Chorus (CAJETAN).Those hallowed walls,Perchance the calm retreat of tender youth,No living grave?DON MANUEL.In infant innocenceConsigned a holy pledge, ne'er has she leftHer 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 learnedHer name or fatherland.Chorus (CAJETAN).And not a traceGuides to her being's undiscovered springs?DON MANUEL.An old domestic, the sole messengerSent by her unknown mother, oft bespeaks herOf kingly race.Chorus (CAJETAN).And hast thou won naught elseFrom her garrulous age?DON MANUEL.Too much I feared to perilMy secret bliss!Chorus (CAJETAN).What were his words? What tidingsHe bore—perchance thou know'st.DON MANUEL.Oft he has cheered herWith promise of a happier time, when allShall be revealed.Chorus (CAJETAN).Oh, say—betokens aughtThe time is near?DON MANUEL.Not distant far the dayThat to the arms of kindred love once moreShall give the long forsaken, orphaned maid—Thus with mysterious words the aged manHas shadowed oft what most I dread—for aweOf change disturbs the soul supremely blest:Nay, more; but yesterday his message spokeThe end of all my joys—this very dawn,He told, should smile auspicious on her fate,And light to other scenes—no precious hourDelayed my quick resolves—by night I bore herIn secret to Messina.Chorus (CAJETAN).Rash the deedOf sacrilegious spoil! forgive, my prince,The bold rebuke; thus to unthinking youthOld 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,—hasteningTo meet my brother: trembling there she countsThe slow-paced hours, nor deems how soon triumphantIn 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 waitAmid the loud acclaim—the royal brideShall reach my palace gates!Chorus (CAJETAN).Command us, prince,We live but to obey!DON MANUEL.I tore myselfReluctant from her arms; my every thoughtShall still be hers: so come along, my friends,To where the turbaned merchant spreads his storeOf fabrics golden wrought with curious art;And all the gathered wealth of eastern climes.First choose the well-formed sandals—meet to guardAnd grace her delicate feet; then for her robeThe tissue, pure as Etna's snow that liesNearest the sun-light as the wreathy mistAt summer dawn—so playful let it floatAbout her airy limbs. A girdle next,Purple with gold embroidered o'er, to bindWith witching grace the tunic that confinesHer bosom's swelling charms: of silk the mantle,Gorgeous with like empurpled hues, and fixedWith clasp of gold—remember, too, the braceletsTo gird her beauteous arms; nor leave the treasureOf ocean's pearly deeps and coral caves.About her locks entwine a diademOf purest gems—the ruby's fiery glowCommingling with the emerald's green. A veil,From her tiara pendent to her feet,Like a bright fleecy cloud shall circle roundHer slender form; and let a myrtle wreathCrown the enchanting whole!Chorus (CAJETAN).We haste, my prince.Amid the Bazar's glittering rows, to cullEach rich adornment.DON MANUEL.From my stables leadA palfrey, milk-white as the steeds that drawThe chariot of the sun; purple the housings,The bridle sparkling o'er with precious gems,For it shall bear my queen! Yourselves be readyWith trumpet's cheerful clang, in martial trainTo lead your mistress home: let two attend me,The rest await my quick return; and eachGuard 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 zestDisturb the slumber of the breast,And wake life's dull, untroubled seaWith 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 smileThat 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 ecstasyFor ever on life's checkered way,'Tis love that tints the darkening hues of careWith 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 trainOf her, chaste huntress of the silver bow;And from the rocks amainTrack 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 hornOver 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 wavesA floating castle gay,And merrily, merrily, swim away!Who ploughs with venturous keel the brineOf the ocean crystalline—His bride is fortune, the world his own,For him a harvest blooms unsown:—Here, like the wind that swift careersThe circling bound of earth and sky,Flits ever-changeful destiny!Of airy chance 'tis the sportive reign,And hope ever broods on the boundless mainA third (CAJETAN).Nor on the watery waste aloneOf 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 restOn the stilled lava-stream, that coldBeneath the mountain liesNot thus was discord's flame controlled—Too deep the rooted hate—too longThey brooded in their sullen heartsO'er unforgotten, treasured wrong. In warning visions oft dismayed,I read the signs of coming woe;And now from this mysterious maidMy bosom tells the dreaded ills shall flow:Unblest, I deem, the bridal chainShall knit their secret loves, accursedWith holy cloisters' spoil profane.No crooked paths to virtue lead;Ill fruit has ever sprung from evil seed!BERENGAR.And thus to sad unhallowed ritesOf an ill-omened nuptial tie,Too well ye know their father boreA bride of mournful destiny,Torn from his sire, whose awful curse has spedHeaven's vengeance on the impious bed!This fierce, unnatural rage atonesA 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 anagitated air, looking round in every direction. Suddenly shestands still and listens).No! 