
Our first best lesson--to endure!

ISABELLA. What shall I hear? What horrors lurk beneath This funeral pall?

[She steps towards the bier, but suddenly pauses,
and stands irresolute.

Some strange, mysterious dread Enthrals my sense. I would approach, and sudden The ice-cold grasp of terror holds me back!

[To BEATRICE, who has thrown herself between her and the bier.

Whate'er it be, I will unveil----

[On raising the pall she discovers the body of DON MANUEL.

Eternal Powers! it is my son!

[She stands in mute horror. BEATRICE sinks to the ground
with a shriek of anguish near the bier.

CHORUS. Unhappy mother! 'tis thy son. Thy lips Have uttered what my faltering tongue denied.

ISABELLA. My soul! My Manuel! Oh, eternal grief! And is it thus I see thee? Thus thy life Has bought thy sister from the spoiler's rage? Where was thy brother? Could no arm be found To shield thee? Oh, be cursed the hand that dug These gory wounds! A curse on her that bore The murderer of my son! Ten thousand curses On all their race!

CHORUS.
Woe! Woe!

ISABELLA. And is it thus Ye keep your word, ye gods? Is this your truth? Alas for him that trusts with honest heart Your soothing wiles! Why have I hoped and trembled? And this the issue of my prayers! Attend, Ye terror-stricken witnesses, that feed Your gaze upon my anguish; learn to know How warning visions cheat, and boding seers But mock our credulous hopes; let none believe The voice of heaven! When in my teeming womb This daughter lay, her father, in a dream Saw from his nuptial couch two laurels grow, And in the midst a lily all in flames, That, catching swift the boughs and knotted stems Burst forth with crackling rage, and o'er the house Spread in one mighty sea of fire. Perplexed By this terrific dream my husband sought The counsels of the mystic art, and thus Pronounced the sage: "If I a daughter bore, The murderess of his sons, the destined spring Of ruin to our house, the baleful child Should see the light."

Chorus (CAJETAN and BOHEMUND). What hast thou said, my mistress? Woe! Woe!

ISABELLA. For this her ruthless father spoke The dire behest of death. I rescued her, The innocent, the doomed one; from my arms The babe was torn; to stay the curse of heaven, And save my sons, the mother gave her child; And now by robber hands her brother falls; My child is guiltless. Oh, she slew him not!

CHORUS. Woe! Woe!

ISABELLA. No trust the fabling readers of the stars Have e'er deserved. Hear how another spoke With comfort to my soul, and him I deemed Inspired to voice the secrets of the skies! "My daughter should unite in love the hearts Of my dissevered sons;" and thus their tales Of curse and blessing on her head proclaim Each other's falsehood. No, she ne'er has brought A curse, the innocent; nor time was given The blessed promise to fulfil; their tongues Were false alike; their boasted art is vain; With trick of words they cheat our credulous ears, Or are themselves deceived! Naught ye may know Of dark futurity, the sable streams Of hell the fountain of your hidden lore, Or yon bright spring of everlasting light!

First Chorus (CAJETAN).

Woe! Woe! thy tongue refrain!
Oh, pause, nor thus with impious rage
The might of heaven profane;
The holy oracles are wise--
Expect with awe thy coming destinies!

ISABELLA. My tongue shall speak as prompts my swelling heart; My griefs shall cry to heaven. Why do we lift Our suppliant hands, and at the sacred shrines Kneel to adore? Good, easy dupes! What win we From faith and pious awe? to touch with prayers The tenants of yon azure realms on high, Were hard as with an arrow's point to pierce The silvery moon. Hid is the womb of time, Impregnable to mortal glance, and deaf The adamantine walls of heaven rebound The voice of anguish:--Oh, 'tis one, whate'er The flight of birds--the aspect of the stars! The book of nature is a maze--a dream The sage's art--and every sign a falsehood!

Second Chorus (BOHEMUND).

Woe! Woe! Ill-fated woman, stay
Thy maddening blasphemies;
Thou but disown'st, with purblind eyes,
The flaming orb of day!
Confess the gods,--they dwell on high--
They circle thee with awful majesty!

