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 thine, 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 dic-
tates,

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.

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,
Had 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:
Tell him, 'tis my command, it be filled up
With a most strict and solemn marriage-contract.
How dear each tie, how charming to my soul,
That more unites me to my Sigismunda!

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.

I was to blame, in solitude and shades, Infectious scenes! to trust their youthful hearts. Would I had marked the rising flame, that now Burns out with dangerous force! My daughter

owns

Her passion for the king; she, trembling, owned it,

With prayers, and tears, and tender supplications,

That almost shook my firmness-and this blank, Which his rash fondness gave her, shews how much,

To what a wild extravagance he loves-
I see no means-it foils my deepest thought-
How to controul this madness of the king,
That wears the face of virtue, and will thence
Disdain restraint, will, from his generous heart,
Borrow new rage, even speciously oppose
To reason, reason-But it must be done.
My own advice, of which I more and more
Approve, the strict conditions of the will,
Highly demand his marriage with Constantia;
Or else her party has a fair pretence-
And all at once is horror and confusion--
How issue from this maze?—The crowding ba-

I

rons

Here summoned to the palace, meet already,
To pay their homage, and confirm the will.
On a few moments hangs the public fate,
On a few hasty moments—~ -Ha! there shone
A gleam of hope-Yes, with this very paper
yet
will save him-Necessary means,
For good and noble ends, can ne'er be wrong.
In that resistless, that peculiar case,
Deceit is truth and virtue- -But how hold
This lion in the toil?-Oh, I will form it
Of such a fatal thread, twist it so strong
With all the ties of honour and of duty,
That his most desperate fury shall not break
The honest snare. Here is the royal hand-
I will beneath it write a perfect, full,
And absolute agreement to the will;
Which read before the nobles of the realm
Assembled, in the sacred face of Sicily,
Constantia present, every heart and eye
Fixed on their monarch, every tongue applaud-
ing,

He must submit, his dream of love must vanish.

It shall be done- -To me, I know, 'tis ruin;
But safety to the public, to the king.

I will not reason more, I will not listen
Even to the voice of honour. No-'tis fixed!
I here devote me for my prince and country;
Let them be safe, and let me nobly perish!
Behold, Earl Osmond comes, without whose aid
My schemes are all in vain.

The princess to the will submits her claims.
She with her presence means to grace the se-

nate,

And of your royal charge, young Tancred's hand,
Accept. At first, indeed, it shocked her hopes
Of reigning sole, this new, surprising scene
Of Manfred's son, appointed by the king,
With her joint heir-But I so fully shewed
The justice of the case, the public good,
And sure established peace which thence would
rise,

Joined to the strong necessity that urged her,
If on Sicilia's throne she meant to sit,
As to the wise disposal of the will

Her high ambition tamed. Methought, besides,
I could discern, that not from prudence merely
She to this choice submitted.

Sif. Noble Osmond,

You have in this done to the public great
And signal service. Yes, I must avow it;
This frank and ready instance of your zeal,
In such a trying crisis of the state,

When interest and ambition might have warped
Your views, I own this truly generous virtue
Upbraids the rashness of my former judgment.

Osm. Siffredi, no. To you belongs the praise;
The glorious work is yours. Had I not seized,
Improved the wished occasion to root out
Division from the land, and save my country,
I had been base and infamous for ever.
'Tis you, my lord, to whom the many thousand,
That by the barbarous sword of civil war
Had fallen inglorious, owe their lives; to you
The sons of this fair isle, from her first peers
Down to the swain who tills her golden plains,
Owe their safe homes, their soft domestic hours,
And through late time posterity shall bless you,
You who advised this will. I blush to think
I have so long opposed the best good man
In Sicily With what impartial care
Ought we to watch o'er prejudice and passion,
Nor trust too much the jaundiced eye of party!
Henceforth its vain delusions I renounce,
Its hot determinations, that contine
All merit and all virtue to itself.

To yours I join my hand; with you will own
No interest, and no party but my country.
Nor is your friendship only my ambition:
There is a dearer name, the name of father,
By which I should rejoice to call Siffredi.
Your daughter's hand would to the public weal
Unite my private happiness.

Sif. My lord,

You have my glad consent. To be allied
To your distinguished family and merit,
I shall esteem an honour. From my soul
I here embrace earl Osmond as my friend
And son.

