Your own eternal shame. Far o'er these towers
Beyond its ancient bounds, majestic floats
The banner of the Lion, in its pride
Of conquering power, and well doth Europe know
I bore it thus to empire. Here, 'tis true.
No voice will speak men's thoughts; but far beyond
The limits of your sway, in other scenes
Where that still, speechless terror hath not reach'd,
Which is your sceptre's attribute; my deeds,
And your reward, will live in chronicles
For ever to endure. Yet, yet, respect
Your annals, and the future! ye will need
A warrior soon, and who will then be yours?
Forget not, tho' your captive now I stand,
I was not born your subject. No! my birth
Was 'midst a warlike people, one in soul,
And watchful o'er its rights, and us'd to deem
The honour of each citizen its own.
Think ye this outrage will be there unheard?
There is some treachery here. Our common foes
Have urged you on to this. Full well ye know
I have been faithful still. There yet is time.
Doge. The time is past. When thou didst meditate
Thy guilt, and in thy pride of heart defy
Those destin'd to chastise it, then the hour
Of foresight should have been.
Car. O mean in soul!
And dost thou dare to think a warrior's breast
For worthless life can tremble? Thou shalt soon
Learn how to die. Go! when the hour of fate
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.
Scene II—The House of Carmagnola.
Antonietta, Matilda.
Mat. The hours fly fast, the morn is ris'n, and yet
My father comes not!
Ant. 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 pass'd, the long and lingering hours
Of hope deferr'd are o'er, and those of bliss
Must soon succeed. A few short moments more,