'tis not he: 'twas but the playful windRustling the pine-tops. To his ocean bedThe sun declines, and with o'erwearied heartI count the lagging hours: an icy chillCreeps through my frame; the very solitudeAnd awful silence fright my trembling soul!Where'er I turn naught meets my gaze—he leaves meForsaken and alone!And like a rushing stream the city's humFloats on the breeze, and dull the mighty seaRolls murmuring to the rocks: I shrink to nothingWith horrors compassed round; and like the leaf,Borne on the autumn blast, am hurried onwardThrough boundless space.Alas! that e'er I leftMy peaceful cell—no cares, no fond desiresDisturbed my breast, unruffled as the streamThat glides in sunshine through the verdant mead:Nor poor in joys. Now—on the mighty surgeOf fortune, tempest-tossed—the world enfolds meWith giant arms! Forgot my childhood's tiesI listened to the lover's flattering tale—Listened, and trusted! From the sacred domeAllured—betrayed—for sure some hell-born magicEnchained 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 surgeThat beats upon the shore; alas! he comes not.More faintly, o'er the distant waves, the sunGleams with expiring ray; a deathlike shudderCreeps to my heart, and sadder, drearier growsE'en desolation's self.[She walks to and fro, and then listens again.Yes! from the thicket shadeA 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 extremityof 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 arrayAffright the timorous maid.[To BEATRICE.Fear nothing! beautyAnd 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 powerHas hid thee from my gaze: long have I sought thee:E'en from the hour when 'mid the funeral ritesOf the dead prince, like some angelic vision,Lit with celestial brightness, on my sightThou shonest, no other image in my breastWaking or dreaming, lives; nor to thyselfUnknown thy potent spells; my glance of fire,My faltering accents, and my hand that layTrembling in thine, bespoke my ecstasy!Aught else with solemn majesty the riteAnd holy place forbade:The bell proclaimedThe 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 magicOf love enchained, my spirit tracked thy presence;Nor ever, with unwearied quest, I ceaseAt 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, guidedBy some propitious deity this dayOne 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 theeOnce more; and may the spirit from this frameBe severed ere we part! Now let me snatchThis glad, auspicious moment, and defyOr chance, or envious demon's power, to shakeHenceforth 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 soulAnd birth are pure alike one glance informedMy inmost heart; and though thy lot were mean,And poor thy lowly state, yet would I strain theeWith rapture to my arms: no choice remains,Thou art my love—my wife! Know too, that liftedOn fortune's height, I spurn control; my willCan raise thee to the pinnacle of greatness—Enough my name—I am Don Caesar! NoneIs nobler in Messina![BEATRICE starts back in amazement. He remarks her agitation,and after a pause continues.What a graceLives in thy soft surprise and modest silence!Yes! gentle humbleness is beauty's crown—The beautiful forever hid, and shrinkingFrom its own lustre: but thy spirit needsRepose, for aught of strange—e'en sudden joy—Is terror-fraught. I leave thee.[Turning to the Chorus.From this hourShe is your mistress, and my bride; so teach herWith honors due to entertain the pompOf 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 theeThou 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 blessThis favored race—the god's peculiar care.Here twine the immortal wreaths of fameAnd evermore, from sire to son,Rolls on the sceptered sway,To heirs of old renown, a race of deathless name!(BOHEMUND).The household gods exultinglyThy 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 sitsBy Jove's eternal throne, with waving plumesFor conquest ever spread,To welcome thee from heaven descend.(ROGER.)Ne'er from this queenly, bright arrayThe 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 flyFrom 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 hateWith 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 prizeHe culls the flower.