On thy vile couch o'ertakes thee, thou wilt meet
Its summons with far other mien than such
As I shall bear to ignominious death. (He is led out.)
SCENE II.—The House of Carmagnola.
Antonietta, Matilda.
MATILDA.
The hours fly fast, the morn is ris'n, and yet
My father comes not!
ANTONIETTA.
Ah! thou hast not learn'd
By sad experience, with how slow a pace
Joys ever come; expected long, and oft
Deceiving expectation! while the steps
Of grief o'ertake us, ere we dream them nigh.
But night is past, the long and lingering hours
Of hope deferred are o'er, and those of bliss
Must soon succeed. A few short moments more
And he is with us. E'en from this delay
I augur well. A council held so long
Must be to give us peace. He will be ours,
Perhaps for years, our own.
MATILDA.
O mother! thus,
My hopes, too, whisper. Nights enough in tears,
And days in all the sickness of suspense,
Our anxious love hath passed. It is full time
That each sad moment, at each rumour'd tale,
Each idle murmur of the people's voice,
We should no longer tremble; that no more
This thought should haunt our souls—e'en now, perchance,
He, for whom thus your hearts are yearning—dies!
ANTONIETTA.
Oh! fearful thought!—but vain and distant now!
Each joy, my daughter, must be bought with grief.
Hast thou forgot the day, when, proudly led
In triumph, 'midst the noble and the brave,
Thy glorious father to the temple bore
The banners won in battle from his foes?
MATILDA.
A day to be remembered!
ANTONIETTA.
By his side
Each seemed inferior. Every breath of air
Swelled with his echoing name; and we, the while,
Stationed on high, and severed from the throng,
Gazed on that one who drew the gaze of all;
While, with the tide of rapture half o'erwhelmed,
Our hearts beat high, and whispered—"We are his!"
MATILDA.
Moments of joy!
