Page:Felicia Hemans in The Court Magazine Volume IV 1834.pdf/7

 ANTONIETTA. What have we done, my child, To merit such? Heaven, for so high a fate, Chose us from thousands, and upon thy brow Inscrib'd a lofty name; a name so bright, That he to whom thou bear'st the gift, whate'er His race, may boast it proudly. What a mark For envy is the glory of our lot! And we should weigh its joys against these hours Of fear and sorrow. MATILDA. They are passed e'en now. Hark! 'twas the sound of oars!—it swells,—'tis hushed! The gates unclose—O mother! I behold A warrior clad in mail—he comes—'tis he! ANTONIETTA. Whom should it be, if not himself? —My husband! (she comes forward). Enter, and others. ANTONIETTA. Gonzago!—where is he we looked for? Where? Thou answerest not!—O heaven! thy looks are fraught With prophecies of woe! GONZAGO. Alas! too true The omens they reveal! MATILDA. Of woe to whom? GONZAGO. Oh! why hath such a task of bitterness Fall'n to my lot? ANTONIETTA. Thou would'st be pitiful, And thou art cruel. Close this dread suspense; Speak! I adjure thee, in the name of God! Where is my husband? GONZAGO. Heaven sustain your souls With fortitude to bear the tale!—my chief MATILDA. Is he returned unto the field? GONZAGO. Alas! Thither the warrior shall return no more. The senate's wrath is on him. He is now A prisoner! ANTONIETTA. He a prisoner?—and for what? GONZAGO. He is accused of treason.