text: Friedrich Schiller The Bride of Messina 
   
   
     
   ISABELLA, Princess of Messina. 
  DON MANUEL, her Sons. 
  DON CAESAR 
  BEATRICE. 
  DIEGO, an ancient Servant. 
  MESSENGERS. 
  THE ELDERS OF MESSINA, mute. 
  THE CHORUS, consisting of the Followers of the two Princes. 
  SCENE I. 
     A spacious hall, supported on columns, with entrances on both sides; at the back of the stage a large folding-door leading to a chapel. 
     DONNA ISABELLA in mourning; the ELDERS OF MESSINA. 
  ISABELLA. 
  Forth from my silent chamber's deep recesses, 
  Gray Fathers of the State, unwillingly 
  I come; and, shrinking from your gaze, uplift 
  The veil that shades my widowed brows: the light 
  And glory of my days is fled forever! 
  And best in solitude and kindred gloom 
  To hide these sable weeds, this grief-worn frame, 
  Beseems the mourner's heart. A mighty voice 
  Inexorable - duty's stern command, 
  Calls me to light again. 
               Not twice the moon 
  Has filled her orb since to the tomb ye bore 
  My princely spouse, your city's lord, whose arm 
  Against a world of envious foes around 
  Hurled fierce defiance! Still his spirit lives 
  In his heroic sons, their country's pride: 
  Ye marked how sweetly from their childhood's bloom 
  They grew in joyous promise to the years 
  Of manhood's strength; yet in their secret hearts, 
  From some mysterious root accursed, upsprung 
  Unmitigable, deadly hate, that spurned 
  All kindred ties, all youthful, fond affections, 
  Still ripening with their thoughtful age; not mine 
  The sweet accord of family bliss; though each 
  Awoke a mother's rapture; each alike 
  Smiled at my nourishing breast! for me alone 
  Yet lives one mutual thought, of children's love; 
  In these tempestuous souls discovered else 
  By mortal strife and thirst of fierce revenge. 
  While yet their father reigned, his stern control 
  Tamed their hot spirits, and with iron yoke 
  To awful justice bowed their stubborn will: 
  Obedient to his voice, to outward seeming 
  They calmed their wrathful mood, nor in array 
  Ere met, of hostile arms; yet unappeased 
  Sat brooding malice in their bosoms' depths; 
  They little reek of hidden springs whose power 
  Can quell the torrent's fury: scarce their sire 
  In death had closed his eyes, when, as the spark 
  That long in smouldering embers sullen lay, 
  Shoots forth a towering flame; so unconfined 
  Burst the wild storm of brothers' hate triumphant 
  O'er nature's holiest bands. Ye saw, my friends, 
  Your country's bleeding wounds, when princely strife 
  Woke discord's maddening fires, and ranged her sons 
  In mutual deadly conflict; all around 
  Was heard the clash of arms, the din of carnage, 
  And e'en these halls were stained with kindred gore. 
  Torn was the state with civil rage, this heart 
  With pangs that mothers feel; alas, unmindful 
  Of aught but public woes, and pitiless 
  You sought my widow's chamber - there with taunts 
  And fierce reproaches for your country's ills 
  From that polluted spring of brother's hate 
  Derived, invoked a parent's warning voice, 
  And threatening told of people's discontent 
  And princes' crimes! "Ill-fated land! now wasted 
  By thy unnatural sons, ere long the prey 
  Of foeman's sword! Oh, haste," you cried, "and end 
  This strife! bring peace again, or soon Messina 
  Shall bow to other lords." Your stern decree 
  Prevailed; this heart, with all a mother's anguish 
  O'erlabored, owned the weight of public cares. 
  I flew, and at my children's feet, distracted, 
  A suppliant lay; till to my prayers and tears 
  The voice of nature answered in their breasts! 
  Here in the palace of their sires, unarmed, 
  In peaceful guise Messina shall behold 
  The long inveterate foes; this is the day! 
  E'en now I wait the messenger that brings 
  The tidings of my sons' approach: be ready 
  To give your princes joyful welcome home 
  With reverence such as vassals may beseem. 
  Bethink ye to fulfil your subject duties, 
  And leave to better wisdom weightier cares. 
  Dire was their strife to them, and to the State 
  Fruitful of ills; yet, in this happy bond 
  Of peace united, know that they are mighty 
  To stand against a world in arms, nor less 
  Enforce their sovereign will against yourselves. 
     [The ELDERS retire in silence; she beckons to 
     an old attendant, who remains. 
              Diego! 
  DIEGO. 
                  Honored mistress! 
  ISABELLA. 
  Old faithful servant, then true heart, cone near me; 
  Sharer of all a mother's woes, be thine 
  The sweet communion of her joys: my treasure 
  Shrined in thy heart, my dear and holy secret 
  Shall pierce the envious veil, and shine triumphant 
  To cheerful day; too long by harsh decrees, 
  Silent and overpowered, affection yet 
  Shall utterance find in Nature's tones of rapture! 
  And this imprisoned heart leap to the embrace 
  Of all it holds most dear, returned to glad 
  My desolate halls; 
            So bend thy aged steps 
  To the old cloistered sanctuary that guards 
  The darling of my soul, whose innocence 
  To thy true love (sweet pledge of happier days)! 
  Trusting I gave, and asked from fortune's storm 
  A resting place and shrine. Oh, in this hour 
  Of bliss; the dear reward of all thy cares. 
  Give to my longing arms my child again! 
     [Trumpets are heard in the distance. 
  Haste! be thy footsteps winged with joy - I hear 
  The trumpet's blast, that tells in warlike accents 
  My sons are near: 
     [Exit DIEGO. Music is heard in an opposite direction, 
     and becomes gradually louder. 
            Messina is awake! 
  Hark! how the stream of tongues hoarse murmuring 
  Rolls on the breeze, - 'tis they! my mother's heart 
  Feels their approach, and beats with mighty throes 
  Responsive to the loud, resounding march! 
  They come! they come! my children! oh, my children! 
                    [Exit. 
       The CHORUS enters. 
     (It consists of two semi-choruses which enter at the same time 
     from opposite sides, and after marching round the stage range 
     themselves in rows, each on the side by which it entered. One 
     semi-chorus consists of young knights, the other of older ones, 
     each has its peculiar costume and ensigns. When the two choruses 
     stand opposite to each other, the march ceases, and the two leaders 
     speak.) [The first chorus consists of Cajetan, Berengar, Manfred, 
     Tristan, and eight followers of Don Manuel. The second of Bohemund, 
     Roger, Hippolyte, and nine others of the party of Don Caesar. 
       First Chorus (CAJETAN). 
     I greet ye, glittering halls 
      Of olden time 
     Cradle of kings! Hail! lordly roof, 
      In pillared majesty sublime! 
        Sheathed be the sword! 
      In chains before the portal lies 
     The fiend with tresses snake-entwined, 
      Fell Discord! Gently treat the inviolate floor! 
        Peace to this royal dome! 
      Thus by the Furies' brood we swore, 
     And all the dark, avenging Deities! 
       Second Chorus (BOHEMUND). 
     I rage! I burn! and scarce refrain 
      To lift the glittering steel on high, 
     For, lo! the Gorgon-visaged train 
      Of the detested foeman nigh: 
     Shall I my swelling heart control? 
      To parley deign - or still in mortal strife 
     The tumult of my soul? 
     Dire sister, guardian of the spot, to thee 
     Awe-struck I bend the knee, 
     Nor dare with arms profane thy deep tranquillity! 
       First Chorus (CAJETAN). 
      Welcome the peaceful strain! 
     Together we adore the guardian power 
     Of these august abodes! 
      Sacred the hour 
     To kindred brotherly ties 
     And reverend, holy sympathies; -  
     Our hearts the genial charm shall own, 
     And melt awhile at friendship's soothing tone: -  
      But when in yonder plain 
     We meet - then peace away! 
     Come gleaming arms, and battle's deadly fray! 
       The whole Chorus. 
     But when in yonder plain 
     We meet - then peace away! 
     Come gleaming arms, and battle's deadly fray! 
       First Chorus (BERENGAR). 
