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Cyprian A11hough my high respect towards your person Holds now my sword suspended, thou canst not Restore it to the slumber of its scabbard. Thou kno west more of science than the duel; For when two men of honour take the field, No counsel nor respect can make them friends, Bat one must die in the pursuit.


I pray That yon depart hence with your people, and Leave us to finish what we have begun Without advantage.

Though you may imagine That I know little of the laws of duel, Which vanity and valour instituted, You are in error. By my birth I am Held no less than yourselves to know the limits Of honour and of infamy, nor has study Quenched the free spirit which first ordered them; And thus to me, as to one well experienced In die false quicksands of the sea of honour, You may refer the merits of the case; And if I should perceive in your relation That either has the right to satisfaction From the other, I give you my word of honour To leave you.


Under this condition then
I will relate the cause, and you will cede
And must confess th' impossibility
Of compromise; for the same lady is
Beloved by Floro and myself.


It seems
Much to me that the light of day should look
Upon that idol of my heart—but he—
Leave us to fight, according to thy word.


Permit one question further: is the lady
Impossible to hope or not!


She is
So excellent, that if the light of day
Should excite Floro's jealousy, it were
Without just cause, for even the light of day
Trembles to gaze on her.

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And if you both Would marry her, is it not weak and vain, Culpable and unworthy, thus beforehand To slur her honour! What would the world say If one should slay the other, and if she Should afterwards espouse the murderer!

{.The rival! agree to refer their quarrel to Cvprian; who in consequence vititt Justina, and become) enamoured of her: the dudaint him, and he retiree to a solitary eea-ehore.


O memory! permit it not
That the tyrant of my thought
Be another soul that still
Holds dominion o'er the will;
That would refuse, but can no more,
To bend, to tremble, and adore.
Vain idolatry!—I saw,
And gazing became blind with error;
Weak ambition, which the awe
Of her presence bound to terror!
So beautiful she was—and 1,

Between my love and jealousy,

Am so convulsed with hope and fear,

Unworthy as it may appear;

So bitter is the life I live,

That, hear me, Hell! I now would give

To thy most detested spirit

My soul, for ever to inherit,

To suffer punishment and pine,

So this woman may be mine.

Hear'st thou, Hell! dost thou reject it!

My soul is offered!

D.EMOM (unseen).

I accept it.
[Temptit, Kith thunder and lightning.

What is this! ye heavens, for ever pure,
At once intensely radiant and obscure!

Athwart the ethereal halls
The lightning's arrow and the thunder-balls

The day affright,

As from the horizon round,

Burst with earthquake sound,

In mighty torrents the electric fountains;

Clouds quench the sun, and thunder smoke
Strangles the air, and fire eclipses heaven.
Philosophy, thou canst not even
Compel their causes underneath thy yoke,
From yonder clouds even to the waves below
The fragments of a single ruin choke

Imagination's flight;
For, on flakes of surge, like feathers light,
The ashes of the desolation cast

Upon the gloomy blast,
Tell of the footsteps of the storm.
And nearer see the melancholy form
Of a great ship, the outcast of the sea,

Drives miserably!
And it must fly the pity of the port,
Or perish, and its last and sole resort
Is its own raging enemy.

The terror of the thrilling cry Was a fatal prophecy Of coming death, who hovers now Upon that shattered prow, That they who die not may be dying still. And not alone the insane elements Are populous with wild portents, But that sad ship is as a miracle Of sudden ruin, for it drives so fast It seems as if it had arrayed its form With the headlong storm. It strikes—I almost feel the shock,— It stumbles on a jagged rock,— Sparkles of blood on the white foam are cast. A tempestAll exclaim within We are all lost!

Daemon (within). Now from this plank will I Pass to the land, and thus fulfil my scheme.


As in contempt of the elemental rage

A man comes forth in safety, while the ship's

Great form is in a watery eclipse

Obliterated from the Ocean's page,

And round its wreck the huge sea-monsters Bit,

A horrid conclave, and the whistling wave

Is heaped over its carcase, like a grave.

