Page:Miscellaneous Plays 1.pdf/349

The champions meet: the fight is fierce and terrible:
The fateful stroke is given; and Constantine—

VALERIA.

Merciful heaven!

CONJUROR.

And Constantine lays the proud crescent low.

VALERIA (pausing for a moment as if to he assured that she has heard right, and then holding up her hands in extasy).

It is! it is! O words of bliss!—Thou see'st it!

My Constantine lays the proud crescent low!
Thou look'd upon it truly; and their forms
Before thee move, ev'n as the very forms
Of living men?

CONJUROR.

Even so.

VALERIA.

O blessed sight!

It is not witch'ry's spell, but holy spirits
Sent from a gracious heav'n that shapes such forms;
And be it lawless or unhallow'd deem'd,
Here will I kneel in humble gratitude.

CONJUROR (preventing her from kneeling).

No, no, this must not be: attend again:

There's more behind.