Be thou at peace in thy brighter lot, Child. Are they gone, all gone from the sunny hill?— SELECTION V. RAIMOND-PROCIDA. - Hemans. Procida. And dost thou still refuse to share the glory Of this our daring enterprise? Raimond. Oh, father! I too, have dreamt of glory, and the word Than such as thou requirest. Proc. Every deed Hath sanctity, if bearing for its aim The freedom of our country; and the sword Alike is honored in the patriot's hand, At dead of night. Rai. (Turning away.) There is no path but one For noble natures. Wouldst thou ask the man Who to the earth hath dashed a nation's chains, Rent as with heaven's own lightning, by what means Bid the deliverer, hail! and if his path To that most bright and sovereign destiny Hath led o'er trampled thousands, be it called A stern necessity, and not a crime! Rai. Father! my soul yet kindles at the thought Of nobler lessons, in my boyhood learned E'en from thy voice. - The high remembrances Of other days are stirring in the heart Where thou didst plant them; and they speak of men Who needed no vain sophistry to gild Acts, that would bear heaven's light. Oh, father! is it yet too late to draw And such be mine! The praise and blessings of all valiant hearts On our most righteous cause ? Proc. What wouldst thou do? Rai. I would go forth, and rouse the indignant land Than hosts can wield against her?-I would rouse Proc. Aye! and give time and warning to the foe Rai. What! such sounds As falter on the lip of infancy In its imperfect utterance? or are breathed Proc. Since thou dost feel Such horror of our purpose, in thy power Are means that might avert it. Rai. Speak! oh speak! Proc. How would those rescued thousands bless thy name Shouldst thou betray us! Rai. Father! I can bear Aye, proudly woo-the keenest questioning Of thy soul-gifted eye; which almost seems The power that searches thought! Proc. (After a pause.) Thou hast a brow Clear as the day-and yet I doubt thee, Raimond! I doubt thee! - See thou waver not take heed! Time lifts the veil from all things! (Exit.) Rai. Oh! bitter day, When, at the crushing of our glorious world, SELECTION VI. MORDENT LENOX.-Holcraft. Mordent. We are now in private. Lenox. I am glad we are. Mor. And now, sir, I insist on a clear and explicit answer. Where may I find Joanna? Len. Nay, sir, where may I find Joanna? Mor. Mr. Lenox, I will not be trifled with; where is she? Len. Nor will I be trifled with, Mr. Mordent: I say where is she? The contrivance was your own. I know you. The moment you set your eyes on her, you began your treacherous plots to secure her affections; and, when you found I would not resign mine at your persuasion, you put them in practice, while you treacherously pretended to secure her to me. I tell you, ou, I know you. Mor. This will not serve, sir; it is all evasion. Len. Ay, sir, it is evasion! cunning, cruel, base evasion! and I affirm she is in your possession. Mor. Mr. Lenox, I am at this moment a determined and desperate man, and must be answered. Where is she? Len. Sir, I am as determined and desperate as yourself. and I say where is she? For you alone can tell. Mor. "Tis false! Len. False? Mor. Ay, false! Len. (Going up to him.) He is the falsest of the false that dares whisper such a word. Mor. Hark ye, sir! I understand your meaning, and came purposely provided. (Draws a pair of pistols.) Take your choice; they are loaded. Len. Oh! with all my heart! Come, sir! Len. As nigh as you please. Mor. (Placing himself.) Foot to foot! Len. (Both presenting.) Muzzle to muzzle! Mor. Why dont you fire? Len. Why don't you unlock your pistol? Mor. (After unlocking it.) There! Len. Why do you turn it out of the line? (Pause.) I see your intention. Mordent, you are tired of life and want me to murder you. Hang it, man, that is not treating your friend like a friend. Kill me if you will, but don't make me your assassin. Mor. Nay, kill me, or tell me where I may find the wretched Joanna. Len. Fiends seize me, if I can tell you! I know not where, or what is become of her. Mor. Your behavior tells me you are sincere; and to convince you at once that I am no less so, know-she is my daughter. Len. Your daughter! I'll seek the world through with you to find her. Forgive me! Mor. Would I could forgive myself! Len. But it seems, then, she has escaped, and is perhaps in safety. Mor. Oh! that she were! Let us retire. SELECTION. VII. ALBERTO-THEODORE.-Anonymous. Alberto. Enter and fear not, trembler. Thou shalt live. Theodore. Ay, that I feared. Alb. Dost hear me, boy? I say, That thou shalt live. Theo. I feared so. Alb. Wouldst thou die ? Theo. If it pleased heaven, most willingly. I know That I'm a prisoner. I shall never walk All idly babbling to the moon, or taste The morning breath of flowers. The thousand charms Which make in our Sicilian isle mere life A thrilling pleasantness, which send a glow My throne again. Reign! Reign! I have forgot Alb. Boy! boy! Cling not about me thus. Thy heart is softening. mercy; All. "Tis too late. To reign, Rest thee content. No harm shall happen thee. (Exit Alberto.) Theo. Content! Oh mockery of grief! content! |