And veil the deed of blood.
DON CAESAR (with a faltering voice, and taking her hand).
Thus it shall be,
My mother-thus with silent, gentle woe
Thy grief shall fade: but when one common tomb
The murderer and his victim closes round-
When o'er our dust one monumental stone
Is rolled-the curse shall cease-thy love no more
Unequal bless thy sons: the precious tears
Thine eyes of beauty weep shall sanctify
Alike our memories. Yes! In death are quenched
The fires of rage; and hatred owns subdued,
The mighty reconciler. Pity bends
An angel form above the funeral urn,
With weeping, dear embrace. Then to the tomb
Stay not my passage:-Oh, forbid me not,
Thus with atoning sacrifice to quell
The curse of heaven.
ISABELLA.
All Christendom is rich
In shrines of mercy, where the troubled heart
May find repose. Oh! many a heavy burden
Have sinners in Loretto's mansion laid;
And Heaven's peculiar blessing breathes around
The grave that has redeemed the world! The prayers
Of the devout are precious-fraught with store
Of grace, they win forgiveness from the skies;-
And on the soil by gory murder stained
Shall rise the purifying fane.
DON CAESAR.
We pluck
The arrow from the wound-but the torn heart
Shall ne'er be healed. Let him who can, drag on
A weary life of penance and of pain,
To cleanse the spot of everlasting guilt;-
I would not live the victim of despair;
No! I must meet with beaming eye the smile
Of happy ones, and breathe erect the air
Of liberty and joy. While yet alike
We shared thy love, then o'er my days of youth
Pale envy cast his withering shade; and now,
Think'st thou my heart could brook the dearer ties
That bind thee in thy sorrow to the dead?
Death, in his undecaying palace throned,
To the pure diamond of perfect virtue
Sublimes the mortal, and with chastening fire
Each gathered stain of frail humanity
Purges and burns away: high as the stars
Tower o'er this earthly sphere, he soars above me;
And as by ancient hate dissevered long,
Brethren and equal denizens we lived,
So now my restless soul with envy pines,
That he has won from me the glorious prize
Of immortality, and like a god
In memory marches on to times unborn!
ISABELLA.
My Sons! Why have I called you to Messina
To find for each a grave? I brought ye hither
To calm your strife to peace. Lo! Fate has turned
My hopes to blank despair.
DON CAESAR.
Whate'er was spoke,
My mother, is fulfilled! Blame not the end
By Heaven ordained. We trode our father's halls
With hopes of peace; and reconciled forever,
Together we shall sleep in death.
ISABELLA.
My son,
Live for thy mother! In the stranger's land,
Say, wouldst thou leave me friendless and alone,
To cruel scorn a prey-no filial arm
To shield my helpless age?
DON CAESAR.
When all the world
With heartless taunts pursues thee, to our grave
For refuge fly, my mother, and invoke
Thy sons' divinity-we shall be gods!
And we will hear thy prayers:-and as the twins
Of heaven, a beaming star of comfort shine
To the tossed shipman-we will hover near thee
With present help, and soothe thy troubled soul!
ISABELLA.
Live-for thy mother, live, my son-
Must I lose all?
[She throws her arms about him with passionate emotion.
