_Bazil._ Stranger, What dost thou here, where now to offer Gifts at yon shrine, for wondrous favour shown her, The princess hastens? See, she comes: retire?
_Orsi._ Your pardon, reverend father, I obey.
_A procession enters of nuns and friars with lighted tapers, then follow_ Amelrosa, Estella, Inis, _and ladies, carrying offerings_.
_Amel._ I thank ye, holy friends. Now leave me here, Where I must watch the live-long night and feed Yon sacred lamps, telling each hour my beads, And pouring thanks to heaven and good St. Juan. Till morn farewell.
_Bazil._ May angels guard thee, daughter, Pure as thy thoughts, and join thee in thy prayers.
_Amel._ (_alone_) He is not here. Oh how my bosom throbs To know this fearful secret! Sure he cannot Have missed the place.
_Orsi._ (_entering_) All's dark again and silent. Perhaps her courage failed her, and she's gone. If so, what must be done? No, no, a shadow Moves on the chapel porch. 'Tis surely she.
_Amel._ Oh, good Orsino! What brings thee here? Those words, _my father's life_, Like spells by witches breathed to raise the dead, Filled my heart's circle with a crowd of phantoms, Doleful and strange, which groan to be released. Thy news! thy news! Oh! speak them in one word, And let me know the worst.
_Orsi._ Thy fears though great, Are justified by what I have to tell. Princess, a plot is formed and ripe for action, To spoil thy father of his throne and life.
_Orsi_ What can goodness And moral duties 'gainst the assaults of passion! Those chains, e'en when they seem than diamond harder, Soften, calcine, and fall like dust away, Touched by the burning finger of ambition.
_Amel._ This vile, vile world! Oh is there one on earth So lost to virtue he would harm my father!
_Orsi._ There is, and one most favoured! one who owns He long has lived nearest Alfonso's heart; His friend, his trusted friend; and yet this traitor, This worst of traitors--shame denies me utterance! This traitor, princess, is Orsino's son.
_Orsi._ Long lost, late found, And better than found thus if lost forever. Go, princess, go; preserve your sire. I lay Bound at my sovereign's feet this precious victim. Yet, while you paint the son's offence, paint also His father's anguish! Plead for him, dear lady, Oh! plead for him and save him! since I own, Own it with shame, clearer than air or eye-sight I love, I doat upon Cæsario.