ran

Along the streets; and from the lonely court
Of him, who can no more assist their fortunes,
saw the courtier-fry, with eager haste,
All hurrying to Constantia.
Sif. Noble youth!

I want some private conference with lord Tan- | And change might bring. A mingled murmar
cred. [Exeunt Sigismunda and Laura.
My doubts are but too true-If these old eyes
Can trace the marks of love, a mutual passion
Has seized, I fear, my daughter and this prince,I
My sovereign now-Should it be so? Ah, there,
There lurks a brooding tempest, that may shake
My long concerted scheme, to settle firm
The public peace and welfare, which the king
Has made the prudent basis of his will-
Away, unworthy views! you shall not tempt me!
Nor interest, nor ambition shall seduce
My fixed resolve-Perish the selfish thought,
Which our own good prefers to that of millions!
He comes, my king, unconscious of his fortune.
Enter TANCRED.

Tan. My lord Siffredi, in your looks I read, Confirmed, the mournful news that fly abroad From tongue to tongue-We then, at last, have lost

The good old king?

Sif. Yes, we have lost a father!

The greatest blessing heaven bestows on mortals,
And seldom found amidst these wilds of time,
A good, a worthy king!-Hear me, my Tancred,
And I will tell thee, in a few plain words,
How he deserved that best, that glorious title.
'Tis nought complex, 'tis clear as truth and virtue.

I joy to hear from thee these just reflections,
Worthy of riper years-But if they seek
Constantia, trust me, they mistake their course.
Tan. How! Is she not, my lord, the late king's
sister,

Heir to the crown of Sicily? the last
Of our famed Norman line, and now our queen?
Sif. Tancred, 'tis true; she is the late king's
sister,

The sole surviving offspring of that tyrant
William the Bad-so for his vices stiled;
Who spilt much noble blood, and sore oppressed
The exhausted land: whence grievous wars arose,
And many a dire convulsion shook the state;
When he, whose death Sicilia mourns to-day,
William, who has, and weli deserved the name
Of Good, succeeding to his father's throne,
Relieved his country's woes-But to return ;
She is the late king's sister, born some months
After the tyrant's death, but not next heir.
Tan. You much surprise me-May I then

presume

He loved his people, deemed them all his chil-To ask who is? dren;

The good exalted, and depressed the bad.

He spurned the flattering crew, with scorn re-
jected

Their smooth advice that only means themselves,
Their schemes to aggrandize him into baseness;
Nor did he less disdain the secret breath,
The whispered tale, that Elights a virtuous name.
He sought alone the good of those for whom
He was entrusted with the sovereign power:
Well knowing, that a people, in their rights
And industry protected; living safe
Beneath the sacred shelter of the laws;
Encouraged in their genius, arts and labours,
And happy each, as he himself deserves,
Are ne'er ungrateful. With unsparing hand,
They will for him provide: their filial love
And confidence are his unfailing treasure,
And every honest man his faithful guard.

Sif. Come nearer, noble Tancred,
Son of my care.
I must, on this occasion,
Consult thy generous heart; which, when con-
ducted

By rectitude of mind and honest virtues,
Gives better counsel than the hoary head—
Then know, there lives a prince, here in Palermo,
The lineal offspring of our famous hero,
Roger the First.

Tan. Great Heaven! How far removed
From that our mighty founder?

Sif. His great grandson:

Sprung from his eldest son, who died untimely,
Before his father.

Tan. Ha! the prince you mean,

Is he not Manfred's son? The generous, brave,
Unhappy Manfred? whom the tyrant William,
You just now mentioned, not content to spoil
Of his paternal crown, threw into fetters,

Tan. A general face of grief o'erspreads the And infamously murdered?
city.

I marked the people, as I hither came,

In crowds assembled, struck with silent sorrow,
And pouring forth the noblest praise-of tears.
Those, whom remembrance of their former woes,
And long experience of the vain illusions
Of youthful hope, had into wise consent
And fear of change corrected, wrung their hands,
And, often casting up their eyes to heaven,
Gave sign of sad conjecture. Others shewed,
Athwart their grief, or real or affected,
A gleam of expectation, from what chance

Sif. Yes, the same.

Tan. By heavens, I joy to find our Normaa reign,

The world's sole light amidst these barbarous

ages,

Yet rears its head; and shall not, from the lance,
Pass to the feeble distaff.—But this prince,
Where has he lain concealed?

