DON CAESAR. When all the world With heartless taunts pursues thee, to our grave For refuge fly, my mother, and invoke Thy sons' divinity--we shall be gods! And we will hear thy prayers:--and as the twins Of heaven, a beaming star of comfort shine To the tossed shipman--we will hover near thee With present help, and soothe thy troubled soul! ISABELLA. Live--for thy mother, live, my son-- Must I lose all? [She throws her arms about him with passionate emotion. He gently disengages himself, and turning his face away extends to her his hand. DON CAESAR. Farewell! ISABELLA. I can no more; Too well my tortured bosom owns how weak A mother's prayers: a mightier voice shall sound Resistless on thy heart. [She goes towards the entrance of the scene. My daughter, come. A brother calls him to the realms of night; Perchance with golden hues of earthly joy The sister, the beloved, may gently lure The wanderer to life again. [BEATRICE appears at the entrance of the scene. DONNA ISABELLA, DON CAESAR, and the Chorus. DON CAESAR (on seeing her, covers his face with his hands). My mother! What hast thou done? ISABELLA (leading BEATRICE forwards). A mother's prayers are vain! Kneel at his feet--conjure him--melt his heart! Oh, bid him live! DON CAESAR. Deceitful mother, thus Thou triest thy son! And wouldst thou stir my soul Again to passion's strife, and make the sun Beloved once more, now when I tread the paths Of everlasting night? See where he stands-- Angel of life!--and wondrous beautiful, Shakes from his plenteous horn the fragrant store Of golden fruits and flowers, that breathe around Divinest airs of joy;--my heart awakes In the warm sunbeam--hope returns, and life Thrills in my breast anew. ISABELLA (to BEATRICE). Thou wilt prevail! Or none! Implore him that he live, nor rob The staff and comfort of our days. BEATRICE. The loved one A sacrifice demands. Oh, let me die To soothe a brother's shade! Yes, I will be The victim! Ere I saw the light forewarned To death, I live a wrong to heaven! The curse Pursues me still: 'twas I that slew thy son-- I waked the slumbering furies of their strife-- Be mine the atoning blood! CAJETAN. Ill-fated mother! Impatient all thy children haste to doom, And leave thee on the desolate waste alone Of joyous life. BEATRICE. Oh, spare thy precious days For nature's band. Thy mother needs a son; My brother, live for her! Light were the pang To lose a daughter--but a moment shown, Then snatched away! DON CAESAR (with deep emotion). 'Tis one to live or die, Blest with a sister's love! BEATRICE. Say, dost thou envy Thy brother's ashes? DON CAESAR. In thy grief he lives A hallowed life!--my doom is death forever! BEATRICE. My brother! DON CAESAR. Sister! are thy tears for me? BEATRICE. Live for our mother!