Has promis'd to pursue. No! ere his eyes
Shall open on to-morrow's orient beam,
I will convince him that Earl Osmond never
Was form'd to be his dupe-I know full well
Th' important weight and danger of the deed:
But to a man, whom greater dangers press,
Driven to the brink of infamy and horror,
Rashness itself, and utter desperation,
Are the best prudence.-I will bear her off
This night, and lodge her in a place of safety:
I have a trusty band that waits not far.
Hence! let me lose no time-One rapid mo-
ment

Should ardent form, at once, and execute
A bold design-'Tis fix'd-"Tis done!-yes,
then,
[our,
When I have seiz'd the prize of love and hon-
And with a friend secur'd her; to the castle
I will repair, and claim Goffredo's promise,
To rise with all his garrison-My friends
With brave impatience wait. The mine is laid,
And only wants my kindling touch to spring.
[Exit.

SCENE II.-SIGISMUNDA'S Apartment.
Enter SIGISMUNDA and LAURA. Thunder.

Laura. Heavens! 'tis a fearful night!
Sig. Ah! the black rage

Of midnight tempest, or th' assuring smiles
Of radiant morn, are equal all to me.
Nought now has charms or terrors to my breast,
The seat of stupid wo!-Leave me, my Laura.
Kind rest, perhaps, may hush my woes a little.
Oh, for that quiet sleep that knows no morn-
ing!

Laura. Madam, indeed I know not how to go. Indulge my fondness-Let me watch a while By your sad bed, 'till these dread hours shall

This idle perturbation of the sky,
To what I feel within?-Oh, that the fires
Of pitying Heaven would point their fury here!
Good night, my dearest Laura.

Laura. Oh, I know not

What this oppression means-But 'tis with pain,

With tears I can persuade myself to leave youWell then-Good night, my dearest Sigismunda. [Erit.

Sig. And am I then alone?-The most undone,

Most wretched being now beneath the cope
Of this affrighting gloom that wraps the
world-

I said I did not fear-Ah, me! I feel
A shivering horror run through all my powers!
Oh, I am nought but tumult, fears, and weak-

ness!

And yet how idle fear when hope is gone, Gone, gone for ever!-Oh thou gentle scene [Looking towards her bed. Of sweet repose, where, by th' oblivious draught

Of each sad toilsome day, to peace restor❜d, Unhappy mortals lose their woes awhile, Thou hast no peace for me!-What shall I do? How pass this dreadful night, so big with terror?

Here, with the midnight shades, here will I sit, [Sitting down.

A prey to dire despair, and ceaseless weep The hours away-Bless me-I heard a noise[Starting up.

No-1 mistook-nothing but silence reigns, And awful midnight, round--Again -Oh, Heavens !

My lord the king!

Enter TANCRED.

Tan. Be not alarm'd, my love! Sig. My royal lord, why at this midnight hour,

How came you hither?

Tan. By that secret way

My love contriv'd, when we, in happier days,
Us'd to devote these hours, so much in vain,
To vows of love, and everlasting friendship.
Sig. Why will you thus persist to add new
stings

To her distress, who never can be thine?
Oh, fly me! fly! you know-

Tan. I know too much.

Oh, how I could reproach thee, Sigismunda! Pour out my injur'd soul in just complaints! But now the time permits not, these swift

moments

I told thee how thy father's artifice
Forc'd me to seem perfidious in thy eyes.
Ah, fatal blindness! not to have observ'd
The mingled pangs of rage and love that shook

me:

When by my cruel public situation
Compell'd, I only feign'd consent, to gain
A little time, and more secure thee mine.
E'er since-a dreadful interval of care!
My thoughts have been employ'd, not without
hope,

How to defeat Siffredi's barbarous purpose.
But thy credulity has ruin'd all,

Thy rash, thy wild-I know not what to name it

Oh, it has prov'd the giddy hopes of man
To be delusion all, and sickening folly!

Sig. Ah, generous Tancred! ah, thy truth
destroys me!

Yes, yes, 'tis I, 'tis I alone am false ! My hasty rage, join'd to my tame submission | More than the most exalted filial duty Could e'er demand, has dash'd our cup of fate With bitterness unequall'd-But, alas! What are thy woes to mine?-to mine, just Heaven! [me! Now is thy turn of vengeance-hate, renounce Ob, leave me to the fate I well deserve, To sink in hopeless misery !—at least, Try to forget the worthless Sigismunda!

Tan. Forget thee! No! Thou art my soul

itself!

