ning grace.

CAJETAN.
Oh, let not wild despair
Tempt thee to impious, rash resolve. My prince
No mortal arm shall e'er avenge this deed;
And penance calms, with soft, atoning power,
The wrath on high.

DON CAESAR.
If for eternal justice
Earth has no minister, myself shall wield
The avenging sword; though heaven, with gracious ear,
Inclines to sinners' prayers, with blood alone
Atoned is murder's guilt.

CAJETAN.
To stem the tide
Of dire misfortune, that with maddening rage
Bursts o'er your house, were nobler than to pile
Accumulated woe.

DON CAESAR.
The curse of old
Shall die with me! Death self-imposed alone
Can break the chain of fate.

CAJETAN.
Thou owest thyself
A sovereign to this orphaned land, by thee
Robbed of its other lord!

DON CAESAR.
The avenging gods
Demand their prey--some other deity
May guard the living!

CAJETAN.
Wide as e'er the sun
In glory beams, the realm of hope extends;
But--oh remember! nothing may we gain
From Death!

DON CAESAR.
Remember thou thy vassal's duty;
Remember and be silent! Leave to me
To follow, as I list, the spirit of power
That leads me to the goal. No happy one
May look into my breast: but if thy prince
Owns not a subject's homage, dread at least
The murderer!--the accursed!--and to the head
Of the unhappy--sacred to the gods--
Give honors due. The pangs that rend my soul--
What I have suffered--what I feel--have left
No place for earthly thoughts!

DONNA ISABELLA, DON CAESAR, The Chorus.

ISABELLA (enters with hesitating steps, and looks irresolutely
towards DON CAESAR; at last she approaches, and addresses
him with collected tones).
I thought mine eyes should ne'er behold thee more;
Thus I had vowed despairing! Oh, my son!
How quickly all a mother's strong resolves
Melt into air! 'Twas but the cry of rage
That stifled nature's pleading voice; but now
What tidings of mysterious import call me
From the desolate chambers of my sorrow?
Shall I believe it? Is it true? one day
Robs me of both my sons?

Chorus.

Behold! with willing steps and free,
Thy son prepares to tread
The paths of dark eternity
The silent mansions of the dead.
My prayers are vain; but thou, with power confessed,
Of nature's holiest passion, storm his breast!

ISABELLA.
I call the curses back--that in the frenzy
Of blind despair on thy