(ROGER).For him from ocean's azure cavesThe diver bears each pearl of purest ray;Whate'er from nature's boundless fieldOr 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 deemThe 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 profaneThe 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 nighThe secret, solitary groundGuard 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 thusI fold their hands. Oh, blissful hour, when firstA 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 departsWith 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 aloneThis 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 yeWith ties unknown before.DON CAESAR.We have a sister!What hast thou said, my mother? never toldHer being till this hour!DON MANUEL.In childhood's years,Oft of a sister we have heard, untimelySnatched 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 thenBy mutual, deadly hate, the bitter springOf grief to this torn, anxious heart, dissevered;Oh, may your strife return no more! A vision,Strange and mysterious, in your father's breastWoke 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 houseSpread in one mighty sea of fire: perplexedBy this terrific dream, my husband soughtAn Arab, skilled to read the stars, and longThe trusted oracle, whose counsels swayedHis inmost purpose: thus the boding sageSpoke Fate's decrees: if I a daughter bore,Destruction to his sons and all his raceFrom her should spring. Soon, by heaven's will, this childOf dreadful omen saw the light; your sireCommanded instant in the waves to throwThe new-born innocent; a mother's lovePrevailed, and, aided by a faithful servant,I snatched the babe from death.DON CAESAR.Blest be the handsThe ministers of thy care! Oh, ever richOf counsels was a parent's love!ISABELLA.But moreThan Nature's mighty voice, a warning dreamImpelled to save my child: while yet unbornShe slumbered in my womb, sleeping I sawAn infant, fair as of celestial kind,That played upon the grass; soon from the woodA lion rushed, and from his gory jaws,Caressing, in the infant's lap let fallHis prey, new-caught; then through the air down sweptAn eagle, and with fond caress alikeDropped from his claws a trembling kid, and bothCowered at the infant's feet, a gentle pair.A monk, the saintly guide whose counsels pouredIn every earthly need, the balm of heavenUpon my troubled soul, my dream resolved.Thus spoke the man of God: a daughter, sentTo knit the warring spirits of my sonsIn bonds of tender love, should recompenseA mother's pains! Deep in my heart I treasuredHis words, and, reckless of the Pagan seer,Preserved the blessed child, ordained of heavenTo still your growing strife; sweet pledge of hopeAnd messenger of peace!DON MANUEL (embracing his brother).There needs no sisterTo join our hearts; she shall but bind them closer.ISABELLA.In a lone spot obscure, by stranger handsNurtured, the secret flower has grown; to meDenied the joy to mark each infant charmAnd 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 trackedEach day my steps.DON CAESAR.Yet three months flown, my fatherSleeps in the tranquil grave; say, whence delayedThe joyous tidings? Why so long concealedThe maid, nor earlier taught our hearts to glowWith brother's love?ISABELLA.The cause, your frenzied hate,That raging unconfined, e'en on the tombOf your scarce buried father, lit the flamesOf mortal strife. What! could I throw my daughterBetwixt your gleaming blades? Or 'mid the stormOf passion would ye list a woman's counsels?Could she, sweet pledge of peace, of all our hopesThe last and holy anchor, 'mid the rageOf discord find a home? Ye stand as brothers,So will I give a sister to your arms!The reconciling angel comes; each hourI wait my messenger's return; he leads herFrom her sequestered cell, to glad once moreA mother's eyes.DON MANUEL.Nor her alone this dayThy arms shall fold; joy pours through all our gates;Soon shall the desolate halls be full, the seatOf every blooming grace. Now hear my secret:A sister thou hast given; to thee I bringA daughter; bless thy son! My heart has foundIts lasting shrine: ere this day's sun has setDon Manuel to thy feet shall lead his bride,The partner of his days.ISABELLA.And to my breastWith transport will I clasp the chosen maidThat makes my first-born happy. Joy shall springWhere'er she treads, and every flower that bloomsAround the path of life smile in her presence!May bliss reward the son, that for my browsHas twined the choicest wreath a mother wears.DON CAESAR.Yet give not all the fulness of thy blessingTo 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 firstAwoke the rapturous flame! Ere yonder sunDeclines, Don Caesar's bride shall call thee mother.DON MANUEL.Almighty Love! thou godlike power—for wellWe call thee sovereign of the breast! Thy swayControls each warring element, and tunesTo soft accord; naught lives but owns thy greatness.Lo! the rude soul that long defied thee meltsAt 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 careFrom my o'erlabored breast has flown. I seeOn steadfast columns reared our kingly race,And with contented spirit track the streamOf measureless time. In these deserted halls,Sad in my widow's veil, but yesterdayChildless I roamed; and soon, in youthful