There are strange voices ringing in mine ear But on the field CONSTANCE (kneeling by him). As thou art just !-for he is now where nought GUIDO enters, with his sword drawn. GUIDO (to RAIMOND). [He dies. I've sought thee long-Why art thou lingering here? Joins that word-Traitor? Hast thou not heard that, with his men-at-arms, De Couci hath escaped?-And there are those In the red current of Provençal blood That doubt may be effaced. Draw thy good sword, And follow me! RAIMOND. And thou couldst doubt me, Guido ! "Tis come to this!-Away! mistrust me still. GUIDO. Raimond di Procida ! If thou art he whom once I deemed so noble Call me thy friend no more! [Exit GUIDO. RAIMOND (after a pause). Rise, dearest, rise! Thy duty's task hath nobly been fulfill'd, E'en in the face of death; but all is o'er, And this is now no place where nature's tears In quiet sanctity may freely flow. -Hark! the wild sounds that wait on fearful deeds Are swelling on the winds, as the deep roar Of fast-advancing billows; and for thee I shame not thus to tremble.-Speed, oh, speed! END OF ACT THE THIRD. [Exeunt. ACT THE FOURTH. SCENE I-A Street in Palermo. PROCIDA enters. PROCIDA. How strange and deep a stillness loads the air, Weighs like an omen!-Wherefore should this be? Th' ascending soul. And I have fearful bodings That treachery lurks amongst us.-Raimond! Raimond! Oh! Guilt ne'er made a mien like his its garb! It cannot be ! MONTALBA, GUIDO, and other Sicilians enter. PROCIDA. Welcome! we meet in joy! Now may we bear ourselves erect, resuming To weave us chains again?-Ye have done well. MONTALBA. We have done well. There need no choral song, Our stern exploits.-The silence of our foes To make the mighty sacrifice complete. Where is thy son? PROCIDA. I know not. Once last night He cross'd my path, and with one stroke beat down A sword just raised to smite me, and restored My own, which in that deadly strife had been Wrench'd from my grasp but when I would have press'd him To my exulting bosom, he drew back, And with a sad, and yet a scornful, smile, Full of strange meaning, left me. Since that hour MONTALBA. It matters not. We have deeper things to speak of.— Know'st thou that we have traitors in our councils? PROCIDA. I know some voice in secret must have warn'd De Couci; or his scatter'd bands had ne'er So soon been marshall'd, and in close array Led hence as from the field. Hast thou heard aught MONTALBA. The guards we set |