On high. Confide in Him, and live to days Of peace, if not of joy; for such to thee He surely destines. Wherefore hath He pour’d The torrent of affliction on thy youth, If to thy future years be not reserved All His benign compassion! Live! and soothe Thy suffering mother. May she to the arms Of no ignoble consort lead thee still!-- Gonzaga! take the hand which thou hast press’d Oft in the morn of battle, when our hearts Had cause to doubt if we should meet at eve. Wilt thou yet press it, pledging me thy faith To guide and guard these mourners, till they join Their friends and kindred? _Gon._ Rest assured, I will. _Car._ I am content. And if, when this is done, Thou to the field returnest, there for me Salute my brethren; tell them that I died Guiltless; thou hast been witness of my deeds, Hast read my inmost thoughts--and know’st it well. Tell them I never with a traitor’s shame Stain’d my bright sword. Oh, never!--I myself Have been ensnared by treachery. Think of me When trumpet-notes are stirring every heart, And banners proudly waving in the air,-- Think of thine ancient comrade! And the day Following the combat, when upon the field, Amidst the deep and solemn harmony Of dirge and hymn, the priest of funeral rites, With lifted hands, is offering for the slain His sacrifice to heaven; forget me not! For I, too, hoped upon the battle-plain E’en so to die. _Ant._ Have mercy on us, heaven! _Car._ My wife! Matilda! Now the hour is nigh, And we must part.--Farewell! _Mat._ No, father! no! _Car._ Come to this breast yet, yet once more, and then For pity’s sake depart! _Ant._ No! force alone Shall tear us hence. (_A sound of arms is heard._) _Mat._ Hark! what dread sound! _Ant._ Great God! (_The door is half opened, and armed men enter, the chief of whom advances to the Count. His wife and daughter fall senseless._) _Car._ O God! I thank thee. O most merciful! Thus to withdraw their senses from the pangs Of this dread moment’s conflict! Thou, my friend, Assist them, bear them from this scene of woe, And tell them, when their eyes again unclose To meet the day--that naught is left to fear.