charmsArrayed, three blooming daughters at my sideShall stand! Oh, happiest mother! Chief of women,In bliss supreme; can aught of earthly joyO'erbalance thine?But say, of royal stem,What maidens grace our isle? For ne'er my sonsWould stoop to meaner brides.DON MANUEL.Seek not to raiseThe veil that hides my bliss; another dayShall tell thee all. Enough—Don Manuel's brideIs worthy of thy son and thee.ISABELLA.Thy sireSpeaks in thy words; thus to himself retiredForever would he brood o'er counsels dark,And cloak his secret purpose;—your delayBe 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 veilMy thoughts with mystery's garb—my spirit freeAnd open as my brows; which thou wouldst knowConcerned me never. What illumes aboveHeaven's flaming orb? Himself! On all the worldHe shines, and with his beaming glory tellsFrom light he sprung:—in her pure eyes I gazed,I looked into her heart of hearts:—the brightnessRevealed 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 charmHas thralled thy soul: to deeds of rash empriseThy nature prompted, not to fantasiesOf boyish love:—tell me, what swayed thy choice?DON CAESAR.My choice? my mother! Is it choice when manObeys the might of destiny, that bringsThe 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'stThat, heedless ever of the giddy race,I looked on beauty's charms with cold disdain,Nor deemed of womankind there lived anotherLike thee—whom my idolatrous fancy deckedWith heavenly graces:—'Twas the solemn riteOf my dead father's obsequies; we stoodAmid the countless throng, with strange attireHid from each other's glance; for thus ordainedThy thoughtful care lest with outbursting rage,E' en by the holy place unawed, our strifeShould mar the funeral pomp.With sable gauzeThe nave was all o'erhung; the altar roundStood twenty giant saints, uplifting eachA torch; and in the midst reposed on highThe coffin, with o'erspreading pall, that showed,In white, redemption's sign;—thereon were laidThe staff of sovereignty, the princely crown,The golden spurs of knighthood, and the sword,With diamond-studded belt:—And all was hushedIn silent prayer, when from the lofty choir,Unseen, the pealing organ spoke, and loudFrom hundred voices burst the choral strain!Then, 'mid the tide of song, the coffin sankWith the descending floor beneath, foreverDown to the world below:—but, wide outspreadAbove the yawning grave, the pall upheldThe gauds of earthly state, nor with the corpseTo darkness fell; yet on the seraph wingsOf harmony, the enfranchised spirit soaredTo 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 breastProfaned the solemn hour; yet then the beamsOf mighty love—so willed my guiding star—First lit my soul; but how it chanced, myselfI ask in vain.ISABELLA.I would hear all; so endThy tale.DON CAESAR.What brought her to my side, or whenceShe came, I know not:—from her presence quickSome secret all-pervading inward charmAwoke; '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, impalpableTo sense, my being thralled. We breathed togetherThe air of heaven:—enough!—no utterance askedOf words, our spiritual converse;—in my heart,Though strange, yet with familiar ties inwroughtShe seemed, and instant spake the thought—'tis she!Or none that lives!DON MANUEL (interposing with eagerness).That is the sacred fireFrom heaven! the spark of love—that on the soulBursts like the lightning's flash, and mounts in flame,When kindred bosoms meet! No choice remains—Who shall resist? What mortal break the bandThat heaven has knit? Brother, my blissful fortuneWas echoed in thy tale—well thou hast raisedThe veil that shadows yet my secret love.ISABELLA.Thus destiny has marked the wayward courseOf my two sons: the mighty torrent sweepsDown from the precipice; with rage he wearsHis proper bed, nor heeds the channel tracedBy art and prudent care. So to the powersThat 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 creepsThrough 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.DeclareThy 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 stolenBy corsairs! lost! Oh! that I ne'er had seenThis day of woe!DON MANUEL.Compose thyself, my mother!DON CAESAR.Be calm; list all this tale.DIEGO.At thy commandI sought in haste the well-known path that leadsTo 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 sateIn 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 oftFrom tempests' rage; where is the bark?DIEGO.At down,With favoring breeze she stood to sea.DON CAESAR.But neverOne prey contents the Moor; say, have they toldOf other spoil?DIEGO.A herd that pastured nearWas dragged away.DON CAESAR.Yet from the convent's boundHow tear the maid unseen?DIEGO.'Tis thought with laddersThey scaled the wall.DON CAESAR.Thou knowest what jealous careEnshrines the bride of Heaven; scarce could their stepsInvade the secret cells.DIEGO.Bound by no vowsThe maiden roved at will; oft would she seekAlone the garden's shade. Alas! this day,Ne'er to return!DON CAESAR.Saidst thou—the prize of corsairs?Perchance, at other bidding, she forsookThe sheltering dome——ISABELLA (rising suddenly).'Twas force! 