Swells with a mother's tide of ecstasy,
As blazoned in these noble youths, my image
More perfect shows;--Oh, blissful hour! the first
That comprehends the fulness of my joy,
When long-constrained affection dares to pour
In unison of transport from my heart,
Unchecked, a parent's undivided love:
Oh! it was ever one--my sons were twain.
Say--shall I revel in the dreams of bliss,
And give my soul to Nature's dear emotions?
Is this warm pressure of thy brother's hand
A dagger in thy breast?
[To DON MANUEL.
Or when my eyes
Feed on that brow with love's enraptured gaze,
Is it a wrong to thee?
[To DON CAESAR.
Trembling, I pause,
Lest e'en affection's breath should wake the fires
Of slumbering hate.
[After regarding both with inquiring looks
Speak! In your secret hearts
What purpose dwells? Is it the ancient feud
Unreconciled, that in your father's halls
A moment stilled; beyond the castle gates,
Where sits infuriate war, and champs the bit--
Shall rage anew in mortal, bloody conflict?

Chorus (BOHEMUND).