I have no thought, no hope, no wish but thee!
Even this repented injury, the fears,
That rouse me all to madness, at the thought
Of losing thee, the whole collected pains
Of my full heart, serve but to make thee
dearer.

Ah, how forget thee !-Much must be forgot,
Ere Tancred can forget his Sigismunda!

Sig. But you, my lord, must make that great effort.

Tan. Can Sigismunda make it?
Sig. Ah, I know not

With what success-But all that feeble

woman

And love-entangled reason can perform,
I, to the utmost, will exert to do it.

Tan. Fear not-'Tis done!-If thou canst form the thought,

Success is sure-I am forgot already.
Sig. Ah, Tancred!-But, my lord, respect

me more.

Think who I am-What can you now pro- | pose?

Tan. To claim the plighted vows which Heaven has heard,

To vindicate the rites of holy love

By faith and honour bound, to which compar'd These empty forms, which have ensnar'd thy hand,

Are impious guile, abuse, and profanation-
Nay, as a king, whose high prerogative
By this unlicens'd marriage is affronted,
To bid the laws themselves pronounce it void.
Sig. Honour my lord, is much too proud to
catch

At every slender twig of nice distinctions.
These for the unfeeling vulgar may do well:
But those, whose souls are by the nicer rule
Of virtuous delicacy nobly swayed,
Stand at another bar than that of laws.
Then cease to urge me-Since I am not born
To that exalted fate to be your queen-
Or, yet a dearer name-to be your wife!-
I am the wife of an illustrious lord
Of your own princely blood; and what I am,
I will with proper dignity remain.
Retire, my royal lord.-There is no means
To cure the wounds this fatal day has given.
We meet no more!

Tan. Oh, barbarous Sigismunda!

And canst thou talk this steadily; thus treat

me

With such unpitying, unrelenting rigour?
Poor is the love, that rather than give up
A little pride, a little formal pride,
The breath of vanity, can bear to see [thine,
The man, whose heart was once so dear to
By many a tender vow so mix'd together,
A prey to anguish, fury, and distraction!
Thou canst not surely make me such a wretch,
Thou canst not, Sigismunda !-Yet relent,
Oh, save us yet!-Rodolpho, with my guards,
Waits in the garden-Let us seize the moments
We ne'er may have again-With more than
power

I will assert thee mine, with fairest honour.
The world shall even approve; each honest

bosom

The conscious mind is its own awful world.-
And mine is fix'd-Distress me then no more ;
Not all the heart can plead, (and it, alas,
Pleads but too much)—

And yet, perhaps, if thou wert not a king,
I know not, Tancred, what I might have done,
Then, then, my conduct, sanctified by love,
Could not be deem'd, by the severest judge,
The mean effect of interest or ambition.
But now,
not all my partial heart can plead,
Shall ever shake th' unalterable dictates
That tyrannize my breast.

Tan. "Tis well-No more

I yield me to my fate-Yes, yes, inhuman!
Since thy barbarian heart is steel'd by pride,
Shut up to love and pity, here behold me
Cast on the ground, a vile and abject wretch!
Lost to all cares, all dignities, all duties!
Here will I grow, breathe out my faithful soul,
Here at thy feet-Death, death alone shall

part us!

Sig. Have you then vow'd to drive me to perdition?

What can I more ?-Yes, Tancred, once again
I will forget the dignity my station

Commands me to sustain-for the last time
Will tell thee, that, I fear, no ties, no duty,

Can ever root thee from my hapless bosom.
Oh, leave me! fly me! were it but in pity!—
To see what once we tenderly have lov'd,
Cut off from every hope-cut off for ever!
Is pain thy generosity should spare me.
Then rise, my lord; and if you truly love me,
If you respect my honour, nay, my peace,
Retire! for though th' emotions of my heart
Can ne'er alarm my virtue; yet, alas!
They tear it so, they pierce it with such an-
guish-
[thet!
Oh, 'tis too much!-I cannot bear the con-

Enter OSMOND.

Osm. Turn, tyrant, turn! and answer to my honour,

For this thy base insufferable outrage!
Tan. Insolent traitor! think not to escape
Thyself my vengeance!

[They fight; OSMOND falls. Sig. Help, here! help!-Oh, Heavens! [Throwing herself down by him, Alas, my lord, what meant your headlong rage! That faith, which I this day, upon the altar, To you devoted, is unblemish'd, pure As vestal truth; was resolutely yours, Beyond the power of aught on earth to shake Ŏsm. Perfidious womam! die !- [Shortening his sword, he plunges it into her breast.] and to the grave

[it.

