University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

SCENE I.

—THE PALACE.
VERINO.
(Meeting an Officer.)
Hast thou inform'd Eudora of our triumph,
And will she quickly follow to the palace
The happiest of fathers?

OFFICER.
Yes, my Lord;
Your lovely daughter, in a grateful transport,
Charg'd me to thank you for the joyous summons,
Which she is hastening to obey.

VERINO.
'Tis well.
(Exit Officer.
These blest achievements of my son, impart
New being to my soul. Yet this high joy
Seems incomplete, till I rejoice with her,
Whose beauty, and whose love, inspir'd his valor;
Whose faithful purity, and fervent prayers,
Have won the watchful ministers of heaven
To turn all evil from her fearless hero
In danger's darkest hour—O! love, and joy
Are light of foot, and lead her swiftly to me!

SCENE II.

VERINO, EUDORA.
VERINO.
Rejoice, rejoice, sweet partner of our glory!
Soon thou shalt meet thy dear victorious lord,
The blessing of my age, the young preserver
Of wasted Sicily.—He comes to pay thee
With love, ennobled by successful courage,
For all thy pains of fond anxiety.

EUDORA.
My proud heart pants to fold him to itself;
To question him on all his glorious share
In this brave enterprise; and while he speaks
Of peril hardly 'scaped, with shuddering joy
Clasp my safe hero, and devoutly pour
Tears of extatic gratitude to Heaven!
But when, my dear Lord, when shall we behold him?

VERINO.
The Prince and Raymond are now hastening hither
From their triumphant Camp; eager to taste
The fruits of victory, and meet th'applause
Of a deliver'd nation. All Palermo
Stands on the watch of joyous expectation
To pour its welcome to those youthful victors,
Who have so nobly driven, I trust for ever,
The Moorish spoilers from our fruitful Isle.

EUDORA.
It is a blest exploit! Reward it, Heaven,
With long, long years of happiness and fame!

VERINO.
The wily Moors had, by a nightly march,
Surprised our ardent and incautious army,
And gain'd the prince's tent; his sacred blood
In that dread hour had issued at the stroke
Of midnight murder, had not Raymond then
Like lightning, darting through the gloomy storm,
Repell'd the black assassins, and restored
His prince to Life, to Victory, and Honor.

EUDORA.
A people's thanks, and everlasting praise
Shall crown the noble deed.

VERINO.
The generous Prince
Has own'd the mighty debt—He bade the camp
Shew choicest honors to his brave deliverer,
And tells the world, that he regards my son
As bound in closest friendship to his soul.

EUDORA.
O may that friendship, yes! it must, endure
Uninjured, undiminish'd! the corrupt,
The brittle ties, that vice and folly form,
Shrink at the power of accident and time;
But friendship, founded on superior virtue,
Unshaken stands, and like its base, immortal.

VERINO.
True! thou dear eulogist!—but hark! our Sovereign—
Wilt thou retire awhile?

(Exit Eudora.

SCENE III.

THE KING, MAJONE, VERINO, OFFICERS.
VERINO.
Still may success
Unwearied wait upon our Royal Master!

THE KING.
Thanks! my old Soldier, who from earliest days
With unremitted ardor hast display'd
Thy gallant spirit in thy sovereign's cause!
I joy, that Raymond has so well pursued
The bright example of thy youth, and by
Transcendent valor proved himself thy son.

VERINO.
Thank Heaven! my boy has not disgraced our name!

THE KING.
He has preserv'd the honor of my crown:
A nation's thanks shall to the world proclaim
How well he has deserv'd; and in our love
Next to the prince our son, henceforth we hold him.

VERINO.
Make him, kind Heaven! O make him ever worthy
These praises of his king!

THE KING.
Does not thy heart, Verino,
Pant with impatience for the wish'd return
Of our brave sons, in whom with pride we see
The glorious scenes of our past youth renew'd?

VERINO.
Would they were entering glad Palermo's Gates!

THE KING.
Ere noon they will be here: throughout the city
Triumphant songs, festivity and mirth,
Shall speak aloud their welcome.

SCENE IV.

THE KING, MAJONE, EUDORA, VERINO, OFFICERS.
EUDORA.
Health, and glory,
Still shed their blessings on my gracious liege!
A Courier from the prince is just arrived:
Farther I have not learnt.

