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Thy tenderest care, and still my grateful soul
Has sought thy praise, and gloried in thy love.

VERINO.
Thou hast, my Raymond, thou excelling youth!
Joy of thy old fond father! but, alas!
I come not now, as in our happier days,
To pour a warrior's spirit in thy breast,
To fire thy soul, and point the way to fame:
I come, my child, the messenger of horror!

RAYMOND.
O speak, my Lord! whatever fate be mine,
'Twill yet be pleasure to a mind oppressed
To learn that fate from you.

VERINO.
Couldst thou believe,
The King rejects me!—has refused to see
The loyal servant, who, with truth unshaken,
Thro' the long course of no inglorious life,
Has fought his battles, and upheld his power.
He has denied me, what a slave might challenge,
The privilege to speak, and dooms my child
To infamy and torture.

RAYMOND.
Then no more
Must Raymond hope to see his Prince revenged.

VERINO.
I still have friends, have honest valiant friends,
Who yet shall save us from that scene of horror:
The generous spirits, who at my command
Have rushed to conquest, will defend that virtue

Which led them on to glory! They will join
In brave resentment with an injured father.

RAYMOND.
O! let me die in agonies more fierce
Than nature e'er endured, rather than lead
My honored father to forget his duty;
To stain the glories of a life well spent,
And perish in rebellion!

VERINO.
Not preserve thee!
Not save thee from the rack! am I a father?
Can I be deaf to nature, when she bids me
Obey her strongest law, and haste to guard
My darling child from ignominious death?
From that ungrateful, that unworthy King.—

RAYMOND.
He was a father too: and mourns a child,
Whose virtues charmed the world—perhaps already
He has condemned his own too easy faith,
Which wronged your son: ere now perhaps he seeks
To sooth his sorrows with your faithful counsel,
And calls for comfort on his friend Verino!

Enter an OFFICER.
OFFICER.
I have engaged at hazard of my life,
To give this letter to Lord Raymond's hand!

(Exit.

VERINO.
What means, my Raymond, this mysterious paper?

RAYMOND
reads
The King, misguided by thy bitterest foes,
Believes thee guilty; and resolves by torture
To force thee to confession: still they fear,
Lest the wronged army should demand its idol:
Hence 'tis decreed securely in thy prison,
This night to execute their horrid purpose.
If yet thou canst, regard this friendly warning,
And fly to join a numerous band, who wait thee
With anxious ardor, and a fixed resolve
To guard thy life, or perish in thy cause!

VERINO.
Wilt thou not listen to the noble call
Of generous friendship? not attempt to fly
From death, from shame, from torture?

RAYMOND.
No! my Father:
If I must die; I doubt not but hereafter,
Time, who ne'er fails, tho' slow, to draw the veil
From truth's bright image, will inform the world,
And do full justice to my injured honor.

VERINO.
And shall these eyes, that have beheld thy triumphs,
That from thy childhood to this fatal hour
Have gazed with transport on thee, shall they see
Thy graceful form with agony distorted,
And lost in blood and horror?—
Perhaps, my Raymond, when convulsive anguish
Writhes thy torn limbs, and nature sinks beneath it,

Perhaps thy lips may speak—thou knowst not what—

RAYMOND.
If to ourselves our strength be known, my mind
Is proof 'gainst every pang: But thou, my father,
Thou shalt not suffer, not a moment suffer
A fear so deadly to a a heart like thine:
No! take my dagger, and by one kind blow
Anticipate, elude the shameful sentence!
So thou shalt 'scape the horrid scene, whose image
Thus harrows up thy soul; so shall thy son,
Unlike a criminal, and worthy thee,
Yield his last breath with pleasure in thy sight,
And bless the hand, that saves him from disgrace.

VERINO.
By Heaven 'tis well:—thy spirit has awaked
New powers within my soul: Yes! noble youth!
Since cruel destiny alike denies thee
To live with honor, or with brave revenge
To fall, as suits a soldier, in the field,
I will defeat the malice of our foes;
I will, tho' nature shudders at the thought,
I will preserve thee from—

RAYMOND.
Behold my breast.

VERINO.
And can this arm, that in thy tender years
So oft, with exquisite delight has borne thee,
Proud of its little charge—can it forget,
That heaven ordained it to protect thy being,
Not shed thy blood!—what would thy mother say,
Had death not saved her from this dreadful hour?

RAYMOND.
O she could never, never poorly wish
Her son should linger out a few sad moments
To die dishonoured.

VERINO.
No! thou shalt not be so—
Be firm my heart! be firm!

RAYMOND.
Strike! strike, my Father!

VERINO.
'Tis but a blow, and thou art placed beyond
The grasp of power!

RAYMOND.
Complete thy generous purpose!

VERINO.
I will, I will—O Heaven! and has the grave—
Stay, blessed spirit!—yet a moment stay!—
Gone! Vanished!—O!—

RAYMOND.
What would my father? speak!
Whence is this wild amazement in thine eyes!
This perturbation!—

VERINO.
Sawst thou not thy mother?
Her troubled spirit shot in anger by!

RAYMOND.
Believe me, sir, 'tis idle mockery all!

The mere creation of a mind disordered!

VERINO.
It may, it must be so:—but the sad image
Has withered all my little strength:—This hand,
This faltering hand, as soon could force a passage
To the dark centre of the earth—as wound
The bosom of my child.

RAYMOND.
Then let me aid
That failing arm, unequal to thy soul;
Give me the dagger!

VERINO.
Though my heart be frozen,
I will deliver thee. Not shed thy blood,
I cannot that—nor see my slaughtered boy
Expiring at my feet: yet I will free thee—
A friendly poison—aye—without a pang!

RAYMOND.
I will receive it as the dearest gift
Of a kind father's love.

VERINO.
Farewell! farewell!
No racks—no tortures—no disgraceful death—
No—our inhuman foes—they shall not triumph—
Pride of my soul! they shall not—no my child,
I fly to set thee free—Farewell for ever.

(Exit.