Oth. By Heaven I'll know thy thought.

Iago. You can not, if my heart were in your hand; Nor shall not, while 'tis in my custody.

Oth. Ha!

Jago. O, beware, my lord, of jealousy;

It is the green-eyed monster, which doth make
The meat it feeds on. * * *

Good Heaven, the souls of all my tribe defend
From jealousy!

Oth. Why! why is this?

Think'st thou, I'd make a life of jealousy,
To follow still the changes of the moon

With fresh suspicions? No; to be once in doubt,
Is once to be resolved. * * *No, Iago;
I'll see, before I doubt; when I doubt, prove;
And, on the proof, there is no more but this,-
Away at once with love, or jealousy.

Ex. CCL.-FIRST SCENE FROM THE VESPERS OF

PALERMO

The sea shore.-RAIMOND alone.

MRS. HEMANS.

Rar. When shall I breathe in freedom, and give scope

To those untameable and burning thoughts,

And restless aspirations, which consume

My heart in the land of bondage ?-Oh! with you,

Ye everlasting images of power,

And of infinity! thou blue rolling deep,

And you, ye stars! whose beams are characters
Wherewith the oracles of fate are traced;

With you my soul finds room, and casts aside

The weight that doth oppress her.-But my thoughts
Are wandering far; there should be one to share
This awful and majestic solitude

Of sea and heaven with me.

[PROCIDA enters unobserved.]

It is the hour

He named, and yet he comes not.

Procida. [Coming forward.] He is here.

Rai. Now, thou mysterious stranger, thou, whose glance

Doth fix itself on memory, and pursue

Thought, like a spirit, haunting its lone hours ;—
Reveal thyself: who art thou?

Pro.
One, whose life
Hath been a troubled stream, and made its way
Through rocks and darkness, and a thousand storms,
With still a mighty aim.-But now the shades
Of eve are gathering round me; and I come
To this, my native land, that I may rest
Beneath its vines in peace.

Rai.

Seek'st thou for peace?

This is no land of peace; unless that deep

And voiceless terror, which doth freeze men's thoughts
Back to their source, and mantle its pale mien

With a dull, hollow semblance of repose,

May so be called.

Pro.
There are such calms full oft
Preceding earthquakes. But I have not been
So vainly schooled by fortune, and inured
To shape my course on peril's dizzy brink,
That it should irk my spirit to put on
Such guise of hushed submissiveness as best

May suit the troubled aspect of the times.

Rai. Why, then, thou art welcome, stranger! to the land

Where most disguise is needful.-He were bold

Who now should wear his thoughts upon his brow
Beneath Sicilian skies. The brother's eye
Doth search distrustfully the brother's face;
And friends, whose undivided lives have drawn
From the same past, their long remembrances,
Now meet in terror, or no more; lest hearts
Full to o'erflowing, in their social hour,

Should pour out some rash word, which roving winds
Might whisper to our conquerors.-This it is,
To wear a foreign yoke.

Pro.
It matters not
To him who holds the mastery o'er his spirit,
And can suppress its workings, till endurance
Becomes as nature. We can tame ourselves
To all extremes, and there is that in life

To which we cling with most tenacious grasp,
Even when its lofty claims are all reduced
To the poor common privilege of breathing.—
Why dost thou turn away?

Rai.

What wouldst thou with me?

I deemed thee, by the ascendant soul which lived
And made its throne on thy commanding brow,
One of a sovereign nature, which would scorn
So to abase its high capacities

For aught on earth.-But thou art like the rest.
What wouldst thou with me?

Pro.
I would counsel thee.
Thou must do that which men--ay, valiant men,
Hourly submit to do; in the proud court,
And in the stately camp, and at the board
Of midnight revelers, whose flushed mirth is all
A strife, won hardly.-Where is he, whose heart
Lies bare, through all its foldings, to the gaze
Of mortal eye?—If vengeance wait the foe,
Or fate the oppressor, 'tis in depths concealed
Beneath a smiling surface.-Youth, I
Keep thy soul down!-Put on a mask !-'tis worn
A'ike by power and weakness, and the smooth
And specious intercourse of life requires

Its aid in every scene.

Rai.

say,

Away, dissembler!
Life hath its high and its ignoble tasks,
Fitted to every nature. Will the free
And royal eagle stoop to learn the arts
By which the serpent wins his spell-bound prey?
It is because I will not clothe myself

In a vile garb of coward semblances,

That now, even now, I struggle with my heart,
To bid what most I love a long farewell,

And seek my country on some distant shore,
Where such things are unknown!

Pro. (Exultingly).

Why, this is joy!

After long conflict with the doubts and fears,

And the poor subtleties of meaner minds,

To meet a spirit, whose bold, elastic wing

Oppression hath not crushed.-High-hearted youth!
Thy father, should his footsteps e'er again

Visit these shores

Rai.

My father! what of him?

Speak! was he known to thee?

In distant lands

Pro.
With him I've traversed many a wild, and looked
On many a danger; and the thought that thou

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 't 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