Wert smiling then in peace, a happy boy,
Oft through the storm hath cheered him.
Rai.

Dost thou deem

That he still lives?-Oh! if it be in chains,
In woe, in poverty's obscurest cell,

Say but he lives-and I will track his steps
E'en to earth's verge!

Pro.
It may be that he lives:
Though long his name hath ceased to be a word
Familiar in man's dwellings. But its sound
May yet be heard!-Raimond di Procida,
-Rememberest thou thy father?

Rai.

From my mind
His form hath faded long, for years have passed
Since he went forth to exile: but a vague,
Yet powerful image of deep majesty,

Still dimly gathering round each thought of him,
Doth claim instinctive reverence; and my love
For his inspiring name hath long become
Part of my being.

Pro.

Raimond! doth no voice

Speak to thy soul, and tell thee whose the arms
That would enfold thee now?-My son! my son!
Rai. Father!-Oh God!-my father! Now I know
Why my heart awoke before thee!

Pro.

Oh! this hour

Makes hope, reality; for thou art all
My dreams had pictured thee!

Rai.
Yet why so long,
Even as a stranger, hast thou crossed my paths,
One nameless and unknown ?-and yet I felt
Each pulse within me thrilling to thy voice.

Pro. Because I would not link thy fate with mine,
Till I could hail the day-spring of that hope
Which now is gathering round us.-Listen, youth!
Thou hast told me of a subdued, and scorned,
And trampled land, whose very soul is bowed
And fashioned to her chains :-but I tell thec
Of a most generous and devoted land,
A land of kindling energies; a land
Of glorious recollections!-proudly true
To the high memory of her ancient kings,
And rising in majestic scorn, to cast
Her alien bondage off!

Pro. Here, in our isle, our own fair Sicily!
Her spirit is awake, and moving on,

In its deep silence mightier, to regain
Her place amongst the nations; and the hour
Of that tremendous effort is at hand.

Rai. Can it be thus indeed ?-Thou pourest new life
Through all my burning veins !-I am as one
Awakening from a chill and death-like sleep
To the full, glorious day.

Pro.

Thou shalt hear more!

Thou shalt hear things which would—which will arouse

The proud, free spirits of our ancestors

Even from their marble rest. Yet mark me well!

Be secret!—for along my destined path

I yet must darkly move.-Now, follow me,

And join a band of men, in whose high hearts
There lies a nation's strength.

Rai.

My noble father!
Thy words have given me all for which I pined-
An aim, a hope, a purpose!-And the blood

Doth rush in warmer currents through my veins,
As a bright fountain from its icy bonds

By the quick sun-stroke freed.

Pro.

Ay, this is well!

Such natures burst men's chains!-Now, follow me.

Ex. CCLI.-SECOND SCENE FROM THE VESPERS OF

PALERMO.

PROCIDA and RAIMOND.

Procida. And dost thou still refuse to share the glory Of this, our daring enterprise ?

Raimond.

Procida!

I too have dreamt of glory, and the word

Hath to my soul been as a trumpet's voice,
Making my nature sleepless. But the deeds

Whereby it was won, the high exploits, whose tale
Bids the heart burn, were of another cast
Than such as thou requirest.

Pro.

Every deed

Hath sanctity, if bearing for its aim

ID

The freedom of our country; and the sword
Alike is honored in the patriot's hand,

Searching, 'midst warrior-hosts, the heart which gave
Oppression birth; or flashing through the gloom

Of the still chamber, o'er its troubled couch,

At dead of night.

Rai. [Turning away.] There is no path but one For noble natures.

Pro.

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
The glorious end was won ?-Go, swell the acclaim!
Bid the deliverer, hail! and if his path

To that most bright and sovereign distiny

Had led o'er trampled thousands, be it called

A stern necessity, and not a crime!

Rai. My soul yet kindles at the thought

Of nobler lessons, in my boyhood learned

Even from thy voice. The high remembrances
Of other days are stirring in the heart

And such be mine!

