Obey'd your earnest bidding.—Fays and witches
Might round its blaze their midnight revelry
Right fitly keep.
Ter.Aye; thou lov'st wilds and darkness,
And fire and storms, and things unsooth and strange:
This suits thee well. Methinks, in gazing on it,
Thy face a witch-like eagerness assumes.
Viol. I'll be a goblin then, and round it dance.
Did not Aurora say we thus should hold
This nightly vigil. Yea, such were her words.
Aur. They were light bubbles of some mantling thought,
That now is flat and spiritless; and yet,
If thou art so inclined, ask not my leave,
Dance if thou wilt.
Viol.Nay, not alone, sweet sooth!
Witches themselves, some fiend-like partners find.
Ter. And so may'st thou. Look yonder; near the flame
A crested figure stands. That is not Stephen.
Aur. (eagerly.) A crested figure! Where?
O call to it!
[Bast. comes forward.
Ter. 'Tis Bastiani.
Aur.Aye, 'tis Bastiani:
'Tis he, or any one; 'tis ever thus;
So is my fancy mock'd.
Bast. If I offend you, madam, 'tis unwillingly.
Stephen has for a while gone to the beach
To help some fishermen, who, as I
Against the tide would force their boat to land.
He'll soon return; meantime, I did entreat him
To let me watch his Beacon. Pardon me;
I had not else intruded; though full oft
I've clamber'd o'er these cliffs, even at this hour,
To see the ocean from its sabled breast
The flickering gleam of these bright flames return.
Aur. Make no excuse, I pray thee. I am told
By good Terentia thou dost wish me well,
Though Ulrick long has been thy friend. I know
A wanderer on the seas in early youth
Thou wast, and still canst feel for all storm-toss'd
On that rude element.
Bast. 'Tis true, fair Lady: I have been, ere now,
Where such a warning light, sent from the shore,
Had saved some precious lives; which makes the task
I now fulfil more grateful.
Aur. How many leagues from shore may such a light
By the benighted mariner be seen?
Bast. Some six or so: he will descry it faintly,
Like a small star, or hermit's taper, peering
From some caved rock that brows the dreary waste;
Or like the lamp of some lone lazar-house,
Which through the silent night the traveller spies
Upon his doubtful way.
[As they begin to occupy themselves with the fire, the sound of distant voices, singing in harmony, is heard under the stage as if ascending the cliff.
Aur. What may it be?
Viol.The songs of paradise,
But that our savage rocks and gloomy night
So ill agree with peaceful soothing bliss.
Ter. No blessed spirits in these evil days
Hymn, through the stilly darkness, strains of grace.
Aur. Nay, list; it comes again.
[Voices heard nearer.
Ter. The mingled sound comes nearer, and betrays
Voices of mortal men.
Viol.In such sweet harmony!
I never heard the like.
Aur. They must be good and holy who can utter
Such heavenly sounds.
Bast.I ve surely heard before
This solemn chorus chanted by the knights,
The holy brothers of Jerusalem.
It is a carol sung by them full oft,
When saved from peril dire of flood or field.
Aur. The Knights of blest St John from Palestine!
Alas! why feel I thus? knowing too well
They cannot bring the tidings I would hear.
[Chorus rises again very near.
Viol. List, list! they've gain'd the summit of the cliff:
They are at hand; their voices are distinct;
Yea, even the words they sing.
