I have oft roamed in the blue summer night,
And wept with joy to look upon the stars;
And as they shed their light upon me, felt
My Julian watched over his earthly love:
His voice has seemed to float upon the winds,
Summoning me to the immortal sky,—
And I have sought my pillow, and been happy
In the sweet dreams that visited my sleep.
Julian. These are sick fancies:—love has power to make
This earth as fair a paradise as ever
Was fashioned yet in slumber. I have brought
From afar treasures that a king would own.
That simple lute shall be new strung with gold,
And gems shall glisten on it; delicate pearls,
Like those that ruby lip conceals, shall braid
Those raven tresses; and the diamond,
Pure, bright as thou art, all shall grace my queen.
Agnes. Thy offerings are but offerings to the tomb;
A fruitless pomp, an empty vanity.
Why do I listen,—I can never feel
As I have felt before; yet still a spell
Is in thy voice that soothes: it has a tone
Like music long remembered—like a sound
Mine ear has treasured up most faithfully.
Julian (aside.) How true love's memory is!—
(To her.) The hunter turns not
Despairing from the chase because the deer
Flies from his pursuit: every obstacle
Becomes a pleasure. I will win thee yet,
If truest love can win; I'll watch each step
As the young mother watches her first child:
Your feet shall tread o'er roses, from whose stems
The thorns are cleared away; the air around
Shall be so sweet, that every breath you draw
Will be enjoyment; all your waking hours
Shall glide away like music; you shall sleep
To the soft lulling of the harp, your pillow
Upon a heart whose every beat is yours.—
This is your native village: is it dear?
