Polyeucte Part 5

Thy heart thy tool, o'er every pa.s.sion queen, Beyond all change and chance thou sit'st serene!

In easy flow can pa.s.s thy love new-born From cold indifference to colder scorn; Such resolution is the equal mate Of G.o.d or monster, love, aversion, hate.

This fine-spun adamant Ithuriel's spear Could never pierce: for other stuff is here!

(Points to himself.) No faint 'Alas!' no swift-repented sigh Can heal the cureless wound from which I die.

Sure, reason finds that love his easy prey With Lethe aye at hand to point the way; With ordered fires like thine, I too could smother A heart in leash, find solace in another.

Too fair, too dear--from whom the Fates me sever!

Thou hast no heart to give--thou lov'dst me never!

PAUL.

Too plain, Severus, I my torture show,-- Tho' flame leap up no more, the embers glow; Far other speech and voice, and mien were mine, Could I forget that once thou call'dst me thine!

Tho' reason rules, yes, gains the mastery No queen benignant, but a tyrant she!

Oh, if I conquer--if the strife I gain, Yet memory for aye is linked with pain!

I feel the charm that binds me still to thee; If duty great, yet great thy worth to me: I see thee still the same, who waked the fire Which waked in me ineffable desire.

Begirt by crown of everlasting fame Thou art more glorious--yet art still the same.

I know thy valour's worth,--well hast thou justified That bounding hope of mine, though fruitage was denied, Yet this same fate which did our union ban Hath made me, fated--wed another man.

Let Duty still be queen! Yea, let her break The heart she pierces, yet can never shake.

The virtue, once thy pride in days gone by Doth that same worth now merit blasphemy?

Bewail her bitter fruit--but praised be The rights that triumph over thee and me!

SEV.

Forgive, Pauline, forgive; ah! grief hath made me blind To all but grief's excess, and fortune most unkind.

Forgive that I mistook--nay, treated as a crime Thy constancy of soul, unequalled and sublime; In pity for my life forlorn, my peace denied, Ah! show thyself less fair,--one least perfection hide!

Let some alloy be seen, some saving weakness left, Take pity on a heart of thee and Heaven bereft!

One faintest flaw reveal, to give my soul relief!

Else, how to bear the love that only mates with grief?

PAUL.

Alas! the rents in armour donned and proved Too well my fight proclaim; yes, I have loved; The traitor sigh, the tear unbid, attest The combat fierce--the warrior sore distrest.

Say, who can stanch these wounds, that armour mend?

Thou who hast pierced, thou, thou alone defend!

Ah, if thou honourest my victory Depart, that thou may'st still defender be!

So dry the tears that, to my shame, still flow-- So quench the fire would work my overthrow!

Yes, go, my only friend, with me combine To end my torture, for thy pain is mine!

SEV.

This last poor drop of comfort may not be?

PAUL.

The cup is poisoned both for me and thee!

SEV.

The flower is gone--I cherish but the root!

PAUL.

Untimely blossom bears a fated fruit!

SEV.

My grief be mine! Let memory remain!

PAUL.

That grief might hope beget, so leave a stain!

SEV.

Not mine to stain what Heaven hath made so pure!

For me one offering left: 'tis this: Endure!

Thy glory shall be mine, my load I bear, So, spotless, thou thy peerless crown shalt wear!

Farewell, my love, farewell; I go to prove my faith, To bless, to save thy life, so will I mate with death!

If prostrate from the blow, there yet remains of life Enough to summon death, and end the piteous strife!

PAUL.

My grief, too deep for voice, shall silent be, There, in my chamber, will I pray for thee!

When thou art gone, great Heaven shall hear my cry; Grief's fruit for thee be hope--death--immortality!

SEV.

Now with my loss alone let Fate contented be.

May Heaven shower bliss and peace on Polyeucte and thee!

PAUL.

Stern Fate obeyed, end, Death, his agony, And Jove receive my hero--to the sky!

SEV.

_Thou wast_ my heaven!

PAUL.

My father I obeyed--

SEV.

O victim pure, obedient, undismayed!

Pauline--too fair--too dear--I can no more!

PAUL.

So must I say--depart--where I adore!

(Exit Severus.)

STRAT.

Yes, it is hard--most sad--behold my tears!

But now, at least, there is no cause for fears: Thy dream is but a dream--is naught, is vain; Severus pardons. Gone that cause for pain!

PAUL.

Oh, if from pity start thy easy tear, Add not that other woe--forgotten fear!

Ah! let me breathe, some respite give from trouble, Those fears, half-dead, thou dost revive, redouble!

STRAT.

What dost thou dread?

PAUL.

Heaven--h.e.l.l--earth--empty air!

All, all is food for dread to my despair, As thou unveil'st, begirt in lurid light, The pallid ghost that slew me in the night!