That guilty plot, for which thy life was doom'd
To be th' atonement.
Rai. 'T is enough! Rejoice,
Rejoice, my Constance! for I leave a name
O'er which thou may'st weep proudly! (He sinks back.
To thy breast
Fold me yet closer, for an icy dart
Hath touch'd my veins.
Con. And must thou leave me, Raimond?
Alas! thine eye grows dim—its wandering glance
Is full of dreams.
Rai. Haste, haste, and tell my father
I was no traitor!
Procida. (rushing forward.) To that father's heart
Return, forgiving all thy wrongs, return!
Speak to me, Raimond!—Thou wert ever kind,
And brave, and gentle! Say that all the past
Shall be forgiven! That word from none but thee
My lips e'er ask'd.—Speak to me once, my boy,
My pride, my hope!—And is it with thee thus?
Look on me yet!—Oh! must this woe be borne?
Rai. Off with this weight of chains! it is not meet
For a crown'd conqueror!—Hark, the trumpet's voice!
(A sound of triumphant music is heard, gradually
approaching.
Is 't not a thrilling call?—What drowsy spell
Benumbs me thus?—Hence! I am free again!
Now swell your festal strains, the field is won!
Sing me to glorious dreams. (He dies.
