Radúz.—Mahulena, support thyself on me—
Nyola.—No, rather on me! Lay thy head against my heart.
Radúz.—For thy love my mother and I will contend!
Mahulena.—Mother! Radúz! How is so great happiness possible! (She goes out towards the castle, supporting herself on both of them.)
Radovid (Gazing after them).—O, future generations shall long continue to tell of their faithful love! They are as happy as in a tale of old, Radúz and Mahulena! . . .
SUNSET DOWN MOUNT VERNON STREET
A half-framed glimpse of daylight’s farewell sky
Adown a brick-housed way, will satisfy,
When crosses on two quaintly lifted spires
Stand clear against heaven’s far ethereal fires,
With straight beyond the wide reflecting river
Where rainbow fancies briefly toss and quiver,
Mocking the sombre nun-cloaked bridge of grey
With merry pageantry of waning day.
Such bounty seems no stinted sunset showing
To those who have the comfortable knowing
Of cloistered beauty hid beneath the roofs
Along the swift descending street, high proofs
Of culture loved and nourished year on year—
Rare paintings, pewter, books, all priceless dear,
Keeping an atmosphere shy sheltered there,
As wise and lovely as Olympian air.
He must be proudly formal and discreet
Who views a sunset down Mount Vernon Street.
