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The word has murdered her. Poor, timid dove,
How little art thou fitted for the trials
The very love thy father bears thee has
Exposed thee to.
Come, father, let us go
To what place thou wilt, So that we leave the danger at a distance Which threatens thee in Rome.
Will, if he love me, come to us, when we
Have found a certain refuge. Should he not,
There will be none to share with thee the duty
Of thy Enrica.
True Bianca's daughter! But no, this must not be.
My dearest father, I pray thee do not bid me stay behind. I ne'er bave disobeyed thee, and I would not At such a time oppose my wish to thine. But I shall die if thou dost leave me here Uncertain of thy fate. And shouldst thou fall Beneath the weight of suffering thou must bear Where'er thou goest, who into thy heart, So deeply wounded, will the healing balm Of comfort pour like her who hath so often Thy soother been in sickness and in grief?
Well, be it so; yet much against my will
I yield to thy entreaties.
Then get thee ready, for in one hour's time
Must we begin our flight.
The half of that
I do not ask for needful preparation.
[PERELLI withdraws into an inner room.
Orazio ! poor,
Thou wilt be wroth to find thyself deserted,
Even at the hour should see us at the altar,
To ratify the vows, were made long since
By two fond hearts, of love and faith to each.
And thou wilt chide, revile, and, in thine anger,
May'st even curse-No, no! thou wilt not curse,
For seeming fickleness—and only seeming-
Her who, although she saw thee wed another,
Would couple blessings with thy name in dying,
O no, thou wilt not curse! and some days hence,
Or weeks, or months—they will seem years to me!
The trusty messenger will come and say,
* Hie thee, young lover, to the arms of her
Who eager waits to bless thy constancy!
ONE passing without sings :
Never despair! never despair!
The darkest of nights bas had ever a morrow,
And time has a balm for the deadliest sorrow,
Then hope from the past for the future still borrow,
And never, O never despair!
O blessings on thee, minstrel ! may thy song,
By zephyrs wafted to Orazio's ear,
Bear to his heart its sweet philosophy,
And teach him manly patience.
Here I stand
In idleness, when on the coming moment
Depend the life and safety of my father.
o shame, Enrica! love should be more prompt.”
This is a favorable specimen of the author's poetry, and of his style of thought and expression. But we will cite the next scene. It will explain itself.
SCENE I. The Coliseum, partially lighted by the moon. MALDONADO, coming ord of the
shadow of the ruins, leans against a broken column.
They little know of solitude who bid us
In mountains seek it, or the pathless forest,
Or far off isle amid the waste of waters,
Where print has ne'er been left by foot of man.
No, the true solitude is loneliness.
And how can one know that where there is aught
To mind him of the many links which bind
Man to the brotherhood of man? And where,
Beneath the sway of nature's sovereignty,
Is there a spot that something does not this?
The ever pleasant sound of running brook;
The dash of the cascade, or moan of ocean;
The wind at play among green boughs, or shrieking
A hoarse defiance to the powers of earth ;
The aimless floating of a summer cloud
In the deep blue of heaven ; the wide-stretched winys
Of mighty tempest that shut out the sky;
The carol of a bird ; an humble flower,
Which by the wind is planted in strange soil,
Will in his mind call up the recollection
Of scenes or objects loved in days gone by.
And while th' affections have vitality,
Or rather, while to living thing they cling,
The curse of loneliness he cannot know.
But when the green love of his heart is withered,
Or, living, nothing clasps in its embrace
That death has touched not, wander where he will,
He cannot fly from solitude. It is
Within his breast-a present desolation !
And whether 'mid the ruins of the past,
Grey with the moss of ages, or the dry
Hot thoroughfare, where crowds with crowds commingle,
The feeling that he ever is alone
Weighis down the spirit fortune could not humble,
When, like a bird whose heart the fowler's shaft
Has sudden pierced, Hope drops to earth, and dies !
Here (laying his hand upon his heart) is my solitude.
With mine own hand
Did I unchain the passions there shut up,
And, where a Paradise once blossomed, they
Have made a howling waste !
How, Maldonado ? Can sight of these boar ruins, which so oft Tby boyish gambols witnessed, change thy nature, And set thee rhapsodizing like a poet Who owns the influence of the moon ? Come, rouse thee To thought of that which brought thee hither, for Thou must not hence till thou hast left some token Of the dear love thou bear'st thy native city, Who, like a cruel stepdame, drove thee forth To crime and outlawry. But every wrong From her hast thou repaid a thousand-fold, 'Till she, who trampled on and would have crushed thee, Now pales with fear to hear the name but whispered Of "MALDONADO, KING OF THE CAMPAGNA !"
OTTAVIO, (coming feebly forward.)
I pray thee, gentle stranger, lend thine aid
To one whose life is nearly drained, and faints
From loss of blood. Conduct me to the palace
Of Count Orsini ; and, if thanks or gold
Can recompense thee for thy pains, thou'lt not
An Orsini suing To me for aid! Infernal Powers! I thank you ! (Aloud.) Let me support thee. I've some friends at hand Will help me bear thee hence. (Gives a low whistle, when Enter Giacomo and another Robber. Aside to them.)
Timely encountered. (Aloud.) This gentleman is ill ;-with your assistance I would convey him home. (Aside to the Robbers.) Bestir
Beyond the city get without delay;
And with all speed then bear bim to the camp.
His ransom would repay a greater service.
[Exeunt Giacomo and Robber supporting OTTAVIO. Enter GIAN-ANGELO from the opposite side.
Should I be absent And danger threaten thee?
NEW YORK SERIES-VOL. II. NO. IV. 34
What danger, boy?
Art not in Rome, where to be found is death.
Ay, to be found. But I shall not be found.
Who in this bronzed visage could discern
The features of the youth who, ten years since,
For such a deed as in the rich and noble
Were deemed a venial fault, was driven forth
To herd with felons ? But thou understand'st not.
Howe'er, there is no danger.
They tell me that my mind is weak. It is.
I know my reason is no match for thine.
But, Ugo, thou art all I have to love;
And love in such as I supplies the place
By reason held in others. Well I know
Thou hast been wronged. I never asked the cause ;
And will not ask;—but I, who know thy heart,
So loving and so trusting in its nature,
Do know they wronged thee, who did drive thee hence.
Then let us go. If they, who wronged thee then,
Should find thee here, they will to their first wrong
Add yet another, and more grievous wrong-
A wrong to thee and me, for in thy life
Is mine bound up, and both will they destroy.
No fear of that ;-yet will I humor thee.”
Ottavio is not killed after all, the villain, and the flight from Rome was unnecessary. But we will follow the fugitives.