Therefore, again I say, arise! and haste,
For the night wanes. Thy fugitive course must be

To realms beyond the deep; so let us part

In silence, and for ever.

RAIMOND.

Let him fly

Who holds no deep asylum in his breast,

Wherein to shelter from the scoffs of men !

-I can sleep calmly here.

PROCIDA.

Art thou in love

With death and infamy, that so thy choice

Is made, lost boy! when freedom courts thy grasp?

RAIMOND.

Father! to set th' irrevocable seal

Upon that shame wherewith ye have branded me,
There needs but flight.-What should I bear from this,
My native land?-A blighted name, to rise
And part me, with its dark remembrances,
For ever from the sunshine!-O'er my soul
Bright shadowings of a nobler destiny

Float in dim beauty through the gloom; but here,
On earth, my hopes are closed.

PROCIDA.

Thy hopes are closed!

And what were they to mine?-Thou wilt not fly!
Why, let all traitors flock to thee, and learn
How proudly guilt can talk !-Let fathers rear
Their offspring henceforth, as the free wild birds
Foster their young; when these can mount alone,
Dissolving nature's bonds-why should it not
Be so with us ?

RAIMOND.

Oh, father!-Now I feel

What high prerogatives belong to death.
He hath a deep though voiceless eloquence,
To which I leave my cause. "His solemn veil
Doth with mysterious beauty clothe our virtues,
And in its vast, oblivious fold, for ever

Give shelter to our faults."-When I am gone,
The mists of passion which have dimm'd my name
Will melt like day-dreams; and my memory then
Will be-not what it should have been-for I
Must

pass without my fame-but yet, unstain'd As a clear morning dew-drop. Oh! the grave Hath rights inviolate as a sanctuary's,

And they should be my own!

PROCIDA.

Now, by just Heaven,

I will not thus be tortured!-Were my

heart

But of thy guilt or innocence assured,
I could be calm again. "But, in this wild
Suspense, this conflict and vicissitude
Of opposite feelings and convictions-What!
Hath it been mine to temper and to bend
All spirits to my purpose; have I raised
With a severe and passionless energy,

From the dread mingling of their elements,

Storms which have rock'd the earth?-And shall I now
Thus fluctuate, as a feeble reed, the scorn

And plaything of the winds?"-Look on me, boy!
Guilt never dared to meet these eyes, and keep
Its heart's dark secret close.-Oh, pitying Heaven!
Speak to my soul with some dread oracle,
And tell me which is truth.

RAIMOND.

I will not plead.

I will not call th' Omnipotent to attest

My innocence. No, father, in thy heart

I know my birthright shall be soon restored;
Therefore I look to death, and bid thee speed
The great absolver.

PROCIDA.

Oh! my son, my son!

We will not part in wrath!—the sternest hearts,
Within their proud and guarded fastnesses,

Hide something still, round which their tendrils cling
With a close grasp, unknown to those who dress
Their love in smiles. And such wert thou to me!
The all which taught me that my soul was cast
In nature's mould. And I must now hold on
My desolate course alone !-Why, be it thus !
He that doth guide a nation's star, should dwell
High o'er the clouds in regal solitude,

Sufficient to himself.

RAIMOND.

Yet, on that summit,

When with her bright wings glory shadows thee,
Forget not him who coldly sleeps beneath,

Yet might have soar'd as high!

PROCIDA.

No, fear thou not!

Thou 'It be remember'd long. The canker-worm

O'th' heart is ne'er forgotten.

RAIMOND.

"Oh! not thus

I would not thus be thought of."

PROCIDA.

Let me deem

Again that thou art base!-for thy bright looks,
Thy glorious mien of fearlessness and truth,
Then would not haunt me as th' avenging powers
Follow'd the parricide.-Farewell, farewell!

I have no tears.-Oh! thus thy mother look'd,
When, with a sad, yet half-triumphant smile,
All radiant with deep meaning, from her death-bed
She
gave thee to my arms.

RAIMOND.

Now death has lost

His sting, since thou believ'st me innocent.

PROCIDA (wildly.)

Thou innocent!-Am I thy murderer then?
Away! I tell thee thou hast made my name
A scorn to men!-No! I will not forgive thee;
A traitor!-What! the blood of Procida

Filling a traitor's veins !-Let the earth drink it;

Thou wouldst receive our foes!-but they shall meet