Page:The Vespers of Palermo.pdf/96



Yes! it may well be shame!—for I have striven With nature's feebleness, and been o'erpower'd. —Howe'er it be, 'tis not for thee to gaze, Noting it thus. Rise, let me loose thy chains. Arise, and follow me; but let thy step Fall without sound on earth: I have prepared The means for thy escape.

What! thou! the austere, The inflexible Procida! hast thou done this, Deeming me guilty still?

Upbraid me not? It is even so. There have been nobler deeds By Roman fathers done,—but I am weak. Therefore, again I say, arise! and haste, For the night wanes. Thy fugitive course must be To realms beyond the deep; so let us part In silence, and for ever.

Let him fly Who holds no deep asylum in his breast, Wherein to shelter from the scoffs of men! —I can sleep calmly here.

Art thou in love With death and infamy, that so thy choice Is made, lost boy! when freedom courts thy grasp?

Father! to set th' irrevocable seal Upon that shame wherewith ye have branded me, There needs but flight.—What should I bear from this, My native land?—A blighted name, to rise