_Leoniero_. Listen, Brave warriors! With unmerited disdain Ye saw Leoniero’s grief. He now, impelled By patriot love—by love for you—since need There is of noble sacrifice—conjures you To be like him—in courage! (_stabs his son_.) _Auberto_. Ah—that blow—— _Enzo_. I die! _Eloisa_. Oh! Father—brother! _Count_. Treason—Ho! The murderer—cut him down! _Leoniero_. Dertona’s saved! Come hence—ye heroes—come! The people all Will arm them at your cry! _Followers of Enzo_. We’re Dertonese! Defend, defend Leoniero! _Arrigo_. Struck to earth Behold the leader of our foes! Already His squadrons fly! _Soldiers_ (_from the castle_.) Victory! _Auberto_. (_rushing forward_) My son—thou here! I clasp thee once again! Where is the hero, Thy Saviour? Leoniero—where art thou! _Eloisa_. O, friends! behold my father! _Auberto and Arrigo_. Ah—unhappy! _Leoniero_. Fled is the foe—my country saved—and I— I have done all I could! This blood—the blood Of a monster—but that monster was my son! I slew him—and I weep—and cannot hate him! _Auberto_. O virtue! _Leoniero_. If thou once didst hate, Auberto, Pardon—for heaven hath punished. Eloisa— Arrigo—I do bless ye in my death, {778} You and your children. But if one of them Should e’er become a traitor—Lo—Arrigo, This steel—— _Eloisa_. He dies! _Arrigo_. O noble, lofty spirit! With dread and reverence o’erpowered, thou leav’st us! There is none on the earth can equal thee! Though the incidents of this piece are chiefly of a political nature, interest is excited for the feelings of Eloisa and the father. But the sacrifice he makes in immolating his son, if it does not revolt us, is hardly fit for exhibition when the scene is laid in an age so nearly resembling our own in the influence of religion and public sentiment. The slaughter of a son by a Roman parent for the good of his country may compel our admiration; but such outrages upon nature are more fit to be marvelled at in history than used for the purposes of tragedy. The same objection does not apply to the catastrophe of _Esther d’Engaddi_, another of Pellico’s dramas, though it is even more harrowing to the feelings; her despair is perfectly natural, when hopeless of vindicating herself by other means, she drinks of the poisoned cup proposed as a test of her innocence.