it.

Instead of that-confusion !-what I did

Has clenched the chain, confirmed Siffredi's crime,

And fixed me down to infamy!

Rod. My lord,

Blame not the conduct which your situation Tore from your tortured heart-What could you do?

Had you, so circumstanced, in open senate,
Before the astonished public, with no friends
Prepared, no party formed, affronted thus
The haughty princess and her powerful faction,
Supported by this will, the sudden stroke,
Abrupt and premature, might have recoiled
Upon yourself, even your own friends revolted,
And turned at once the public scale against you.
Besides, consider, had you then detected
In its fresh guilt this action of Siffredi,
You must, with signal vengeance, have chastised
The treasonable deed-Nothing so mean
As weak, insulted power that dares not punish.
And how would that have suited with your love?
His daughter present too? Trust me, your con-
duct,

Howe'er abhorrent to a heart like yours,
Was fortunate and wise-Not that I mean
E'er to advise submission-

Tan. Heavens! submission

Could I descend to bear it, even in thought, Despise me, you, the world, and Sigismunda! Submission!-No!-To-morrow's glorious light Shall flash discovery on the scene of baseness. Whatever be the risk, by heavens ! to-morrow,

Of these old men, and shew my faithful senate,
That Manfred's son knows to assert and wear,
With undiminished dignity, that crown
This unexpected day has placed upon him.
But this, my friend, these stormy gusts of pride
Are foreign to my love-Till Sigismunda
Be disabused, my breast is tumult all,
And can obey no settled course of reason.
I see her still, I feel her powerful image,
That look, where with reproach complaint was
mixed,

Big with soft woe, and gentle indignation,
Which seemed at once to pity and to scorn

me

Oh, let me find her! I too long have left
My Sigismunda to converse with tears,
A prey to thoughts that picture me a villain,
But ah! how, clogged with this accursed state,
A tedious world, shall I now find access?
Her father too-Ten thousand horrors crowd
Into the wild, fantastic eye of love———
Who knows what he may do? Come, then, my
friend,

And by thy sister's hand, oh, let me steal
A letter to her bosom--I no longer
Can bear her absence, by the just contempt
She now must brand me with, inflamed to mad-

ness.

Fly, my Rodolpho, fly! engage thy sister
To aid my letter; and this very evening
Secure an interview--I would not bear
This rack another day, not for my kingdom.
Till then, deep plunged in solitude and shades,
I will not see the hated face of man. [Exeunt.

SIGISMUNDA alone, sitting in a disconsolate

posture.

Ah, tyrant prince! ah more than faithless Tancred!

Ungenerous and inhuman in thy falsehood! Hadst thou this morning, when my hopeless heart,

Submissive to my fortune and my duty,
Had so much spirit left, as to be willing
To give thee back thy vows, ah! hadst thou then
Confessed the sad necessity thy state
Imposed upon thee, and with gentle friendship,
Since we must part at last, our parting softened;
I should indeed-I should have been unhappy,
But not to this extreme-Amidst my grief,
I had, with pensive pleasure, cherished still
The sweet remembrance of thy former love;
Thy image still had dwelt upon my soul,
And made our guiltless woes not undelightful.
But coolly thus-How couldst thou be so cruel?

Thus to revive my hopes, to soothe my love,
And call forth all its tenderness, then sink me
In black despair-What unrelenting pride
Possessed thy breast, that thou couldst bear, un-
moved,

To see me bent beneath a weight of shame? Pangs thou canst never feel! How couldst thou drag me,

In barbarous triumph, at a rival's car?
How make me witness to a sight of horror?
That hand, which, but a few short hours ago,
So wantonly abused my simple faith,
Before the attesting world given to another,
Irrevocably given !-There was a time,
When the least cloud that hung upon my brow,
Perhaps imagined only, touched thy pity.
Then, brightened often by the ready tear,
Thy looks were softness all; then the quick
heart,