The Daemon enters as escaped from the sea.
in, (aside).
It was essential to my purposes
To wake a tumult on the sapphire ocean,
That in this unknown form I might at length
Wipe out the blot of the discomfiture
Sustained upon the mountain, and assail
With a new war the soul of Cyprian,
Forging the instruments of his destruction
Even from his love and from his wisdom.—0
Beloved earth, dear mother, in thy bosom
I seek a refuge from the monster who
Precipitates itself upon me.


Collect thyself; and be the memory
Of thy late suffering, and thy greatest sorrow
But as a shadow of the past,—for nothing
Beneath the circle of the moon but flows
And changes, and can never know repose.


And who art thou, before whose feet my fate
Has prostrated me!


One who, moved with pity, Would soothe its stings.


Oh! that can never be! No solace can my lasting sorrows find.



Because my happiness is lost.
Yet I lament what has long ceased to be
The object of desire or memory,
And my life is not life.


Now, since the fury Of this earthquaking hurricane is still, And the crystalline heaven has rea&sumed Its windless calm so quickly, that it seems As if its heavy wrath had been awakened Only to overwhelm that vessel,—speak. Who art thou, and whence comest thou!


Far more My coming hither cost than thou hast seen, Or I can tell. Among my misadventures This shipwreck is the least. Wilt thou hear?

Speak. DAMON.

Since thou desirest, I will then unveil

Myself to thee;—for in myself I am

A world of happiness and misery;

This I have lost, and that I must lament

For ever. In my attributes I stood

So high and so heroically great,

In lineage so supreme, and with a genius

Which penetrated with a glance the world

Beneath my feet, that won by my high merit

A king—whom I may call the King of kings,

Because all others tremble in their pride

Before the terrors of his countenance,

In his high palace roofed with brightest genu

Of living light—call them the stars of Heaven—

Named me his counsellor. But the high praise

Stung me with pride and envy, and I rose

In mighty competition, to ascend

His seat, and place my foot triumphantly

Upon his subject thrones. Chastised, I know

The depth to which ambition falls; too mad

Was the attempt, and yet more mad were now

Repentance of the irrevocable deed:—

Therefore I chose this ruin with the glory

Of not to be subdued, before the shame

Of reconciling me with him who reigns

By coward cession.—Nor was I alone,

Nor am I now, nor shall I be alone;

And there was hope, and there may still be hope.

For many suffrages among his vassals

Hailed me their lord and king, and many still

Are mine, and many more perchance shall be.

Thus vanquished, though in fact victorious,

I left his seat of empire, from mine eye

Shooting forth poisonous lightning, while my words

With inauspicious thundenngs shook Heaven,

Proclaiming vengeance, public as my wrong,

And imprecating on his prostrate slaves

Rapine and death, and outrage. Then I soiled

Over the mighty fabric of the world,

A pirate ambushed in its pathless sands,

A lynx crouched watchfully among its caves

And craggy shores; and I have wandered over

The expanse of these wide wildernesses

In this great ship, whose bulk is now dissolved

In the light breathings of the invisible wind.

And which the sea has made a dustless ruin.

Seeking ever a mountain, through whose foraa

I seek a man, whom I must now compel

To keep his word with me. I came arrayed

I n tempest, and, although my power could well

Bridle the forest winds in their career,

For other causes I forbore to soothe

Their fury to Favonian gentleness;

I could and would not: (thus I wake in him [Aiide

A love of magic art.) Let not this tempest,

Nor the succeeding calm excite thy wonder;

For by my art the sun would turn as pale

As his weak sister with unwonted fear;

And in my wisdom are the orbs of Heaven

Written as in a record. I have pierced

The naming circles of their wondrous spheres,

And know them as thou knowest every corner

Of this dim spot. Let it not seem to thee

That I boast vainly; wouldst thou that I work

A charm over this waste and savage wood,

This Babylon of crags and aged trees,

Filling its leafy coverts with a horror

Thrilling and strange! I am the friendless guest

Of these wild oaks and pines—and as from thee

I have received the hospitality

Of this rude place, I offer thee the fruit

Of years of toil in recompense ; whate'er

Thy wildest dream presented to thy thought

As object of desire, that shall be thine.

