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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,