All the Knights.

Confess the gods--they dwell on high--
They circle thee with awful majesty!

BEATRICE. Why hast thou saved thy daughter, and defied The curse of heaven, that marked me in thy womb The child of woe? Short-sighted mother!--vain Thy little arts to cheat the doom declared By the all-wise interpreters, that knit The far and near; and, with prophetic ken, See the late harvest spring in times unborn. Oh, thou hast brought destruction on thy race, Withholding from the avenging gods their prey; Threefold, with new embittered rage, they ask The direful penalty; no thanks thy boon Of life deserves--the fatal gift was sorrow!

Second Chorus (BERENGAR) looking towards the door
with signs of agitation.

Hark to the sound of dread!
The rattling, brazen din I hear!
Of hell-born snakes the hissing tones are near!
Yes--'tis the furies' tread!

CAJETAN.

In crumbling ruin wide,
Fall, fall, thou roof, and sink, thou trembling floor
That bear'st the dread, unearthly stride!
Ye sable damps arise!
Mount from the abyss in smoky spray,
And pall the brightness of the day!
Vanish, ye guardian powers!
They come! The avenging deities

DON CAESAR, ISABELLA, BEATRICE. The Chorus.

[On the entrance of DON CAESAR the Chorus station themselves
before him imploringly. He remains standing alone in the
centre of the stage.

BEATRICE. Alas! 'tis he----

ISABELLA (stepping to meet him). My Caesar! Oh, my son! And is it thus I meet the? Look! Behold! The crime of hand accursed!

[She leads him to the corpse.

First Chorus (CAJETAN, BERENGAR).

Break forth once more
Ye wounds! Flow, flow, in swarthy flood,
Thou streaming gore!

ISABELLA. Shuddering with earnest gaze, and motionless, Thou stand'st.--yes! there my hopes repose, and all That earth has of thy brother; in the bud Nipped is your concord's tender flower, nor ever With beauteous fruit shall glad a mother's eyes,

DON CAESAR. Be comforted; thy sons, with honest heart, To peace aspired, but heaven's decree was blood!

ISABELLA. I know thou lovedst him well; I saw between ye, With joy, the bands old Nature sweetly twined; Thou wouldst have borne him in thy heart of hearts With rich atonement of long wasted years! But see--fell murder thwarts thy dear design, And naught remains but vengeance!

DON CAESAR. Come, my mother, This is no place for thee. Oh, haste and leave This sight of woe.

[He endeavors to drag her away.

ISABELLA (throwing herself into his arms).
Thou livest! I have a son!

BEATRICE. Alas! my mother!

DON CAESAR. On this faithful bosom Weep out thy pains; nor lost thy son,--his love Shall dwell immortal in thy Caesar's breast.

First Chorus (CAJETAN, BERENGAR, MANFRED).

Break forth, ye wounds!
Dumb witness! the truth proclaim;
Flow fast, thou gory stream!

ISABELLA (clasping the hands of DON CAESAR and BEATRICE). My children!

DON CAESAR. Oh, 'tis ecstasy! my mother, To see her in thy arms! henceforth in love A daughter--sister----

ISABELLA (interrupting him). Thou hast kept thy word. My son; to thee I owe the rescued one; Yes, thou hast sent her----

DON CAESAR (in astonishment). Whom, my mother, sayst thou, That I have sent?

ISABELLA. She stands before thine eyes-- Thy sister.

DON CAESAR.
She! My sister?

ISABELLA.
Ay, What other?

DON CAESAR. My sister!

ISABELLA.
Thou hast sent her to me!

DON CAESAR. Horror! His sister, too!

CHORUS.
Woe! woe!

BEATRICE.
Alas! my mother!

ISABELLA. Speak! I am all amaze!

DON CASAR. Be cursed the day When I was born!

ISABELLA.
Eternal powers!

