Page:The Vespers of Palermo.pdf/28



Delay the stroke, till guilt, made manifest, Shall bid stern Justice wake.

I am not one Of those weak spirits, that timorously keep watch For fair occasions, thence to borrow hues Of virtue for their deeds. My school hath been Where power sits crown'd and arm'd.—And, mark me, sister! To a distrustful nature it might seem Strange, that your lips thus earnestly should plead For these Sicilian rebels. O'er my being Suspicion holds no power.—And yet take note. —I have said, and they must die.

Have you no fear?

Of what?—that heaven should fall?

No!—but that earth Should arm in madness.—Brother! I have seen Dark eyes bent on you, e'en midst festal throngs, With such deep hatred settled in their glance, My heart hath died within me.

Am I then To pause, and doubt, and shrink, because a girl, A dreaming girl, hath trembled at a look?

Oh! looks are no illusions, when the soul, Which may not speak in words, can find no way But theirs, to liberty!—Have not these men Brave sons, or noble brothers?

Yes! whose name It rests with me to make a word of fear, A sound forbidden midst the haunts of men.