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With inauspicious thunderings shook heaven,
Proclaiming vengeance, public as my wrong,
And imprecating on his prostrate slaves
Rapine and death and outrage. Then I sailed
Over the mighty fabric of the world,
A pirate ambushed in its pathless sands,
A lynx crouched watchfully among its caves
And craggy shores; and I have wandered over
The expanse of these wide glassy wildernesses
In this great ship, whose bulk is now dissolved
In the light breathings of the invisible wind,
And which the sea has made a dustless ruin,
Seeking ever a mountain, through whose forests
I seek a man whom I must now compel
To keep his word with me. I came arrayed
In tempest; and, although my power could well
Bridle the forest winds in their career,

For other causes I forbore to soothe

Their fury to Favonian gentleness.

I could, and would not.-[Aside] (Thus I wake in him
A love of magic art.)-Let not this tempest,
Nor the succeeding calm, excite thy wonder;
For by my art the sun would turn as pale
As his weak sister, with unwonted fear;
And in my wisdom are the orbs of heaven
Written as in a record. I have pierced
The flaming circles of their wondrous spheres,
And know them as thou knowest every corner
Of this dim spot. Let it not seem to thee
That I boast vainly; wouldst thou that I work
A charm over this waste and savage wood,
This Babylon of crags and aged trees,
Filling its leafy coverts with a horror

Thrilling and strange? I am the friendless guest
Of these wild oaks and pines :—and, as from thee
I have received the hospitality

Of this rude place, I offer thee the fruit
Of years of toil in recompense. Whate'er
Thy wildest dream presented to thy thought
As object of desire, that shall be thine.

And thenceforth shall so firm an amity

'Twixt thee and me be that neither Fortune,
The monstrous phantom which pursues success,
That careful miser, that free prodigal,
Who ever alternates with changeful hand
Evil and good, reproach and fame; nor time,
That lodestar of the ages, to whose beam
The winged years speed o'er the intervals
Of their unequal revolutions; nor
Heaven itself, whose beautiful bright stars
Rule and adorn the world; can ever make
The least division between thee and me,-
Since now I find a refuge in thy favour.

SCENE III.-The DEMON tempts JUSTINA (who is a Christian).


Abyss of Hell! I call on thee,

Thou wild misrule of thine own anarchy !

From thy prison-house set free

The spirits of voluptuous death,

That with their mighty breath

They may destroy a world of virgin thoughts:
Let her chaste mind with fancies thick as motes

Be peopled from thy shadowy deep,

Till her guiltless fantasy

Full to overflowing be!

And, with sweetest harmony,

Let birds and flowers and leaves and all things move

To love, only to love!

Let nothing meet her eyes

But signs of Love's soft victories;

Let nothing meet her ear

But sounds of Love's sweet sorrow;

So that from faith no succour may she borrow,

But, guided by my spirit blind,

And in a magic snare entwined,
She may now seek Cyprian.

Begin! while I in silence bind

My voice, when thy sweet song thou hast began.


What is the glory far above

All else in human life?

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[While these words are sung, the DEMON goes out at one door, and JUSTINA enters at another.


There is no form in which the fire

Of love its traces has impressed not.
Man lives far more in love's desire

Than by life's breath, soon possessed not.
If all that lives must love or die,
All shapes on earth or sea or sky
With one consent to Heaven cry
That the glory far above

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Thou melancholy thought, which art

So flattering and so sweet, to thee
When did I give the liberty

Thus to afflict my heart?

What is the cause of this new power

Which doth my fevered being move, Momently raging more and more? What subtle pain is kindled now, Which from my heart doth overflow

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'Tis that enamoured nightingale

Who gives me the reply:
He ever tells the same soft tale
Of passion and of constancy
To his mate, who, rapt and fond,
Listening sits, a bough beyond.
Be silent, Nightingale !-No more
Make me think-in hearing thee
Thus tenderly thy love deplore-
If a bird can feel his so,

What a man would feel for me!
And, voluptuous vine, O thou
Who seekest most when least pursuing,—
To the trunk thou interlacest

Art the verdure which embracest,
And the weight which is its ruin,—
No more, with green embraces, vine,
Make me think on what thou lovest!
For, whilst thus thy boughs entwine,
I fear lest thou shouldst teach me, sophist,
How arms might be entangled too.
Light-enchanted sunflower, thou
Who gazest ever true and tender
On the sun's revolving splendour,
Follow not his faithless glance
With thy faded countenance,—
Nor teach my beating heart to fear,
If leaves can mourn without a tear,
How eyes must weep! O nightingale,
Cease from thy enamoured tale,—
Leafy vine, unwreath thy bower,

Restless sunflower, cease to move,—
Or tell me all what poisonous power
Ye use against me.

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Justina. It cannot be! Whom have I ever loved?

Trophies of my oblivion and disdain,

Floro and Lelio did I not reject?

And Cyprian?— [She becomes troubled at the name of CYPRIAN. Did I not requite him

With such severity that he has fled

Where none has ever heard of him again?—

Alas! I now begin to fear that this

May be the occasion whence desire grows bold,—

As if there were no danger. From the moment

That I pronounced to my own listening heart

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Cyprian is absent," O me miserable!

I know not what I feel!

It must be pity

To think that such a man, whom all the world
Admired, should be forgot by all the world,

And I the cause.

[More calmly.

[She again becomes troubled. And yet, if it were pity, Floro and Lelio might have equal share, For they are both imprisoned for my sake. Alas! what reasonings are these? It is


Enough I pity him, and that in vain,

Without this ceremonious subtlety.

Woe is me! I know not where to find him now,
Even should I seek him through this wide world!

Enter DEMON.

Demon. Follow, and I will lead thee where he is.

Justina. And who art thou who hast found entrance hither Into my chamber, through the doors and locks?

Art thou a monstrous shadow which my madness
Has formed in the idle air?


No. I am one

Called, by the thought which tyrannizes thee,

From his eternal dwelling; who this day

Is pledged to bear thee unto Cyprian.

Justina. So shall thy promise fail. This agony Of passion which afflicts my heart and soul

May sweep imagination in its storm;

The will is firm.


Already half is done

In the imagination of an act.

The sin incurred, the pleasure then remains ;

Let not the will stop halfway on the road!

Justina. I will not be discouraged, nor despair,
Although I thought it, and although 'tis true
That thought is but a prelude to the deed :-
Thought is not in my power, but action is.
I will not move my foot to follow thee.

Demon. But a far mightier wisdom than thine own
Exerts itself within thee, with such power

Compelling thee to that which it inclines

That it shall force thy step; how wilt thou then
Resist, Justina?

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It were not free if thou hadst power upon it.

[He draws, but cannot move her.

It were bought

Demon. Come where a pleasure waits thee.


Too dear.

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