     I hate thee not - nor call thee foe, 
     My brother! this our native earth, 
     The land that gave our fathers birth: -  
     Of chief's behest the slave decreed, 
     The vassal draws the sword at need, 
     For chieftain's rage we strike the blow, 
     For stranger lords our kindred blood must flow. 
       Second Chorus (BOHEMUND). 
     Hate fires their souls - we ask not why; -  
     At honor's call to fight and die, 
     Boast of the true and brave! 
     Unworthy of a soldier's name 
     Who burns not for his chieftain's fame! 
       The whole Chorus. 
     Unworthy of a soldier's name 
     Who burns not for his chieftain's fame! 
       One of the Chorus (BERENGAR). 
     Thus spoke within my bosom's core 
      The thought - as hitherward I strayed; 
     And pensive 'mid the waving store, 
      I mused, of autumn's yellow glade: -  
     These gifts of nature's bounteous reign, -  
     The teeming earth, and golden grain, 
     Yon elms, among whose leaves entwine 
     The tendrils of the clustering vine; -  
     Gay children of our sunny clime, -  
     Region of spring's eternal prime! 
     Each charm should woo to love and joy, 
     No cares the dream of bliss annoy, 
     And pleasure through life's summer day 
     Speed every laughing hour away. 
     We rage in blood, - oh, dire disgrace! 
     For this usurping, alien race; 
     From some far distant land they came, 
     Beyond the sun's departing flame. 
     And owned upon our friendly shore 
     The welcome of our sires of yore. 
     Alas! their sons in thraldom pine, 
     The vassals of this stranger line. 
       A second (MANFRED). 
     Yes! pleased, on our land, from his azure way, 
     The sun ever smiles with unclouded ray. 
     But never, fair isle, shall thy sons repose 
     'Mid the sweets which the faithless waves enclose. 
     On their bosom they wafted the corsair bold, 
     With his dreaded barks to our coast of old. 
     For thee was thy dower of beauty vain, 
     'Twas the treasure that lured the spoiler's train. 
     Oh, ne'er from these smiling vales shall rise 
     A sword for our vanquished liberties; 
     'Tis not where the laughing Ceres reigns, 
     And the jocund lord of the flowery plains: -  
     Where the iron lies hid in the mountain cave, 
     Is the cradle of empire - the home of the brave! 
     [The folding-doors at the back of the stage are thrown open. 
     DONNA ISABELLA appears between her sons, DON MANUEL and DON CAESAR. 
       Both Choruses (CAJETAN). 
     Lift high the notes of praise! 
      Behold! where lies the awakening sun, 
     She comes, and from her queenly brow 
      Shoots glad, inspiring rays. 
       Mistress, we bend to thee! 
       First Chorus. 
     Fair is the moon amid the starry choir 
      That twinkle o'er the sky, 
      Shining in silvery, mild tranquillity; -  
     The mother with her sons more fair! 
      See! blooming at her side, 
     She leads the royal, youthful pair; 
      With gentle grace, and soft, maternal pride, 
      Attempering sweet their manly fire. 
       Second Chorus (BERENGAR). 
     From this fair stem a beauteous tree 
      With ever-springing boughs shall smile, 
      And with immortal verdure shade our isle; 
     Mother of heroes, joy to thee! 
     Triumphant as the sun thy kingly race 
      Shall spread from clime to clime, 
      And give a deathless name to rolling time! 
  ISABELLA (comes forward with her SONS). 
  Look down! benignant Queen of Heaven, and still, 
  This proud tumultuous heart, that in my breast 
  Swells with a mother's tide of ecstasy, 
  As blazoned in these noble youths, my image 
  More perfect shows; - Oh, blissful hour! the first 
  That comprehends the fulness of my joy, 
  When long-constrained affection dares to pour 
  In unison of transport from my heart, 
  Unchecked, a parent's undivided love: 
  Oh! it was ever one - my sons were twain. 
  Say - shall I revel in the dreams of bliss, 
  And give my soul to Nature's dear emotions? 
  Is this warm pressure of thy brother's hand 
  A dagger in thy breast? 
     [To DON MANUEL. 
               Or when my eyes 
  Feed on that brow with love's enraptured gaze, 
  Is it a wrong to thee? 
     [To DON CAESAR. 
              Trembling, I pause, 
  Lest e'en affection's breath should wake the fires 
  Of slumbering hate. 
     [After regarding both with inquiring looks 
             Speak! In your secret hearts 
  What purpose dwells? Is it the ancient feud 
  Unreconciled, that in your father's halls 
  A moment stilled; beyond the castle gates, 
  Where sits infuriate war, and champs the bit -  
  Shall rage anew in mortal, bloody conflict? 
       Chorus (BOHEMUND). 
     Concord or strife - the fate's decree 
     Is bosomed yet in dark futurity! 
     What comes, we little heed to know, 
     Prepared for aught the hour may show! 
  ISABELLA (looking round). 
  What mean these arms? this warlike, dread array, 
  That in the palace of your sires portends 
  Some fearful issue? needs a mother's heart 
  Outpoured, this rugged witness of her joys? 
  Say, in these folding arms shall treason hide 
  The deadly snare? Oh, these rude, pitiless men, 
  The ministers of your wrath! - trust not the show 
  Of seeming friendship; treachery in their breasts 
  Lurks to betray, and long-dissembled hate. 
  Ye are a race of other lands; your sires 
  Profaned their soil; and ne'er the invader's yoke 
  Was easy - never in the vassal's heart 
  Languished the hope of sweet revenge; - our sway 
  Not rooted in a people's love, but owns 
  Allegiance from their fears; with secret joy -  
  For conquest's ruthless sword, and thraldom's chains 
  From age to age, they wait the atoning hour 
  Of princes' downfall; - thus their bards awake 
  The patriot strain, and thus from sire to son 
  Rehearsed, the old traditionary tale 
  Beguiles the winter's night. False is the world, 
  My sons, and light are all the specious ties 
  By fancy twined: friendship - deceitful name! 
  Its gaudy flowers but deck our summer fortune, 
  To wither at the first rude breath of autumn! 
  So happy to whom heaven has given a brother; 
  The friend by nature signed - the true and steadfast! 
  Nature alone is honest - nature only -  
  When all we trusted strews the wintry shore -  
  On her eternal anchor lies at rest, 
  Nor heeds the tempest's rage. 
  DON MANUEL. 
                  My mother! 
  DON CAESAR. 
                        Hear me 
  ISABELLA (taking their hands). 
  Be noble, and forget the fancied wrongs 
  Of boyhood's age: more godlike is forgiveness 
  Than victory, and in your father's grave 
  Should sleep the ancient hate: - Oh, give your days 
  Renewed henceforth to peace and holy love! 
     [She recedes one or two steps, as if to give them space 
     to approach each other. Both fix their eyes on the ground 
     without regarding one another. 
  ISABELLA (after awaiting for some time, with suppressed emotion, 
       a demonstration on the part of her sons). 
  I can no more; my prayers - my tears are vain: -  
  'Tis well! obey the demon in your hearts! 
  Fulfil your dread intent, and stain with blood 
  The holy altars of your household gods; -  
  These halls that gave you birth, the stage where murder 
  Shall hold his festival of mutual carnage 
  Beneath a mother's eye! - then, foot to foot, 
  Close, like the Theban pair, with maddening gripe, 
  And fold each other in a last embrace! 
  Each press with vengeful thrust the dagger home, 
  And "Victory!" be your shriek of death: - nor then 
  Shall discord rest appeased; the very flame 
  That lights your funeral pyre shall tower dissevered 
  In ruddy columns to the skies, and tell 
  With horrid image - "thus they lived and died!" 
     [She goes away; the BROTHERS stand as before. 
       Chorus (CAJETAN). 
     How have her words with soft control 
     Resistless calmed the tempest of my soul! 
      No guilt of kindred blood be mine! 
     Thus with uplifted hands I prey; 
     Think, brothers, on the awful day, 
      And tremble at the wrath divine! 
  DON CAESAR (without taking his eyes from the ground). 
  Thou art my elder - speak - without dishonor 
  I yield to thee. 
