NEAR.

The cause is just, is true--O coward heart, be still!

I lived to doubt His word--I die to do His Will!

ACT III--PAULINE

PAUL.

Cares--clouded and confused--oppress, obscure In changeful forms, my eye, my heart, my mind: My soul finds room for every guest save one; Fair hope has flown,--no star can pierce my night: Each tyrant rages 'gainst opposing foe In deadly fight--yet brings to light no friend: In travail sore hope comes not to the birth-- Fear hydra-headed terror still begets;-- All fancies grim I see, and straight embrace, At hope I clutch, who still eludes my grasp; Her rainbow hues adored are but a frame That serve by contrast to make fear more dark.

Severus haunts me--oh, I know his love, Yet hopeless love must mate with jealousy,-- While Polyeucte, who has won what he has lost, Can meet no rival with an equal eye.

The fruit of rivalry is ever hate And envy; both must still engender strife: One sees that rival hand has grasped his prize, The other yearns for prize himself has missed.

Weak reason naught, when headlong pa.s.sion reigns, For valour seeks a sword, and love--revenge.

One fears to see the prize he gained impaired, The other would that wrested prize regain; While patience, duty, conscience, vail their heads 'Fore obstinate defence and fierce attack.

Such steeds no charioteer controls--for they Mistake both curb and reign for maddening whip.

Ah! what a base, unworthy fear is mine!

How ill I read these fair, these n.o.ble souls, Whose virtue must all common snares o'erleap!

Their gold unstained by dross or mean alloy!

As generous foes so will they--must they meet!

Yet are they rivals--this the thought that kills!

Not even here--at home--is Polyeucte safe, The eagle wings of Rome reach over all.

Oh, if my father bow to Roman might, If he repent the choice that he hath made,-- At this one thought hope's flame leaps up to die!

Or--if new-born--dies ere she see the light.

Hope but deceived,--my fear alone I trust, Heaven grant such confidence be false--be vain!

(Enter Stratonice.)

Nay, let me know the worst! What, girl!--no word?

The rites are o'er? What hast thou seen--what heard?

They met in amity?--In peace they part?

STRAT.

Alas! Alas!

PAUL.

Nay, soothe my aching heart!

I would have comfort,--but this face of woe-- A quarrel?

STRAT.

Polyeucte--Nearchus--go-- The Christians--

PAUL.

What of them?

STRAT.

Ah, how to speak--

PAUL.

They on my father would their vengeance wreak?

STRAT.

Oh, fear whate'er thou wilt--that fear too small!

PAUL.

The Christians rise?

STRAT.

Oh, would that this were all!

Thy dream, Pauline, is true; Polyeucte is----

PAUL.

Dead?

STRAT.

Ah, no, he lives--yet every hope is fled; That courage once so high, that n.o.ble name Sunk in the mire of everlasting shame!

He lives,--who once was lovely in thy sight-- As monster foul--his every breath a blight; The foe of Heaven, of Jove, of all our race, His kisses poison, and his love--disgrace!

Wretch, coward, miscreant, steeped in infamy, O worse than every name!--a Christian he!

PAUL.

Nay, that one word's enough! There needed not abuse.

STRAT.

My words fit well their guilt;--with evil make no truce.

PAUL.

If _he_ be _Nazarene_--he must an outcast be!

But insult to my lord is insult unto me!

STRAT.

Think only that he hails the Cross, the badge of shame.

PAUL.

My plighted faith, my troth, my duty still the same!

STRAT.

When twined about thy breast, the hideous serpent slay!

Who mocks the G.o.ds on high will his own wife betray!

PAUL.

If he be false, yet I will still be true, The ties that bind me I will ne'er undo: Let fate--Severus--pa.s.sion--all combine Against him!--I am his, and he is mine.

Yes, mine to guide, lead, win, forgive, and save!

I seek his honour tho' he court the grave.

Let Polyeucte be Christ's slave!--For woe, for weal, He is my lord; the bond I owe I seal; I fear my father,--all his vengeance, dread.

STRAT.

Fierce burns his rage o'er that devoted head; Yet embers of old love still faintly glow, And through his wrath some weak compa.s.sion show; 'Gainst Polyeucte biting words alone he speaks But on Nearchus fullest vengeance wreaks!

PAUL.