ore I sped
With one I trusted, and did set a ladder
Against her casement, calling her by name,
And bidding her descend. But no voice came,
And all was dark and silent as the grave;
And when I called again, the Prince Asander,
From an adjacent casement looking, cried,
"I had forgot thy sister. Take her hence;
She should go free!" And then, at her own casement

[GYCIA _revives and listens._

Appearing, he came forth, and in his arms
A woman's senseless form. As they descended
And now were in mid-air, there came the sound
Of the bell striking midnight, and forthwith
In a moment, like a serpent winged with fire,
There rose from wall to wall a sheet of flame,
Which in one instant mounted to the roof
With forked red tongues. Then every casement teemed
With strange armed men, who leapt into the flames
And perished. Those who, maimed and burnt, escaped,
Ere they could gain their feet, a little band
Of citizens, who sprang from out the night,
Slew as they lay. The Prince, who bore my sister
Unhurt to ground, stood for a moment mute.
Then, seeing all was lost, he with a groan
Stabbed himself where we stood. I fear his hurt
Is mortal, since in vain I tried to staunch
The rushing blood; then bade them on a litter
Carry him hither gently. Here he comes.

_Enter_ Citizens, _bearing_ ASANDER _on a litter, wounded._

_Gycia._ Oh, my love, thou art hurt! Canst thou forgive me?
I thought to save thee and the rest. I knew not,
I did not know! Oh, God!

_Asan._ I do believe thee.
The fates have led our feet by luckless ways
Which only lead to death. I loved but thee.
I wished thy State no wrong, but I am dying.
Farewell! my love, farewell!

[_Dies._

_Gycia._ Oh, my lost love!

[_Throws herself on the body and kisses it passionately._

_Zetho._ Poor souls! Mysterious are the ways of Heaven,
And these have suffered deeply in the fortune
That bound their lives together.

_Bard._ That dead man
Would have betrayed our State, and thou dost pity!
So perish all the enemies of Cherson!

_Gycia_ (_rising_). Nay, sir, be silent. 'Tis a coward's part
To vilify the dead. You, my Lord Zetho,
I had your promise that you would hurt none
Except the guilty only, and I thought
That to your word I might entrust my life
And one more dear than mine; but now it seems
That in some c