DON CAESAR. Accursed The womb that bore me; cursed the secret arts, The spring of all this woe; instant to crush thee, Though the dread thunder swept--ne'er should this arm Refrain the bolts of death: I slew my brother! Hear it and tremble! in her arms I found him; She was my love, my chosen bride; and he-- My brother--in her arms! Thou hast heard all! If it be true--oh, if she be my sister-- And his! then I have done a deed that mocks The power of sacrifice and prayers to ope The gates of mercy to my soul!

Chorus (BOHEMUND).

The tidings on thy heart dismayed
Have burst, and naught remains; behold!
'Tis come, nor long delayed,
Whate'er the warning seers foretold:
They spoke the message from on high,
Their lips proclaimed resistless destiny!
The mortal shall the curse fulfil
Who seeks to turn predestined ill.

ISABELLA. The gods have done their worst; if they be true Or false, 'tis one--for nothing they can add To this--the measure of their rage is full. Why should I tremble that have naught to fear? My darling son lies murdered, and the living I call my son no more. Oh! I have borne And nourished at my breast a basilisk That stung my best-beloved child. My daughter, haste, And leave this house of horrors--I devote it To the avenging fiends! In an evil hour 'Twas crime that brought me hither, and of crime The victim I depart. Unwillingly I came--in sorrow I have lived--despairing I quit these halls; on me, the innocent, Descends this weight of woe! Enough--'tis shown That Heaven is just, and oracles are true!

[Exit, followed by DIEGO.

BEATRICE, DON CAESAR, the Chorus.

DON CAESAR (detaining BEATRICE). My sister, wouldst thou leave me? On this head A mother's curse may fall--a brother's blood Cry with accusing voice to heaven--all nature Invoke eternal vengeance on my soul-- But thou--oh! curse me not--I cannot bear it!

[BEATRICE points with averted eyes to the body.

I have not slain thy lover! 'twas thy brother, And mine that fell beneath my sword; and near As the departed one, the living owns The ties of blood: remember, too, 'tis I That most a sister's pity need--for pure His spirit winged its flight, and I am guilty!

[BEATRICE bursts into an agony of tears.

Weep! I will blend my tears with thine--nay, more, I will avenge thy brother; but the lover-- Weep not for him--thy passionate, yearning tears My inmost heart. Oh! from the boundless depths Of our affliction, let me gather this, The last and only comfort--but to know That we are dear alike. One lot fulfilled Has made our rights and wretchedness the same; Entangled in one snare we fall together, Three hapless victims of unpitying fate, And share the mournful privilege of tears. But when I think that for the lover more Than for the brother bursts thy sorrow's tide, Then rage and envy mingle with my pain, And hope's last balm forsakes my withering soul? Nor joyful, as beseems, can I requite This inured shade:--yet after him content To mercy's throne my contrite spirit shall fly, Sped by this hand--if dying I may know That in one urn our ashes shall repose, With pious office of a sister's care.

[He throws his arms around her with passionate tenderness.

I loved thee, as I ne'er had loved before, When thou wert strange; and that I bear the curse Of brother's blood, 'tis but because I loved thee With measureless transport: love was all my guilt, But now thou art my sister, and I claim Soft pity's tribute.

[He regards her with inquiring glances, and an air of
painful suspense--then turns away with vehemence.

No! in this dread presence I cannot bear these tears--my courage flies And doubt distracts my soul. Go, weep in secret-- Leave me in error's maze--but never, never, Behold me more: I will not look again On thee, nor on thy mother. Oh! how passion Laid bare her secret heart! She never loved me! She mourned her best-loved son--that was her cry Of grief--and naught was mine but show of fondness! And thou art false as she! make no disguise-- Recoil with horror from my sight--this form Shall never shock thee more--begone forever!

[Exit.

[She stands irresolute in a tumult of conflicting
passions--then tears herself from the spot.

Chorus (CAJETAN).

