Azlea. (Bending over Alvernon.)
There's breath upon his lips, and on his cheek
A faint and trembling color. His dark hair
Is heavy yet, and cold with the sea-brine,
And his high, rounded forehead, has a gash
Cut by the cruel rocks. I'll chafe his brow;
He soon must waken from this deathlike sleep.
Alvernon. (Unclosing his eyes.)
I must have dreamed, or else I now do dream:
I thought that in the tempest all were lost,
And the cold waves closed round my shuddering form,
But all was tumult, night, and thundering,
And I know not what happened. Where am I?
This is a pleasant place, and thou art young
And very beautiful; how came I here?
Azlea. Thou hast been ill, and I must bid thee rest;
I'll talk to thee when thou art somewhat stronger.
Now close thine eyes, and I will bring thee wine,
Which thou must first partake, then sleep again;
I'll sing some low, soft melody to lull
Your senses to repose, when I return.[Exit Azlea.
Alver. Who is this creature of such wondrous beauty?
Her voice is plaintive music in itself;
And she will sing to me—how innocent!
'Tis sweet to have such minister to sooth
The body's stinging pains; but where am I,
And who is she; alike mysterious?
Re-enter Azlea with wine and fruits.
Azlea. I have brought that which will revive your strength.
Alver. I could now sleep; I feel a languor stealing
Over my senses like a pleasant balm.
If now thou'lt sing for me I shall be grateful,
And see thee in my dreams.
