FullReads

The whole Chorus.

But when in yonder plain
We meet–then peace away!
Come gleaming arms, and battle’s deadly fray!

First Chorus

(BERENGAR).

I hate thee not–nor call thee foe,
My brother! this our native earth,
The land that gave our fathers birth:–
Of chief’s behest the slave decreed,
The vassal draws the sword at need,
For chieftain’s rage we strike the blow,
For stranger lords our kindred blood must flow.

Second Chorus

(BOHEMUND).

Hate fires their souls–we ask not why;–
At honor’s call to fight and die,
Boast of the true and brave!
Unworthy of a soldier’s name
Who burns not for his chieftain’s fame!

The whole Chorus

.

Unworthy of a soldier’s name
Who burns not for his chieftain’s fame!

One of the Chorus

(BERENGAR).

Thus spoke within my bosom’s core
The thought–as hitherward I strayed;
And pensive ‘mid the waving store,
I mused, of autumn’s yellow glade:–
These gifts of nature’s bounteous reign,–
The teeming earth, and golden grain,
Yon elms, among whose leaves entwine
The tendrils of the clustering vine;–
Gay children of our sunny clime,–
Region of spring’s eternal prime!
Each charm should woo to love and joy,
No cares the dream of bliss annoy,
And pleasure through life’s summer day
Speed every laughing hour away.
We rage in blood,–oh, dire disgrace!
For this usurping, alien race;
From some far distant land they came,
Beyond the sun’s departing flame.
And owned upon our friendly shore
The welcome of our sires of yore.
Alas! their sons in thraldom pine,
The vassals of this stranger line.

A second

(MANFRED).

Yes! pleased, on our land, from his azure way,
The sun ever smiles with unclouded ray.
But never, fair isle, shall thy sons repose
‘Mid the sweets which the faithless waves enclose.
On their bosom they wafted the corsair bold,
With his dreaded barks to our coast of old.
For thee was thy dower of beauty vain,
‘Twas the treasure that lured the spoiler’s train.
Oh, ne’er from these smiling vales shall rise
A sword for our vanquished liberties;
‘Tis not where the laughing Ceres reigns,
And the jocund lord of the flowery plains:–
Where the iron lies hid in the mountain cave,
Is the cradle of empire–the home of the brave!

[The folding-doors at the back of the stage are thrown open.
DONNA ISABELLA appears between her sons, DON MANUEL and DON CAESAR.]

Both Choruses

(CAJETAN).

Lift high the notes of praise!
Behold! where lies the awakening sun,
She comes, and from her queenly brow
Shoots glad, inspiring rays.
Mistress, we bend to thee!

First Chorus.

Fair is the moon amid the starry choir
That twinkle o’er the sky,
Shining in silvery, mild tranquillity;–
The mother with her sons more fair!
See! blooming at her side,
She leads the royal, youthful pair;
With gentle grace, and soft, maternal pride,
Attempering sweet their manly fire.

Second Chorus

(BERENGAR).

From this fair stem a beauteous tree
With ever-springing boughs shall smile,
And with immortal verdure shade our isle;
Mother of heroes, joy to thee!
Triumphant as the sun thy kingly race
Shall spread from clime to clime,
And give a deathless name to rolling time!

ISABELLA

(comes forward with her SONS).
Look down! benignant Queen of Heaven, and still,
This proud tumultuous heart, that in my breast
Swells with a mother’s tide of ecstasy,
As blazoned in these noble youths, my image
More perfect shows;–Oh, blissful hour! the first
That comprehends the fulness of my joy,
When long-constrained affection dares to pour
In unison of transport from my heart,
Unchecked, a parent’s undivided love:
Oh! it was ever one–my sons were twain.
Say–shall I revel in the dreams of bliss,
And give my soul to Nature’s dear emotions?
Is this warm pressure of thy brother’s hand
A dagger in thy breast?
[To DON MANUEL.]
Or when my eyes
Feed on that brow with love’s enraptured gaze,
Is it a wrong to thee?
[To DON CAESAR.]
Trembling, I pause,
Lest e’en affection’s breath should wake the fires
Of slumbering hate.
[After regarding both with inquiring looks
Speak! In your secret hearts
What purpose dwells? Is it the ancient feud
Unreconciled, that in your father’s halls
A moment stilled; beyond the castle gates,
Where sits infuriate war, and champs the bit–
Shall rage anew in mortal, bloody conflict?