Sif. The late good king,

By noble pity moved, contrived to save him
From his dire father's unrelenting rage,
And had him reared in private, as became

His birth and hopes, with high and princely nur

ture.

Till
now, too young to rule a troubled state,
By civil broils most miserably torn,

He, in his safe retreat, has lain concealed,
His birth and fortune to himself unknown;
But when the dying king to me intrusted,
As to the chancellor of the realm, his will,
His successor he named him.

Tan. Happy youth!

He then will triumph o'er his father's foes,
O'er haughty Osmond, and the tyrant's daughter.
Sf. Ay, that is what I dread-the heat of
youth;

There lurks, I fear, perdition to the state;
I dread the horrors of rekindled war:
Though dead, the tyrant still is to be feared;
His daughter's party still is strong and numerous :
Her friend, earl Osmond, constable of Sicily,
Experienced, brave, high-born, of mighty interest.
Better the prince and princess should by marriage
Unite their friends, their interest, and their
claims;

Then will the peace and welfare of the land
On a firm basis rise.

Tan. My lord Siffredi,

If by myself I of this prince may judge,
That scheme will scarce succeed-Your prudent

age

And animate his virtues-Oh, permit me
To plead the cause of youth-Their virtue oft,
In pleasure's soft enchantment lulled awhile,
Forgets itself; it sleeps and gayly dreams,
Till great occasion rouse it; then, all flame,
It walks abroad, with heightened soul and vigour,
And by the change astonishes the world!
Even with a kind of sympathy, I feel
The joy that waits this prince; when all the

powers,

The expanding heart can wish, of doing good;
Whatever swells ambition, or exalts
The human soul into divine emotions,
All crowd at once upon him.

Sif. Ah, my Tancred,
Nothing so easy as in speculation,

And at a distance seen, the course of honour;
A fair delightful champaign strewed with flowers.
But when the practice comes; when our fond
passions,

Pleasure and pride, and self-indulgence, throw
Their magic dust around, the prospect roughens;
Then dreadful passes, craggy mountains rise,
Cliffs to be scaled, and torrents to be stemmed;
Then toil ensues, and perseverance stern;
And endless combats with our grosser sense,
Oft lost, and oft renewed; and generous pain
For others felt; and, harder lesson still!
Our honest bliss for others sacrificed;
And all the rugged task of virtue quells
The stoutest heart of common resolution.
Few get above this turbid scene of strife,
Few gain the summit, breathe that purest air,
birth-That heavenly ether, which untroubled sees
The storm of vice and passion rage below.

In vain will counsel, if the heart forbid it-
But wherefore fear? The right is clearly his;
And, under your direction, with each man
Of worth, and stedfast loyalty, to back
At once the king's appointment and his
right,

There is no ground for fear. They have great
odds,

Against the astonished sons of violence,
Who fight with awful justice on their side.
All Sicily will rouse, all faithful hearts
Will range themselves around prince Manfred's

son.

For me, I here devote me to the service
Of this young prince; I every drop of blood
Will lose with joy, with transport, in his cause-
Pardon my warmth-but that, my lord, will

never

To this decision come-Then find the prince;
Lose not a moment to awaken in him

The royal soul. Perhaps he now, desponding,
Pines in a corner, and laments his fortune,
That in the narrower bounds of private life
He must confine his aims, those swelling virtues
Which from his noble father he inherits.
Sif. Perhaps, regardless, in the common bane
Of youth he melts, in vanity and love.
But if the seeds of virtue glow within him,
I will awake a higher sense, a love,
That grasps the loves and happiness of millions.
Tan. Why that surmise? Or should he love,
Siffredi,

I doubt not, it is nobly, which will raise

Tan. Most true, my lord. But why thus au-
gur ill?

You seem to doubt this prince. I know him not
Yet, oh, methinks, my heart could answer for him!
The juncture is so high, so strong the gale

That blows from Heaven, as through the deadest
soul

Might breathe the godlike energy of virtue.

Sif. Hear him, immortal shades of his great
fathers!-

Forgive me, sir, this trial of your heart.
Thou thou, art he!

Tan. Siffredi !

Sif. Tancred, thou!

