He gently disengages himself, and turning his face away

extends to her his hand.

DON CAESAR.

Farewell!

ISABELLA.

I can no more;

Too well my tortured bosom owns how weak

A mother's prayers: a mightier voice shall sound

Resistless on thy heart.

[She goes towards the entrance of the scene.

My daughter, come.

A brother calls him to the realms of night;

Perchance with golden hues of earthly joy

The sister, the beloved, may gently lure

The wanderer to life again.

[BEATRICE appears at the entrance of the scene.

DONNA ISABELLA, DON CAESAR, and the Chorus.

DON CAESAR (on seeing her, covers his face with his hands).

My mother!

What hast thou done?

ISABELLA (leading BEATRICE forwards).

A mother's prayers are vain!

Kneel at his feet-conjure him-melt his heart!

Oh, bid him live!

DON CAESAR.

Deceitful mother, thus

Thou triest thy son! And wouldst thou stir my soul

Again to passion's strife, and make the sun

Beloved once more, now when I tread the paths

Of everlasting night? See where he stands-

Angel of life!-and wondrous beautiful,

Shakes from his plenteous horn the fragrant store

Of golden fruits and flowers, that breathe around

Divinest airs of joy;-my heart awakes

In the warm sunbeam-hope returns, and life

Thrills in my breast anew.

ISABELLA (to BEATRICE).

Thou wilt prevail!

Or none! Implore him that he live, nor rob

The staff and comfort of our days.

BEATRICE.

The loved one

A sacrifice demands. Oh, let me die

To soothe a brother's shade! Yes, I will be

The victim! Ere I saw the light forewarned

To death, I live a wrong to heaven! The curse

Pursues me still: 'twas I that slew thy son-

I waked the slumbering furies of their strife-

Be mine the atoning blood!

CAJETAN.

Ill-fated mother!

Impatient all thy children haste to doom,

And leave thee on the desolate waste alone

Of joyous life.

BEATRICE.

Oh, spare thy precious days

For nature's band. Thy mother needs a son;

My brother, live for her! Light were the pang

To lose a daughter-but a moment shown,

Then snatched away!

DON CAESAR (with deep emotion).

'Tis one to live or die,

Blest with a sister's love!

BEATRICE.

Say, dost thou envy

Thy brother's ashes?

DON CAESAR.

In thy grief he lives

A hallowed life!-my doom is death forever!

BEATRICE.

My brother!

Вы читаете The Bride of Messina (play)
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