l? No son, no daughter, no
friend, not one human being--will no one? Alone--forsaken. Woe, woe!
To despair, yet not to die!

Enter AMELIA, her eyes red with weeping.

OLD MOOR. Amelia I messenger of heaven! Art thou come to release my
soul?

AMELIA (in a gentle tone). You have lost a noble son.

OLD MOOR. Murdered him, you mean. With the weight of this impeachment
I shall present myself before the judgment-seat of God.

AMELIA. Not so, old man! Our heavenly Father has taken him to himself.
We should have been too happy in this world. Above, above, beyond the
stars, we shall meet again.

OLD MOOR. Meet again! Meet again! Oh! it will pierce my soul like a
Sword--should I, a saint, meet him among the saints. In the midst of
heaven the horrors of hell will strike through me! The remembrance of
that deed will crush me in the presence of the Eternal: I have murdered
my son!

AMELIA. Oh, his smiles will chase away the bitter remembrance from your
soul! Cheer up, dear father! I am quite cheerful. Has he not already
sung the name of Amelia to listening angels on seraphic harps, and has
not heaven's choir sweetly echoed it? Was not his last sigh, Amelia?
And will not Amelia be his first accent of joy?

OLD MOOR. Heavenly consolation flows from your lips! He will smile
upon me, you say? He will forgive me? You must stay with my, beloved
of my Charles, when I die.

AMELIA. To die is to fly to his arms. Oh, how happy and enviable is
your lot! Would that my bones were decayed!--that my hairs were gray!
Woe upon the vigor of youth! Welcome, decrepid age, nearer to heaven
and my Charles!

Enter FRANCIS.

OLD MOOR. Come near, my son! Forgive me if I spoke too harshly to you
just now! I forgive you all. I wish to yield up my spirit in peace.

FRANCIS. Have you done weeping for your son? For aught that I see you
had but one.

OLD MOOR. Jacob had twelve sons, but for his Joseph he wept tears of
blood.

FRANCIS. Hum!

OLD MOOR. Bring the Bible, my daughter, and read to me the story of
Jacob and Joseph! It always appeared to me so touching, even before I
myself became a Jacob.

AMELIA. What part shall I read to you? (Takes the Bible and turns over
the leaves.)

OLD MOOR. Read to me the grief of the bereaved father, when he found
his Joseph no more among his children;--when he sought him in vain
amidst his eleven sons;--and his lamentation when he heard that he was
taken from him forever.