Been granted to our nature, ’tis to hearts
Whose love is with the dead. They, they alone,
Unmadden’d could sustain the fearful joy
And glory of its trances! At the hour
Which makes guilt tremulous, and peoples earth
And air with infinite viewless multitudes,
I will be with thee, Procida.
Pro. Thy presence
Will kindle nobler thoughts, and, in the souls
Of suffering and indignant men, arouse