And pray incessant for the tyrant's safety.
What! How! because an insolent invader,
A sacrilegious tyrant, in contempt
Osm. It is not by the favour of Count Tancred | My holy scalp, turn waining monk myself,
That I am here. As much I scorn his favour,
As I defy his tyranny and threats-
Our friend Goffredo, who commands the castle,
On my parole, ere dawn to render back
My person, has permitted me this freedom.
Know then; the faithless outrage of to-day,
By him committed whom you call the king,
blas rous'd Constantia's court. Our friends, the
friends
Of virtue, justice, and of public faith,
Ripe for revolt, are in high ferment all.
This, this, they say, exceeds whate'er deform'd
The miserable days we saw beneath
William the Bad. This saps the solid base,
At once, of government and private life:
This shameless imposition on the faith,
The majesty of senates, this lewd insult,
This violation of the rights of men;
Added to these, his ignominious treatment
Of her, the illustrious offspring of our kings,
Sicilia's hope, and now our royal mistress.
You know, my lord, how grossly these infringe
The late king's will, which orders, if Count Tan-
cred
Make not Constantia partner of his throne,
That he be quite excluded the succession,
And she to Henry given, king of the Romans,
The potent emperor Barbarossa's son,
Who seeks, with earnest instance, her alliance.
I thence of you, as guardian of the laws,
As guardian of this will, to you intrusted,
Desire, nay, more, demand your instant aid,
To see it put in vigorous execution.
Sif. You cannot doubt, my lord, of my concur
Who, more than I, have labour'd this great point?
'Tis my own plan; and if I drop it now,
I should be justly branded with the shame
Of rash advice, or despicable weakness.
But let us not precipitate the matter.
Constantia's friends are numerous and strong;
Yet, Tancred's, trust me, are of equal force:
E'er since the secret of his birth was known,
The people all are in a tumult hurl'd,
Of all those noblest rights, which to maintain
Is man's peculiar pride, demands my wife;
That I shall thus betray the common cause
Of human kind,-tamely yield her up,
Even in the manner you propose?Ob, then
I were supremely vile! degraded! sham'd!
The scorn of manhood! and abhorr'd of honour!
Sif. There is, my lord, an honour, the calm
child
Of reason, of humanity, and mercy,
Superior far to this punctilious demon,
That singly minds itself, and oft embroils
With proud barbarian niceties the world.
Osm. My lord, my lord, I cannot brook your
prudence;
It holds a pulse unequal to my blood-
Unblemish'd honour is the flower of virtue!
The vivifying soul! and he who slights it,
Will leave the other dull and lifeless dross.
-You are too warm.
Sif. No more-
Osm. You are too cool.
Sif. Too cool, my lord? I were indeed too cool,
Not to resent this language, and to tell thee-
I wish Earl Osmond were as cool as I
To his own selfish bliss-ay, and as warm
To that of others-But of this no more-
My daughter is thy wife-I gave her to thee,
And will, against all force, maintain her thine.
But think not I will catch thy headlong passions,
Whirl'd in a blaze of madness o'er the land;
Or, till the last extremity compel me,
Risk the dire means of war-The king, to
Will set you free; and, if, by gentle means
He does not yield my daughter to your arms,
And wed Constantia, as the will requires,
Why then expect me on the side of justice-
Let that suffice.
Osm. It does-Forgive my heat.
My rankled mind, by injuries inflam'd,
May be too prompt to take, and give offence.
Sif. 'Tis past-Your wrongs, I own, may well
The wisest mind- -But henceforth, noble Os
Do me more justice, honour more my truth,
Nor mark me with an eye of squint suspicion-
These jars apart-You may repose your soul
Of boundless joy, to hear their lives a prince
Of mighty Guiscard's line. Numbers, besides,
Of powerful barons, who at heart had pin'd,
To see the reign of their renown'd forefathers
Won by immortal deeds of matchless valour,
Pass from the gallant Normans to the Suevi,
Will witn a kind of rage, espouse his cause-
'Tis so, my lord- -be not by passion blinded-On
'Tis surely so -Oh, if our prating virtue
Dwells not in words alone-Oh, let us join,
My generous Osmond, to avert these woes,
And yet sustain our tottering Norman kingdom.
