I:3:16 ALAR.

Gentle Princess--

I:3:17 SOL.

Call me Solisa; tho' we meet no more Call me Solisa now.

I:3:18 ALAR.

Thy happiness--

I:3:19 SOL.

O! no, no, no, not happiness, at least Not from those lips.

I:3:20 ALAR.

Indeed it is a name That ill becomes them.

I:3:21 SOL.

Yet they say, thou'rt happy, And bright with all prosperity, and I Felt solace in that thought.

I:3:22 ALAR.

Prosperity!

Men call them prosperous whom they deem enjoy That which they envy; but there's no success Save in one master-wish fulfilled, and mine Is lost for ever.

I:3:23 SOL.

Why was it? O, why Didst thou forget me?

I:3:24 ALAR.

Never, lady, never-- But ah! the past, the irrevocable past-- We can but meet to mourn.

I:3:25 SOL.

No, not to mourn I came to bless thee, came to tell to thee I hoped that thou wert happy.

I:3:26 ALAR.

Come to mourn.

I'll find delight in my unbridled grief: Yes! let me fling away at last this mask, And gaze upon my woe.

I:3:27 SOL.

O, it was rash, Indeed 'twas rash, Alarcos; what, sweet sir, What, after all our vows, to hold me false, And place this bar between us! I'll not think Thou ever loved'st me as thou did'st profess, And that's the bitter drop.

I:3:28 ALAR.

Indeed, indeed--

I:3:29 SOL.

I could bear much, I could bear all, but this My faith in thy past love, it was so deep, So pure, so sacred, 'twas my only solace; I fed upon it in my secret heart, And now e'en that is gone.

I:3:30 ALAR.

Doubt not the past, 'Tis sanctified. It is the green fresh spot In my life's desert.

I:3:31 SOL.

There is none to thee As I have been? Speak, speak, Alarcos, tell me Is't true? Or, in this shipwreck of my soul, Do I cling wildly to some perishing hope That sinks like me?

I:3:32 ALAR.

The May-burst of the heart Can bloom but once; and mine has fled, not faded.

That thought gave fancied solace, ah, 'twas fancy, For now I feel my doom.

I:3:33 SOL.

Thou hast no doom But what is splendid as thyself. Alas!

Weak woman, when she stakes her heart, must play Ever a fatal chance. It is her all, And when 'tis lost, she's bankrupt; but proud man Shuffles the cards again, and wins to-morrow What pays his present forfeit.

I:3:34 ALAR.

But alas!

What have I won?

I:3:35 SOL.

A country and a wife.

I:3:36 ALAR.

A wife!

I:3:37 SOL.

A wife, and very fair, they say.

She should be fair, who could induce thee break Such vows as thine. O! I am very weak.

Why came I here? Was it indeed to see If thou could'st look on me?

I:3:38 ALAR.

My own Solisa.

I:3:39 SOL.

Call me not thine; why, what am I to thee That thou should'st call me thine?

I:3:40 ALAR.

Indeed, sweet lady, Thou lookest on a man as bruised in spirit, As broken-hearted, and subdued in soul, As any breathing wretch that deems the day Can bring no darker morrow. Pity me!

And if kind words may not subdue those lips So scornful in their beauty, be they touched At least by Mercy's accents! Was't a crime, I could not dare believe that royal heart Retained an exile's image? that forlorn, Hara.s.sed, worn out, surrounded by strange aspects And stranger manners, in those formal ties Custom points out, I sought some refuge, found At least companionship, and, grant 'twas weak, Shrunk from the sharp endurance of the doom That waits on exile, utter loneliness!

I:3:41 SOL.

His utter loneliness!

I:3:42 ALAR.

And met thy name, Most beauteous lady, prithee think of this, Only to hear the princes of the world Were thy hot suitors, and that one would soon Be happier than Alarcos.

I:3:43 SOL.

False, most false, They told thee false.

I:3:44 ALAR.

At least, then, pity me, Solisa!

I:3:45 SOL.

Ah! Solisa, that sweet voice, Why should I pity thee? 'Tis not my office.

Go, go to her that cheered thy loneliness, Thy utter loneliness. And had I none?

Had I no pangs of solitude? Exile!

O! there were moments I'd have gladly given My crown for banishment. A wounded heart Beats freer in a desert; 'tis the air Of palaces that chokes it.