  DON MANUEL. 
           One gracious word, an instant, 
  My tongue is rival in the strife of love! 
  DON CAESAR. 
  I am the guiltier - weaker -  -  
  DON MANUEL. 
                 Say not so! 
  Who doubts thy noble heart, knows thee not well; 
  The words were prouder, if thy soul were mean. 
  DON CAESAR. 
  It burns indignant at the thought of wrong -  
  But thou - methinks - in passion's fiercest mood, 
  'Twas aught but scorn that harbored in thy breast. 
  DON MANUEL. 
  Oh! had I known thy spirit thus to peace 
  Inclined, what thousand griefs had never torn 
  A mother's heart! 
  DON CAESAR. 
            I find thee just and true: 
  Men spoke thee proud of soul. 
  DON MANUEL. 
                  The curse of greatness! 
  Ears ever open to the babbler's tale. 
  DON CAESAR. 
  Thou art too proud to meanness - I to falsehood! 
  DON MANUEL. 
  We are deceived, betrayed! 
  DON CAESAR. 
                The sport of frenzy! 
  DON MANUEL. 
  And said my mother true, false is the world? 
  DON CAESAR. 
  Believe her, false as air. 
  DON MANUEL. 
                Give me thy hand! 
  DON CAESAR. 
  And thine be ever next my heart! 
     [They stand clasping each other's hands, 
     and regard each other in silence. 
  DON MANUEL. 
                   I gaze 
  Upon thy brow, and still behold my mother 
  In some dear lineament. 
  DON CAESAR. 
               Her image looks 
  From thine, and wondrous in my bosom wakes 
  Affection's springs. 
  DON MANUEL. 
             And is it thou? - that smile 
  Benignant on thy face? - thy lips that charm 
  With gracious sounds of love and dear forgiveness? 
  DON CAESAR. 
  Is this my brother, this the hated foe? 
  His mien all gentleness and truth, his voice, 
  Whose soft prevailing accents breathe of friendship! 
     [After a pause. 
  DON MANUEL. 
  Shall aught divide us? 
  DON CAESAR. 
              We are one forever! 
     [They rush into each other's arms. 
  First CHORUS (to the Second). 
     Why stand we thus, and coldly gaze, 
      While Nature's holy transports burn? 
     No dear embrace of happier days 
      The pledge - that discord never shall return! 
     Brothers are they by kindred band; 
     We own the ties of home and native land. 
     [Both CHORUSES embrace. 
     A MESSENGER enters. 
  Second CHORUS to DON CAESAR (BOHEMUND). 
  Rejoice, my prince, thy messenger returns 
  And mark that beaming smile! the harbinger 
  Of happy tidings. 
  MESSENGER. 
            Health to me, and health 
  To this delivered state! Oh sight of bliss, 
  That lights mine eyes with rapture! I behold 
  Their hands in sweet accord entwined; the sons 
  Of my departed lord, the princely pair 
  Dissevered late by conflict's hottest rage. 
  DON CAESAR. 
  Yes, from the flames of hate, a new-born Phoenix, 
  Our love aspires! 
  MESSENGER. 
            I bring another joy; 
  My staff is green with flourishing shoots. 
  DON CAESAR (taking him aside). 
                        Oh, tell me 
  Thy gladsome message. 
  MESSENGER. 
              All is happiness 
  On this auspicious day; long sought, the lost one 
  Is found. 
  DON CAESAR. 
        Discovered! Oh, where is she? Speak! 
  MESSENGER. 
  Within Messina's walls she lies concealed. 
  DON MANUEL (turning to the First SEMI-CHORUS). 
  A ruddy glow mounts in my brother's cheek, 
  And pleasure dances in his sparkling eye; 
  Whate'er the spring, with sympathy of love 
  My inmost heart partakes his joy. 
  DON CAESAR (to the MESSENGER). 
                    Come, lead me; 
  Farewell, Don Manuel; to meet again 
  Enfolded in a mother's arms! I fly 
  To cares of utmost need. 
     [He is about to depart. 
  DON MANUEL. 
               Make no delay; 
  And happiness attend thee! 
  DON CAESAR (after a pause of reflection, he returns). 
                How thy looks 
  Awake my soul to transport! Yes, my brother, 
  We shall be friends indeed! This hour is bright 
  With glad presage of ever-springing love, 
  That in the enlivening beam shall flourish fair, 
  Sweet recompense of wasted years! 
  DON MANUEL. 
                    The blossom 
  Betokens goodly fruit. 
  DON CAESAR. 
              I tear myself 
  Reluctant from thy arms, but think not less 
  If thus I break this festal hour - my heart 
  Thrills with a holy joy. 
  DON MANUEL (with manifest absence of mind). 
               Obey the moment! 
  Our lives belong to love. 
  DON CESAR. 
                What calls me hence -  -  
  DON MANUEL. 
  Enough! thou leav'st thy heart. 
  DON CAESAR. 
                   No envious secret 
  Shall part us long; soon the last darkening fold 
  Shall vanish from my breast. 
     [Turning to the CHORUS. 
                 Attend! Forever 
  Stilled is our strife; he is my deadliest foe, 
  Detested as the gates of hell, who dares 
  To blow the fires of discord; none may hope 
  To win my love, that with malicious tales 
  Encroach upon a brother's ear, and point 
  With busy zeal of false, officious friendship. 
  The dart of some rash, angry word, escaped 
  From passion's heat; it wounds not from the lips, 
  But, swallowed by suspicion's greedy ear, 
  Like a rank, poisonous weed, embittered creeps, 
  And hangs about her with a thousand shoots, 
  Perplexing nature's ties. 
     [He embraces his brother again, and goes away 
     accompanied by the Second CHORUS. 
  Chorus (CAJETAN). 
                Wondering, my prince, 
  I gaze, for in thy looks some mystery 
  Strange-seeming shows: scarce with abstracted mien 
  And cold thou answered'st, when with earnest heart 
  Thy brother poured the strain of dear affection. 
  As in a dream thou stand'st, and lost in thought, 
  As though - dissevered from its earthly frame -  
  Thy spirit roved afar. Not thine the breast 
  That deaf to nature's voice, ne'er owned the throbs 
  Of kindred love: - nay more - like one entranced 
  In bliss, thou look'st around, and smiles of rapture 
  Play on thy cheek. 
  DON MANUEL. 
            How shall my lips declare 
  The transports of my swelling heart? My brother 
  Revels in glad surprise, and from his breast 
  Instinct with strange new-felt emotions, pours 
  The tide of joy; but mine - no hate came with me, 
  Forgot the very spring of mutual strife! 
  High o'er this earthly sphere, on rapture's wings, 
  My spirit floats; and in the azure sea, 
  Above - beneath - no track of envious night 
  Disturbs the deep serene! I view these halls, 
  And picture to my thoughts the timid joy 
  Of my sweet bride, as through the palace gates, 
  In pride of queenly state, I lead her home. 
  She loved alone the loving one, the stranger, 
  And little deems that on her beauteous brow 
  Messina's prince shall 'twine the nuptial wreath. 
  How sweet, with unexpected pomp of greatness, 
  To glad the darling of my soul! too long 
  I brook this dull delay of crowning bliss! 
  Her beauty's self, that asks no borrowed charm, 
  Shall shine refulgent, like the diamond's blaze 
  That wins new lustre from the circling gold! 
  Chorus (CAJETAN). 
  Long have I marked thee, prince, with curious eye, 
  Foreboding of some mystery deep enshrined 
  Within thy laboring breast. This day, impatient, 
  Thy lips have burst the seal; and unconstrained 
  Confess a lover's joy; - the gladdening chase, 
  The Olympian coursers, and the falcon's flight 
  Can charm no more: - soon as the sun declines 
  Beneath the ruddy west, thou hiest thee quick 
  To some sequestered path, of mortal eye 
  Unseen - not one of all our faithful train 
  Companion of thy solitary way. 
  Say, why so long concealed the blissful flame? 
  Stranger to fear - ill-brooked thy princely heart 
  One thought unuttered. 
  DON MANUEL. 