Osm. You make him happy. This assent,
So frank and warm, to what I long have wished
Engages all my gratitude; at once,

In the first blossom, it matures our friendship. I from this moment vow myself the friend

And zealous servant of Siffredi's house.
Enter an Officer belonging to the Court.
Offi. [To Siffredi.] The king, my lord, demands
your speedy presence.

Sif. I will attend him strait-Farewell, my
lord;

The senate meets: there, a few moments hence,
I will rejoin you.

Osm. There, my noble lord,
We will complete this salutary work ;
Will there begin a new auspicious era.

[Exeunt Siffredi and Officer. Siffredi gives his daughter to my wishesBut does she give herself? Gay, young, and flattered,

Perhaps engaged, will she her youthful heart
Yield to my harsher, uncomplying years?
I am not formed, by flattery and praise,
By sighs and tears, and all the whining trade
Of love, to feed a fair one's vanity;

To charm at once and spoil her. These soft arts
Suit not my years nor temper; these be left
To boys and doting age. A prudent father,
By nature charged to guide and rule her choice,
Resigns his daughter to a husband's power,
Who with superior dignity, with reason,
And manly tenderness, will ever love her;
Not first a kneeling slave, and then a tyrant.
Enter Barons.

My lords, I greet you well. This wondrous day
Unites us all in amity and friendship.
We meet to-day with open hearts and looks,
Not gloomed by party, scowling on each other,
But all the children of one happy isle,
The social sons of liberty. No pride,
No passion now, no thwarting views divide us:
Prince Manfred's line, at last to William's joined,
Combine us in one family of brothers.
This to the late good king's well-ordered will,
And wise Siffredi's generous care, we owe.
I truly give you joy. First of you all,
I here renounce those errors and divisions,
That have so long disturbed our peace, and scem-
ed,

Fermenting still, to threaten new commotions-
By time instructed, let us not disdain

To quit mistakes. We all, my lords, have erred.
Men may, I find, be honest, though they differ.
1st Baron. Who follows not, my lord, the fair❘
example

You set us all, whate'er be his pretence,
Loves not, with single and unbiassed heart,
His country as he ought.

2d Baron. Oh, beauteous peace!
Sweet union of a state! what else but thou
Gives safety, strength, and glory to a people?
I bow, lord constable, beneath the snow
Of many years; yet in my breast revives
A youthful flame. Methinks, I see again
Those gentle days renewed, that blessed our isle,

sons;

I long to see this prince, of whom the world Speaks largely well-His father was my friend, The brave unhappy Manfred-Come, my lords; We tarry here too long.

Enter two Officers keeping off the Crowd. One of the Crowd. Shew us our king, The valiant Manfred's son, who loved the peopleWe must, we will behold him-Give us way.

1st Offi. Pray, gentlemen, give back-it must not be

Give back, I pray. -on such a glad occasion, I would not ill entreat the lowest of you.

2d Man of the Crowd. Nay, give us but a glimpse of our young king!

We, more than any baron of them all,
Will pay him due allegiance.

2d Offi. Friends-indeed

You cannot pass this way-We have strict or ders,

To keep for him himself, and for the barons,
All these apartments clear-Go to the gate
That fronts the sea; you there will find admission.
Omnes. Long live king Tancred! Manfred's
son-huzza!

[Crowd goes off. Shouts within. 1st Offi. I do not marvel at their rage of joy : He is a brave and amiable prince. When in my lord Siffredi's house I lived, Ere, by his favour, I obtained this office,

I there remember well the young count Tancred.
To see him and to love him were the same;
He was so noble in his ways, yet still

So affable and mild-Well, well, old Sicily,
Yet happy days await thee!

2d Offi. Grant it, Heaven!

We have seen sad and troublesome times enough. He is, they say, to wed the late king's sister, Constantia.

1st Offi. Friend, of that I greatly doubt. Or I mistake, or lord Siffredi's daughter, The gentle Sigismunda, has his heart. If one may judge by kindly cordial looks, And fond assiduous care to please each other, Most certainly they love-Oh, be they blest, As they deserve! It were great pity aught Should part a matchless pair; the glory he, And she the blooming grace of Sicily!

2d Offi, My lord Rodolpho comes.

Enter RODOLPHO from the senate.