In every nerve alive, forgot itself,

And for each other then we felt alone.
But now, alas! those tender days are fled;

Now thou canst see me wretched, pierced with anguish,

With studied anguish of thy own creating,
Nor wet thy hardened eye-Hold, let me think-
I wrong thee sure; thou canst not be so base,
As meanly in my misery to triumph-
What is it, then!-'Tis fickleness of nature,
'Tis sickly love extinguished by ambition-
Is there, kind Heaven, no constancy in man?
No stedfast truth, no generous fixed affection,
That can bear up against a selfish world?
No, there is none-even Tancred is inconstant!
[Rising.
Hence! let me fly this scene !-Whate'er I see,
These roofs, these walls, each object that sur-
rounds me,

Are tainted with his vows-But whither fly?
The groves are worse; the soft retreat of Bel-
mont,

Its deepening glooms, gay lawns, and airy summits,

Will wound my busy memory to torture, And all its shades will whisper-faithless Tancred!

My father comes-How, sunk in this disorder, Shall I sustain his presence?

Awake to reason from this dream of love,
And shew the world thou art Siffredi's daughter.
Sig. Alas! I am unworthy of that name.
Sif. Thou art indeed to blame; thou hast too
rashly

Engaged thy heart, without a father's sanction.
But this I can forgive. The king has virtues,
That plead thy full excuse; nor was I void
Of blame, to trust thee to those dangerous vir-

tues.

Thou only joy and hope of these grey hairs!
Come, let me take thee to a parent's heart;
There, with the kindly aid of my advice,
Even with the dew of these paternal tears,
Revive and nourish this becoming spirit!-
Then thou dost promise me, my Sigismunda-
Thy father stoops to make it his request-
Thou wilt resign thy fond presumptuous hopes,
And henceforth never more indulge one thought
That in the light of love regards the king?

Sig. Hopes I have none; those by this fa-
tal day

Are blasted all-But from my soul to banish, While weeping memory there retains her seat, Thoughts which the purest bosom might have cherished,

Once my delight, now even in anguish charming,

Is more, my lord, than I can promise.

Sif. Absence, and time, the softner of our

thee

A generous great effort; that thou wilt now
Exert thy utmost force, nor languish thus
Beneath the vain extravagance of love.
Let not thy father blush to hear it said,
His daughter was so weak, e'er to admit
A thought so void of reason, that a king
Should, to his rank, his honour, and his glory,
The high important duties of a throne,
Even to his throne itself, madly prefer
A wild romantic passion, the fond child
Of youthful dreaming thought and vacant hours;
That he should quit his heaven-appointed sta-
tion,

Desert his awful charge, the care of all
The toiling millions which this isle contains;
Nay, more, should plunge them into war and
ruin,

And all to soothe a sick imagination,
A miserable weakness. Must for thee,
To make thee blest, Sicilia be unhappy?
The king himself, lost to the nobler sense
Of manly praise, become the piteous hero
Of some soft tale, and rush on sure destruction?
Canst thou, my daughter, let the monstrous
thought

Possess one moment thy perverted fancy?
Rouse thee, for shame! and if a spark of virtue
Lies slumbering in thy soul, bid it blaze forth;
Nor sink unequal to the glorious lesson,
This day thy lover gave thee from his throne.
Sig. Ah, that was not from virtue!-Had,
father,

That been his aim, I yield to what you say ;
'Tis powerful truth, unanswerable reason.
Then, then, with sad but duteous resignation,
I had submitted as became your daughter;
But in that moment, when my humbled hopes

Were to my duty reconciled, to raise them
To yet a fonder height than e'er they knew,
Then rudely dash them down-There is the sting!
The blasting view is ever present to me-
Why did you drag me to a sight so cruel!

Sif. It was a scene to fire thy emulation.
Sig. It was a scene of perfidy!-But know,
I will do more than imitate the king-
For he is false!-I, though sincerely pierced
With the best, truest passion, ever touched
A virgin's breast, here vow to Heaven and you,
Though from my heart I cannot, from my hopes
To cast this prince-What would you more, my
father?

