Page:The Vespers of Palermo.pdf/6



Alas! we sat In happier days, so peacefully beneath The olives and the vines our fathers rear'd, Encircled by our children, whose quick steps Flew by us in the dance! The time hath been When peace was in the hamlet, wheresoe'er The storm might gather. But this yoke of France Falls on the peasant's neck as heavily As on the crested chieftain's. We are bow'd E'en to the earth.

My father, tell me when Shall the gay dance and song again resound Amidst our chesnut-woods, as in those days Of which thou 'rt wont to tell the joyous tale?

When there are light and reckless hearts once more In Sicily's green vales. Alas! my boy, Men meet not now to quaff the flowing bowl, To hear the mirthful song, and cast aside The weight of work-day care:—they meet, to speak Of wrongs and sorrows, and to whisper thoughts They dare not breathe aloud.

(from the back-ground.) Ay, it is well So to relieve th' o'erburden'd heart, which pants Beneath its weight of wrongs; but better far In silence to avenge them.

What deep voice Came with that startling tone?

It was our guest's,