Charles Di Tocca - LightNovelsOnl.com
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HELENA: And may all hours!
ANTONIO: All! tho' we two will still Be more than destiny--which cannot grasp Beyond the grave.
HELENA: 'Tis sadly put, my lord.
ANTONIO: Ah, sadly, loathly; but, my Helena--
HELENA: I would not sink from it, the simple sun-- Fade to a tomb! What dirging hast thou heard To mind thee of it?
ANTONIO: Love is a bliss too bright To rest on earth. With it G.o.d should give us Ever to soar above mortality.
But you must know----!
HELENA: Not yet, tell me not yet!
Dimly I see the burden in your eyes, But dare not take it yet into my own.
Let us a little look upon the moon, Forgetting. (_They seat themselves._)
ANTONIO (_musingly_): These hands--this hair-- (_Caressing them._)
HELENA: Like a farewell Your touch falls on them.
ANTONIO (_moved_): To a father yield them?
HELENA: Antonio?
ANTONIO (_still caressing_): No, no! It cannot be!
HELENA: This dread--and shrinking--let me have it!--speak!
You mean--look on me!--mean, your father?--
ANTONIO: Ah!
It must not! must not!
HELENA: Do you mean--he--No!
Let him not touch me even in thy thought, To me come nearer than a father may!
ANTONIO: He's swept by the sweet contagion of you, wrapt In a fierce spell by your effulgent youth.
HELENA: Say, say it not! To him I but smiled up-- But smiled!
ANTONIO: He knew not that such smiles could dawn In a bare world. And now is flame; would take Your tenderness into his arms and hear Seized to him the warm music of your heart.
O, I could be for him--he is my father-- Prometheus stormed and gnawed on Caucasus, Tantalus ever near the slipping wave, Or torn and tossed to burning martyrdom-- But not--not this!
HELENA: Then, flight! In it we may Find haven and new nurture for our bliss.
ANTONIO: Snap from his hunger this one hope, so he Must starve? Push him who has but learned there's light Back into yawning blindness? Ah, not flight!
HELENA: I know he is your father, and my days Have been all fatherless, tho' I have made Me child to every wind that had caress And to each lonely tree of the deep wood-- Oft envious of those who touch gray hairs, Or spend desire on filial grief and pang.
And most have you a softness in him kept, Been to him more than empire's tyranny-- But baffled none can measure him nor trust!
ANTONIO: Yet must we wait.
HELENA: When waiting shall but goad The speed of peril?
ANTONIO: Still: and strain to win Him from this brink.--If vainly, then birth, pity, And memory shall fall from me!--all, all, But fierceness for thy peace!
HELENA: My Antony!
ANTONIO: And fierceness without falter!
HELENA: I am thine, Thine more than immortality is G.o.d's!
Hear, does the nightingale not tell it thee?
The stars do they not tremble it, the moon Murmur it argently into thine eyes?
ANTONIO: Ah, sorceress! You need but breathe to put Abysm from us; but build words to float us On infinite ecstasy. (_Kisses her._)
HELENA: How, how thy kisses Sing in me!
ANTONIO: From my heart they do but send Echoes born of thy beauty mid its strings!
HELENA: Then would I lean forever at thy lips, Lose no reverberance, no ring, no waft, Hear nothing everlastingly but them!
(_A mournful chant is borne from the Convent. They slowly unclasp, awed._)
ANTONIO: Weary with vigil does it swell and sink, Moaning the dead.
HELENA: Ah, no! There are no dead To-night in all the world. Could G.o.d see them Lie cold and wondrous still, while we are rich In warmth and throb!
ANTONIO: Yet, hear. The funeral tread Of the old sea sighs in each strain, and breaks.
HELENA: As I were drowned and heard it over me, It cometh--cometh!
(_Her head droops back on his arm. A pause._)
ANTONIO (_touching her face_): Cold! cold!--your lips--your brow!
And you are pale as with a prophecy!
HELENA: Oh--oh!
ANTONIO: Your spirit is not in you but Afar and suffering!
HELENA: A vision sweeps me.
ANTONIO: Awake from it!
HELENA (_recovering_): A waste of waves that beat Upon a cliff--and beat! Yet thou and I Had place in it.
ANTONIO: Come to yon arbour, come.
The moon has looked too long on the sad earth, And can reflect but sorrow.
