THE MARTYR: A DRAMA.
423
All things but have their term.
In truth, my child, I am glad that I indulged thee
By coming forth at such an early hour
To pay thy worship to so sweet a goddess,
Upon her yearly feast.
PORTIA.
That she, from mortal eye conceal'd, vouchsafes
Her presence in such sweet and flowery spots:
And where due offerings on her shrine are laid,
Blesses all seeds and shoots, and things of promise.
SULPICIUS.
She needs must visit then!
PORTIA.
That stirr'd each slender leaf, now as we enter'd,
And made a sudden sound, by stillness follow'd,
Might be the rustling of her passing robe.
SULPICIUS.
Yet wild as pleasing.
PORTIA.
Full many a time I've listen'd when alone