Happy the man--his lot I prize
That far from pomps and turmoil vain,
Childlike on nature's bosom lies
Amid the stillness of the plain.
My heart is sad in the princely hall,
When from the towering pride of state,
I see with headlong ruin fall,
How swift! the good and great!
And he--from fortune's storm at rest
Smiles, in the quiet haven laid
Who, timely warned, has owned how blest
The refuge of the cloistered shade;
To honor's race has bade farewell,
Its idle joys and empty shows;
Insatiate wishes learned to quell,
And lulled in wisdom's calm repose:--
No more shall passion's maddening brood
Impel the busy scenes to try,
Nor on his peaceful cell intrude
The form of sad humanity!
'Mid crowds and strife each mortal ill
Abides'--the grisly train of woe
Shuns like the pest the breezy hill,
To haunt the smoky marts below.

BERENGAR, BOHEMUND, and MANFRED.

On the mountains is freedom! the breath of decay
Never sullies the fresh flowing air;
Oh, Nature is perfect wherever we stray;
'Tis man that deforms it with care.

The whole Chorus repeats.

On the mountains is freedom, etc., etc.

DON CAESAR, the Chorus.

DON CAESAR (more collected). I use the princely rights--'tis the last time-- To give this body to the ground, and pay Fit honors to the dead. So mark, my friends, My bosom's firm resolve, and quick fulfil Your lord's behest. Fresh in your memory lives The mournful pomp, when to the tomb ye bore So late my royal sire; scarce in these halls Are stilled the echoes of the funeral wail; Another corpse succeeds, and in the grave Weighs down its fellow-dust--almost our torch With borrowed lustre from the last, may pierce The monumental gloom; and on the stair, Blends in one throng confused two mourning trains. Then in the sacred royal dome that guards The ashes of my sire, prepare with speed The funeral rites; unseen of mortal eye, And noiseless be your task--let all be graced, As then, with circumstances of kingly state.

BOHEMUND. My prince, it shall be quickly done; for still Upreared, the gorgeous catafalque recalls The dread solemnity; no hand disturbed The edifice of death.

DON CAESAR. The yawning grave Amid the haunts of life? No goodly sign Was this: the rites fulfilled, why lingered yet The trappings of the funeral show?

BOHEMUND. Your strife With fresh embittered hate o'er all Messina Woke discord's maddening flames, and from the deed Our cares withdrew--so resolute remained, And closed the sanctuary.

DON CAESAR. Make no delay; This very night fulfil your task, for well Beseems the midnight gloom! To-morrow's sun Shall find this palace cleansed of every stain, And light a happier race.

[Exit the Second Chorus, with the body of DON MANUEL.

CAJETAN. Shall I invite The brotherhood of monks, with rights ordained By holy church of old, to celebrate The office of departed souls, and hymn The buried one to everlasting rest?

DON CAESAR. Their strains above my tomb shall sound for ever Amid the torches' blaze--no solemn rites Beseem the day when gory murder scares Heaven's pardoning grace.

CAJETAN. Oh, let not wild despair Tempt thee to impious, rash resolve. My prince No mortal arm shall e'er avenge this deed; And penance calms, with soft, atoning power, The wrath on high.

DON CAESAR. If for eternal justice Earth has no minister, myself shall wield The avenging sword; though heaven, with gracious ear, Inclines to sinners' prayers, with blood alone Atoned is murder's guilt.

CAJETAN. To stem the tide Of dire misfortune, that with maddening rage Bursts o'er your house, were nobler than to pile Accumulated woe.

DON CAESAR. The curse of old Shall die with me! Death self-imposed alone Can break the chain of fate.

CAJETAN. Thou owest thyself A sovereign to this orphaned land, by thee Robbed of its other lord!

DON CAESAR. The avenging gods Demand their prey--some other deity May guard the living!

CAJETAN. Wide as e'er the sun In glory beams, the realm of hope extends; But--oh remember! nothing may we gain From Death!

DON CAESAR. Remember thou thy vassal's duty; Remember and be silent! Leave to me To follow, as I list, the spirit of power That leads me to the goal. No happy one May look into my breast: but if thy prince Owns not a subject's homage, dread at least The murderer!--the accursed!--and to the head Of the unhappy--sacred to the gods-- Give honors due. The pangs that rend my soul-- What I have suffered--what I feel--have left No place for earthly thoughts!

DONNA ISABELLA, DON CAESAR, The Chorus.

