Ans. Alas! this is no sleep
From which the eye doth radiantly unclose:
Bow down thy soul, for earthly hope is o’er!
[The music continues approaching. Guido enters with Citizens and Soldiers.
Gui. The shrines are deck’d, the festive torches blaze—
Where is our brave deliverer? We are come
To crown Palermo’s victor!
Ans. Ye come too late.
The voice of human praise doth send no echo
Into the world of spirits.