Part 2 / Act 3 — Scene I.—Apartment in a Palace.

Vit. Speak not of love—it is a word with deep Strange magic in its melancholy sound, To summon up the dead; and they should rest, At such an hour, forgotten. There are things We must throw from us, when the heart would gather Strength to fulfil its settled purposes; Therefore, no more of love! But if to robe This form in bridal ornaments—to smile (I can smile yet) at thy gay feast, and stand At th’ altar by thy side;—if this be deem’d Enough, it shall be done. Eri. My fortune’s star Doth rule th’ ascendant still! (Apart.)—If not of love, Then pardon, lady, that I speak of joy, And with exulting heart—— Vit. There is no joy! —Who shall look through the far futurity, And, as the shadowy visions of events Develop on his gaze, midst their dim throng, Dare, with oracular mien, to point, and say, “This will bring happiness?” Who shall do this? Who, thou and I, and all! There’s One, who sits In His own bright tranquillity enthroned, High o’er all storms, and looking far beyond Their thickest clouds! but we, from whose dull eyes A grain of dust hides the great sun—e’en we Usurp his attributes, and talk, as seers, Of future joy and grief! Eri. Thy words are strange. Yet will I hope that peace at length shall settle Upon thy troubled heart, and add soft grace To thy majestic beauty. Fair Vittoria! Oh! if my cares—— Vit. I know a day shall come Of peace to all. Ev’n from my darken’d spirit Soon shall each restless wish be exorcised, Which haunts it now, and I shall then lie down Serenely to repose. Of this no more. I have a boon to ask. Eri. Command my power, And deem it thus most honour’d. Vit. Have I then Soar’d such an eagle pitch, as to command The mighty Eribert?—And yet ’tis meet; For I bethink me now, I should have worn A crown upon this forehead. Generous lord! Since thus you give me freedom, know, there is An hour I have loved from childhood, and a sound Whose tones, o’er earth and ocean sweetly bearing A sense of deep repose, have lull’d me oft To peace—which is forgetfulness; I mean The Vesper-bell. I pray you let it be The summons to our bridal. Hear you not? To our fair bridal! Eri. Lady, let your will Appoint each circumstance. I am too bless’d, Proving my homage thus. Vit. Why, then, ’tis mine To rule the glorious fortunes of the day, And I may be content. Yet much remains For thought to brood on, and I would be left Alone with my resolves. Kind Eribert! (Whom I command so absolutely,) now Part we a few brief hours; and doubt not, when I’m at thy side once more, but I shall stand There—to the last! Eri. Your smiles are troubled, lady— May they ere long be brighter! Time will seem Slow till the Vesper-bell. Vit. ’Tis lovers’ phrase To say—Time lags; and therefore meet for you; But with an equal pace the hours move on, Whether they bear, on their swift silent wing, Pleasure or—fate. Eri. Be not so full of thought On such a day. Behold, the skies themselves Look on my joy with a triumphant smile Unshadow’d by a cloud. Vit. ’Tis very meet That heaven (which loves the just) should wear a smile In honour of his fortunes. Now, my lord, Forgive me if I say farewell until Th’ appointed hour. Eri. Lady, a brief farewell.