Whom most he loved on earth, and think'st thou not
That love e'en yet shall bring his spirit near
While thus we hold communion?
Pro.Yes, I feel
Its breathing influence whilst I look on thee,
Who wert its light in life. Yet will we not
Make womanish tears our offering on his tomb;
He shall have nobler tribute!—I must hence,
But thou shalt soon hear more. Await the time.
[Exeunt separately.
Scene III.—The Sea Shore.
Raimond di Procida. Constance.
Constance. There is a shadow far within your eye,
Which hath of late been deepening. You were wont
Upon the clearness of your open brow
To wear a brighter spirit, shedding round
Joy, like our southern sun. It is not well,
If some dark thought be gathering o'er your soul,
To hide it from affection. Why is this.
My Raimond, why is this?
Raimond.Oh! from the dreams
Of youth, sweet Constance, hath not manhood still
A wild and stormy wakening?—They depart,
Light after light, our glorious visions fade,
The vaguely beautiful! till earth, unveil'd
Lies pale around; and life's realities
Press on the soul, from its unfathom'd depth
