Page:The Vespers of Palermo.pdf/95



(gazing upon him earnestly.) Can he then sleep?—Th' o'ershadowing night hath wrapt Earth, at her stated hours—the stars have set Their burning watch; and all things hold their course Of wakefulness and rest; yet hath not sleep Sat on mine eyelids since—but this avails not! —And thus he slumbers!—"Why, this mien doth seem "As if its soul were but one lofty thought "Of an immortal destiny!"—his brow Is calm as waves whereon the midnight heavens Are imaged silently.—Wake, Raimond, wake! Thy rest is deep.

(starting up.) My father!—Wherefore here? I am prepared to die, yet would I not Fall by thy hand.

'Twas not for this I came.

Then wherefore?—and upon thy lofty brow Why burns the troubled flush?

Perchance 'tis shame.