              Ever on the wing 
  Is mortal joy; - with silence best we guard 
  The fickle good; - but now, so near the goal 
  Of all my cherished hopes, I dare to speak. 
  To-morrow's sun shall see her mine! no power 
  Of hell can make us twain! With timid stealth 
  No longer will I creep at dusky eve, 
  To taste the golden fruits of Cupid's tree, 
  And snatch a fearful, fleeting bliss: to-day 
  With bright to-morrow shall be one! So smooth 
  As runs the limpid brook, or silvery sand 
  That marks the flight of time, our lives shall flow 
  In continuity of joy! 
  Chorus (CAJETAN). 
              Already 
  Our hearts, my prince, with silent vows have blessed 
  Thy happy love; and now from every tongue, 
  For her - the royal, beauteous bride - should sound 
  The glad acclaim; so tell what nook unseen, 
  What deep umbrageous solitude, enshrines 
  The charmer of thy heart? With magic spells 
  Almost I deem she mocks our gaze, for oft 
  In eager chase we scour each rustic path 
  And forest dell; yet not a trace betrayed 
  The lover's haunts, ne'er were the footsteps marked 
  Of this mysterious fair. 
  DON MANUEL. 
               The spell is broke! 
  And all shall be revealed: now list my tale: -  
  'Tis five months flown, - my father yet controlled 
  The land, and bowed our necks with iron sway; 
  Little I knew but the wild joys of arms, 
  And mimic warfare of the chase; -  
                    One day, -  
  Long had we tracked the boar with zealous toil 
  On yonder woody ridge: - it chanced, pursuing 
  A snow-white hind, far from your train I roved 
  Amid the forest maze; - the timid beast, 
  Along the windings of the narrow vale, 
  Through rocky cleft and thick-entangled brake, 
  Flew onward, scarce a moment lost, nor distant 
  Beyond a javelin's throw; nearer I came not, 
  Nor took an aim; when through a garden's gate, 
  Sudden she vanished: - from my horse quick springing, 
  I followed: - lo! the poor scared creature lay 
  Stretched at the feet of a young, beauteous nun, 
  That strove with fond caress of her fair hands 
  To still its throbbing heart: wondering, I gazed; 
  And motionless - my spear, in act to strike, 
  High poised - while she, with her large piteous eyes 
  For mercy sued - and thus we stood in silence 
  Regarding one another. 
              How long the pause 
  I know not - time itself forgot; - it seemed 
  Eternity of bliss: her glance of sweetness 
  Flew to my soul; and quick the subtle flame 
  Pervaded all my heart: -  
               But what I spoke, 
  And how this blessed creature answered, none 
  May ask; it floats upon my thought, a dream 
  Of childhood's happy dawn! Soon as my sense 
  Returned, I felt her bosom throb responsive 
  To mine, - then fell melodious on my ear 
  The sound, as of a convent bell, that called 
  To vesper song; and, like some shadowy vision 
  That melts in air, she flitted from my sight, 
  And was beheld no more. 
  Chorus (CAJETAN). 
               Thy story thrills 
  My breast with pious awe! Prince, thou hast robbed 
  The sanctuary, and for the bride of heaven 
  Burned with unholy passion! Oh, remember 
  The cloister's sacred vows! 
  DON MANUEL. 
                 Thenceforth one path 
  My footsteps wooed; the fickle train was still 
  Of young desires - new felt my being's aim, 
  My soul revealed! and as the pilgrim turns 
  His wistful gaze, where, from the orient sky, 
  With gracious lustre beams Redemption's star; -  
  So to that brightest point of heaven, her presence, 
  My hopes and longings centred all. No sun 
  Sank in the western waves, but smiled farewell 
  To two united lovers: - thus in stillness 
  Our hearts were twined, - the all-seeing air above us 
  Alone the faithful witness of our joys! 
  Oh, golden hours! Oh, happy days! nor Heaven 
  Indignant viewed our bliss; - no vows enchained 
  Her spotless soul; naught but the link which bound it 
  Eternally to mine! 
  Chorus (CAJETAN). 
            Those hallowed walls, 
  Perchance the calm retreat of tender youth, 
  No living grave? 
  DON MANUEL. 
           In infant innocence 
  Consigned a holy pledge, ne'er has she left 
  Her cloistered home. 
  Chorus (CAJETAN). 
             But what her royal line? 
  The noble only spring from noble stem. 
  DON MANUEL. 
  A secret to herself, - she ne'er has learned 
  Her name or fatherland. 
  Chorus (CAJETAN). 
               And not a trace 
  Guides to her being's undiscovered springs? 
  DON MANUEL. 
  An old domestic, the sole messenger 
  Sent by her unknown mother, oft bespeaks her 
  Of kingly race. 
  Chorus (CAJETAN). 
           And hast thou won naught else 
  From her garrulous age? 
  DON MANUEL. 
               Too much I feared to peril 
  My secret bliss! 
  Chorus (CAJETAN). 
           What were his words? What tidings 
  He bore - perchance thou know'st. 
  DON MANUEL. 
                   Oft he has cheered her 
  With promise of a happier time, when all 
  Shall be revealed. 
  Chorus (CAJETAN). 
            Oh, say - betokens aught 
  The time is near? 
  DON MANUEL. 
            Not distant far the day 
  That to the arms of kindred love once more 
  Shall give the long forsaken, orphaned maid -  
  Thus with mysterious words the aged man 
  Has shadowed oft what most I dread - for awe 
  Of change disturbs the soul supremely blest: 
  Nay, more; but yesterday his message spoke 
  The end of all my joys - this very dawn, 
  He told, should smile auspicious on her fate, 
  And light to other scenes - no precious hour 
  Delayed my quick resolves - by night I bore her 
  In secret to Messina. 
  Chorus (CAJETAN). 
              Rash the deed 
  Of sacrilegious spoil! forgive, my prince, 
  The bold rebuke; thus to unthinking youth 
  Old age may speak in friendship's warning voice. 
  DON MANUEL. 
  Hard by the convent of the Carmelites, 
  In a sequestered garden's tranquil bound, 
  And safe from curious eyes, I left her, - hastening 
  To meet my brother: trembling there she counts 
  The slow-paced hours, nor deems how soon triumphant 
  In queenly state, high on the throne of fame, 
  Messina shall behold my timid bride. 
  For next, encompassed by your knightly train, 
  With pomp of greatness in the festal show, 
  Her lover's form shall meet her wondering gaze! 
  Thus will I lead her to my mother; thus -  
  While countless thousands on her passage wait 
  Amid the loud acclaim - the royal bride 
  Shall reach my palace gates! 
  Chorus (CAJETAN). 
                 Command us, prince, 
  We live but to obey! 
  DON MANUEL. 
             I tore myself 
  Reluctant from her arms; my every thought 
  Shall still be hers: so come along, my friends, 
  To where the turbaned merchant spreads his store 
  Of fabrics golden wrought with curious art; 
  And all the gathered wealth of eastern climes. 
  First choose the well-formed sandals - meet to guard 
  And grace her delicate feet; then for her robe 
  The tissue, pure as Etna's snow that lies 
  Nearest the sun-light as the wreathy mist 
  At summer dawn - so playful let it float 
  About her airy limbs. A girdle next, 
  Purple with gold embroidered o'er, to bind 
  With witching grace the tunic that confines 
  Her bosom's swelling charms: of silk the mantle, 
  Gorgeous with like empurpled hues, and fixed 
  With clasp of gold - remember, too, the bracelets 
  To gird her beauteous arms; nor leave the treasure 
  Of ocean's pearly deeps and coral caves. 
  About her locks entwine a diadem 
  Of purest gems - the ruby's fiery glow 
  Commingling with the emerald's green. A veil, 
  From her tiara pendent to her feet, 
  Like a bright fleecy cloud shall circle round 
  Her slender form; and let a myrtle wreath 
  Crown the enchanting whole! 
  Chorus (CAJETAN). 
                 We haste, my prince. 
  Amid the Bazar's glittering rows, to cull 
  Each rich adornment. 
  DON MANUEL. 
