And you have given it power—such deep sad power,
I see naught else on earth!
Rai. (aside.) I dare not say she lives.
(To Aymer, holding up the cross of his sword.)
Once by our father's grave I ask'd, and here,
I' the silence of the waste, I ask once more—
Have you abjured your faith?
Aym. Why are you come
To torture me? No, no! I have not. No!
But you have sent the torrent through my soul,
And by their deep strong roots torn fiercely up
Things that were part of it—inborn feelings, thoughts—
I know not what I cling to!
Rai. Aymer! yet
Heaven hath not closed its gates! Return, return,
Before the shadow of the palm-tree fades
I' the waning moonlight. Heaven gives time. Return,
My brother! By our early days—the love
That nurtured us!—the holy dust of those
That sleep i' the tomb!—sleep! no, they cannot sleep!
Doth the night bring no voices from the dead
Back on your soul?
Aym. (turning from him.) Yes—here!
Rai. (indignantly turning off.) Why should I strive?
Why doth it cost me these deep throes to fling
A weed off? [Checking himself.
Brother, hath the stranger come
Between our hearts for ever? Yet return—
Win back your fame, my brother!
Aym. Fame again!
Leave me the desert!—leave it me! I hate
Your false world's glittering draperies, that press down
Th' o'erlabour'd heart! They have crush'd mine. Your vain
And hollow-sounding words are wasted now:
You should adjure me by the name of him
That slew his son's young bride!—our ancestor—
That were a spell! Fame! fame!—your hand hath rent
The veil from off your world! To speak of fame,
When the soul is parch'd like mine! Away!
I have join'd these men because they war with man,
And all his hollow pomp! Will you go hence?
(Fiercely.) Why do I talk thus with a murderer? Ay,
This is the desert, where true words may rise
Up unto heaven i' the stillness! Leave it me!—
The free wild desert!
Arab Chief enters.
Arab. Stranger, we have shared
The spoil, forgetting not——A Christian here!