Where thou didst plant them; and they speak of men
Who needed no vain sophistry to gild
Acts, that would bear heaven's light.
Procida! is it yet too late to draw
The praise and blessing of all valiant hearts
On our most righteous cause?

Pro.
What wouldst thou do?
Rai. I would go forth, and rouse the indignant land
To generous combat. Why should Freedom strike
Mantled with darkness ?-Is there not more strength -
Even in the waving of her single arm

Than hosts can wield against her?—I would rouse
That spirit, whose fire doth press resistless on

To its proud sphere, the stormy field of fight!

Pro. Ay! and give time and warning to the foe

To gather all his might !-It is too late.

There is a work to be this eve begun,

When rings the Vesper-bell; and, long before
To-morrow's sun hath reached in the noonday heaven
His throne of burning glory, every sound

Of the Provençal tongue within our walls,

As by one thunder-stroke, be silenced.

Rai.

What! such sounds

As falter on the lip of infancy

In its imperfect utterance?

Pro.

Since thou dost feel

Such horror of our purpose, in thy power

Are means that might avert it.

How would those rescued thousands bless thy name,
Shouldst thou betray us!

Rai.
Procida! I can bear-
Ay, proudly woo-the keenest questioning
Of thy soul-gifted eye; which almost seems
To claim a part of Heaven's dread royalty,
The power that searches thought!

Pro. [After a pause.]

Thou hast a brow
Clear as the day-and yet I doubt thee, Raimond!
Whether it be that I have learned distrust

From a long look through man's deep-folded heart;
Whether my paths have been so seldom crossed
By honor and fair mercy, that they seem
But beautiful deceptions, meeting thus
My unaccustomed gaze;-howe'er it be-
I doubt thee!-See thou waver not-take heed!
Time lifts the vail from all things!

Ex. CCLII.-THIRD SCENE FROM THE VESPERS OF

Raimond.

PALERMO.

PROCIDA and RAIMOND.

My father!-wherefore here?

I am prepared to die, yet would I not

Fall by thy hand.

Procida.

'Twas not for this I came.

Rai. Then wherefore?-and upon thy lofty brow Why burns the troubled flush?

Pro.

Perchance 'tis shame.

Yes! it may well be shame!-for I have striven
With nature's feebleness, and been o'erpowered.
-Howe'er it be, 'tis not for thee to gaze,

Noting it thus. I have prepared

The means for thy escape.

Rai.

What! thou! the austere,

The inflexible Procida! hast thou done this,

Deeming me guilty still?

Pro.

It is even so.

Upbraid me not.

There have been bolder deeds

By Roman fathers done;-but I am weak.
Therefore, again I say, arise! and haste,

For the night wanes. Thy fugitive course must be
To realms beyond the deep; so let us part

In silence, and for ever.

Rai.

Let him fly

Who holds no deep asylum in his breast,
Wherein to shelter from the scoffs of men!
-I can sleep calmly here.

Pro.

Art thou in love

With death and infamy, that so thy choice

Is made, lost boy! when freedom courts thy grasp? Rai. Father! to set the irrevocable seal

ye

Upon that shame wherewith have branded me, There needs but flight. What should I bear from this, My native land?-A blighted name, to rise

And part me, with its dark remembrances,

For ever from the sunshine!-O'er my soul
Bright shadowings of a nobler destiny

Float in dim beauty through the gloom; but here,
On earth, my hopes are closed.

Pro.
Thy hopes are closed!
And what were they to mine?-Thou wilt not fly!
Why, let all traitors flock to thee, and learn
How proudly guilt can talk!-Let fathers rear
Their offspring henceforth, as the free wild birds
Foster their young; when these can mount alone,
Dissolving nature's bonds-why should it not
Be so with us?

What high prerogatives belong to death.
He hath a deep, though voiceless eloquence,
To which I leave my cause.

When I am gone,

The mists of passion which have dimmed my name,
Will melt like day-dreams; and my memory then
Will be-not what it should have been-for I
Must pass without my fame-but yet, unstained
As a clear morning dew-drop.

Pro.

Now, by just Heaven,
I will not thus be tortured!-Were my heart
But of thy guilt or innocence assured,