             From my stables lead 
  A palfrey, milk-white as the steeds that draw 
  The chariot of the sun; purple the housings, 
  The bridle sparkling o'er with precious gems, 
  For it shall bear my queen! Yourselves be ready 
  With trumpet's cheerful clang, in martial train 
  To lead your mistress home: let two attend me, 
  The rest await my quick return; and each 
  Guard well my secret purpose. 
     [He goes away accompanied by two of the CHORUS. 
       Chorus (CAJETAN). 
     The princely strife is o'er, and say, 
      What sport shall wing the slow-paced hours, 
     And cheat the tedious day? 
      With hope and fear's enlivening zest 
      Disturb the slumber of the breast, 
      And wake life's dull, untroubled sea 
      With freshening airs of gay variety. 
       One of the Chorus (MANFRED). 
     Lovely is peace! A beauteous boy, 
      Couched listless by the rivulet's glassy tide, 
      'Mid nature's tranquil scene, 
     He views the lambs that skip with innocent joy, 
      And crop the meadow's flowering pride: -  
     Then with his flute's enchanting sound, 
     He wakes the mountain echoes round, 
      Or slumbers in the sunset's ruddy sheen, 
      Lulled by the murmuring melody. 
     But war for me! my spirit's treasure, 
     Its stern delight, and wilder pleasure: 
     I love the peril and the pain, 
     And revel in the surge of fortune's boisterous main! 
       A second (BERENGAR). 
     Is there not love, and beauty's smile 
     That lures with soft, resistless wile? 
     'Tis thrilling hope! 'tis rapturous fear 
     'Tis heaven upon this mortal sphere; 
     When at her feet we bend the knee, 
     And own the glance of kindred ecstasy 
     For ever on life's checkered way, 
      'Tis love that tints the darkening hues of care 
     With soft benignant ray: 
     The mirthful daughter of the wave, 
      Celestial Venus ever fair, 
     Enchants our happy spring with fancy's gleam, 
     And wakes the airy forms of passion's golden dream. 
       First (MANFRED). 
      To the wild woods away! 
      Quick let us follow in the train 
     Of her, chaste huntress of the silver bow; 
      And from the rocks amain 
     Track through the forest gloom the bounding roe, 
      The war-god's merry bride, 
     The chase recalls the battle's fray, 
      And kindles victory's pride: -  
     Up with the streaks of early morn, 
      We scour with jocund hearts the misty vale, 
     Loud echoing to the cheerful horn 
      Over mountain - over dale -  
     And every languid sense repair, 
     Bathed in the rushing streams of cold, reviving air. 
       Second (BERENGAR). 
     Or shall we trust the ever-moving sea, 
     The azure goddess, blithe and free. 
     Whose face, the mirror of the cloudless sky, 
     Lures to her bosom wooingly? 
      Quick let us build on the dancing waves 
     A floating castle gay, 
     And merrily, merrily, swim away! 
     Who ploughs with venturous keel the brine 
     Of the ocean crystalline -  
     His bride is fortune, the world his own, 
     For him a harvest blooms unsown: -  
      Here, like the wind that swift careers 
     The circling bound of earth and sky, 
     Flits ever-changeful destiny! 
     Of airy chance 'tis the sportive reign, 
     And hope ever broods on the boundless main 
       A third (CAJETAN). 
     Nor on the watery waste alone 
      Of the tumultuous, heaving sea; -  
     On the firm earth that sleeps secure, 
      Based on the pillars of eternity. 
     Say, when shall mortal joy endure? 
     New bodings in my anxious breast, 
       Waked by this sudden friendship, rise; 
     Ne'er would I choose my home of rest 
      On the stilled lava-stream, that cold 
       Beneath the mountain lies 
      Not thus was discord's flame controlled -  
     Too deep the rooted hate - too long 
      They brooded in their sullen hearts 
     O'er unforgotten, treasured wrong. In warning visions oft dismayed, 
      I read the signs of coming woe; 
     And now from this mysterious maid 
      My bosom tells the dreaded ills shall flow: 
     Unblest, I deem, the bridal chain 
      Shall knit their secret loves, accursed 
     With holy cloisters' spoil profane. 
     No crooked paths to virtue lead; 
     Ill fruit has ever sprung from evil seed! 
  BERENGAR. 
  And thus to sad unhallowed rites 
  Of an ill-omened nuptial tie, 
  Too well ye know their father bore 
  A bride of mournful destiny, 
  Torn from his sire, whose awful curse has sped 
  Heaven's vengeance on the impious bed! 
  This fierce, unnatural rage atones 
  A parent's crime - decreed by fate, 
  Their mother's offspring, strife and hate! 
     [The scene changes to a garden opening on the sea. 
  BEATRICE (steps forward from an alcove. She walks to and fro with an 
       agitated air, looking round in every direction. Suddenly she 
       stands still and listens). 
  No! 'tis not he: 'twas but the playful wind 
  Rustling the pine-tops. To his ocean bed 
  The sun declines, and with o'erwearied heart 
  I count the lagging hours: an icy chill 
  Creeps through my frame; the very solitude 
  And awful silence fright my trembling soul! 
  Where'er I turn naught meets my gaze - he leaves me 
  Forsaken and alone! 
  And like a rushing stream the city's hum 
  Floats on the breeze, and dull the mighty sea 
  Rolls murmuring to the rocks: I shrink to nothing 
  With horrors compassed round; and like the leaf, 
  Borne on the autumn blast, am hurried onward 
  Through boundless space. 
               Alas! that e'er I left 
  My peaceful cell - no cares, no fond desires 
  Disturbed my breast, unruffled as the stream 
  That glides in sunshine through the verdant mead: 
  Nor poor in joys. Now - on the mighty surge 
  Of fortune, tempest-tossed - the world enfolds me 
  With giant arms! Forgot my childhood's ties 
  I listened to the lover's flattering tale -  
  Listened, and trusted! From the sacred dome 
  Allured - betrayed - for sure some hell-born magic 
  Enchained my frenzied sense - I fled with him, 
  The invader of religion's dread abodes! 
  Where art thou, my beloved? Haste - return -  
  With thy dear presence calm my struggling soul! 
     [She listens. 
  Hark! the sweet voice! No! 'twas the echoing surge 
  That beats upon the shore; alas! he comes not. 
  More faintly, o'er the distant waves, the sun 
  Gleams with expiring ray; a deathlike shudder 
  Creeps to my heart, and sadder, drearier grows 
  E'en desolation's self. 
     [She walks to and fro, and then listens again. 
               Yes! from the thicket shade 
  A voice resounds! 'tis he! the loved one! 
  No fond illusion mocks my listening ear. 
  'Tis louder - nearer: to his arms I fly -  
  To his breast! 
     [She rushes with outstretched arms to the extremity 
     of the garden. DON CAESAR meets her. 
     DON CASAR. BEATRICE. 
  BEATRICE (starting back in horror) 
  What do I see? 
     [At the same moment the Chorus comes forward. 
  DON CAESAR. 
          Angelic sweetness! fear not. 
     [To the Chorus. 
  Retire! your gleaming arms and rude array 
  Affright the timorous maid. 
     [To BEATRICE. 
                 Fear nothing! beauty 
  And virgin shame are sacred in my eyes. 
     [The Chorus steps aside. He approaches and takes her hand. 
  Where hast thou been? for sure some envious power 
  Has hid thee from my gaze: long have I sought thee: 
  E'en from the hour when 'mid the funeral rites 
  Of the dead prince, like some angelic vision, 
  Lit with celestial brightness, on my sight 
  Thou shonest, no other image in my breast 
  Waking or dreaming, lives; nor to thyself 
  Unknown thy potent spells; my glance of fire, 
  My faltering accents, and my hand that lay 
  Trembling in thine, bespoke my ecstasy! 
  Aught else with solemn majesty the rite 
  And holy place forbade: 
               The bell proclaimed 
  The awful sacrifice! With downcast eyes, 
  And kneeling I adored: soon as I rose, 
  And caught with eager gaze thy form again, 
  Sudden it vanished; yet, with mighty magic 
  Of love enchained, my spirit tracked thy presence; 
  Nor ever, with unwearied quest, I cease 
  At palace gates, amid the temple's throng, 
  In secret paths retired, or public scenes, 
  Where beauteous innocence perchance might rove, 
  To mark each passing form - in vain; but, guided 
  By some propitious deity this day 
  One of my train, with happy vigilance, 
  Espied thee in the neighboring church. 