Sif. Yes, one thing more-thy father then is
happy-

Though by the voice of innocence and virtue
Absolved, we live not to ourselves alone:
A rigorous world, with peremptory sway,
Subjects us all, and even the noblest most.
This world from thee, my honour and thy own,
Demands one step; a step, by which, convinced,
The king may see thy heart disdains to wear
A chain which his has greatly thrown aside.
'Tis fitting too, thy sex's pride commands thee,
To shew the approving world thou canst resign,
As well as he, nor with inferior spirit,
A passion fatal to the public weal.

But above all, thou must root out for ever
From the king's breast the least remain of hope,
And henceforth make his mentioned love disho-

nour.

These things, my daughter, that must needs be done,

Can but this way be done-by the safe refuge,
The sacred shelter, of a husband's arms;
And there is one-

Sig. Good heavens! what means my lord?
Sif. One of illustrious family, high rank,
Yet still of higher dignity and merit,
Who can and will protect thee; one to awe
The king himself-Nay, hear me, Sigismunda-
The noble Osmond courts thee for his bride,
And has my plighted word-This day-
Sig. [Kneeling.] My father!

Let me with trembling arms embrace thy knees!
Oh, if you ever wish to see me happy;
If e'er in infant years I gave you joy,
When, as I prattling twined around your neck,
You snatched me to your bosom, kissed my eyes,
And, melting, said you saw my mother there;
Oh, save me from that worst severity
Of fate! Oh, outrage not my breaking heart
To that degree!-I cannot !-'tis impossible!
So soon withdraw it, give it to another-
Hear me, my dearest father; hear the voice
Of nature and humanity, that plead
As well as justice for me! Not to choose
Without your wise direction may be duty;
But still my choice is free-that is a right,
Which even the lowest slave can never lose ;
And would you thus degrade me?—make me

base?

For such it were to give my worthless person Without my heart, an injury to Osmond,

The highest can be done-Let me, my lord—
Or I shall die, shall, by the sudden change,
Be to distraction shocked-Let me wear out
My hapless days in solitude and silence,
Far from the malice of a prying world;
At least you cannot sure refuse me this-
Give me a little time-I will do all,
All I can do, to please you !—Oh, your eye
Sheds a kind beam-

Sif. My daughter! you abuse
The softness of my nature-
Sig. Here, my father,

'Till you relent, here will I grow for ever!
Sif. Rise, Sigismunda.-Though you touch my
heart,

Nothing can shake the inexorable dictates
Of honour, duty, and determined reason.
Then by the holy ties of filial love,

Resolve, I charge thee, to receive earl Osmond,
As suits the man who is thy father's choice,
And worthy of thy hand-I go to bring him.—
Sig. Spare me, my dearest father!
Sif. [Aside.] I must rush

From her soft grasp, or nature will betray me!
Oh, grant us, Heaven! that fortitude of mind,
Which listens to our duty, not our passions!
Quit me, my child!

Sig. You cannot, oh, my father! You cannot leave me thus!

Sif. Come hither, Laura,

Come to thy friend. Now shew thyself a friend. Combat her weakness; dissipate her tears: Cherish, and reconcile her to her duty.

Enter LAURA.

[Exit SIFFREDI.

Sig. Oh, woe on woe! distressed by love and duty!

Oh, every way unhappy Sigismunda!

Laura. Forgive me, madam, if I blame your grief.

How can you waste your tears on one so false? Unworthy of your tenderness; to whom Nought but contempt is due, and indignation?

Sig. You know not half the horrors of my fate!

I might perhaps have learned to scorn his falsehood;

Nay, when the first sad burst of tears was past, I might have roused my pride and scorned him

self

Most exquisite revenge!

Sig. Revenge! on whom?

