antry.

Who would believe those rosy-tinted cheeks
Concealed a heart torn by the pangs of love.
Is it within the range of wayward chance
That the fair Princess Eboli should sigh
Unheard--unanswered? Love is only known
By him who hopelessly persists in love.

PRINCESS (with all her former vivacity).
Hush! what a dreadful thought! this fate indeed
Appears to follow you of all mankind,
Especially to-day.
[Taking his hand with insinuating interest.
You are not happy,
Dear prince--you're sad! I know too well you suffer,
And wherefore, prince? When with such loud appeal
The world invites you to enjoy its bliss--
And nature on you pours her bounteous gifts,
And spreads around you all life's sweetest joys.
You, a great monarch's son, and more--far more--
E'en in your cradle with such gifts endowed
As far eclipsed the splendor of your rank.
You, who in those strict courts where women rule,
And pass, without appeal, unerring sentence
On manly worth and honor, even there
Find partial judges. You, who with a look
Can prove victorious, and whose very coldness
Kindles aflame; and who, when warmed with passion,
Can make a paradise, and scatter round
The bliss of heaven, the rapture of the gods.
The man whom nature has adorned with gifts
To render thousands happy, gifts which she
Bestows on few--that such a man as this
Should know what misery is! Thou, gracious Heaven,
That gavest him all those blessings, why deny
Him eyes to see the conquests he has made?

CARLOS (who has been lost in absence of mind, suddenly recovers himself
by the silence of the PRINCESS, and starts up).
Charming! inimitable! Princess, sing
That passage, pray, again.

PRINCESS (looking at him with astonishment).
Where, Carlos, were
Your thoughts the while?

CARLOS (jumps up).
By heaven, you do remind me
In proper time--I must away--and quickly.

PRINCESS (holding him back).
Whither away?

CARLOS.
Into the open air.
Nay, do not hold me, princess, for I feel
As though the world behind me were in flames.

PRINCESS (holding him forcibly back).
What troubles you? Whence comes these strange, these wild,
Unnatural looks? Nay, answer me!
[CARLOS stops to reflect, she draws him to the sofa to her.
Dear Carlos,
You need repose, your blood is feverish.
Come, sit by me: dispel these gloomy fancies.
Ask yourself frankly can your head explain
The tumult of your heart--and if it can--
Say,