Page:The Vespers of Palermo.pdf/40



The arm that strikes for freedom; speak! decree The fate of our oppressors.

Let them fall When dreaming least of peril!—When the heart, Basking in sunny pleasure, doth forget That hate may smile, but sleeps not.—Hide the sword With a thick veil of myrtle, and in halls Of banquetting, where the full wine-cup shines Red in the festal torch-light; meet we there, And bid them welcome to the feast of death.

Thy voice is low and broken, and thy words Scarce meet our ears.

Why, then, I thus repeat Their import. Let th' avenging sword burst forth In some free festal hour, and woe to him Who first shall spare!

Must innocence and guilt Perish alike?

Who talks of innocence? When hath their hand been stay'd for innocence? Let them all perish!—Heaven will chuse its own. Why should their children live?—The earthquake whelms Its undistinguish'd thousands, making graves Of peopled cities in its path—and this Is Heaven's dread justice—ay, and it is well! Why then should we be tender, when the skies Deal thus with man?—What, if the infant bleed? Is there not power to hush the mother's pangs? What, if the youthful bride perchance should fall