On my own heart, already but too wretched! Laura. On him! this Tancred! who has basely sold,

For the dull form of despicable grandeur,
His faith, his love! At once a slave and tyrant!
Sig. Oh, rail at me! at my believing folly!
My vain ill-founded hopes! but spare him, Lau-
ra!

Laura. Who raised these hopes? Who triumphs o'er that weakness? Pardon the word-you greatly merit him, Better than him, with all his giddy pomp; You raised him by your smiles, when he was nothing.

Where is your woman's pride, that guardian spirit,

Given us to dash the perfidy of man?

Ye powers! I cannot bear the thought with patience

Yet recent from the most unsparing vows
The tongue of love e'er lavished; from your
hopes

So vainly, idly, cruelly deluded;
Before the public thus, before your father,
By an irrevocable solemn deed,

With such inhuman scorn, to throw you from him,

To give his faithless hand, yet warm from thine,
With complicated meanness, to Constantia !
And, to complete his crime, when thy weak limbs
Could scarce support thee, then, of thee regard-
less,

That hangs upon me! Hence, unworthy tears, Disgrace my cheek no more! No more, my heart,

For one so coolly false, or meanly fickle————
Oh, it imports not which-dare to suggest
The least excuse!Yes, traitor, I will wring
Thy pride, will turn thy triumph to confusion!
I will not pine away my days for thee,
Sighing to brooks and groves; while, with vain
pity,

You in a rival's arms lament my fate-
No, let me perish, ere I tamely be
That soft, that patient, gentle Sigismunda,
Who can console her with the wretched boast,
She was for thee unhappy! If I am,
I will be nobly so!-Sicilia's daughters
Shall, wondering, see in me a great example
Of one who punished an ill-judging heart,
Who made it bow to what it most abhorred;
Crushed it to misery, for having thus
So lightly listened to a worthless lover!
Laura. At last it mounts, the kindling pride
of virtue ;

Trust me, thy marriage will embitter his—
Sig. Oh, may the furies light his nuptial torch!
Be it accursed as mine! for the fair peace,

The tender joys of hymeneal love,
May jealousy awaked, and fell remorse,
Pour all their fiercest venom through his breast!
Where the fates lead, and blind revenge, I fol-
low-

Let me not think- -By injured love, I vow, Thou shalt, base prince! perfidious and inhuman!

Thou shalt behold me in another's arms;
In his thou hatest! Osmond's !
Laura. That will grind

His heart with secret rage: Ay, that will sting
His soul to madness; set him up a terror,
A spectacle of woe to faithless lovers.
Your cooler thought, besides, will of the change
Approve, and think it happy. Noble Osmond
From the same stock with him derives his birth;
First of Sicilian barons, prudent, brave,
Of strictest honour, and by all revered-

Sig. Talk not of Osmond, but perfidious Tancred!

Rail at him, rail! invent new names of scorn!
Assist me, Laura; lend my rage fresh fuel;
Support my staggering purpose, which already
Begins to fail me-Ah, my vaunts how vain!
How have I lied to my own heart! Alas!
My tears return, the mighty flood o'erwhelms
me!

Ten thousand crowding images distract
My tortured thought- -And is it come to this!
Our hopes, our vows, our oft repeated wishes,
Breathed from the fervent soul, and full of hea-

ven,

To make each other happy-come to this!

Laura. If thy own peace and honour cannot keep

Thy resolution fixed, yet, Sigismunda,
Oh, think, how deeply, how beyond retreat,
Thy father is engaged!

Sig. Ah, wretched weakness!

That thus enthrals my soul, that chases thence
Each nobler thought, the sense of every duty!
And have I then no tears for thee, my father?
Can I forget thy cares, from helpless years,
Thy tenderness for me? an eye still beamed
With love; a brow that never knew a frown;
Nor a harsh word thy tongue; shall I for these
Repay thy stooping venerable age
With shame, disquiet, anguish, and dishonour?
It must not be! Thou first of angels! come,
Sweet filial piety, and firm my breast!
Yes, let one daughter to her fate submit,
Be nobly wretched-but her father happy!-
Laura!-they come! Oh, heavens, I cannot

stand

The horrid trial!-Open, open, earth,
And hide me from their view!
Laura. Madam!.

