Page:The Vespers of Palermo.pdf/69

That low sweet vale, where dwells the holy man,
Anselmo? He whose hermitage is rear'd
'Mid some old temple's ruins?—Round the spot
His name hath spread so pure and deep a charm,
'Tis hallow'd as a sanctuary, wherein
Thou shalt securely bide, till this wild storm
Have spent its fury. Haste!

Con. I will not fly!
While in his heart there is one throb of life,
One spark in his dim eyes, I will not leave
The brother of my youth to perish thus,
Without one kindly bosom to sustain
His dying head.

Eri. The clouds are darkening round.
There are strange voices ringing in mine ear
That summon me—to what?—But I have been
Used to command!—Away! I will not die
But on the field— (He dies.

Con. (kneeling by him.) Oh heaven! be merciful,
As thou art just!—for he is now where nought
But mercy can avail him!—It is past!

Guido (to Raimond.) I've sought thee long—Why art thou lingering here?
Haste, follow me!—Suspicion with thy name
Joins that word—Traitor!

Rai. Traitor!——Guido?

Guido. Yes!
Hast thou not heard that, with his men-at-arms,