     [BEATRICE, who had stood trembling with averted eyes, 
     here makes a gesture of terror. 
                  I see thee 
  Once more; and may the spirit from this frame 
  Be severed ere we part! Now let me snatch 
  This glad, auspicious moment, and defy 
  Or chance, or envious demon's power, to shake 
  Henceforth my solid bliss; here I proclaim thee, 
  Before this listening warlike train my bride, 
  With pledge of knightly honors! 
     [He shows her to the Chorus. 
                   Who thou art, 
  I ask not: thou art mine! But that thy soul 
  And birth are pure alike one glance informed 
  My inmost heart; and though thy lot were mean, 
  And poor thy lowly state, yet would I strain thee 
  With rapture to my arms: no choice remains, 
  Thou art my love - my wife! Know too, that lifted 
  On fortune's height, I spurn control; my will 
  Can raise thee to the pinnacle of greatness -  
  Enough my name - I am Don Caesar! None 
  Is nobler in Messina! 
     [BEATRICE starts back in amazement. He remarks her agitation, 
     and after a pause continues. 
              What a grace 
  Lives in thy soft surprise and modest silence! 
  Yes! gentle humbleness is beauty's crown -  
  The beautiful forever hid, and shrinking 
  From its own lustre: but thy spirit needs 
  Repose, for aught of strange - e'en sudden joy -  
  Is terror-fraught. I leave thee. 
     [Turning to the Chorus. 
                    From this hour 
  She is your mistress, and my bride; so teach her 
  With honors due to entertain the pomp 
  Of queenly state. I will return with speed, 
  And lead her home as fits Messina's princess. 
     [He goes away. 
     BEATRICE and the Chorus. 
       Chorus (BOHEMUND). 
     Fair maiden - hail to thee 
      Thou lovely queen! 
     Thine is the crown, and thine the victory! 
     Of heroes to a distant age, 
     The blooming mother thou shalt shine, 
     Preserver of this kingly line. 
       (ROGER). 
      And thrice I bid thee hail, 
       Thou happy fair! 
     Sent in auspicious hour to bless 
     This favored race - the god's peculiar care. 
     Here twine the immortal wreaths of fame 
     And evermore, from sire to son, 
     Rolls on the sceptered sway, 
     To heirs of old renown, a race of deathless name! 
       (BOHEMUND). 
     The household gods exultingly 
      Thy coming wait; 
     The ancient, honored sires, 
      That on the portals frown sedate, 
     Shall smile for thee! 
     There blooming Hebe shall thy steps attend; 
     And golden victory, that sits 
     By Jove's eternal throne, with waving plumes 
     For conquest ever spread, 
     To welcome thee from heaven descend. 
       (ROGER.) 
     Ne'er from this queenly, bright array 
      The crown of beauty fades, 
     Departing to the realms of day, 
     Each to the next, as good and fair, 
      Extends the zone of feminine grace, 
       And veil of purity: -  
      Oh, happy race! 
       What vision glads my raptured eye! 
     Equal in nature's blooming pride, 
     I see the mother and the virgin bride. 
  BEATRICE (awaking from her reverie). 
       Oh, luckless hour! 
      Alas! ill-fated maid! 
       Where shall I fly 
       From these rude warlike men? 
      Lost and betrayed! 
       A shudder o'er me came, 
     When of this race accursed - the brothers twain -  
     Their hands embrued with kindred gore, 
       I heard the dreaded name; 
      Oft told, their strife and serpent hate 
     With terror thrilled lay bosom's core: -  
      And now - oh, hapless fate! 
     I tremble, 'mid the rage of discord thrown, 
     Deserted and alone! 
     [She runs into the alcove. 
       Chorus (BOHEMUND). 
     Son of the immortal deities, 
      And blest is he, the lord of power; 
     His every joy the world can give; 
     Of all that mortals prize 
      He culls the flower. 
       (ROGER). 
     For him from ocean's azure caves 
     The diver bears each pearl of purest ray; 
     Whate'er from nature's boundless field 
     Or toil or art has won, 
     Obsequious at his feet we lay; 
     His choice is ever free; 
     We bow to chance, and fortune's blind decree. 
       (BOHEMUND.) 
     But this of princes' lot I deem 
     The crowning treasure, joy supreme -  
     Of love the triumph and the prize, 
     The beauty, star of neighboring eyes! 
     She blooms for him alone, 
     He calls the fairest maid his own. 
       (ROGER). 
     Armed for the deadly fray, 
      The corsair bounds upon the strand, 
     And drags, amid the gloom of night, away, 
      The shrieking captive train, 
     Of wild desires the hapless prey; 
      But ne'er his lawless hands profane 
     The gem - the peerless flower -  
     Whose charms shall deck the Sultan's bower. 
       (BOHEMUND.) 
     Now haste and watch, with curious eye, 
      These hallowed precincts round, 
     That no presumptuous foot come nigh 
      The secret, solitary ground 
     Guard well the maiden fair, 
     Your chieftain's brightest jewel owns your care. 
     [The Chorus withdraws to the background. 
     [The scene changes to a chamber in the interior of the palace. 
     DONNA ISABELLA between DON MANUEL and DON CAESAR. 
  ISABELLA. 
  The long-expected, festal day is come, 
  My children's hearts are twined in one, as thus 
  I fold their hands. Oh, blissful hour, when first 
  A mother dares to speak in nature's voice, 
  And no rude presence checks the tide of love. 
  The clang of arms affrights mine ear no more; 
  And as the owls, ill-omened brood of night, 
  From some old, shattered homestead's ruined walls, 
  Their ancient reign, fly forth a dusky swarm, 
  Darkening the cheerful day; when absent long, 
  The dwellers home return with joyous shouts, 
  To build the pile anew; so Hate departs 
  With all his grisly train; pale Envy, scowling Malice, 
  And hollow-eyed Suspicion; from our gates, 
  Hoarse murmuring, to the realms of night; while Peace, 
  By Concord and fair Friendship led along, 
  Comes smiling in his place. 
     [She pauses. 
                 But not alone 
  This day of joy to each restores a brother; 
  It brings a sister! Wonderstruck you gaze! 
  Yet now the truth, in silence guarded long, 
  Bursts from my soul. Attend! I have a daughter! 
  A sister lives, ordained by heaven to bind ye 
  With ties unknown before. 
  DON CAESAR. 
                We have a sister! 
  What hast thou said, my mother? never told 
  Her being till this hour! 
  DON MANUEL. 
                In childhood's years, 
  Oft of a sister we have heard, untimely 
  Snatched in her cradle by remorseless death; 
  So ran the tale. 
  ISABELLA. 
           She lives! 
  DON CAESAR. 
                 And thou wert silent! 
  ISABELLA. 
  Hear how the seed was sown in early time, 
  That now shall ripen to a joyful harvest. 
  Ye bloomed in boyhood's tender age; e'en then 
  By mutual, deadly hate, the bitter spring 
  Of grief to this torn, anxious heart, dissevered; 
  Oh, may your strife return no more! A vision, 
  Strange and mysterious, in your father's breast 
  Woke dire presage: it seemed that from his couch, 
  With branches intertwined, two laurels grew, 
  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 
  An Arab, skilled to read the stars, and long 
  The trusted oracle, whose counsels swayed 
  His inmost purpose: thus the boding sage 
  Spoke Fate's decrees: if I a daughter bore, 
  Destruction to his sons and all his race 
  From her should spring. Soon, by heaven's will, this child 
  Of dreadful omen saw the light; your sire 
  Commanded instant in the waves to throw 
  The new-born innocent; a mother's love 
  Prevailed, and, aided by a faithful servant, 
  I snatched the babe from death. 
  DON CAESAR. 
                   Blest be the hands 
  The ministers of thy care! Oh, ever rich 
  Of counsels was a parent's love! 
  ISABELLA. 
