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