The Complete Poetical Works of Edgar Allan Poe Part 17

_Monk_. Thy words are madness, daughter, And speak a purpose unholy--thy lips are livid-- Thine eyes are wild--tempt not the wrath divine!

Pause ere too late!--oh, be not--be not rash!

Swear not the oath--oh, swear it not!

_Lal_. 'Tis sworn!

III.

An Apartment in a Palace. POLITIAN and BALDAZZAR.

_Baldazzar_. Arouse thee now, Politian!

Thou must not--nay indeed, indeed, thou shalt not Give way unto these humors. Be thyself!

Shake off the idle fancies that beset thee And live, for now thou diest!

_Politian_. Not so, Baldazzar!

_Surely_ I live.

_Bal_. Politian, it doth grieve me To see thee thus!

_Pol_. Baldazzar, it doth grieve me To give thee cause for grief, my honored friend.

Command me, sir! what wouldst thou have me do?

At thy behest I will shake off that nature Which from my forefathers I did inherit, Which with my mother's milk I did imbibe, And be no more Politian, but some other.

Command me, sir!

_Bal_. To the field then--to the field-- To the senate or the field.

_Pol_. Alas! alas!

There is an imp would follow me even there!

There is an imp _hath_ followed me even there!

There is--what voice was that?

_Bal_. I heard it not.

I heard not any voice except thine own, And the echo of thine own.

_Pol_. Then I but dreamed.

_Bal_. Give not thy soul to dreams: the camp--the court Befit thee--Fame awaits thee--Glory calls-- And her the trumpet-tongued thou wilt not hear In hearkening to imaginary sounds And phantom voices.

_Pol_. It _is_ a phantom voice!

Didst thou not hear it _then_?

_Bal_ I heard it not.

_Pol_. Thou heardst it not!--Baldazzar, speak no more To me, Politian, of thy camps and courts.

Oh! I am sick, sick, sick, even unto death, Of the hollow and high-sounding vanities Of the populous Earth! Bear with me yet awhile We have been boys together--school-fellows-- And now are friends--yet shall not be so long-- For in the Eternal City thou shalt do me A kind and gentle office, and a Power-- A Power august, benignant, and supreme-- Shall then absolve thee of all further duties Unto thy friend.

_Bal_. Thou speakest a fearful riddle I _will_ not understand.

_Pol_. Yet now as Fate Approaches, and the Hours are breathing low, The sands of Time are changed to golden grains, And dazzle me, Baldazzar. Alas! alas!

I _cannot_ die, having within my heart So keen a relish for the beautiful As hath been kindled within it. Methinks the air Is balmier now than it was wont to be-- Rich melodies are floating in the winds-- A rarer loveliness bedecks the earth-- And with a holier l.u.s.tre the quiet moon Sitteth in Heaven.--Hist! hist! thou canst not say Thou hearest not _now_, Baldazzar?

_Bal_. Indeed I hear not.

_Pol_. Not hear it!--listen--now--listen!--the faintest sound And yet the sweetest that ear ever heard!

A lady's voice!--and sorrow in the tone!

Baldazzar, it oppresses me like a spell!

Again!--again!--how solemnly it falls Into my heart of hearts! that eloquent voice Surely I never heard--yet it were well Had I _but_ heard it with its thrilling tones In earlier days!

_Bal_. I myself hear it now.

Be still!--the voice, if I mistake not greatly, Proceeds from younder lattice--which you may see Very plainly through the window--it belongs, Does it not? unto this palace of the Duke.

The singer is undoubtedly beneath The roof of his Excellency--and perhaps Is even that Alessandra of whom he spoke As the betrothed of Castiglione, His son and heir.

_Pol_. Be still!--it comes again!

_Voice_ (_very faintly_). "And is thy heart so strong [1]

As for to leave me thus, That have loved thee so long, In wealth and woe among?

And is thy heart so strong As for to leave me thus?

Say nay! say nay!"

_Bal_. The song is English, and I oft have heard it In merry England--never so plaintively-- Hist! hist! it comes again!

_Voice (more loudly_). "Is it so strong As for to leave me thus, That have loved thee so long, In wealth and woe among?

And is thy heart so strong As for to leave me thus?

Say nay! say nay!"

_Bal_. 'Tis hushed and all is still!

_Pol_. All _is not_ still.

_Bal_. Let us go down.

_Pol_. Go down, Baldazzar, go!

_Bal_. The hour is growing late--the Duke awaits us,-- Thy presence is expected in the hall Below. What ails thee, Earl Politian?

_Voice_ (_distinctly_). "Who have loved thee so long, In wealth and woe among, And is thy heart so strong?

Say nay! say nay!"

_Bal_. Let us descend!--'tis time. Politian, give These fancies to the wind. Remember, pray, Your bearing lately savored much of rudeness Unto the Duke. Arouse thee! and remember!

_Pol_. Remember? I do. Lead on! I _do_ remember.

(_going_).

Let us descend. Believe me I would give, Freely would give the broad lands of my earldom To look upon the face hidden by yon lattice-- "To gaze upon that veiled face, and hear Once more that silent tongue."

_Bal_. Let me beg you, sir, Descend with me--the Duke may be offended.