Page:Italian Literature.pdf/34

 Thou answerest not!—O heaven! thy looks are fraught With prophecies of woe!

Gon. Alas! too true The omens they reveal!

Mat. Of woe to whom?

Gon. Oh! why hath such a task of bitterness Fall'n to my lot?

Ant. Thou wouldst be pitiful, And thou art cruel. Close this dread suspense; Speak! I adjure thee, In the name of God! Where is my husband?

Gon. Heaven sustain your souls With fortitude to bear the tale!—my chief—

Mat. Is he return'd unto the field?

Gon. Alas! Thither the warrior shall return no more. The senate's wrath is on him. He is now A prisoner!

Ant. He a prisoner!—and for what?

Gon. He is accused of treason.

Mat. Treason! He A traitor!—Oh! my father!

Ant. Haste! proceed, And pause no more. Our hearts are nerv'd for all. Say, what shall be his sentence?

Gon. From my lips It shall not be reveal'd.

Ant. Oh! he is slain!

Gon. He lives, but yet his doom is fix'd.

Ant. He lives! Weep not, my daughter! 'tis the time to act. For pity's sake, Gonzaga, be thou not Wearied of our afflictions. Heaven to thee Entrusts the care of two forsaken ones. He was thy friend—Ah! haste, then, be our guide, Conduct us to his judges. Come, my child, Poor innocent, come with me. There yet is left Mercy upon the earth. Yes! they themselves Are husbands, they are fathers! When they sign'd The fearful sentence, they remember'd not He was a father, and a husband too. But when their eyes behold the agony One word of theirs hath caus'd, their hearts will melt, They will, they must revoke it. Oh! the sight Of mortal woe is terrible to man! Perhaps the warrior's lofty soul disdain'd To vindicate his deeds, or to recall His triumphs, won for them. It is for us To wake each high remembrance. Ah! we know That he implor'd not, but our knees shall bend, And we will pray.

Gon. Oh Heaven! that I could leave