Hadst fallen on some day of victory,
Or had I closed upon thy royal bed
Thine eyes amidst the sobs and reverent grief
Of thy true liegemen, ah; it still had been
Anguish ineffable! And now thou diest,
No king, deserted, in thy foeman's land,
With no lament, saving thy father's, uttered
Before the man that doth exult to hear it.

_Carlo._ Old man, thy grief deceives thee. Sorrowful,
And not exultant do I see the fate
Of a brave man and king. Adelchi's foe
Was I, and he was mine, nor such that I
Might rest upon this new throne, if he lived
And were not in my hands. But now he is
In God's own hands, whither no enmity
Of man can follow him.

_Des._ 'T is a fatal gift
Thy pity, if it never is bestowed
Save upon those fallen beyond all hope--
If thou dost never stay thine arm until
Thou canst find no place to inflict a wound!

(_Adelchi is brought in, mortally wounded._)

_Des._ My son!

_Adelchi._ And do I see thee once more, father?
Oh come, and touch my hand!