Is justice throned above; and her good time
Comes rushing on in storms: that royal blood
Hath lifted an accusing voice from earth,
And hath been heard. The traces of the past
Fade in man's heart, but ne'er doth heaven forget.
Peas. Had we but arms and leaders, we are men
Who might earn vengeance yet; but wanting these,
What woulds't thou have us do?
Pro. Be vigilant;
And when the signal wakes the land, arise!
The peasant's arm is strong, and there shall be
A rich and noble harvest. Fare ye well. [Exit Procida.
1 Peas. This man should be a prophet: how he seem'd
To read our hearts with his dark searching glance
And aspect of command! And yet his garb
Is mean as ours.
2 Peas. Speak low; I know him well.
At first his voice disturb'd me like a dream
Of other days; but I remember now
His form, seen oft when in my youth I served
Beneath the banners of our kings. 'Tis he
Who hath been exiled and proscribed so long,
The Count di Procida.
Peas. And is this he?
Then heaven protect him! for around his steps
Will many snares be set.
1 Peas. He comes not thus
But with some mighty purpose; doubt it not:
Perchance to bring us freedom. He is one,
Whose faith, thro' many a trial, hath been proved