'twas savage spoil!Ne'er has my child, reckless of honor's tiesWith 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 flyTo 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 wallsWhen first unseen——DIEGO.This day at dawn.DON MANUEL (to ISABELLA).Her nameThou 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 regionConcealed my sister?ISABELLA.Scarce from curious eyesIn the deep bosom of the earth more safeMy child had been!DIEGO.Oh! now a sudden horrorStarts in my breast.DON MANUEL.What gives thee fear?DIEGO.'Twas IThat guiltless caused this woe!ISABELLA.Unhappy man!What hast thou done?DIEGO.To spare thy mother's heartOne anxious pang, my mistress, I concealedWhat now my lips shall tell: 'twas on the dayWhen thy dead husband in the silent tombWas laid; from every side the unnumbered throngPressed eager to the solemn rites; thy daughter—For e'en amid the cloistered shade was noisedThe funeral pomp, urged me, with ceaseless prayers,To lead her to the festival of Death.In evil hour I gave consent; and, shroudedIn sable weeds of mourning, she surveyedHer father's obsequies. With keen reproachMy bosom tells (for through the veil her charmsResistless shone), 'twas there, perchance, the spoilerLurked to betray.DON MANUEL (to himself).Thrice happy words! I live!It was another!ISABELLA (to DIEGO).Faithless! Ill betideThy treacherous age!DIEGO.Oh, never have I strayedFrom duty's path! My mistress, in her prayersI heard the voice of Nature; thus from HeavenOrdained,—methought, the secret impulse movesOf kindred blood, to hallow with her tearsA father's grave: the tender office ownedThy servant's care, and thus with good intentI wrought but ill.DON MANUEL (to himself).Why stand I thus a preyTo torturing fears! No longer will I bearThe 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 lostI gaze; some mystery lurks——DON CAESAR.Thou mark'st, my mother,My quick return; with eager zeal I flewAt thy command, nor asked one trace to guideMy footsteps to thy daughter. Whence was tornThy treasure? Say, what cloistered solitudeEnshrined the beauteous maid?ISABELLA.'Tis consecrateTo St. Cecilia; deep in forest shades,Beyond the woody ridge that slowly climbsToward's Etna's towering throne, it seems a refugeOf parted souls!DON CAESAR.Have courage, trust thy sons;She shall be thine, though with unwearied questO'er every land and sea I track her presenceTo earth's extremest bounds: one thought aloneDisturbs,—in stranger hands my timorous brideWaits my return; to thy protecting armsI give the pledge of all my joy! She comes;Soon on her faithful bosom thou shalt restIn sweet oblivion of thy cares.[Exit.ISABELLA.When will the ancient curse be stilled that weighsUpon our house? Some mocking demon sportsWith every new-formed hope, nor envious leavesOne hour of joy. So near the haven smiled—So smooth the treacherous main—secure I deemedMy happiness: the storm was lulled; and brightIn 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 ornamentsabove mentioned. The Chorus of DON CAESAR opposes theirentrance.First Chorus (CAJETAN).Begone!Second Chorus (BOHEMUND).Not at thy bidding!CAJETAN.Seest thou notThy 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 obeyMy Lord Don Caesar.CAJETAN.To the eldest bornThy master reverence owes.BOHEMUND.The world belongsTo him that wins!CAJETAN.Unmannered knave, give place!BOHEMUND.Our swords be measured first!CAJETAN.I find thee everA serpent in my path.BOHEMUND.Where'er I listThus will I meet thee!CAJETAN.Say, why cam'st thou hitherTo spy?——BOHEMUND.And thou to question and command?CAJETAN.To parley I disdain!BOHEMUND.Too much I grace theeBy words!CAJETAN.Thy hot, impetuous youth should bowTo 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 notThy threats and lofty mien.BOHEMUND.I serve a masterBetter than thine.BEATRICE.Alas! Should he appear!CAJETAN.Thou liest! Don Manuel thousandfold excels.BOHEMUND.In every strife the wreath of victory decksDon Caesar's brows!BEATRICE.Now he will come! AlreadyThe hour is past!CAJETAN.'Tis peace, or thou shouldst knowMy vengeance!BOHEMUND.Fear, not peace, thy arm refrains.BEATRICE.Oh! Were he thousand miles remote!CAJETAN.Thy looksBut 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 snareThrow round his feet, that in this hour of dreadHe come not: all ye angels, late imploredTo 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 twoChoruses 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 deadUpon this verdant turf that with one glanceOf scorn prolongs the strife, or threats his foe!Why rage ye thus? What maddening fiend impelsTo blow the flames of ancient hate anew,Forever reconciled? Say, who beganThe conflict? Speak——First Chorus (CAJETAN, BERENGAR).My