And thenceforth shall so firm an amity
Twixt thou and me be, that neither fortune,
The monstrous phantom which pursues success,
That careful miser, that free prodigal,
Who ever alternates with changeful hand
Evil and good, reproach and fame; nor Time,
That loadstar of the ages, to whose beam
The winged years speed o'er the intervals
Of their unequal revolutions; nor
Heaven itself, whose beautiful bright stars
Rule and adorn the world, can ever make
The least division between thee and me,
Since now I find a refuge in thy favour.


The DJ.mon temptt JusnxA, who it a Christian.


Abyss of Hell! I call on thee,

Thou wild misrule of thine own anarchy!

From thy prison-house set free

The spirits of voluptuous death,

That with their mighty breath

They may destroy a world of virgin thoughts;

Let her chaste mind with fancies thick as motes

Be peopled from thy shadowy deep,

Till her guiltless phantasy

Full to overflowing be!

And, with sweetest harmony,

Let birds, andflowers, and leaves, andallthingsmove

To love, only to love.

Let nothing meet her eyes

But signs of Love's soft victories;

Let nothing meet her ear

But sounds of Love's sweet sorrow;

So that from faith no succour may she borrow,

But, guided by my spirit blind

And in a magic snare entwined,

She may now seek Cyprian.

Begin, while I in silence bind

My voice, when tby sweet song thou hast begun.


What is the glory far above
All else in human life?

Love! love!

[ While theie wordt are lung, the D/cmon goes out at one door, and Justinw entert at another.


There is no form in which the fire
Of love its traces has impressed not.
Man lives far more in love's desire
Than by life's breath soon possessed not.
If all that lives must love or die,
All shapes on earth, or sea, or sky,
With one consent to Heaven cry
That the glory far above
All else in life is—


Love 1 0 love!


Thou melancholy thought, which art
So fluttering and so sweet, to thee
When did I give the liberty
Thus to afflict my heart!
What is the cause of this new power
Which doth my fevered being move,
Momently raging more and more I
What subtle pain is kindled now
Which from my heart doth overflow
Into my senses!—


Love, 0 love!


'Tis that enamoured nightingale

Who gives me the reply:

He ever tells the same soft tale

Of passion and of constancy

To his mate, who, rapt and fond,

Listening sits, a bough beyond.

Be silent, Nightingale!—No more

Make me think, in hearing thee

Thus tenderly thy love deplore,

If a bird can feel his so,

What a man would feel for me.

And, voluptuous vine, O thou

Who seekest most when least pursuing,—

To the trunk thou interlacest

Art the verdure which embracest,

And the weight which is its ruin,—

No more, with green embraces, vine,

Make me think on what thou lovest,—

For whilst thou thus thy boughs entwine,

I fear lest thou shouldst teach me, sophist,

How arms might be entangled too

Light-enchanted sunflower, thou
Who gazest ever true and tender
On the sun's revolving splendour,
Follow not his faithless glance
With thy faded countenance,
Nor teach my beating heart to fear,
If leaves can mourn without a tear,
How eyes must weep I O Nightingale,
Cease from thy enamoured tale,—

Leafy vine, unwreath thy bower,
Restless sunflower, cease to move,—
Or tell me all, what poisonous power
Ye use against me.—


Love! love! love!


