A country yet untrodden. Yet the distance
Remains unpeopled; slowly then our eyes
Perceive its traces ling'ring here and yonder,
And that it compasses, embraces us,
And bears us, is in us, and nowhere fails us.
The words I say can give thee little pleasure,
Too much renunciation rings in them.
But not to me, by Heaven! My sweet child,
Not like a beggar do I feel before thee,
(With a long look at her.)
However fair thy youth's consummate glory
Envelop thee from top to toe ... thou knowest
Not much about my life, thou hast but seen
A fragment of its shell, as dimly gleaming
In shadows through the op'nings of a hedge.
I wish thine eye might pierce the heart of it:
As fully as the earth beneath my feet
Have I put from me all things low and common.
Callst thou that easy, since I now am old?
'Tis true, I've lost some friends by death ere this--
And thou at most thy grandam--many friends,
And those that live, where are they scattered now?
To them was linked the long forgotten quiver
Of nights of youth, those evening hours in which
Vague fear with monstrous, sultry happiness
Was mingled, and the perfume of young locks
With darkling breezes wafted from the stars.

* * * * * *

The glamor of the motley towns and cities,
The distant purple haze--that now is gone,
Nor could be found, though I should go to seek it;
But here within me, when I call, there rises
A something, rules my spirit, and I feel
As if it might in thee as well--
[He changes his tone.]
Knowst thou the day, on which thou needst must dance
Before thy father's guests? A smile unfading
Dwelt on thy lips, than any string of pearls
More fair, and sadder than my mother's smile,
Which thou hast ne'er beheld. This is to blame:
That smile and dance were interlaced, like wondrous
Fingers of dreamlike possibilities.
Wouldst thou they ne'er had been, since they're to blame,
My wife, that thou art standing here with me?

SOBEIDE (in such a tone that her voice is heard