Osm. But how, Siffredi, how?If by soft
We can maintain our rights, and save our country,
May his unnatural blood first stain the sword,
Who with unpitying fury first shall draw it!
Sif. I have a thought-The glorious work be
thine.
But it requires an awful flight of virtue,
Above the passions of the vulgar breast,
And thence from thee I hope it, noble Osmond-
Suppose my daughter, to her God devoted,
Were plac'd within some convent's sacred verge,
Beneath the dread potection of the altar-
Osm. Ere then, by Heavens! I would devoutly
my firm faith, and unremitting friendship.
Of that I sure have given exalted proof,
And the next sun we see shall prove it further-
Return, my son, and from your friend Goffredo
Release your word. There try, by soft repose,
To calm your breast.
Osm. Bid the vex'd ocean sleep,
Swept by the pinions of the raging north-
But your frail age, by care and toil exhausted,
Demands the balm of all-repairing rest.
Sif. Soon as to-morrow's dawn shall streak the
I, with my friends in solemn state assembled,
Will to the palace, and demand your freedom,
Then by calm reason, or by higher means,
The king shall quit his claim, and, in the face
Of Sicily, my daughter shall be yours.
Farewell.
Osm. My lord, good night. [Exit SIFFREDI [After a long pause.] I like him not
Sig. And am I then alone?-The most undone,
Yes I have mighty matter of suspicion.
"Tis plain. I see it lurking in his breast,
He has a foolish fondness for this king.-
Most wretched being now beneath the cope
My honour is not safe, while here my wife Of this affrighting gloom that wraps the world-
Remains-Who knows but he, this very night, I said I did not fear-Ah, me! I feel
May bear her to some convent, as he mentioned- A shivering horror run through all my powers!
The king too-though I smother'd up my rage, Oh, I am nought but tumult, fears, and weakness!
I mark'd it well-will set me free to-morrow. And yet how idle fear when hope is gone,
Why not to-night? He has some dark design-Gone, gone for ever!-Oh thou gentle scene
By Heavens, he has!-I am abus'd most grossly;
Made the vile tool of this old statesman's schemes;
Married to one-ay, and he knew it-one
Who loves young Tancred! Hence her swoon-
ing, tears,
And all her soft distress, when she disgrac'd me,
By basely giving her perfidious hand
Without her heart-Hell and perdition! this,
This is the perfidy!-this is the fell,
The keen, envenom'd, exquisite disgrace,
Which, to a man of honour, even exceeds
The falsehood of the person-But I now
Will rouse me from the poor tame lethargy,
By my believing fondness cast upon me.
I will not wait his crawling timid motions,
Perhaps to blind me meant, which he to-morrow
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 moment
Should ardent form, at once, and execute
A bold design-Tis fix'd-'Tis done!—yes, then,
When I have seiz'd the prize of love and honour,
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.
SCENE II-SICISMUNDA'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 morning!
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 pass.
Sig. Alas! what is the toil of elements,
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.
[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 ter-
ror?-
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-I mistook-nothing but silence reigns,
And awful midnight, round-Again!-Oh, Hea-
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 mo-
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
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 de
stroys 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 Hea-
ven!
What this oppression means—But 'tis with pain, Now is thy turn of vengeance-hate, renounce me
With tears I can persuade myself to leave you-Oh, leave me to the fate I well deserve,
Well then-Good night, my dearest Sigismunda. To sink in hopeless misery!—at least,
[Exit. Try to forget the worthless Sigismunda!
Tan. Forget thee! No! Thou art my soul | Pleads but too much)—
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
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.
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,
Tan. Fear not 'Tis done!-If thou canst Here at thy feet-Death, death alone shall part
Success is sure-I am forgot already.
Sig. Ah, Tancred!-But, my lord, respect me
Think who I am-What can you now propose?
