Mon. Leave me for a time,
That I may calm my soul by intercourse
With the still dead, before I mix with men,
And with their passions. I have nursed for years,
In silence and in solitude, the flame
Which doth consume me; and it is not used
Thus to be look'd or breath'd on.—Procida!
I would be tranquil—or appear so—ere
I join your brave confederates. Thro' my heart
There struck a pang—but it will soon have pass'd.
Pro. Remember!—in the cavern by the cross.
Now, follow me, my son.
[Exeunt Procida and Raimond.
Mon. (after a pause, leaning on the tomb.)
Said he, "my son?"—Now, why should this man’s life
Go down in hope, thus resting on a son,
And I be desolate?—How strange a sound
Was that—"my son!"—I had a boy, who might
Have worn as free a soul upon his brow
As doth this youth.—Why should the thought of him
Thus haunt me?—when I tread the peopled ways
Of life again, I shall be pass'd each hour
By fathers with their children, and I must
Learn calmly to look on.—Methinks 'twere now
A gloomy consolation to behold
All men bereft, as I am!—But away,
Vain thoughts!—One task is left for blighted hearts,
And it shall be fulfill'd.
[Exit Montalba.
