Ion. To behold thee, my father, and with my life to strive for thy release. Cleon. My noble boy, thou hast come unto thy death. Oh, who could bid thee thus brave the doom that must await thee? Ion. My mother bid me forth; and as she girded on my sword, she bid me seek my father, with her blessing on my mission. Cleon. My brave Iantha, thus for thy country's sake to doom thine own heart to so deep a sorrow [_looks sadly upon_ Ion]. Tell me, my son, did thy mother bear bravely up against the fatal tidings? I had feared her tender heart might but ill meet a blow so fearful. Speak to me of her. Ion. When the rude Turk did in rough speech acquaint her with thy fell defeat, she sank as one o'erpowered by her grief, praying the friendly hand of death might take her hence; but soon the spirit of the Greek rose high within her, and, banishing her fears, with brave and trusting heart she sent me forth to seek, and if it might be, save thee. Ah, my father, that I might die for thee! Cleon. And thou hath come to see me die! Dost thou not know that with the night thy father passeth hence, and when the stars again look forth it will be upon his grave? Ion. Father, 'tis because thou art doomed that I am here. And if my heart speak truly, those same bright stars shall serve to guide thee back to freedom. Cleon. Thou doth speak wildly. What wilt thou do? Wilt _thou_ brave the king? Ion [_proudly_]. Nay, I have knelt for the last time unto Mohammed. I have offered him my liberty, my service, ay, my life itself, and he hath scorned me. I have deigned to bow before him as a suppliant, and he hath spurned me; I have sought by all the power love and despair could teach to move him, and his ear was closed to me. I seek him not again. Cleon. Child, what hath led thee to the presence of the king? How didst thou brave the frown of him before whom even armed men do tremble? Didst thou dream thy feeble voice could reach a heart so cruel, that thy prayers could soften one who knoweth not the name of mercy? Ion. Love can brave all dangers. It giveth wisdom to the untaught, strength to the weak, hope to the despairing, comfort to the mourner. Love hath been my guide, my guard. Cleon. My boy! my Ion! Truly doth God place in the pure heart of such as thou his truest wisdom, his deepest faith [_embraces him with deep emotion_]. But--art not thou in danger? Did not thy bold speech anger the proud king? Art thou still free? Ion. Let not thy heart be vexed with fears for me,--I am unharmed. Cleon. Ion, deceive me not, but as thou hopest for thy father's love, speak truly. Art thou in danger from the Turk, and in thy devotion to thy father dost thou seek to be thyself the sacrifice? Answer me, Ion. Ion. Father, I sought to spare thy too o'erburdened heart another grief. I _am_ a prisoner in Mohammed's power, and know not if my fate be life or death.