FullReads

[The scene changes to a garden opening on the sea.]

BEATRICE

(steps forward from an alcove. She walks to and fro with an
agitated air, looking round in every direction. Suddenly she
stands still and listens).

No! ’tis not he: ’twas but the playful wind
Rustling the pine-tops. To his ocean bed
The sun declines, and with o’erwearied heart
I count the lagging hours: an icy chill
Creeps through my frame; the very solitude
And awful silence fright my trembling soul!
Where’er I turn naught meets my gaze–he leaves me
Forsaken and alone!
And like a rushing stream the city’s hum
Floats on the breeze, and dull the mighty sea
Rolls murmuring to the rocks: I shrink to nothing
With horrors compassed round; and like the leaf,
Borne on the autumn blast, am hurried onward
Through boundless space.
Alas! that e’er I left
My peaceful cell–no cares, no fond desires
Disturbed my breast, unruffled as the stream
That glides in sunshine through the verdant mead:
Nor poor in joys. Now–on the mighty surge
Of fortune, tempest-tossed–the world enfolds me
With giant arms! Forgot my childhood’s ties
I listened to the lover’s flattering tale–
Listened, and trusted! From the sacred dome
Allured–betrayed–for sure some hell-born magic
Enchained my frenzied sense–I fled with him,
The invader of religion’s dread abodes!
Where art thou, my beloved? Haste–return–
With thy dear presence calm my struggling soul!

[She listens.]

Hark! the sweet voice! No! ’twas the echoing surge
That beats upon the shore; alas! he comes not.
More faintly, o’er the distant waves, the sun
Gleams with expiring ray; a deathlike shudder
Creeps to my heart, and sadder, drearier grows
E’en desolation’s self.

[She walks to and fro, and then listens again.]

Yes! from the thicket shade
A voice resounds! ’tis he! the loved one!
No fond illusion mocks my listening ear.
‘Tis louder–nearer: to his arms I fly–
To his breast!

[She rushes with outstretched arms to the
extremity of the garden. DON CAESAR meets her.]

DON CAESAR. BEATRICE.

BEATRICE

(starting back in horror)
What do I see?

[At the same moment the Chorus comes forward.]

DON CAESAR.

Angelic sweetness! fear not.
[To the Chorus.]
Retire! your gleaming arms and rude array
Affright the timorous maid.
[To BEATRICE.]
Fear nothing! beauty
And virgin shame are sacred in my eyes.

[The Chorus steps aside. He approaches and takes her hand.]

Where hast thou been? for sure some envious power
Has hid thee from my gaze: long have I sought thee:
E’en from the hour when ‘mid the funeral rites
Of the dead prince, like some angelic vision,
Lit with celestial brightness, on my sight
Thou shonest, no other image in my breast
Waking or dreaming, lives; nor to thyself
Unknown thy potent spells; my glance of fire,
My faltering accents, and my hand that lay
Trembling in thine, bespoke my ecstasy!
Aught else with solemn majesty the rite
And holy place forbade:

The bell proclaimed
The awful sacrifice! With downcast eyes,
And kneeling I adored: soon as I rose,
And caught with eager gaze thy form again,
Sudden it vanished; yet, with mighty magic
Of love enchained, my spirit tracked thy presence;
Nor ever, with unwearied quest, I cease
At palace gates, amid the temple’s throng,
In secret paths retired, or public scenes,
Where beauteous innocence perchance might rove,
To mark each passing form–in vain; but, guided
By some propitious deity this day
One of my train, with happy vigilance,
Espied thee in the neighboring church.

[BEATRICE, who had stood trembling with averted eyes,
here makes a gesture of terror.]