Page:The Vespers of Palermo.pdf/115

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Sc.7.]
OF PALERMO.
111

'Twas I who led that rescue, they had spurn'd
Mine aid, tho' 'twas deliverance; and their looks
Had fallen, like blights, upon me.—There is one,
Whose eye ne'er turn'd on mine, but its blue light
Grew softer, trembling thro' the dewy mist
Raised by deep tenderness!—Oh might the soul
Set in that eye, shine on me ere I perish!
—Is 't not her voice?

Constance enters, speaking to a Nun, who turns into
another path.


Constance. Oh! happy they, kind sister,
Whom thus ye tend; for it is theirs to fall
With brave men side by side, when the roused heart
Beats proudly to the last!—There are high souls
Whose hope was such a death, and 'tis denied!

(She approaches Raimond.) Young warrior, is there

aught—thou here, my Raimond!

Thou here—and thus!—Oh! is this joy or woe?


Rai. Joy, be it joy, my own, my blessed love,
E'en on the grave's dim verge!—yes! it is joy!
My Constance! victors have been crown'd, ere now,
With the green shining laurel, when their brows
Wore death's own impress—and it may be thus
E'en yet, with me!—They freed me, when the foe
Had half prevail'd, and I have proudly earn'd,
With my heart's dearest blood, the meed to die
Within thine arms.

Con. Oh! speak not thus—to die!

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