THE KING.
Thanks for thy news,
My gentle Fair!—Go bring him to our presence!
(Exit Officer.
Thou soon, Eudora, shalt behold thy Raymond
Adorn'd with glory equal to thy charms;
And be it long ere we shall call again
His ardent spirit to the field of peril
To fill thy heart with terror! well I know
How quick thy tender bosom takes alarm,
And trembles, anxious for a husband's safety.

EUDORA.
I must confess, my liege, a woman's weakness;
But tho' my frame will shudder at the thought
Of dangers, that my gallant Lord derides,
I trust I still have courage to adopt
His own just estimate of human blessings,
And hold his honor dearer than his life!

THE KING.
Thy mind, still better than thy matchless beauty,
Deserves a soldier's heart.

SCENE V.

THE KING, MAJONE, VERINO, EUDORA, SICARDI.
THE KING.
What from the Prince?
Thy looks already have forerun thy tongue,
And chill'd my blood with fear: all is not well:
But speak, and let us hear the worst!

SICARDI.
Dread Sire!
The shades of death seem hovering o'er the Prince!

THE KING.
O say, where I may find the hapless youth,
And haste to throw a father's arms around him?

SICARDI.
Upon the road from Mazara, and lodged
Within the castle of the Count Verino
I left my royal Lord; ere my departure
Relentless death had more than half subdued
Contending nature, and I fear ere this
Has to the realms of endless peace consign'd
The people's darling, and the soldier's pride!

THE KING.
Is this the triumph, which my eager soul
Thirsted with fond impatience to behold!
But let me hear each dreadful circumstance!—

SICARDI.
Ere yester sun was set, the prince then warm
With present joy, and thoughts of future fame,
By chosen friends attended reach'd the castle:
Lord Raymond, on the wings of duteous love,
Had sped before him, eager to prepare
For the reception of his royal guest:
In sweet society and genial mirth
The happy evening past. The pride of conquest
Glowed in each breast, and shone in every eye.
Little 'twas thought the morrow would reverse
Our fairest expectations: but, ere morn,
Severest tortures seized the unhappy prince,
Convulsive pangs so shook his laboring frame,
That scarce the semblance of himself remained.

THE KING.
What! all the vigor of his blooming youth!
All in a moment blasted—Oh my child!

SICARDI.
The quick disease still gather'd strength, and mocked
The weak attempts of art.

THE KING.
Insatiate death!
In all the battle's rage didst thou withhold
Thy unrelenting shaft, to wound more deeply,
And strike the hero in his hour of triumph?

MAJONE.
O yet my liege, indulge not this despair!
Nature, assisted by the strength of youth,
Oft throws the burden of diseases from her,
And is again herself.

THE KING.
No, no, Majone,
Has he not said there is no room for hope?
And see a second messenger of death!

OFFICER,
(entering hastily.)
Scarce have I power to tell my royal master,
That all our hope, our joy, is now no more.

THE KING.
Support me gracious Heaven!—Lead me, Majone,
Lead to my chamber!—Stay—yet would I know—
Speak thou, Sicardi, did the power of art
Find no immediate cause?—Why dost thou turn?
Why shrink, unwilling to resolve my question?
I charge thee speak!

SICARDI.
Since you command my voice,
I must unfold, my liege, the painful truth:
It is confest no common cause, no ill,
Of all the train, which haunt the life of man
And tend by known degrees to dissolution,
Could thus have rack'd the suffering frame with torture
And led to speedy agonizing death:
Some baleful drug, some quick prevailing poison.—

THE KING.
What! poison saidst thou?

MAJONE.
No! it cannot be:
Whence could proceed attempts against a life,
Which all confess much dearer than their own?

THE KING.
If there's a villain, whose pernicious soul
Could form a crime of this infernal hue,
Mark him, just Heaven for my signal vengeance!
But utter all particulars!—I'll hear
Thy bare suspicions!

SICARDI.
At your sacred word
I must perforce constrain my tongue to speak
What in this presence, it would fain suppress:
The Prince's friends, in wildness of their grief,
Have thrown suspicion, where there least was cause,
And e'en accused Lord Raymond.

THE KING.
Ha! sayst thou Raymond!

VERINO.
Lyar and slave! 'tis false—no voice but thine
Had dared to sully his illustrious name:
I know thou think'st my age.—

THE KING.
Peace! Peace! Verino;
Grief and distraction have o'erwhelm'd my senses,
Trust me, brave veteran, if thy son be wrong'd—
I would, but cannot speak to thee, till time
Aids my crush'd faculties to bear this anguish.