It cannot be! Whom have I ever loved!
Trophies of my oblivion and disdain,
Floro and Lelio did I not reject!
And Cyprian ?—

[She becomes troubled at the name o/Crrxus.
Did I not requite him
With such severity, that he has fled
Where none has ever heard of him again ?—
Alas! I now begin to fear that this
May be the occasion whence desire grows bold,
As if there were no danger. From the moment
That I pronounced to my own listening heart,
Cyprian is absent, O miserable me!
I know not what I feel! [More calmly.

It must be pity To think that such a man, whom all the world Admired, should be forgot by all the world, And I the cause. [Shi again becomes troubled.

And yet if it were pity,
Floro and Lelio might have equal share,
For they are both imprisoned for my sake. [Calmly.
Alas! what reasonings are these 1 It is
Enough I pity him, and that, in vain,
Without this ceremonious subtlety.
And woe is me! I know not where to find him now,
Even should I seek him through this wide world.

Enter D.kmon.

Follow, and I will lead thee where he is.

Justina. And who art thou, who hast found entrance hither, Into my chamber through the doors and locks? Art thou a monstrous shadow which my madness Has formed in the idle air I


No. I am one
Called by the thought which tyrannises thee
From his eternal dwelling; who this day
Is pledged to bear thee unto Cyprian.


So shall thy promise fail. This agony
Of passion which afflicts my heart and soul
May sweep imagination in its storm;
The will is firm.


Already half is done
In the imagination of an act.
The sin incurred, the pleasure then remains;
Let not the will stop half way on the road.


I will not be discouraged, nor despair,
Although I thought it, and although 'tis true
That thought is but a prelude to the deed:—
Thought is not in my power, but action is:
I will not move my foot to follow thee.


But a far mightier wisdom than thine own
Exerts itself within thee, with such power
Compelling thee to that which it inclines
That it shall force thy step; how wilt thou then
Resist, Justina?


By my free-will.



Must force thy will.


It is invincible;
It were not free if thou hadst power upon it.

[He draws, but cannot mote her.

Come, where a pleasure waits thee.


It were bought Too dear.


'Twill soothe thy heart to softest peace.


'Tis dread captivity.


'Tis joy, 'tis glory.


'Tis shame, 'tis torment, 'tis despair.


But bow

Canst thou defend thyself from that or me,
If my power drags thee onward!


My defence Consists in God.

[He vainly endeavour* to force her, and at last releasee her.


Woman, thou hast subdued me. Only by not owning thyself subdued. But since thou thus findest defence in God, I will assume a feigned form, and thus Make thee a victim of my baffled rage. For I will mask a spirit in thy form Who will betray thy name to infamy, And doubly shall I triumph in thy loss. First by dishonouring thee, and then by turning False pleasure to true ignominy. [bit.

Appeal to Heaven against thee! so that Heaven
May scatter thy delusions, and the blot
Upon my fame vanish in idle thought,
Even as flame dies in the envious air,
And as the flow'ret wanes at morning frost,

And thou shouldst never But, alas'. to whom

Do I still speak t—Did not a man but now
Stand here before me)—No, I am alone,
And yet I saw him. Is he gone so quickly I
Or can the heated mind engender shapes
From its own fear 1 Some terrible and strange
Peril is near. Lisandcr! father! lord!

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My master 's in the right.


Oh, would it were Delusion! but I fear some greater ill. I feel as if out of my bleeding bosom My heart was torn in fragments; aye, Some mortal spell is wrought against my frame; So potent was the charm, that had not God Shielded my humble innocence from wrong, I should have sought my sorrow and my shame With willing steps.—Livia, quick, bring my cloak, For I must seek refuge from these extremes Even in the temple of the highest God Which secretly the faithful worship.


Justina {putting on her cloak).
In this, as in a shroud of snow, may I
Quench the consuming fire in which I burn,
Wasting away!


And I will go with thee.


When I once see them safe out of the house.
I shall breathe freely.


So do I confide In thy just favour, Heaven!


Let us go.


Thine is the cause, great God! Turn, for my sake And for thine own, mercifully to me I

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