Attend a husband, yet but half aveng'd!
Tan. Oh, horror! horror! execrable villain!
Osm. And tyrant! thou!-thou shalt not o'er
my tomb

Exult-"Tis well-'tis great! I die content![Dies

Enter RODOLPHO and LAURA.

Quick! here! bring aid!--All in Palermo Tan. [Throwing himself down by SIGISMUNDA] bring,

Whose skill can save her!-Ah, that gentle bosom

Pours fast the streams of life.

Sig. All aid is vain;

I feel the powerful hand of death upon me But, oh! it sheds a sweetness through my fate, That I am thine again; and without blame May in my Tancred's arms resign my soul!

Tan. Oh, death is in that voice! so gently

mild,

So sadly sweet, as mixes even with mine
The tears of hovering angels !-Mine again !-
Are these the horrid nuptials they prepare
And is it thus the cruel fates have join'd us?
For love like ours?-Is virtue thus rewarded!
Let not my impious rage accuse just Heaver'
Thou, Tancred, thou hast murder'd Sigis
munda!

That furious man was but the tool of fate,
I, I the cause!--But I will do thee justice
On this deaf heart! that to thy tender wisdom
Refused an ear-Yes, death shall soon unite us.
Sig. Live, live, my Tancred!-Let my death
suffice

To expiate all that may have been amiss.
May it appease the fates, avert their fury
From thy propitious reign! Meantime, of me
And of thy glory mindful, live, I charge thee,
To guard our friends, and make thy people
happy-

Enter SIFFREDI, fixed in astonishment and grij
My father!-Oh, how shall I lift my eyes
To thee, my sinking father!

tals?

I shall find means-No power in earth or heaven

Can force me to endure the hateful light, Thus robb'd of all that lent it joy and sweetness!

Off, traitors, off! or my distracted soul
Will burst indignant from this jail of nature,
To where she beckons yonder-No, mild
seraph,

Point not to life-I cannot linger here,
Cut off from thee, the miserable pity,,.
The scorn of human kind! A trampled
king!

Who let his mean, poor-hearted love, one mo

Lo! with fierce smiles he shakes the bloody steel,

And mocks my feeble tears-Hence, quickly, hence!

Spurn his vile carcass! give it to the dogs!
Expose it to the winds and screaming ravens!
Or hurl it down that fiery steep to hell,
There with his soul to toss in flames for ever.
Ah, impotence of rage! What am I? Where?
Sad, silent, all?-The forms of dumb despair,
Around some mournful tomb.-What do I
see?

The soft abode of innocence and love

Turn'd to the house of death! a place of horror!

Ah, that poor corse! pale! pale! deform'd with murder!

Is that my Sigismunda?

[Throws himself down by her. Sif. [After a pathetic pause, looking on the scene before him.]

Have I liv'd

To these enfeebled years, by Heaven reserv'd
To be a dreadful monument of justice?-
Rodolpho, raise the king, and bear him hence
From this distracting scene of blood and
death.

Alas! I dare not give him my assistance;
My care would only more inflame his rage.
Behold the fatal work of my dark hand,
That by rude force the passions would com-
mand,

That ruthless thought to root them from the breast;

They may be rul'd, but will not be oppress'd. Taught hence, ye parents, who from nature stray,

And the great ties of social life betray;
Ne'er with your children act a tyrant's part:
"Tis yours to guide, not violate the heart.
Ye vainly wise, who o'er mankind preside,
Behold my righteous woes, and drop your
pride;

Keep virtue's simple path before your eyes,
Nor think from evil good can ever rise.

EPILOGUE.

CRAMM'D to the throat with wholesome moral stuff,

Alas, poor audience! you have had enough.
Was ever hapless heroine of a play
In such a piteous plight as ours to-day?
Was ever woman so by love betray'd?
Match'd with two husbands, and yet-die a
maid.

But bless me!-hold-what sounds are these
I hear-

I see the Tragic Muse herself appear.

[The back-scene opens, and discovers a romantic sylvan landscape; from which the Tragic Muse advances slowly to music, and speaks the following lines:

Hence with your flippant epilogue, that

tries

On France and You then rose my brightening star,

With social ray---The arts are ne'er at war.
Oh, as your fire and genius strongly blaze,
As yours are generous freedom's bolder lays,
Let not the Gallic taste leave yours behind,
In decent manners and in life refin'd;
Banish the motley mode, to tag low verse,
The laughing ballad to the mournful hearse.
When through five acts your hearts have
learn'd to glow,

Touch'd with the sacred force of honest wo;
Oh, keep the dear impression on your breast,
Nor idly lose it for a wretched jest,