Enter SIFFREDI and OSMOND.
Sif. My daughter,

Behold my noble friend, who courts thy hand,
And whom to call my son I shall be proud;
Nor shall I less be pleased in this alliance,
To see thee happy.

Osm. Think not, I presume, Madam, on this your father's kind consent, To make me blest. I love you from a heart, That seeks your good superior to my own; And will, by every art of tender friendship, Consult your dearest welfare. May I hope, Yours does not disavow your father's choice? Sig. I am a daughter, sir-and have no power O'er my own heart-I die-Support me, Laura. [Faints. Sif. Help Bear her off-She breathes-my daughter!

Sig. Oh, Forgive my weakness-soft--my Laura, lead me To my apartment.

[Exeunt SIGISMUNDA and LAURA. Sif. Pardon me, my lord, If, by this sudden accident alarmed, I leave you for a moment. Osm. Let me think

What can this mean?

[Exit SIFFREDI.

-Is it to me aversion?
Or is it, as I feared, she loves another?
Ha!-yes-perhaps the king, the young count
Tancred;

They were bred up together-Surely that,
That cannot be-Has he not given his hand,

In the most solemn manner, to Constantia ?
Does not his crown depend upon the deed?
No-If they loved, and this old statesman knew
it,

He could not to a king prefer a subject.
His virtues I esteem-nay more, I trust them,
So far as virtue goes-but could he place
His daughter on the throne of Sicily-
Oh, 'tis a glorious bribe, too much for man!
What is it then? I care not what it be.
My honour now, my dignity demands,
That my proposed alliance, by her father,
And even herself accepted, be not scorned.
I love her too-I never knew till now
To what a pitch I loved her. Oh, she shot
Ten thousand charms into my inmost soul!
She looked so mild, so amiably gentle,
She bowed her head, she glowed with such con.
fusion,

Such loveliness of modesty! She is,
In gracious mind, in manners, and in person,
The perfect model of all female beauty!
She must be mine-She is !-If yet her heart
Consents not to my happiness, her duty,
Joined to my tender cares, will gain so much
Upon her generous nature-That will follow.

[Exit.

SCENE I.-The Garden belonging to SIFFREDI'S

house.

Enter SIGISMUNDA and LAURA. Sig. [With a letter in her hand.] 'Tis done! I am a slave!-The fatal vow

Has passed my lips!-Methought in those sad

moments,

The tombs around, the saints, the darkened altar,
And all the trembling shrines, with horror shook.
But here is still new matter of distress.
Oh, Tancred, cease to persecute me more!
Oh, grudge me not some calmer state of woe,
Some quiet gloom to shade my hopeless days,
Where I may never hear of love and thee!
Has Laura, too, conspired against my peace?
Why did you take this letter?-Bear it back-
I will not court new pain. [Giving her the letter.
Laura. Madam, Rodolpho

Urged me so much, nay, even with tears conjured

Began to talk of some dark imposition,
That had deceived us all: when, interrupted,
We heard your father and earl Osmond near,
As summoned to Constantia's court they went.

Sig. Ha! imposition? Well, if I am doomed
To be, o'er all my sex, the wretch of love,
In vain I would resist-Give me the letter-
To know the worst is some relief--Alas,
It was not thus, with such dire palpitations,
That, Tancred, once I used to read thy letters.

[Attempting to read the letter, but gives it to LAURA. Ah, fond remembrance blinds me! Read it,

Laura.

Laura. [Reads.] 'Deliver me, Sigismunda, from that most exquisite misery which a faithful heart can suffer-To be thought base by her, from whose esteem even virtue borrows new charms. When I submitted to my cruel situation, it was not falsehood you beheld, but an excess of love. Rather than endanger that, I, for a while, gave