ACT THREE
The same city; darkness. Elan Chol in the foreground.
Elan Chol:
Well then,
The bloody work is accomplished.
Again in place of the Furies we shall have Peace.
The war is ended!
I beheld death mowing down regiments.
I strode through fire
And perished not. How wondrous!
Light is given unto him whose heart is in shadow
And life unto him who is forlorn in spirit.
For I have long been in the shackles
Of a foe who knows not compassion:
I have been made captive by causeless grief,
Direr than death.
I sought a grave more eagerly than slumber
And found it not,
But saw how from thirsty lips
Death removes the vessel of life.
Yet to me, who crave not to drink the water of life,
To me it was not vouchsafed to die the death.
Sadder is my spirit than the most forlorn of regions,
More rigid than rocks,
More mournful than is dust or clay,
Gloomier than quenched fire.