prince, we stood——Second Chorus (ROGER, BOHEMUND) interrupting them.They cameDON MANUEL (to the First Chorus).Speak thou!First Chorus (CAJETAN).With wreaths adorned, in festal train,We bore the bridal gifts; no thought of illDisturbed our peaceful way; composed foreverWith holy pledge of love we deemed your strife,And trusting came; when here in rude arrayOf arms encamped they stood, and loud defied us!DON MANUEL.Slave! Is no refuge safe? Shall discord thusProfane 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 nameI give command; our souls are one, our lipsDeclare each other's thoughts; begone![To the First Chorus.Remain!And guard the entrance.BOHEMUND.So! What next? Our mastersAre reconciled; that's plain; and less he winsOf thanks than peril, that with busy zealIn princely quarrel stirs; for when of strifeHis mightiness aweary feels, of guiltHe throws the red-dyed mantle unconcernedOn his poor follower's luckless head, and standsArrayed in virtue's robes! So let them endE'en as they will their brawls, I hold it bestThat we obey.[Exit Second Chorus. The first withdraws to theback of the stage; at the same moment BEATRICE rushesforward, 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 languishFor thy return: no more—in thy loved armsI 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 thyselfImpatient from my circling arms, I know theeNo more! Is this Don Manuel? My beloved?My husband?DON MANUEL.Beatrice!BEATRICE.No words! The momentIs precious! Haste.DON MANUEL.Yet tell me——BEATRICE.Quick! Away!Ere those fierce men return.DON MANUEL.Be calm, for naughtShall trouble thee of ill.BEATRICE.Oh, fly! alas,Thou know'st them not!DON MANUEL.Protected by this armCanst thou fear aught?BEATRICE.Oh, trust me; mighty menAre 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 lastTo know me, Beatrice. Not the poor knightAm I, the stranger and unknown, that lovingTaught 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 strifeOf long inveterate hate?DON MANUEL.This very sunSmiled 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 knownAught 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 naughtHast thou e'er told; who is she? If in wordsI 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 graciousAs the sun's orient beam! Yes! I behold her;Fond memory wakes;—and from my bosom's depthsHer godlike presence rises to my view!I see around her snowy neck descendThe tresses of her raven hair, that shadeThe form of sculptured loveliness; I seeThe pale, high-thoughted brow; the darkening glanceOf her large lustrous orbs; I hear the tonesOf soul-fraught sweetness!DON MANUEL.'Tis herself!BEATRICE.This day,Perchance had give me to her arms, and knitOur souls in everlasting love;—such blissI have renounced, yes! I have lost a motherFor thee!DON MANUEL.Console thyself, Messina's princessHenceforth shall call thee daughter; to her feetI 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 knownMy 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 himOn 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—howHe 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 fearsConfound; 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 presageStarts in my breast—I shudder at the thought:If it be true! Oh, horror! Could she knowThat voice! Wert thou—my tongue denies to utterThe words of fearful import—Beatrice!Say, wert thou present at the funeral ritesOf 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 ownedThe ardent fond desire; with darkening browThou listened'st to my prayer, and I was silent,But what misguiding inauspicious starAllured, I know not; from my inmost soulThe wish, the dear emotion spoke; and vainAught else:—Diego gave consent—oh, pardon me!I disobeyed thee.[She advances towards him imploringly; at the same momentDON 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 brotherstarts back with horror).Some hell-born magic cheatsMy senses; in her arms! Envenomed snake!Is this thy love? For this thy treacherous heartCould lure with guise of friendship! Oh, from heavenBreathed 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 bloodThe bloody deed!Second Chorus (BOHEMUND).The fortune of the dayIs ours! The strife forever stilled:—MessinaObeys one lord.First Chorus (CAJETAN, BERENGAR, MANFRED).Revenge! The murdererShall die! Quick, offer to your master's shadeAppeasing 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 slainThat practised on my trusting, honest heartWith snares of brother's love. Oh, direful showsThe 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 deedOf nameless horror taints the skies; ill fareThy 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 quickDepart 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 andcarried away by the Second Chorus. The First Chorusremains with the body, round which the boys who bearthe bridal presents range themselves in a semicircle.