                   But more 
  Than Nature's mighty voice, a warning dream 
  Impelled to save my child: while yet unborn 
  She slumbered in my womb, sleeping I saw 
  An infant, fair as of celestial kind, 
  That played upon the grass; soon from the wood 
  A lion rushed, and from his gory jaws, 
  Caressing, in the infant's lap let fall 
  His prey, new-caught; then through the air down swept 
  An eagle, and with fond caress alike 
  Dropped from his claws a trembling kid, and both 
  Cowered at the infant's feet, a gentle pair. 
  A monk, the saintly guide whose counsels poured 
  In every earthly need, the balm of heaven 
  Upon my troubled soul, my dream resolved. 
  Thus spoke the man of God: a daughter, sent 
  To knit the warring spirits of my sons 
  In bonds of tender love, should recompense 
  A mother's pains! Deep in my heart I treasured 
  His words, and, reckless of the Pagan seer, 
  Preserved the blessed child, ordained of heaven 
  To still your growing strife; sweet pledge of hope 
  And messenger of peace! 
  DON MANUEL (embracing his brother). 
               There needs no sister 
  To join our hearts; she shall but bind them closer. 
  ISABELLA. 
  In a lone spot obscure, by stranger hands 
  Nurtured, the secret flower has grown; to me 
  Denied the joy to mark each infant charm 
  And opening grace from that sad hour of parting; 
  These arms ne'er clasped my child again! her sire, 
  To jealousy's corroding fears a prey, 
  And brooding dark suspicion, restless tracked 
  Each day my steps. 
  DON CAESAR. 
            Yet three months flown, my father 
  Sleeps in the tranquil grave; say, whence delayed 
  The joyous tidings? Why so long concealed 
  The maid, nor earlier taught our hearts to glow 
  With brother's love? 
  ISABELLA. 
             The cause, your frenzied hate, 
  That raging unconfined, e'en on the tomb 
  Of your scarce buried father, lit the flames 
  Of mortal strife. What! could I throw my daughter 
  Betwixt your gleaming blades? Or 'mid the storm 
  Of passion would ye list a woman's counsels? 
  Could she, sweet pledge of peace, of all our hopes 
  The last and holy anchor, 'mid the rage 
  Of discord find a home? Ye stand as brothers, 
  So will I give a sister to your arms! 
  The reconciling angel comes; each hour 
  I wait my messenger's return; he leads her 
  From her sequestered cell, to glad once more 
  A mother's eyes. 
  DON MANUEL. 
           Nor her alone this day 
  Thy arms shall fold; joy pours through all our gates; 
  Soon shall the desolate halls be full, the seat 
  Of every blooming grace. Now hear my secret: 
  A sister thou hast given; to thee I bring 
  A daughter; bless thy son! My heart has found 
  Its lasting shrine: ere this day's sun has set 
  Don Manuel to thy feet shall lead his bride, 
  The partner of his days. 
  ISABELLA. 
               And to my breast 
  With transport will I clasp the chosen maid 
  That makes my first-born happy. Joy shall spring 
  Where'er she treads, and every flower that blooms 
  Around the path of life smile in her presence! 
  May bliss reward the son, that for my brows 
  Has twined the choicest wreath a mother wears. 
  DON CAESAR. 
  Yet give not all the fulness of thy blessing 
  To him, thy eldest born. If love be blest, 
  I, too, can give thee joy. I bring a daughter, 
  Another flower for thy most treasured garland! 
  The maid that in this ice-cold bosom first 
  Awoke the rapturous flame! Ere yonder sun 
  Declines, Don Caesar's bride shall call thee mother. 
  DON MANUEL. 
  Almighty Love! thou godlike power - for well 
  We call thee sovereign of the breast! Thy sway 
  Controls each warring element, and tunes 
  To soft accord; naught lives but owns thy greatness. 
  Lo! the rude soul that long defied thee melts 
  At thy command! 
     [He embraces DON CAESAR. 
           Now I can trust thy heart, 
  And joyful strain thee to a brother's arms! 
  I doubt thy faith no more, for thou canst love! 
  ISABELLA. 
  Thrice blest the day, when every gloomy care 
  From my o'erlabored breast has flown. I see 
  On steadfast columns reared our kingly race, 
  And with contented spirit track the stream 
  Of measureless time. In these deserted halls, 
  Sad in my widow's veil, but yesterday 
  Childless I roamed; and soon, in youthful charms 
  Arrayed, three blooming daughters at my side 
  Shall stand! Oh, happiest mother! Chief of women, 
  In bliss supreme; can aught of earthly joy 
  O'erbalance thine? 
            But say, of royal stem, 
  What maidens grace our isle? For ne'er my sons 
  Would stoop to meaner brides. 
  DON MANUEL. 
                  Seek not to raise 
  The veil that hides my bliss; another day 
  Shall tell thee all. Enough - Don Manuel's bride 
  Is worthy of thy son and thee. 
  ISABELLA. 
                  Thy sire 
  Speaks in thy words; thus to himself retired 
  Forever would he brood o'er counsels dark, 
  And cloak his secret purpose; - your delay 
  Be short, my son. 
     [Turning to DON CAESAR. 
            But thou - some royal maid, 
  Daughter of kings, hath stirred thy soul to love; 
  So speak - her name -  -  
  DON CAESAR. 
             I have no art to veil 
  My thoughts with mystery's garb - my spirit free 
  And open as my brows; which thou wouldst know 
  Concerned me never. What illumes above 
  Heaven's flaming orb? Himself! On all the world 
  He shines, and with his beaming glory tells 
  From light he sprung: - in her pure eyes I gazed, 
  I looked into her heart of hearts: - the brightness 
  Revealed the pearl. Her race - her name - my mother, 
  Ask not of me! 
  ISABELLA. 
          My son, explain thy words, 
  For, like some voice divine, the sudden charm 
  Has thralled thy soul: to deeds of rash emprise 
  Thy nature prompted, not to fantasies 
  Of boyish love: - tell me, what swayed thy choice? 
  DON CAESAR. 
  My choice? my mother! Is it choice when man 
  Obeys the might of destiny, that brings 
  The awful hour? I sought no beauteous bride, 
  No fond delusion stirred my tranquil breast, 
  Still as the house of death; for there, unsought, 
  I found the treasure of my soul. Thou know'st 
  That, heedless ever of the giddy race, 
  I looked on beauty's charms with cold disdain, 
  Nor deemed of womankind there lived another 
  Like thee - whom my idolatrous fancy decked 
  With heavenly graces: -  
               'Twas the solemn rite 
  Of my dead father's obsequies; we stood 
  Amid the countless throng, with strange attire 
  Hid from each other's glance; for thus ordained 
  Thy thoughtful care lest with outbursting rage, 
  E' en by the holy place unawed, our strife 
  Should mar the funeral pomp. 
                 With sable gauze 
  The nave was all o'erhung; the altar round 
  Stood twenty giant saints, uplifting each 
  A torch; and in the midst reposed on high 
  The coffin, with o'erspreading pall, that showed, 
  In white, redemption's sign; - thereon were laid 
  The staff of sovereignty, the princely crown, 
  The golden spurs of knighthood, and the sword, 
  With diamond-studded belt: -  
                 And all was hushed 
  In silent prayer, when from the lofty choir, 
  Unseen, the pealing organ spoke, and loud 
  From hundred voices burst the choral strain! 
  Then, 'mid the tide of song, the coffin sank 
  With the descending floor beneath, forever 
  Down to the world below: - but, wide outspread 
  Above the yawning grave, the pall upheld 
  The gauds of earthly state, nor with the corpse 
  To darkness fell; yet on the seraph wings 
  Of harmony, the enfranchised spirit soared 
  To heaven and mercy's throne: 
                  Thus to thy thought, 
  My mother, I have waked the scene anew, 
  And say, if aught of passion in my breast 
  Profaned the solemn hour; yet then the beams 
  Of mighty love - so willed my guiding star -  
  First lit my soul; but how it chanced, myself 
  I ask in vain. 
  ISABELLA. 
          I would hear all; so end 
  Thy tale. 
  DON CAESAR. 
