Part 2 — Scene III.—The Portico of a Palace.

Seb. Withstand me not! I tell thee that my soul, With all its passionate energies, is roused Unto that fearful strength which must have way, E’en like the elements in their hour of might And mastery o’er creation. Gon. But they wait That hour in silence. Oh! be calm awhile— Thine is not come. My king—— Seb. I am no king, While in the very palace of my sires, Ay, where mine eyes first drank the glorious light, Where my soul’s thrilling echoes first awoke To the high sound of earth’s immortal names, Th’ usurper lives and reigns. I am no king Until I cast him thence. Zam. Shall not thy voice Be as a trumpet to th’ awak’ning land? Will not the bright swords flash like sun-bursts forth, When the brave hear their chief? Gon. Peace, Zamor! peace! Child of the desert, what hast thou to do With the calm hour of counsel? Monarch, pause: A kingdom’s destiny should not be the sport Of passion’s reckless winds. There is a time When men, in very weariness of heart And careless desolation, tamed to yield By misery strong as death, will lay their souls E’en at the conqueror’s feet—as nature sinks, After long torture, into cold, and dull, And heavy sleep. But comes there not an hour Of fierce atonement? Ay! the slumberer wakes With gather’d strength and vengeance; and the sense And the remembrance of his agonies Are in themselves a power, whose fearful path Is like the path of ocean, when the heavens Take off its interdict. Wait, then, the hour Of that high impulse. Seb. Is it not the sun Whose radiant bursting through the embattled clouds Doth make it morn? The hour of which thou speak’st, Itself, with all its glory, is the work Of some commanding nature, which doth bid The sullen shades disperse. Away!—e’en now The land’s high hearts, the fearless and the true, Shall know they have a leader. Is not this The mansion of mine own, mine earliest, friend Sylveira? Gon. Ay, its glittering lamps too well Illume the stately vestibule to leave Our sight a moment’s doubt. He ever loved Such pageantries. Seb. His dwelling thus adorn’d On such a night! Yet will I seek him here. He must be faithful, and to him the first My tale shall be reveal’d. A sudden chill Falls on my heart; and yet I will not wrong My friend with dull suspicion. He hath been Link’d all too closely with mine inmost soul. And what have I to lose? Gon. Is their blood naught Who without hope will follow where thou lead’st, E’en unto death? Seb. Was that a brave man’s voice? Warrior and friend! how long, then, hast thou learn’d To hold thy blood thus dear? Gon. Of mine, mine own Think’st thou I spoke? When all is shed for thee Thou’lt know me better. Seb. (entering the palace.) For a while farewell. [Exit. Gon. Thus princes lead men’s hearts. Come, follow me; And if a home is left me still, brave Zamor! There will I bid thee welcome. [Exeunt.