The tears I shed no rival can deride;
In the fond intercourse, a name once cherished
Will never be defended by faint smiles,
Nor given up with vows of altered love.
And is the passion of my soul at last
Reduced to this? is this my happiness?
This my sole comfort? this the close of all
Those promises, those tears, those last adieus,
And those long vigils for the morrow's dawn?

OPAS. Arouse thee! be thyself. O Sisabert,
Awake to glory from these feverish dreams:
The enemy is in our land--two enemies -
We must quell both--shame on us, if we fail.

SIS. Incredible! a nation be subdued
Peopled as ours!

OPAS. Corruption may subvert
What force could never.

SIS. Traitors may.

OPAS. Alas
If traitors can, the basis is but frail.
I mean such traitors as the vacant world
Echoes most stunningly: not fur-robed knaves
Whose whispers raise the dreaming bloodhound's ear
Against benighted famished wanderers;
While with remorseless guilt they undermine