May not divide us long.—Her cheek is cold—
Her deep blue eyes are closed—Should this be death!
—If thus, there yet were mercy!—Father, father!
Is thy heart human?
Pro. Bear her hence, I say!
Why must my soul be torn?
(Anselmo enters, holding a Crucifix.)
Anselmo. Now, by this sign
Of heaven's prevailing love, ye shall not harm
One ringlet of her head.—How! is there not
Enough of blood upon your burthen'd souls?
Will not the visions of your midnight couch
Be wild and dark enough, but ye must heap
Crime upon crime?—Be ye content:—your dreams,
Your councils, and your banquettings, will yet
Be haunted by the voice which doth not sleep,
E'en tho' this maid be spared!—Constance, look up!
Thou shalt not die.
Rai. Oh! death e'en now hath veil'd
The light of her soft beauty.—Wake, my love;
Wake at my voice!
Pro. Anselmo, lead her hence,
And let her live, but never meet my sight.
—Begone!—My heart will burst.
Rai. One last embrace!
—Again life's rose is opening on her cheek;
Yet must we part.—So love is crush'd on earth!
But there are brighter worlds!—Farewell, farewell!
(He gives her to the care of Anselmo.
