Page:The Vespers of Palermo.pdf/58



Thy generous love, that still the breath of heaven Wafts gladness to her soul!

Heaven!—Heaven is just! And being so, must guard thee, sweet one, still. Trust none beside.—Oh! the omnipotent skies Make their wrath manifest, but insidious man Doth compass those he hates with secret snares, Wherein lies fate. Know, danger walks abroad, Mask'd as a reveller. Constance! oh! by all Our tried affection; all the vows which bind Our hearts together, meet me in these bowers, Here, I adjure thee, meet me, when the bell Doth sound for vesper-prayer!

And know'st thou not 'Twill be the bridal hour?

It will not, love! That hour will bring no bridal!—Nought of this To human ear; but speed thou hither, fly, When evening brings that signal.—Dost thou heed? This is no meeting, by a lover sought To breathe fond tales, and make the twilight groves And stars, attest his vows; deem thou not so, Therefore denying it!—I tell thee, Constance! If thou woulds't save me from such fierce despair As falls on man, beholding all he loves Perish before him, while his strength can but Strive with his agony—thou'lt meet me then? Look on me, love!—I am not oft so moved— Thou'lt meet me?

Oh! what mean thy words?—If then My steps are free,—I will. Be thou but calm.