Thou art the man of all the many thousands
That toil upon the bosom of this isle,

By Heaven elected to command the rest,
To rule, protect them, and to make them happy!
Tan. Manfred my father! I the last support
Of the famed Norman line, that awes the world!
I, who this morning wandered forth an orphan,
Outcast of all but thee, my second father!
Thus called to glory! to the first great lot
Of human kind!-Oh, wonder-working hand,
That in majestic silence, sways at will
The mighty movements of unbounded nature!
Oh, grant me, Heaven, the virtues to sustain

This awful burden of so many heroes!
Let me not be exalted into shame,
Set up the worthless pageant of vain grandeur !
Meantime I thank the justice of the king,
Who has my right bequeathed me. Thee, Sif-
fredi,

I thank thee-Oh, I ne'er enough can thank thee!
Yes, thou hast been-thou art-shalt be my
father!

Thou shalt direct my inexperienced years,
Shalt be the ruling head, and I the hand.

Sif. It is enough for me-to see my sovereign
Assert his virtues, and maintain his honour.
Tan. I think, my lord, you said the king com-
mitted

To you his will. I hope it is not clogged
With any base conditions, any clause,
To tyrannize my heart, and to Constantia
Enslave my hand, devoted to another.
The hint you just now gave of that alliance,
You must imagine, wakes my fear. But know,
In this alone I will not bear dispute,
Not even from thee, Siffredi !-Let the council
Be strait assembled, and the will there opened:
Thence issue speedy orders to convene,
This day ere noon, the senate

barons,

where those

Who now are in Palermo, will attend,
To pay their ready homage to their king,
Their rightful king, who claims his native
crown,

And will not be a king by deeds and parchments.
Sif. I go, my liege. But once again permit me
To tell youNow, is the trying crisis,
That must determine of your future reign.
Oh, with heroic rigour watch your heart!
And to the sovereign duties of the king,
The unequalled pleasures of a god on earth,
Submit the common joys, the common passions,
Nay, even the virtues, of the private man,
Tan. Of that no more. They not oppose, but
aid,

Invigorate, cherish, and reward each other.
The kind all-ruling wisdom is no tyrant.

[Exit Siffredi. Tan. Now, generous Sigismunda, comes my

turn

To shew my love was not of thine unworthy,
When fortune bade me blush to look on thee.
But what is fortune to the wish of love?
A miserable bankrupt! Oh, 'tis poor,
"Tis scanty all, whate'er we can bestow!
The wealth of kings is wretchedness and want!
Quick, let me find her! taste that highest joy,
The exalted heart can know, the mixed effusion
Of gratitude and love! Behold, she comes!

Enter SIGISMUNDA.

Tell me, what means this mystery and gloom
That lowers around? Just now, involved in
thought,

My father shot athwart me-You, my lord,
Seem strangely moved-I fear some dark event,
From the king's death, to trouble our repose,
That tender calm we in the woods of Belmont
So happily enjoyed-Explain this hurry ;
What means it?. Say.

Tan. It means that we are happy!
Beyond our most romantic wishes happy!
Sig. You but perplex me more.
Tan. It means, my fairest,

That thou art queen of Sicily; and I
The happiest of mankind! than monarch more!
Because with thee I can adorn my throne.
Manfred, who fell by tyrant William's rage,
Famed Roger's lineal issue, was my father.

[Pausing.

You droop, my love; dejected on a sudden,
You seem to mourn my fortune-The soft tear
Springs in thy eye-Oh, let me kiss it off-
Why this, my Sigismunda?

Sig. Royal Tancred,

None at your glorious fortune can like me
Rejoice; yet me alone, of all Sicilians,
It makes unhappy.

Tan. I should hate it, then!

Should throw, with scorn, the splendid ruin from
mc!

No, Sigismunda, 'tis my hope with thee
To share it, whence it draws its richest value.
Sig. You are my sovereign-I at humble dis-

tance

Tan. Thou art my queen! the sovereign of
my soul !

You never reigned with such triumphant lustre,
Such winning charms, as now; yet, thou art still
The dear, the tender, generous Sigismunda!
Who, with a heart exalted far above
Those selfish views that charm the common breast,
Stooped from the height of life and courted beau-
ty,

Then, then, to love me, when I seemed of fortune
The hopeless outcast, when I had no friend,
None to protect and own me, but thy father.
And wouldst thou claim all goodness to thyself?
Canst thou thy Tancred deem so dully formed,
Of such gross clay, just as I reached the point-
A point my wildest hopes could ne'er imagine-
In that great moment, full of every virtue,
That I should then so mean a traitor prove
To the best bliss and honour of mankind,
So much disgrace the human heart, as then,
For the dead form of flattery and pomp,
The faithless joys of courts, to quit kind truth,
The cordial sweets of friendship and of love,
The life of life! my all, my Sigismunda!

