I cherish this persuasion, when my spirit
O'erlooks the future with prophetic eye;
That immortality shall yet surround me,
And Tasso's name live on in other times,
When yours with all its pomp shall he forgotten.
Mont. In this, methinks, your dreams go something far!
Tas. It may be so; I am, they say, at court
Not always master of my perfect mind,
Construe my words, then, as the place suggests
In which you hear them. And now, once for all,
Explain the message which his Highness sends.
The message is far enough from being consolatory. In answer to a letter which the poet had addressed to the Duke, the courtier bears a verbal answer, strictly prohibiting every such application in future, under the penalty of having his imprisonment rendered more close and rigorous than before; the letters which he may write to others are to be submitted to Montecatino's inspection, and those only forwarded of which he approves. Last comes the unkindest cut of all—even the Princess returns his letter unopened. Montecatino retires, accompanied by the keeper; a scene of passionate explosion on the part of Tasso, followed by exhaustion, succeeds. Angioletta sings him to sleep, and retires into the side apartment. Leonora and the keeper appear in the gallery above.
Keep. He sleeps, so please your Highness;
Now you may see him undisturb'd. He slumbers.
Leon. (contemplating Tasso—after a pause.)
God, how pale! how sadly he is alter'd—
Ah! what a melancholy tearful look!
Is that Torquato? O, Eternal Powers!
Who knows if this be slumber—or be death?
Keep. Ah! lady, he is worthy of your pity—
Far worthier of compassion than all these
That round about lie prison'd in their cells-
They are unconscious of their wretched lot,
For their brain wanders, and their eye is clouded
With phantoms of their own creation. They
Dream on, and happier often are their dreams
Than the reality; his suffering
Is doubled, for he feels how much he suffers.
Leon. Oh! treat him well. Do for him what you can—
Alleviate as you may his destiny—
I will reward you for it.
Keep.None is needed,
For we already love him; and my niece,
A child when he came here, and motherless,
Is always near him, bears him company,
And tends him lovingly. He loves the child too,
Has grown accustom'd to her, teaches her,
And she has grown beneath his eye. But see,
He wakes, he moves.
Leon.O God! one glance alone!
My knees give way.
Tas. (looking up, exclaims, with a wild cry.) Ha!
Ang.What is this, good Heaven?
Tas. 'Twas she—'twas she herself! It was no dream,
I am myself—my senses do not wander—
That was herself— [Sinks on his knee, and stretches out his arms.
That was my Leonora!
Act Second opens in Tasso's chamber, as before. The Keeper is attempting to persuade Tasso that the appearance of the Princess was a mere delusion of the imagination. The poet tells him his efforts are in vain; that he knows it was the Princess herself who had visited his cell; he infers that his
