Darkens thy spirit thus?

ANSELMO.

What recent grief

VITTORIA.

I said not grief.

We should rejoice to-day, but joy is not

That which it hath been. In the flowers which wreathe

Its mantling cup there is a scent unknown,

Fraught with some strange delirium. All things now

Have changed their nature; still, I say, rejoice!

There is a cause, Anselmo !-We are free,
Free and avenged!-Yet on my soul there hangs
A darkness, heavy as th' oppressive gloom
Of midnight phantasies.-Aye, for this, too,
There is a cause.

ANSELMO.

How say'st thou, we are free?

There may have raged, within Palermo's walls,

Some brief wild tumult, but too well I know

They call the stranger, lord.

VITTORIA.

Who calls the dead

Conqueror or lord?-Hush! breathe it not aloud,

The wild winds must not hear it!-Yet, again,

I tell thee, we are free!

ANSELMO.

Thine eye hath look'd

On fearful deeds, for still their shadows hang
O'er its dark orb.-Speak! I adjure thee, say,
How hath this work been wrought?

VITTORIA.

Peace! ask me not!

Why shouldst thou hear a tale to send thy blood
Back on its fount?-We cannot wake them now!
The storm is in my soul, but they are all
At rest!-Aye, sweetly may the slaughter'd babe
By its dead mother sleep; and warlike men
Who 'midst the slain have slumber'd oft before,
Making the shield their pillow, may repose

Well, now their toils are done.-Is 't not enough?

CONSTANCE.

Merciful Heaven! have such things been? And yet
There is no shade come o'er the laughing sky!

-I am an outcast now.

ANSELMO.

O Thou, whose ways

Clouds mantle fearfully; of all the blind,
But terrible, ministers that work thy wrath,

How much is man the fiercest !-Others know

Their limits-Yes! the earthquakes, and the storms,

And the volcanoes!-He alone o'erleaps

The bounds of retribution !-Couldst thou gaze,
Vittoria! with thy woman's heart and eye,

On such dread scenes unmoved?

VITTORIA.

Was it for me

To stay th' avenging sword?-No, though it pierced My very soul!" Hark, hark, what thrilling shrieks Ring through the air around me!-Can'st thou not Bid them be hush'd?-Oh! look not on me thus!"

ANSELMO.

"Lady! thy thoughts lend sternness to the looks Which are but sad!"-Have all then perish'd? all? Was there no mercy?

VITTORIA.

Mercy! it hath been

A word forbidden as th' unhallowed names

Of evil powers.-Yet one there was who dared

To own the guilt of pity, and to aid

The victims; but in vain.-Of him no more!

He is a traitor, and a traitor's death

Will be his meed.

CONSTANCE (coming forward).

Is it-it cannot be !

Oh Heaven!-his name, his name?

VITTTORIA (starting).

Thou here, pale girl!

I deem'd thee with the dead!-How hast thou 'scaped The snare?-Who saved thee, last of all thy race? Was it not he of whom I spake e'en now,

Raimond di Procida?

CONSTANCE.

It is enough.

Now the storm breaks upon me, and I sink !

Must he too die?

VITTORIA.

Is it ev'n so?-Why then,

Live on-thou hast the arrow at thy heart!
"Fix not on me thy sad reproachful eyes,"
I mean not to betray thee. Thou may'st live!
Why should death bring thee his oblivious balms?
He visits but the happy.-Didst thou ask

If Raimond too must die?-It is as sure

As that his blood is on thy head, for thou

Didst win him to this treason.

CONSTANCE.

"When did man

Call mercy, treason ?—Take my life, but save

My noble Raimond!

VITTORIA.

"Maiden! "" he must die.

E'en now the youth before his judges stands,
And they are men who, to the voice of prayer,
Are as the rock is to the murmur'd sigh
Of summer-waves; aye, though a father sit
On their tribunal. Bend thou not to me.
What wouldst thou?

CONSTANCE.

Mercy!-Oh! wert thou to plead

But with a look, e'en yet he might be saved!

If thou hast ever loved

VITTORIA.

-If I have loved?

It is that love forbids me to relent;

I am what it hath made me.-O'er my soul
Lightning hath pass'd, and sear'd it. Could I weep,
I then might pity-but it will not be.