(Exit, leaning on Majone, with attendants.

SCENE VI.

SICARDI, VERINO, EUDORA.
VERINO.
“If he be wrong'd!”—hast thou so soon forgot
The debt, thou once hadst virtue to acknowledge?
But 'tis affliction's privilege to speak
What cool reflection will disclaim—for thee,
Thou villian slanderer.

SICARDI.
Indeed, my Lord,
I spake no more than duty bade me utter.

VERINO.
Confusion mar the organs of thy speech
And sense forsake thee for thy vile aspersion!

EUDORA.
Revered Verino, let thy daughter's voice
Soothe the wild tumult of thy troubled soul!
Soon shall we see my injured Lord return,
And clear his honor to the admiring world:
Then let not passion thus distract my father,
But let his heart be still!

VERINO.
Be still, my daughter!
Thy voice, Eudora, would as soon persuade
Our Etna's bursting caverns to be still,
When, in its gulph the fiery tempest swells.
Thou little know'st the niceties of honor;—
Honor! the wealth, the being of a Soldier!
If sharpest arrows pierce the tortured flesh,
'Tis in the power of art to soothe its anguish,
And make the shatter'd fibres join again:
But tenderer honor! if that chance to suffer,
E'en lightly suffer, with malicious joy
Envy will fret the wound, that slander gave,
Increase its pangs, and force it ne'er to close!

SICARDI.
I hope, my Lord, and doubt not, but Lord Raymond
Will make the world confess these strange suspicions
Have done him greatest wrong.

VERINO.
Villain! tis false;
I know what hopes such beings as Sicardi!
Have harbour'd of my son—But hence!—be gone!
Away!—thy sight is painful to my eyes,
And my soul sickens but to hear thy voice:
Hence! and expect my vengeance!

SICARDI.
Know, my Lord,
I am not used to brook such insolence:
But age and grief claim pity more than anger,
And make me pardon, what I else would punish.

(Exit.

SCENE VII.

VERINO, EUDORA.
VERINO.
Talk'st thou to me of pardon? gracious Heaven!
Why have I lived to this? O tell me why
You suffer thus to creep on earth a wretch,
Once great in arms, now doomed to stand exposed,
Weak, and unable to revenge the scorn,
Which every passing coward heaps upon him!
Return! return! sole succour of my age!
Return, my Son! in whom alone I live!
Come thou to heal the sufferings of my soul,
To throw dishonor back upon our foes,
And crush the slaves, who dare insult thy father!

EUDORA.
Yes! he will come, with all-enlightening virtue,
Come, to confound the dark designs of falsehood,
And bid our troubled hearts revive again.

VERINO.
I think he will, Eudora! but alas!
Now that the fiercer fit of rage has left me,
Distracting thoughts rush in upon my mind:
The Prince, whose loss I feel with truest sorrow,
Dead on the sudden!—under Raymond's roof!—
O, if ambition—if the lust of power,
Could have so far—No! no! I will not think it;—
Yet whence could this—

EUDORA.
O my most honor'd Father,
Let not the trouble of your soul so far
O'erwhelm your reason, as to make you doubt
Of things impossible.

VERINO.
Impossible!
Thou well, my child, mayst call impossible,
What to thy nature must appear most strange;
Thou ne'er hast felt but gentle, fond desires;
Softness beyond thy sex, unclouded truth,
And sweet serenity of soul are thine:
Hence little knowst thou of the mind of man,
That wild, tempestuous, ever-shifting scene,
Where noblest faculties oft only serve
To minister to vice—where the fierce shock
Of lawless thoughts and turbulent desires
Will oft destroy the fairest plans of action,
By virtue form'd, and ratified by reason.

EUDORA.
Tho' little read in knowledge of mankind,
I know the heart, the inmost soul of Raymond
Incapable of ill, and true to honor;
His passions swell not to a wild excess,
And combat only on the side of virtue.

VERINO.
There, there, dear daughter, is my sole support;
Could I believe—no! thou hast rightly said:
It is impossible: and I have injured
My generous boy in doubting but a moment.—
Struck by the lustre of superior truth
The King shall own that they have basely wrong'd him:
Our country too, if she can be deceived,
Shall soon repent the error, and behold,
With conscious pride, her young deliverer
Shine forth again with undiminish'd glory.