Rod. My honest friends,

You

may retire. [Officers go out.] A storm is in
the wind.

This will perplexes all. No! Tancred never
Can stoop to these conditions, which at once
Attack his rights, his honour, and his love.
Those wise old men, those plodding, grave state
pedants,

Forget the course of youth; their crooked prudence,

To baseness verging still, forgets to take
Into their fine-spun schemes the generous heart,
That, through the cobweb system bursting, lays
Their labours waste-So will this business prove,
Or I mistake the king. Back from the pomp
He seemed at first to shrink, and round his brow
I marked a gathering cloud, when, by his side,
As if designed to share the public homage,
He saw the tyrant's daughter. But confessed,
At least to me, the doubling tempest frowned,
And shook his swelling bosom, when he heard
The unjust, the base conditions of the will.
Uncertain, tost in cruel agitation,

He oft, methought, addressed himself to speak,
And interrupt Siffredi ; who appeared,
With conscious haste, to dread that interruption,
And hurried on -But hark! I hear a noise,
As if the assembly rose-Ha! Sigismunda,
Oppressed with grief, and wrapped in pensive

sorrow,

Passes along.

Even dastardly in falsehood, made him blush
To act this scene in Sigismunda's eye,
Who sunk beneath his perfidy and baseness.
Hence, till to-morrow he adjourned the senate!
To-morrow, fixed with infamy to crown him!
Then, leading off his gay, triumphant princess,
He left the poor unhappy Sigismunda
To bend her trembling steps to that sad home
His faithless vows will render hateful to her
He comes-Farewell-I cannot bear his pre-
sence!
[Exit Laura.

Enter TANCRED and SIFFREDI, meeting.
Tan. Avoid me, hoary traitor! Go, Rodolpho,
Give orders that all passages this way
Be shut-Defend me from a hateful world,
The bane of peace and honour-then return-
[Erit Rodolpho.

What! dost thou haunt me still? Oh, monstrous insult!

Unparalleled indignity! Just Heaven!
Was ever king, was ever man, so treated;
So trampled into baseness!

Sif. Here, my liege,

Here strike! I nor deserve, nor ask for mercy. Tan. Distraction!-Oh, my soul !-Hold, reason, hold

Thy giddy seat.-Oh, this inhuman outrage
Unhinges thought!

Sif. Exterminate thy servant.

Tan. All, all but this I could have borne-but this!

This daring insolence beyond example!

the back scene.]

Enter LAURA.

Laura. Your high-praised friend, the king,
Is false, most vilely false. The meanest slave
Had shewn a nobler heart; nor grossly thus,
By the first bait ambition spread, been gulled.
He Manfred's son! away! it cannot be !
The son of that brave prince could ne'er betray
Those rights so long usurped from his great fa-
ther,

Which he, this day, by such amazing fortune,
Had just regained; he ne'er could sacrifice
All faith, all honour, gratitude, and love,
Even just resentment of his father's fate,
And pride itself; whate'er exalts a man
Above the grovelling sons of peasant mud,
All in a moment-And for what? why, truly,
For kind permission, gracious leave, to sit
On his own throne with tyrant William's daugh-
ter!

Rod. I stand amazed-You surely wrong him,
Laura.

There must be some mistake.

Laura. There can be none !

Siffredi read his full and free consent
Before the applauding senate. True, indeed,
A small remain of shame, a timorous weakness,

ever!

That wounds me there-there! where the human heart

Most exquisitely feels

Sif. Oh, bear it not,

My royal lord; appease on me your vengeance!

Tan. Did ever tyrant image aught so cruel? The lowest slave that crawls upon the earth, Robbed of each comfort Heaven bestows on mortals,

On the bare ground has still his virtue left,
The sacred treasure of an honest heart!
Which thou hast dared, with rash, audacious
hand,

And impious fraud, in me to violate

Sif. Behold, my lord, that rash, audacious hand, Which not repents its crime-Oh, glorious, hapPy!

If, by my ruin, I can save your honour.

Tan. Such honour I renounce; with sovereign

scorn

Greatly detest it, and its mean adviser!
Hast thou not dared beneath my name to shelter→
My name, for other purposes designed,
Given, from the fondness of a faithful heart,
With the best love o'erflowing-Hast thou not,
Beneath thy sovereign's name, basely presumed
To shield a lie-a lie, in public uttered,