Part 2 / Act 5 — Scene II.—A Street of Palermo.

1st Cit. The morning breaks; his time is almost come: Will he be led this way? 2d Cit. Ay, so ’tis said To die before that gate through which he purposed The foe should enter in! 3d Cit. ’Twas a vile plot! And yet I would my hands were pure as his From the deep stain of blood. Didst hear the sounds I’ the air last night! 2d Cit. Since the great work of slaughter, Who hath not heard them duly at those hours Which should be silent? 3d Cit. Oh! the fearful mingling, The terrible mimicry of human voices, In every sound, which to the heart doth speak Of woe and death. 2d Cit. Ay, there was woman’s shrill And piercing cry; and the low feeble wail Of dying infants; and the half-suppress’d Deep groan of man in his last agonies! And, now and then, there swell’d upon the breeze Strange, savage bursts of laughter, wilder far Than all the rest. 1st Cit. Of our own fate, perchance, These awful midnight wailings may be deem’d An ominous prophecy. Should France regain Her power among us, doubt not, we shall have Stern reckoners to account with.—Hark! [The sound of trumpets heard at a distance. 2d Cit. ’Twas but A rushing of the breeze. 3d Cit. E’en now, ’tis said, The hostile bands approach. [The sound is heard gradually drawing nearer. 2d Cit. Again! that sound Was no illusion. Nearer yet it swells— They come, they come! Procida enters. Pro. The foe is at your gates; But hearts and hands prepared shall meet his onset. Why are ye loitering here? Cit. My lord, we came— Pro. Think ye I know not wherefore?—’twas to see A fellow-being die! Ay, ’tis a sight Man loves to look on; and the tenderest hearts Recoil, and yet withdraw not from the scene. For this ye came. What! is our nature fierce, Or is there that in mortal agony From which the soul, exulting in its strength, Doth learn immortal lessons? Hence, and arm! Ere the night-dews descend, ye will have seen Enough of death—for this must be a day Of battle! ’Tis the hour which troubled souls Delight in, for its rushing storms are wings Which bear them up! Arm! arm! ’tis for your homes, And all that lends them loveliness—Away! [Exeunt.