Page:Sebastian of Portugal.pdf/9

Seb.—This is to live
An age of wisdom in one hour!—The man
Whose empire, as in scorn, o'erpass'd the bounds
E'en of the infinite deep, whose orient realms
Lay bright beneath the morning, while the clouds
Were brooding in their sunset glory still,
O'er his majestic regions of the west;
This heir of far dominion shall return,
And, in the very city of his birth,
Shall find no home!—Aye, I will tell him this,
And he will answer that the tale is false,
False as a traitor's hollow words of love—
And that the stately dwelling, in whose halls
We commune now, a friend's, a monarch's gift,
Unto the chosen of his heart, Sylveira
Should yield him still a welcome!

Syl.— Fare thee well!
I may not pause to hear thee, for thy words
Are full of danger and of snares, perchance
Laid by some treach'rous foe. But all in vain.
I mock thy wiles.

Seb.—Ha! ha!—The grovelling snake
Doth pride himself in his distorted cunning,
Deeming it wisdom!—Nay, thou goest not thus!
What!—Know’st thou not my spirit was born to hold
Dominion over thine? thou shalt not cast
Those bonds thus lightly from thee. Stand thou there,
And tremble in the presence of thy lord!

Syl.—This is all madness.

Seb.—Madness!—No!—I say
'Tis Reason starting from her sleep, to feel,
And see, and know, in all their cold distinctness,
Things which come o'er her, as a sense of pain
O' th' sudden wakes the dreamer. Stay thee yet!
Be still! thou’rt us'd to smile and to obey,
Aye, and to weep. I have seen thy tears flow fast,
As from the fulness of a heart o'ercharg'd
With loyal love. Oh! never, never more
Let smiles or tears be trusted!—When thy king
Went forth on his disastrous enterprize,
Upon thy bed of sickness thou wert laid,
And he stood o'er thee with the look of one
Who leaves a dying brother, and his eyes
Were fill'd with tears like thine—no! not like thine!