Tan. My fluttering soul was all on wing to find I could upbraid thy fears, call them unkind,

Cruel, unjust, an outrage to my heart,
Did they not spring from love.

Sig. Think not, my lord,

That to such vulgar doubts I can descend.
Your heart, I know, disdains the little thought
Of changing with the vain, external change
Of circumstance and fortune. Rather thence
It would, with rising ardour, greatly feel
A noble pride, to shew itself the same.
But, ah! the hearts of kings are not their own.
There is a haughty duty, that subjects them
To chains of state, to wed the public welfare,
And not indulge the tender, private virtues.
Some high-descended princess, who will bring
New power and interest to your throne, demands
Your royal hand-perhaps Constantia-

Tan. She!

Oh, name her not! were I this moment free
And disengaged as he, who never felt
The powerful eye of beauty, never sighed
For matchless worth like thinc, I should abhor
All thoughts of that alliance. Her fell father
Most basely murdered mine; and she, his daugh-
ter,

Supported by his barbarous party still,
His pride inherits, his imperious spirit,
And insolent pretensions to my throne.
And canst thou deem me, then, so poorly tame,
So cool a traitor to my father's blood,
As from the prudent cowardice of state
E'er to submit to such a base proposal?
Detested thought! Oh, doubly, doubly hateful!
From the two strongest passions; from aversion
To this Constantia--and from love to thee.
Custom, 'tis truc, a venerable tyrant,
O'er servile man extends a blind dominion:
The pride of kings enslaves them; their ambition,
Or interest, lords it o'er the better passions.
But vain their talk, masked under specious words
Of station, duty, and of public good.
They, whom just Heaven has to a throne exalted,
To guard the rights and liberties of others,
What duty binds them to betray their own?
For me, my free-born heart shall bear no

tates,

By views of public good, whom shall I choose
So fit to grace, to dignify a crown,

And beam sweet mercy on a happy people,
As thee, my love? Whom place upon my throne
But thee, descended from the good Siffredi ?
'Tis fit that heart be thine, which drew from him
Whate'er can make it worthy thy acceptance.

Sig. Cease, cease to raise my hopes above my
duty!

Charm me no more, my Tancred! Oh, that we
In those blest woods, where first you won my soul,
Iad passed our gentle days, far from the toil
And pomp of courts! Such is the wish of love;
Of love that, with delightful weakness, knows
No bliss, and no ambition but itself.

But in the world's full light, those charming
dreams,

Those fond illusions vanish. Awful duties,
The tyranny of men, even your own heart,
Where lurks a sense your passion stifles now,
And proud imperious honour, call you from me.
'Tis all in vain-you cannot hush a voice
That murmurs here--I must not be persuaded!
Tan. [kneeling.] Hear me, thou soul of all my
hopes and wishes!

And witness Heaven, prime source of love and
joy!

Not a whole warring world combined against me,
Its pride, its splendour, its imposing forms,
Nor interest, nor ambition, nor the face
Of solemn state, nor even thy father's wisdom,
Shall ever shake my faith to Sigismunda!

[Trumpets and acclamations heard,
But, hark! the public voice to duties calls me,
Which, with unwearied zeal, I will discharge;
And thou, yes, thou, shalt be my bright reward;
Yet-ere I go-to hush thy lovely fears,
Thy delicate objections-[Writes his name.]——
Take this blank,

Signed with my name, and give it to thy father: dic-Tell him, 'tis my command, it be filled up

But those of truth and honour; wear no chains,
But the dear chains of love, and Sigismunda!
Or if indeed, my choice must be directed

SCENE I-A grand Saloon.

Enter SIFFREDI.

With a most strict and solemn marriage-contract.
How dear each tie, how charming to my soul,
That more unites me to my Sigismunda!

ACT. II.

Sif. So far 'tis well-The late king's will proceeds

Upon the plan I counselled; that prince Tan

cred

Shall make Constantia partner of his throne.
Oh, great, oh, wished event! whence the dire
seeds

Of dark intestine broils, of civil war,
And all its dreadful miseries and crimes,
Shall be for ever rooted from the land.

[Exeunt.

And have accomplished what we there proposed. | I from this moment vow myself the friend