THE VESPERS OF PALERMO.

A TRAGEDY, IN FIVE ACTS.

DRAMATIS PERSONE.

COUNT DI PROCIDA.

RAIMOND DI PROCIDA, his Son.

ERIBERT, Viceroy.

DE COUCI.

MONTALBA.

GUIDO.

ALBERTI.

ANSELMO, a Monk.

VITTORIA.

CONSTANCE, Sister to Eribert.

Nobles, Soldiers, Messengers, Vassals, Peasants, &c. &c.

SCENE-Palermo.

АСТ I.

SCENE I. A Valley, with Vineyards and Cottages. Groups of Peasants-PROCIDA, disguised as a Pilgrim, among them.

1st Pea. Ay, this was wont to be a festal time In days gone by! I can remember well

The old familiar melodies that rose

At break of morn, from all our purple hills,

To welcome in the vintage.
Hath music seem'd so sweet.
Which to those measures beat
Are tamed to stillness now.
Of joy through all the land.
2d Pea.

Of revelry within the palaces,

Never since

But the light hearts so joyously,

There is no voice

Yes there are sounds

And the fair castles of our ancient lords,

Where now the stranger banquets. Ye may hear, From thence the peals of song and laughter rise

At midnight's deepest hour.

3d Pea.

Alas! we sat,

In happier days, so peacefully beneath
The olives and the vines our fathers rear'd,
Encircled by our children, whose quick steps
Flew by us in the dance! The time hath been
When peace was in the hamlet, wheresoe'er
The storm might gather. But this yoke of France
Falls on the peasant's neck as heavily

As on the crested chieftain's. We are bow'd
E'en to the earth.

Pea's Child. My father, tell me when
Shall the gay dance and song again resound
Amidst our chestnut-woods, as in those days
Of which thou'rt wont to tell the joyous tale?
1st Pea. When there are light and reckless hearts

once more

In Sicily's green vales. Alas! my boy,

Men meet not now to quaff the flowing bowl,
To hear the mirthful song, and cast aside

The weight of work-day care:-they meet to speak Of wrongs and sorrows, and to whisper thoughts They dare not breathe aloud.

Pro. (from the background.) Ay, it is well So to relieve th' o'erburthen'd heart, which pants Beneath its weight of wrong; but better far In silence to avenge them!

An Old Pea.

Came with that startling tone?

1st Pea.

What deep voice

It was our guest's,

The stranger pilgrim who hath sojourn'd here Since yester-morn. Good neighbours mark him well:

He hath a stately bearing, and an eye

Whose glance looks through the heart. His mien accords

Ill with such vestments. How he folds round him His pilgrim-cloak, e'en as it were a robe

Of knightly ermine! That commanding step Should have been used in courts and camps to

move.

Mark him!

Old Pea. Nay, rather, mark him not; the times Are fearful, and they teach the boldest hearts A cautious lesson. What should bring him here? A Youth. He spoke of vengeance!

Old Pea.

Peace! we are beset

By snares on every side, and we must learn

In silence and in patience to endure.

Talk not of vengeance, for the word is death. Pro. (coming forward indignantly.) The word is death! And what hath life for thee,

That thou shouldst cling to it thus? thou abject

thing!

Whose very soul is moulded to the yoke,

And stamp'd with servitude. What! is it life,
Thus at a breeze to start, to school thy voice
Into low fearful whispers, and to cast
Pale jealous looks around thee, lest, e'en then,
Strangers should catch its echo?—Is there aught
In this so precious, that thy furrow'd cheek
Is blanch'd with terror at the passing thought
Of hazarding some few and evil days,

Which drag thus poorly on?

Some of the Peas.

Away, away!

Leave us, for there is danger in thy presence.

Pro. Why, what is danger?-Are there deeper

ills

Than those

ye bear thus calmly? Ye have drain'd The cup of bitterness till nought remains To fear or shrink from-therefore, be ye strong! Power dwelleth with despair.-Why start ye thus At words which are but echoes of the thoughts Lock'd in your secret souls ?--Full well I know, There is not one among you, but hath nursed Some proud indignant feeling, which doth make One conflict of his life. I know thy wrongs, And thine and thine, but if within your breasts There is no chord that vibrates to my voice, Then fare ye well.

A Youth (coming forward.) No, no! say on, say

on!

There are still free and fiery hearts e'en here,
That kindle at thy words.

Pea.

thou hast a hope to give us

Pro.

If that indeed

There is hope

For all who suffer with indignant thoughts

Which work in silent strength. What! think ye
Heaven

O'erlooks th' oppressor, if he bear awhile
His crested head on high ?—I tell you, no!
Th' avenger will not sleep. It was an hour
Of triumph to the conqueror, when our king,
Our young brave Conradin, in life's fair morn
On the red scaffold died. Yet not the less
Is Justice throned above; and her good time
Comes rushing on in storms: that royal blood
Hath lifted an accusing voice from earth,
And hath been heard. The traces of the past
Fade in man's heart, but ne'er doth Heaven forget.
Pea. Had we but arms and leaders, we are men
Who might earn vengeance yet; but wanting these,
What wouldst thou have us do?

Pro.

Be vigilant ; And when the signal wakes the land, arise! The peasant's arm is strong, and there shall be A rich and noble harvest. Fare ye well.

[Exit PROCIDA.

1st Pea. This man should be a prophet: how he seem'd

To read our hearts with his dark searching glance And aspect of command! and yet his garb

Is mean as ours.

2d Pea.

Speak low; I know him well.

At first his voice disturb'd me, like a dream