(It consists of two semi-choruses which enter at the same time from opposite sides, and after marching round the stage range themselves in rows, each on the side by which it entered. One semi-chorus consists of young knights, the other of older ones, each has its peculiar costume and ensigns. When the two choruses stand opposite to each other, the march ceases, and the two leaders speak.) [The first chorus consists of Cajetan, Berengar, Manfred, Tristan, and eight followers of Don Manuel. The second of Bohemund, Roger, Hippolyte, and nine others of the party of Don Caesar. First Chorus (CAJETAN). I greet ye, glittering halls Of olden time Cradle of kings! Hail! lordly roof, In pillared majesty sublime! Sheathed be the sword! In chains before the portal lies The fiend with tresses snake-entwined, Fell Discord! Gently treat the inviolate floor! Peace to this royal dome! Thus by the Furies' brood we swore, And all the dark, avenging Deities! Second Chorus (BOHEMUND). I rage! I burn! and scarce refrain To lift the glittering steel on high, For, lo! the Gorgon-visaged train Of the detested foeman nigh: Shall I my swelling heart control? To parley deign--or still in mortal strife The tumult of my soul? Dire sister, guardian of the spot, to thee Awe-struck I bend the knee, Nor dare with arms profane thy deep tranquillity! First Chorus (CAJETAN). Welcome the peaceful strain! Together we adore the guardian power Of these august abodes! Sacred the hour To kindred brotherly ties And reverend, holy sympathies;-- Our hearts the genial charm shall own, And melt awhile at friendship's soothing tone:-- But when in yonder plain We meet--then peace away! Come gleaming arms, and battle's deadly fray! The whole Chorus. But when in yonder plain We meet--then peace away! Come gleaming arms, and battle's deadly fray! First Chorus (BERENGAR). I hate thee not--nor call thee foe, My brother! this our native earth, The land that gave our fathers birth:-- Of chief's behest the slave decreed, The vassal draws the sword at need, For chieftain's rage we strike the blow, For stranger lords our kindred blood must flow. Second Chorus (BOHEMUND). Hate fires their souls--we ask not why;-- At honor's call to fight and die, Boast of the true and brave! Unworthy of a soldier's name Who burns not for his chieftain's fame! The whole Chorus. Unworthy of a soldier's name Who burns not for his chieftain's fame! One of the Chorus (BERENGAR).