Clouds quench the sun, and thunder- And round its wreck the huge seasmoke monsters sit, Strangles the air, and fire eclipses A horrid conclave, and the whistling 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, The terror of the thrilling cry Was a fatal prophecy Of coming death, who hovers now Upon that shattered prow, I seek a refuge from the monster who Friend, That they who die not may be dying Collect thyself; and be the memory Dæmon (within). plank will I thy Of thy late suffering, and thy greatest Now from this Would soothe its stings. Dæmon. Oh, that can never be! Pass to the land and thus fulfil my No solace can my lasting sorrows find. Cyprian. Wherefore? Dæmon. ness is lost. Because my happi Yet I lament what has long ceased to be The object of desire or memory, And my life is not life. Cyprian. Now, since the fury Was the attempt, and yet more mad were Repentance of the irrevocable deed :- Of not to be subdued, before the shame As if its heavy wrath had been awak- thou? Damon. Far more My coming hither cost, than thou hast seen be hope, For many suffrages among his vassals Hailed me their lord and king, and many still Or I can tell. Among my misadven- Are mine, and many more, perchance tures shall be. This shipwreck is the least. Wilt thou Thus vanquished, though in fact victor hear? Cyprian. Speak. Dæmon. Since thou desirest, I will then unveil Myself to thee;-for in myself I am For ever. In my attributes I stood A king-whom I may call the king of Because all others tremble in their pride Of living light-call them the stars of In the light breathings of the invisible Named me his counsellor. But the high | And which the sea has made a dustless praise ruin, Stung me with pride and envy, and I Seeking ever a mountain, through whose rose In mighty competition, to ascend The depth to which ambition falls; too forests I seek a man, whom I must now compel To keep his word with me. I came arrayed In 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 [Aside. 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 flaming circles of their wondrous spheres And know them as thou knowest every corner Of this dim spot. thee 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. SCENE III.-The DEMON tempts JUSTINA, who is a Christian. Damon. Abyss of Hell! I call on thee, Let it not seem to Thou wild misrule of thine own anarchy ! That I boast vainly; wouldst thou that I work From thy prison-house set free The spirits of voluptuous death, That with their mighty breath A charm over this waste and savage They may destroy a world of virgin thoughts; Let her chaste mind with fancies thick as motes Be peopled from thy shadowy deep, Full to overflowing be! Let And with sweetest harmony, birds, and flowers, and leaves, and all things move To love, only to love. Let nothing meet her eyes Let nothing meet her ear But sounds of Love's sweet sorrow, So that from faith no succour she may borrow, But, guided by my spirit blind She may now seek Cyprian. A Voice (within). Love! love! love! Justina. It cannot be!-Whom have I ever loved? Trophies of my oblivion and disdain, [She becomes troubled at the name of 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 me miserable! To think that such a man, whom all the And I the cause. [She again becomes troubled. And yet if it were pity, Floro and Lelio might have equal share, For they are both imprisoned for my sake. Thought is not in my power, but action is: I will not move my foot to follow thee. Dæmon. But a far mightier wisdom than thine own Exerts itself within thee, with such power (Calmly.) Alas! what reasonings are Compelling thee to that which it inclines It is invincible; Even should I seek him through this Must force thy will. It were not free if thou hadst power upon it. [He draws, but cannot move her. Dæmon. Come, where a pleasure waits thee. Justina. Too dear. Dæmon. to softest peace. It were bought 'Twill soothe thy heart 'Tis joy, 'tis glory. Justina. 'Tis dread captivity. Dæmon. Justina. 'Tis shame, 'tis torment, 'tis despair. Dæmon. But how Canst thou defend thyself from that or me, If my power drags thee onward? Justina. Consists in God. My defence [He vainly endeavours to force her, and at last releases her. Dæmon. subdued me, Woman, thou hast Only by not owning thyself subdued. But since thou thus findest defence in God, I will assume a feignèd form, and thus Let not the will stop half-way on the Make thee a victim of my baffled rage. |