Page:Italian Literature.pdf/34

Thou answerest not!—O heaven! thy looks are fraught
With prophecies of woe!

Gon. Alas! too true
The omens they reveal!

Mat. Of woe to whom?

Gon. Oh! why hath such a task of bitterness
Fall'n to my lot?

Ant. Thou wouldst be pitiful,
And thou art cruel. Close this dread suspense;
Speak! I adjure thee, In the name of God!
Where is my husband?

Gon. Heaven sustain your souls
With fortitude to bear the tale!—my chief—

Mat. Is he return'd unto the field?

Gon. Alas!
Thither the warrior shall return no more.
The senate's wrath is on him. He is now
A prisoner!

Ant. He a prisoner!—and for what?

Gon. He is accused of treason.

Mat. Treason! He
A traitor!—Oh! my father!

Ant. Haste! proceed,
And pause no more. Our hearts are nerv'd for all.
Say, what shall be his sentence?

Gon. From my lips
It shall not be reveal'd.

Ant. Oh! he is slain!

Gon. He lives, but yet his doom is fix'd.

Ant. He lives!
Weep not, my daughter! 'tis the time to act.
For pity's sake, Gonzaga, be thou not
Wearied of our afflictions. Heaven to thee
Entrusts the care of two forsaken ones.
He was thy friend—Ah! haste, then, be our guide,
Conduct us to his judges. Come, my child,
Poor innocent, come with me. There yet is left
Mercy upon the earth. Yes! they themselves
Are husbands, they are fathers! When they sign'd
The fearful sentence, they remember'd not
He was a father, and a husband too.
But when their eyes behold the agony
One word of theirs hath caus'd, their hearts will melt,
They will, they must revoke it. Oh! the sight
Of mortal woe is terrible to man!
Perhaps the warrior's lofty soul disdain'd
To vindicate his deeds, or to recall
His triumphs, won for them. It is for us
To wake each high remembrance. Ah! we know
That he implor'd not, but our knees shall bend,
And we will pray.

Gon. Oh Heaven! that I could leave