ISABELLA (enters with hesitating steps, and looks irresolutely towards DON CAESAR; at last she approaches, and addresses him with collected tones). I thought mine eyes should ne'er behold thee more; Thus I had vowed despairing! Oh, my son! How quickly all a mother's strong resolves Melt into air! 'Twas but the cry of rage That stifled nature's pleading voice; but now What tidings of mysterious import call me From the desolate chambers of my sorrow? Shall I believe it? Is it true? one day Robs me of both my sons?

Chorus.

Behold! with willing steps and free,
Thy son prepares to tread
The paths of dark eternity
The silent mansions of the dead.
My prayers are vain; but thou, with power confessed,
Of nature's holiest passion, storm his breast!

ISABELLA. I call the curses back--that in the frenzy Of blind despair on thy beloved head I poured. A mother may not curse the child That from her nourishing breast drew life, and gave Sweet recompense for all her travail past; Heaven would not hear the impious vows; they fell With quick rebound, and heavy with my tears Down from the flaming vault! Live! live! my son! For I may rather bear to look on thee-- The murderer of one child--than weep for both!

DON CAESAR. Heedless and vain, my mother, are thy prayers For me and for thyself; I have no place Among the living: if thine eyes may brook The murderer's sight abhorred--I could not bear The mute reproach of thy eternal sorrow.

ISABELLA. Silent or loud, my son, reproach shall never Disturb thy breast--ne'er in these halls shall sound The voice of wailing, gently on my tears My griefs shall flow away: the sport alike Of pitiless fate together we will mourn, And veil the deed of blood.

DON CAESAR (with a faltering voice, and taking her hand). Thus it shall be, My mother--thus with silent, gentle woe Thy grief shall fade: but when one common tomb The murderer and his victim closes round-- When o'er our dust one monumental stone Is rolled--the curse shall cease--thy love no more Unequal bless thy sons: the precious tears Thine eyes of beauty weep shall sanctify Alike our memories. Yes! In death are quenched The fires of rage; and hatred owns subdued, The mighty reconciler. Pity bends An angel form above the funeral urn, With weeping, dear embrace. Then to the tomb Stay not my passage:--Oh, forbid me not, Thus with atoning sacrifice to quell The curse of heaven.

ISABELLA. All Christendom is rich In shrines of mercy, where the troubled heart May find repose. Oh! many a heavy burden Have sinners in Loretto's mansion laid; And Heaven's peculiar blessing breathes around The grave that has redeemed the world! The prayers Of the devout are precious--fraught with store Of grace, they win forgiveness from the skies;-- And on the soil by gory murder stained Shall rise the purifying fane.

DON CAESAR. We pluck The arrow from the wound--but the torn heart Shall ne'er be healed. Let him who can, drag on A weary life of penance and of pain, To cleanse the spot of everlasting guilt;-- I would not live the victim of despair; No! I must meet with beaming eye the smile Of happy ones, and breathe erect the air Of liberty and joy. While yet alike We shared thy love, then o'er my days of youth Pale envy cast his withering shade; and now, Think'st thou my heart could brook the dearer ties That bind thee in thy sorrow to the dead? Death, in his undecaying palace throned, To the pure diamond of perfect virtue Sublimes the mortal, and with chastening fire Each gathered stain of frail humanity Purges and burns away: high as the stars Tower o'er this earthly sphere, he soars above me; And as by ancient hate dissevered long, Brethren and equal denizens we lived, So now my restless soul with envy pines, That he has won from me the glorious prize Of immortality, and like a god In memory marches on to times unborn!

ISABELLA. My Sons! Why have I called you to Messina To find for each a grave? I brought ye hither To calm your strife to peace. Lo! Fate has turned My hopes to blank despair.

DON CAESAR. Whate'er was spoke, My mother, is fulfilled! Blame not the end By Heaven ordained. We trode our father's halls With hopes of peace; and reconciled forever, Together we shall sleep in death.

ISABELLA. My son, Live for thy mother! In the stranger's land, Say, wouldst thou leave me friendless and alone, To cruel scorn a prey--no filial arm To shield my helpless age?