The holy altars of your household gods;--
These halls that gave you birth, the stage where murder
Shall hold his festival of mutual carnage
Beneath a mother's eye!--then, foot to foot,
Close, like the Theban pair, with maddening gripe,
And fold each other in a last embrace!
Each press with vengeful thrust the dagger home,
And "Victory!" be your shriek of death:--nor then
Shall discord rest appeased; the very flame
That lights your funeral pyre shall tower dissevered
In ruddy columns to the skies, and tell
With horrid image--"thus they lived and died!"

[She goes away; the BROTHERS stand as before.

Chorus (CAJETAN).

How have her words with soft control
Resistless calmed the tempest of my soul!
No guilt of kindred blood be mine!
Thus with uplifted hands I prey;
Think, brothers, on the awful day,
And tremble at the wrath divine!

DON CAESAR (without taking his eyes from the ground).
Thou art my elder--speak--without dishonor
I yield to thee.

DON MANUEL.
One gracious word, an instant,