Scene III. Giacomo and Bernardo discovered in the laboratory.

Gia. What say'st thou now, Bernardo?

Ber. Let me live Or die in drawing this delicious breath, I ask no more.

Gia. (Aside.) Mark, how with wondering eyes He gazes on the burning crucibles, As if to drink the rising vapor with His every sense.

Ber. Is this the balm thou spak'st of?

Gia. Ay, sir, the same.

Ber. Oh, would that now my heart Were torn with every grief the earth has known, Then would this sense be sweeter by tenfold! Where didst thou learn the secret, and from whom?

Gia. From Gebber down to Paracelsus, none Have mentioned the discovery of this— The need of it was parent of the thought.

Ber. How long will these small crucibles hold out?

Gia. A little while, but there are two beside, That when thy sense is toned up to the point May then be fired; and when thou breathest their fumes, Nepenthe deeper it shall seem than that Which Helen gave the guests of Menelaus. But come, thou'lt weary of this thickening air, Let us depart.

Ber. Not for the wealth of worlds!

Gia. Nay, but thy bride awaits thee—

Ber. Go to her And say I shall be there anon.

Gia. I will. (Aside.) Now while he stands enchained within the spell I'll to Rosalia's room and don his cloak And cap, and sally forth to meet the duke. 'Tis now the hour, and if he come—so be it.

[Exit Giacomo.

Ber. (Alone.) These delicate airs seem wafted from the fields Of some celestial world. I am alone— Then wherefore not inhale that deeper draught, That sweet nepenthe which these other two, When burning, shall dispense? 'Twere quickly done, And I will do it!

(He places the two crucibles on the furnace.) Now, sir alchemist, Linger as long as it may suit thy pleasure— 'Tis mine to tarry here. Oh, by San John, I'll turn philosopher myself, and do Some good at last in this benighted world! Now how like demons on the ascending smoke, Making grimaces, leaps the laughing flame, Filling the room with a mysterious haze, Which rolls and writhes along the shadowy air, Taking a thousand strange, fantastic forms; And every form is lit with burning eyes, Which pierce me through and through like fiery arrows! The dim walls grow unsteady, and I seem To stand upon a reeling deck! Hold, hold! A hundred crags are toppling overhead. I faint, I sink—now, let me clutch that limb— Oh, devil! It breaks to ashes in my grasp! What ghost is that which beckons through the mist? The duke! the duke! and bleeding at the breast! Whose dagger struck the blow? (Enter Giacomo.)

Gia. Mine, villain, mine! What! thou'st set the other two aburning? Impatient dog, thou cheat'st me to the last! I should have done the deed—and yet 'tis well. Thou diest by thine own dull hardihood!

Ber. Ha! is it so? Then follow thou!

Gia. My time Is not quite yet, this antidote shall place A bar between us for a little while. (He raises a vial to his lips, drinks, and flings it aside.)

Ber. (Rallying.) Come, give it me—

Gia. Ha, ha! I drained it all! There is the broken vial.

Ber. Is there no arm To save me from the abyss?

Gia. No, villain, sink! And take this cursed record of thy plot, (He thrusts a paper into Bernardo's hand,) And it shall gain thee speedy entrance at Th' infernal gate!

(Bernardo reads, reels and falls.)

Gia. (Looking on the body.) Poor miserable dust! This body now is honest as the best, The very best of earth, lie where it may. This mantle must conceal the thing from sight, For soon Rosalia, as I bade her, shall Be here. Oh, Heaven! vouchsafe to me the power To do this last stern act of justice. Thou Who called the child of Jairus from the dead, Assist a stricken father now to raise His sinless daughter from the bier of shame. And may her soul, unconscious of the deed, Forever walk the azure fields of heaven.

(Enter Rosalia, dressed in simple white, bearing a small golden crucifix in her hand.)

Ros. Dear father, in obedience, I have come— But where's Bernardo?

Gia. Gone to watch the stars; To see old solitary Saturn whirl Like poor Ixion on his burning wheel— He is our patron orb to-night, my child.

Ros. I do not know what strange experiment Thou'dst have me see, but in my heart I feel That He, in whose remembrance this was made (looking at the cross) Should be chief patron of our thoughts and acts. Since vesper time—I know not how it was— I could do naught but kneel and tell my prayers.

Gia. Ye blessed angels, hymn the word to heaven. Come, daughter, let me hold thy hand in mine, And gaze upon the emblem which thou bearest. (He looks upon the crucifix awhile and presses it to his lips.)

Ros. Pray tell me, father, what is in the air?

Gia. See'st thou the crucibles, my child? Now mark, I'll drop a simple essence into each.

Ros. My sense is flooded with perfume!

Gia. Again.

Ros. My soul, asudden, thrills with such delight It seems as it had won a birth of wings!

Gia. Behold, now when I throw these jewels in, The glories of our art!

Ros. A cloud of hues As beautiful as morning fills the air; And every breath I draw comes freighted with Elysian sweets! An iris-tinted mist, In perfumed wreaths, is rolling round the room. The very walls are melting from my sight, And surely, father, there's the sky o'erhead! And on that gentle breeze did we not hear The song of birds and silvery waterfalls? And walk we not on green and flowery ground? Ferrara, father, hath no ground like this, The ducal gardens are not half so fair! Oh, if this be the golden land of dreams, Let us forever make our dwelling here. Not lovelier in my earliest visions seemed The paradise of our first parents, filled With countless angels whose celestial light Thrilled the sweet foliage like a gush of song. Look how the long and level landscape gleams, And with a gradual pace goes mellowing up Into the blue. The very ground we tread Seems flooded with the tender hue of heaven; An azure lawn is all about our feet, And sprinkled with a thousand gleaming flowers, Like lovely lilies on a tranquil lake.

Gia. Nay, dear Rosalia, cast thy angel ken Far down the shining pathway we have trod, And see behind us those enormous gates To which the world has given the name of Death; And note the least among yon knot of lights, And recognize your native orb, the earth! For we are spirits threading fields of space, Whose gleaming flowers are but the countless stars! But now, dear love, adieu—a flash from heaven— A sudden glory in the silent air— A rustle as of wings, proclaim the approach Of holier guides to take thee into keep. Behold them gliding down the azure hill Making the blue ambrosial with their light. Our paths are here divided. I must go Through other ways, by other forms attended.