Tan. To claim the plighted vows which Hea-
ven 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
Sig. Honour, my lord, is much too proud to
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-
wife!-
your
Or, yet a dearer name-to be
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
The man, whose heart was once so dear to thine,
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 bo-
Swell'd with a kindred joy to see us happy.
Sig. The world approve! what is the world to
me;
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,
Sig. Have you then vow'd to drive me to per
dition?
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 anguish-
Oh, 'tis too much!-I cannot bear the conflict!
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 fall
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 it
Osm. Perfidious woman! die!-[Shortening
his sword, he plunges it into her breast.] and to
the grave
Attend a husband, yet but half aveng'd!
Tan. Oh, horror! horror! execrable villain!
Osm. And tyrant! thou!-thou shalt not o'e
my tomb
Exult-Tis well-'tis great! I die content!-
[Dies
Enter RODOLPHO and LAURA.
Tan.[Throwing himself down by SIGISMUNDA]
Quick! here! bring aid!-All in Palermo bring,
bosom
Whose skill can save her!-Ah, that gentle
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!-
And is it thus the cruel fates have join'd us?
Are these the horrid nuptials they prepare
For love like ours ?-Is virtue thus rewarded?
Let not my impious rage accuse just Heaven!
Thou, Tancred, thou hast murder'd Sigismunda!
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 grief.
My father!-Oh, how shall I lift my eyes
To thee, my sinking father!
Sif. Awful Heaven!
I am chastis'd-My dearest child!
Sig. Where am I?
A fearful darkness closes all around
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-
ment,
To coward prudence stoop! who made it not
The first undoubting action of his reign,
To snatch thee to his throne, and there to shield
thee,
Thy helpless bosom, from a ruffian's fury!-
Oh, shame! Oh, agony! Oh, the fell stings
Of late, of vain repentance!- -Ha, my brain
Is all on fire! a wild abyss of thought!
Th' infernal world discloses! See! Behold him!
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,
There with his soul to toss in flames for ever.
Or hurl it down that fiery steep to hell,
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
My friends! We needs must part-I must obey
Th'impetuous call--Farewell, my Laura! cherish
My poor afflicted father's age-Rodolpho,
Now is the time to watch the unhappy king,
With all the care and tenderness of friendship.-
Oh, my dear father, bow'd beneath the weight
Of age and grief-the victim even of virtue,
Receive my last adieu!-Where art thou, Tan-To these enfeebled years, by Heaven reserv'd
Give me thy hand-But, ah, it cannot save me From the dire king of terrors, whose cold power Creeps o'er my heart
Tan. How these pangs distract me!
[Throws himself down by her. Sif. [After a pathetic pause, looking on the scene before him.]
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.
Oh, lift thy gracious eyes!-Thou leav'st me Behold the fatal work of my dark hand,
Thou leav'st me, Sigismunda!
Sig. Yet a moment
I had, my Tancred, something more to say-
Yes but thy love and tenderness for me,
Sure make it needless-Harbour no resentment
Against my father; venerate his zeal,
That acted from a principle of goodness,
From faithful love to thee-Live, and maintain
My innocence embalm'd, with holiest care
Preserve my spotless memory! Oh,-I die-
Eternal Mercy take my trembling soul!
Oh, 'tis the only sting of death to part
From those we love-from thee-farewell, my
Tancred!
[Flying to his sword, is held by RODOLPHO. Rod. Hold, hold, my lord!-Have you forgot Your Sigismunda's last request already?
Tan. Off! set me free! Think not to bind me down,
With barbarous friendship, to the rack of life! What hand can shut the thousand, thousand
Which death still opens to the woes of mortals?
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
That by rude force the passions would command, That ruthless thought to root them from the
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.
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
I see the Tragic Muse herself appear.
In Greece and Rome, I watch'd the public weal;
The purple tyrant trembled at my steel:
Nor did I less o'er private sorrows reign,
And mend the melting heart with softer pain.
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'?
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.
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