And yet the sweetest, that ear ever heard:
A lady's voice-and sorrow in the tone.
Baldazzar, it oppresses me like a spell.
Again, again; how solemnly it falls
Into my heart of hearts! that eloquent voice
Surely I never heard: yet it were well
Had I but heard it with its thrilling tones
In earlier days.

Bal.

I myself hear it now.

Be still. The voice, if I mistake not greatly,
Proceeds from yonder lattice, which you may see
Very plainly through the window. It belongs-
Does it not?-unto this palace of the duke:
The singer is undoubtedly beneath

The roof of his excellency, and perhaps

Is even that Alessandra of whom he spoke
As the betrothed of Castiglione,

Bal. The song is English, and I oft have heard it In merry England,-never so plaintively.

Hist, hist; it comes again.

Voice (more loudly).

Is it so strong

As for to leave me thus,
Who hath loved thee so long,
In wealth and woe among?
And is thy heart so strong
As for to leave me thus ?
Say nay-say nay!

Bal. 'Tis hushed, and all is still.

Pol.

Bal. Let us go down.

Pol.

All is not still.

Go down, Baldazzar,-go.

Bal. The hour is growing late-the duke awaits

us,

Thy presence is expected in the hall

Below. What ails thee, Earl Politian?

Voice (distinctly).

Who hath loved thee so long,

In wealth and woe among,

And is thy heart so strong?

Say nay-say nay!

Bal. Let us descend;-'tis time. Politian, give

These fancies to the wind. Remember, pray,

Your bearing lately savoured much of rudeness
Unto the duke. Arouse thee, and remember.
Pol. Remember! I do. Lead on.

member.

Let us descend. Believe me, I would give,
Freely would give, the broad lands of

I do re

[Going.

my earldom To look upon the face hidden by yon lattice,

"To gaze upon that veilèd face, and hear

Once more that silent tongue."

Pol. (aside) 'Tis strange,—'tis very strange!
Methought the voice

Chimed in with my desires, and bade me stay.
[Approaching the window.

Sweet voice, I heed thee, and will surely stay.
Now be this fancy, by heaven, or be it fate,
Still will I not descend. Baldazzar, make
Apology unto the duke for me:

not down to-night.

I go Bal.

Your lordship's pleasure

Shall be attended to. Good night, Politian.

Pol. Good night, my friend, good night.

Lal. And dost thou speak of love

To me, Politian ?-dost thou speak of love

To Lalage?-Ah, woe-ah, woe is me!

This mockery is most cruel-most cruel indeed.

Pol. Weep not; O, sob not thus: thy bitter

tears

Will madden me. O, mourn not, Lalage:

Be comforted.

I know-I know it all,

And still I speak of love. Look at me, brightest, And beautiful Lalage,-turn here thine eyes. Thou askest me if I could speak of love, Knowing what I know, and seeing what I have seen. Thou askest me that-and thus I answer theeThus on my bended knee I answer thee—[Kneeling. Sweet Lalage, I love thee-love thee-love thee; Thro' good and ill-thro' weal and woe, I love thee. Not mother, with her first-born on her knee, Thrills with intenser love than I for thee. Not on God's altar, in any time or clime, Burned there a holier fire than burneth now Within my spirit for thee. And do I love? [Arising. Even for thy woes I love thee-even for thy woesThy beauty and thy woes.

Lal.

Alas, proud earl,
Thou dost forget thyself, remembering me.

How, in thy father's halls, among the maidens
Pure and reproachless of thy princely line,
Could the dishonoured Lalage abide ?
Thy wife, and with a tainted memory—

My seared and blighted name, how would it tally
With the ancestral honours of thy house,

And with thy glory?

Pol.

Speak not to me of glory.

I hate-I loathe the name; I do abhor
The unsatisfactory and ideal thing.