SEV.
Let Felix bow to Jove and incense pour,
I seek a dearer shrine, for I adore
Nor Jove, nor Mars, nor Fortune—but Pauline.
This fruit now ripening late my hand would glean:
You know, my friend, the god who wings my way,
You know the only goddess I obey:
What reck the gods on high our sacrifice and prayer?
An earthly worship mine, sole refuge from despair!

FABIAN.
Ah! You may see her——

SEV.
Blessed be thy tongue!
O magic word, that turns my grief to song!
Yet, if she now forget each fair, fond vow?
She loved me once,—but does she love me now?
On that sweet face shall I but trouble see
Who hope for love undimmed, for ecstasy?
Great Decius gives her hand, but if her heart
Be mine no more—than let vain hope depart!
This mandate binds her father only; she
Shall give no captive hand—her heart is free:
No promise wrung, no king's command be mine to claim,
Her love the boon I crave; all else an empty name!

FABIAN.
Yes,—you may—see her—see her—this you may—

SEV.
Thy speech is halting—odious thy delay!
She loves no more? I grope! O give me light!

FABIAN.
O see her not, for painful were the sight!
In Rome each matron's kind! In Rome all maids are fair!
Let lips meet other lips—seek for caresses there!
No stately Claudia will refuse—no Julia proud disdain;
A hero captures every heart, from Antioch to Spain!

SEV.
To wed a queen—an empress—were only loss and shame;
One heart for me—Pauline's! One boast—that dearest name!
Her love was virgin gold! O ne'er shall baser metal ring
From mine, who live her name to bless! her peerless praise to sing!
O, words are naught, till that I see her face,
Then doubly naught till I my love embrace.
In every war my hope was placed in death,
Her name upon my lips at every breath:
My rank, my fame, now hers and hers alone,
What is not hers, hers only—I disown!

FABIAN.
Once more, oh see her not, 'twere for thy peace!

SEV.
Thy meaning, knave, or let this babble cease!
Say, was she cold? My love! My only life!

FABIAN.
No—but—my lord——

SEV.
Say on!

FABIAN.
Another's wife!

SEV.
(Reels.)
Help!—No, I will not blench—ah, say you lie!
If this be true!—ye gods—can I be I?

FABIAN.
No, thou art changed. Where is thy courage fled?

SEV.
I know not, Fabian. Lost! Gone! Vanished! Dead!
I thought my strength was oak—'tis but a reed!
Pauline is wed, then am I lost indeed!
Hope hid beyond the cloud, yet still fond hope was there:
But now all hope is dead, lives only black despair!
Pauline another's wife?

FABIAN.
Yes, Polyeucte is her lord.
He came, he saw, he conquered thine adored.

SEV.
Her choice is not unworthy—his a name
Illustrious, from a line of kings he came
Cold comfort for a wound no cure can heal!
My cause is lost,—foredoomed without appeal!
Malignant Jove, to drag me back to-day!
Relentless Fate, to quench hope's dawning ray!
Take back your gifts! One boon alone I crave,
That only boon to none denied—the grave.
Yet would I see her, breathe one last good-bye,
Would hear once more that voice before I die!
My latest breath would still my homage pay,
That memory mine, when lost to realms of day.

FABIAN.
Yet think, my lord—

SEV.
Oh, I have thought of all;
What worser ill can dull despair befall?
She will not see me?

FABIAN.
Yes, my lord, but—

SEV.
Cease!

FABIAN.
'Twill but enhance the grief I would appease.

SEV.
For hopeless ill, good friend, I seek no cure.
Who welcomes death can life's short pain endure!

FABIAN.
O lost indeed, if round her fatal light you hover!—
The lover, losing all, speaks hardly like a lover!
While passion still is lord—the passion-swept is slave—
From this last bitterness would I Severus save!

SEV.
That word, my friend, unsay; tho' grief this bosom tear,
The hand that wounds I kiss—love vanquishes despair;
Fate only, not Pauline, the foe that I accuse,
No plighted faith she breaks who did this hand refuse.
Duty—her father—Fate—these willed, she but obeyed;
Not hers the woe, the strife that envious Ate made!
Untimely, Fortune's shower must drown me, not revive;
Too lavish and too late her fatal gifts arrive.
The golden apple falls, the gold is turned to dross:
When Fate at Fortune mocks, all gain is only loss!

FABIAN.
Yes, I will go to tell her thou hast drained
To the last drop the cup that Fate ordained.
She knows thee hero, but she feared that pain
Might prove thee also man—by passion slain.
She feared Despair, who gains the victory
O'er other men, might e'en thy master be!

SEV.
Peace! Peace! She comes!

FABIAN.
To thine own self be true!

SEV.
Nay! True to her! Shall I her life undo?
She loves the Armenian!

Enter Pauline

PAUL.
Yes, that debt I pay,
Hard—wrung, acquitted,—his my love alway!
Who has my hand, he holds—shall hold—my heart!
Truth is my guide,—let sophistry depart!
Had Fate been kind, then had Pauline been thine,
Heart, faith and duty, linked with bliss divine.
In vain had fickle Fortune barred the way,
Want had been wealth with thee, my guide, my stay,
And poverty had fallen from the wings
Of soaring love, who mocks the wealth of kings!
Not mine to choose, for he—my father's choice—
Must needs be mine; yes, when I heard his voice,
Duty must echo be: if thou couldst cast
Before my feet an emperor's crown,—a past
By worth and glory lit—beloved, adored—
Yet at my father's word, 'Not this thy lord;
Take one despised—nay, loathed—to share thy bed,'—
Him, and not thee, beloved, would I wed.
Duty, obedience, must have been the part
Of me, who own their sway, e'en with a broken heart!

SEV.
O happy thou! O easy remedy!
One poor faint sigh cures love's infirmity!
Thy heart thy tool, o'er every passion queen,
Beyond all change and chance thou sit'st serene!
In easy flow can pass thy love new-born
From cold indifference to colder scorn;
Such resolution is the equal mate
Of god 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—