Ans. The strife is past.
There fled a noble spirit!
Con. Hush! he sleeps—
Disturb him not!
Ans. Alas! this is no sleep
From which the eye doth radiantly unclose:
Bow down thy soul, for earthly hope is o'er!
(The music continues approaching. Guido enters,
with Citizens and Soldiers.
Guido. The shrines are deck'd, the festive torches blaze—
Where is our brave deliverer?—We are come
To crown Palermo's victor!
Ans. Ye come late.
The voice of human praise doth send no echo
Into the world of spirits.(The music ceases.
Pro. (after a pause.) Is this dust
I look on—Raimond!—'tis but sleep—a smile
On his pale cheek sits proudly. Raimond, wake!
Oh, God! and this was his triumphant day!
My son, my injured son!
Con. (starting.) Art thou his father?
I know thee now.—Hence! with thy dark stern eye,
And thy cold heart!—Thou canst not wake him now!
Away! he will not answer but to me,
For none like me hath loved him! He is mine!
Ye shall not rend him from me.
Pro. Oh! he knew
Thy love, poor maid!—Shrink from me now no more!
He knew thy heart—but who shall tell him now
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