Cleon. Thou true son of Greece! Mayst thou yet live to wield a sword for thine oppressed land, and gird with laurels that brow so worthy them.
Hassan. No longer may I stay: thine hour is past.
Ion. I come,--yet one moment more, good Hassan; it is my last. [_Exit_ Hassan.] Once more, my father, do I entreat thee,--go. Thou dost forget a guardian spirit watcheth over me, and the power that led me hither may yet accomplish my deliverance. If nought else can move thee, for my sake go, and win for me that freedom mine honor doth now forbid me to seek. Break not my heart, nor let me plead in vain.
Cleon. My boy, for thy dear sake do I consent. I _will_ earn thy deliverance bravely, as a soldier should; and thy dear image shall be to me the star that leads me on to victory.
Ion [_joyfully_]. Away! Hassan will guide thee past the guards. Then fly,--and Heaven guide thee, O my father! [Ion _again shrouds_ Cleon _in the mantle, concealing his chains in the thick folds_.] Thus muffle thy tell-tale fetters, that no sound may whisper to the Turks there walks a Greek under the free heavens forth to freedom.
Cleon. My Ion, one last embrace! God grant 'tis not our last on earth! Bless thee, thou true young heart! Heaven guard thee!
Hassan. Art ready? We must depart. [Cleon _bows his head and follows_. Ion _rushes after, looking from the tent_.]
Ion. Saved! saved! The morning sun that was to shine upon his grave, will smile upon him far, far from foemen's power. And Mohammed, thinking to look upon a dying slave, shall waken to the sound of his victorious war-trump. Ion, thy mission is accomplished. Thou hast given a saviour to thy fatherland, and mayst fall thyself without a murmur [_looks up thankfully; a loud noise without_].
Abd. Ha!--here is treason! Without there!--the prisoner hath escaped!
Abd. 'Tis he! Forth, call for aid! Search without delay! Here is foul work abroad. First, seize yon boy; fetter the base spy; bear him before the king. Speed hence!
Murad [_to_ Ion]. Infidel dog, thou shalt learn what it is to brave Mohammed's ire!
The peculiarity of this opera was that while the words were committed to memory, the music was _composed_ and _sung_ as the scene proceeded.
In spite of its absurdity, this play was a great favorite; for Jo was truly superb as the hapless Bianca, while her trills and tragic agonies were considered worthy of the famous Grisi herself.