Down, down, down; thy look is strangely calm!
Thou goest to thy last rest, as a child
Upon its mother's bosom sinks to sleep.
Enter Alvernon.
Alver. Ha! hideous demon, where is Azlea?
Her. By Heaven, this is Alvernon! now I know
Why Hermon sued in vain. Look! gaze full long
Upon her sea-deep cradle! She, sweet child,
Is far beyond the reach of your weak arm.
Alver. Answer me, fiend! hast thou slain Azlea?
Monster! now thou shalt die.
Her. Not by thy arm;
I go to meet thy Azlea, while thou
Must tarry here alone: dost envy me?[Plunges into the sea.
Alver. Was there a God in heaven when this was done?[Curtain falls.
Scene III.—A room in Mazarini's house. Azlea stretched on a bier. Alvernon kneeling beside it, his face hidden in the pall. Mazarini chanting a low, wild dirge on his harp.
DIRGE.
Once, my mournful harp, and never
Shall thy strings to sadness shiver;
Never more with anguish quiver
Breaking with thy moan.
Once more sound for me in sorrow,
One low, dirge-like strain; to-morrow
Hushed will be thy tone.