        What brought her to my side, or whence 
  She came, I know not: - from her presence quick 
  Some secret all-pervading inward charm 
  Awoke; 'twas not the magic of a smile, 
  Nor playful Cupid in her cheeks, nor more, 
  The form of peerless grace; - 'twas beauty's soul, 
  The speaking virtue, modesty inborn, 
  That as with magic spells, impalpable 
  To sense, my being thralled. We breathed together 
  The air of heaven: - enough! - no utterance asked 
  Of words, our spiritual converse; - in my heart, 
  Though strange, yet with familiar ties inwrought 
  She seemed, and instant spake the thought - 'tis she! 
  Or none that lives! 
  DON MANUEL (interposing with eagerness). 
             That is the sacred fire 
  From heaven! the spark of love - that on the soul 
  Bursts like the lightning's flash, and mounts in flame, 
  When kindred bosoms meet! No choice remains -  
  Who shall resist? What mortal break the band 
  That heaven has knit? Brother, my blissful fortune 
  Was echoed in thy tale - well thou hast raised 
  The veil that shadows yet my secret love. 
  ISABELLA. 
  Thus destiny has marked the wayward course 
  Of my two sons: the mighty torrent sweeps 
  Down from the precipice; with rage he wears 
  His proper bed, nor heeds the channel traced 
  By art and prudent care. So to the powers 
  That darkly sway the fortunes of our house, 
  Trembling I yield. One pledge of hope remains; 
  Great as their birth - their noble souls. 
     ISABELLA, DON MANUEL, DON CAESAR. 
     DIEGO is seen at the door. 
  ISABELLA. 
                       But see, 
  My faithful messenger returns. Come near me, 
  Honest Diego. Quick! Where is she? Tell me, 
  Where is my child? There is no secret here. 
  Oh, speak! No longer from my eyes conceal her; 
  Come! we are ready for the height of joy. 
     [She is about to lead him towards the door. 
  What means this pause? Thou lingerest - thou art dumb -  
  Thy looks are terror-fraught - a shudder creeps 
  Through all my frame - declare thy tidings! - speak! 
  Where is she? Where is Beatrice? 
     [She is about to rush from the chamber. 
  DON MANUEL (to himself abstractedly). 
                    Beatrice! 
  DIEGO (holding back the PRINCESS). 
                         Be still! 
  ISABELLA. 
  Where is she? Anguish tears my breast! 
  DIEGO. 
                       She comes not. 
  I bring no daughter to thy arms. 
  ISABELLA. 
                   Declare 
  Thy message! Speak! by all the saints! 
  What has befallen? 
  DON MANUEL. 
            Where is my sister? Tell us, 
  Thou harbinger of ill! 
  DIEGO. 
              The maid is stolen 
  By corsairs! lost! Oh! that I ne'er had seen 
  This day of woe! 
  DON MANUEL. 
           Compose thyself, my mother! 
  DON CAESAR. 
  Be calm; list all this tale. 
  DIEGO. 
                 At thy command 
  I sought in haste the well-known path that leads 
  To the old sanctuary: - joy winged my footsteps; 
  The journey was my last! 
  DON CAESAR. 
               Be brief! 
  DON MANUEL. 
                     Proceed! 
  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? 
  DON CAESAR. 
                When all the world 
  With heartless taunts pursues thee, to our grave 
  For refuge fly, my mother, and invoke 
  Thy sons' divinity - we shall be gods! 
  And we will hear thy prayers: - and as the twins 
  Of heaven, a beaming star of comfort shine 
  To the tossed shipman - we will hover near thee 
  With present help, and soothe thy troubled soul! 
  ISABELLA. 
  Live - for thy mother, live, my son -  
  Must I lose all? 
     [She throws her arms about him with passionate emotion. 
     He gently disengages himself, and turning his face away 
     extends to her his hand. 
  DON CAESAR. 
           Farewell! 
  ISABELLA. 
                 I can no more; 
  Too well my tortured bosom owns how weak 
  A mother's prayers: a mightier voice shall sound 
  Resistless on thy heart. 
     [She goes towards the entrance of the scene. 
               My daughter, come. 
  A brother calls him to the realms of night; 
  Perchance with golden hues of earthly joy 
  The sister, the beloved, may gently lure 
  The wanderer to life again. 
     [BEATRICE appears at the entrance of the scene. 
     DONNA ISABELLA, DON CAESAR, and the Chorus. 
  DON CAESAR (on seeing her, covers his face with his hands). 
                 My mother! 
  What hast thou done? 
  ISABELLA (leading BEATRICE forwards). 
             A mother's prayers are vain! 
  Kneel at his feet - conjure him - melt his heart! 
  Oh, bid him live! 
  DON CAESAR. 
            Deceitful mother, thus 
  Thou triest thy son! And wouldst thou stir my soul 
  Again to passion's strife, and make the sun 
  Beloved once more, now when I tread the paths 
  Of everlasting night? See where he stands -  
  Angel of life! - and wondrous beautiful, 
  Shakes from his plenteous horn the fragrant store 
  Of golden fruits and flowers, that breathe around 
  Divinest airs of joy; - my heart awakes 
  In the warm sunbeam - hope returns, and life 
  Thrills in my breast anew. 
  ISABELLA (to BEATRICE). 
                Thou wilt prevail! 
  Or none! Implore him that he live, nor rob 
  The staff and comfort of our days. 
  BEATRICE. 
                    The loved one 
  A sacrifice demands. Oh, let me die 
  To soothe a brother's shade! Yes, I will be 
  The victim! Ere I saw the light forewarned 
  To death, I live a wrong to heaven! The curse 
  Pursues me still: 'twas I that slew thy son -  
  I waked the slumbering furies of their strife -  
  Be mine the atoning blood! 
  CAJETAN. 
                Ill-fated mother! 
  Impatient all thy children haste to doom, 
  And leave thee on the desolate waste alone 
  Of joyous life. 
  BEATRICE. 
           Oh, spare thy precious days 
  For nature's band. Thy mother needs a son; 
  My brother, live for her! Light were the pang 
  To lose a daughter - but a moment shown, 
  Then snatched away! 
  DON CAESAR (with deep emotion). 
             'Tis one to live or die, 
  Blest with a sister's love! 
  BEATRICE. 
                 Say, dost thou envy 
  Thy brother's ashes? 
  DON CAESAR. 
             In thy grief he lives 
  A hallowed life! - my doom is death forever! 
  BEATRICE. 
  My brother! 
  DON CAESAR. 
         Sister! are thy tears for me? 
  BEATRICE. 
  Live for our mother! 
  DON CAESAR (dropping her hand, and stepping back). 
             For our mother? 
  BEATRICE (hiding her head in his breast). 
                      Live 
  For her and for thy sister! 
  Chorus (BOHEMUND). 
                 She has won! 
  Resistless are her prayers. Despairing mother, 
  Awake to hope again - his choice is made! 
  Thy son shall live! 
     [At this moment an anthem is heard. The folding doors 
     are thrown open, and in the church is seen the catafalque 
     erected, and the coffin surrounded with candlesticks. 
  DON CAESAR (turning to the coffin). 
             I will not rob thee, brother! 
  The sacrifice is thine: - Hark! from the tomb, 
  Mightier than mother's tears, or sister's love, 
  Thy voice resistless cries: - my arms enfold 
  A treasure, potent with celestial joys, 
  To deck this earthly sphere, and make a lot 
  Worthy the gods! but shall I live in bliss, 
  While in the tomb thy sainted innocence 
  Sleeps unavenged? Thou, Ruler of our days, 
  All just - all wise - let not the world behold 
  Thy partial care! I saw her tears! - enough -  
  They flowed for me! I am content: my brother! 
  I come! 
     [He stabs himself with a dagger, and falls dead 
     at his sister's feet. She throws herself into her 
     mother's arms. 
  Chorus, CAJETAN (after a deep silence). 
      In dread amaze I stand, nor know 
  If I should mourn his fate. One truth revealed 
  Speaks in my breast; - no good supreme is life; 
  But all of earthly ills the chief is - Guilt! 
  THE END 
   
   
   Publication Date: May 21st 2008 https://www.bookrix.com/-bx.schiller