True to our native princes. But away!
The noon-tide heat is past, and from the seas
Light gales are wandering thro' the vineyards; now
We may resume our toil.
[Exeunt Peasants.
Scene II.—The Terrace of a Castle.
Eribert.Vittoria.
Vittoria. Have I not told thee, that I bear a heart
Blighted and cold?—Th' affections of my youth
Lie slumbering in the grave; their fount is closed,
And all the soft and playful tenderness
Which hath its home in woman's breast, ere yet
Deep wrongs have sear'd it; all is fled from mine.
Urge me no more.
Eribert.O lady! doth the flower
That sleeps entomb'd thro' the long wintry storms
Unfold its beauty to the breath of spring;
And shall not woman's heart, from chill despair,
Wake at love's voice?
Vit. Love!—make love's name thy spell,
And I am strong!—the very word calls up
'From the dark past, thoughts, feelings, powers, array'd
In arms against thee!—Know'st thou whom I lov'd,
While my soul's dwelling place was still on earth?
One who was born for empire, and endow'd
With such high gifts of princely majesty,
As bow'd all hearts before him!—Was he not
Brave, royal, beautiful?—And such he died;
