er virgin flower,
Soon be lost her nymph-like grace--
Roses shall desert her face,
Waving gold her silken hair.
She who left Diana's care
Must with Venus find her place:
'Mong vile women let her dwell,
Vile, abandoned even as they.

ESCARPIN (aside).
There my love shall have full play.
O rare judge, you sentence well!

CHRYSANTHUS.
Sir, if thou must have a fell
Vengeance for this act of mine,
Take my life, for it is thine;
But my honour do not dare
To insult through one so fair.

DARIA.
Wreak thy rage, if faith divine
So offends thee, upon me,
Not upon my chastity:--
'T is a virtue purer far
Than the light of sun or star,
And has ne'er offended thee.

POLEMIUS.
Take them hence.

CHRYSANTHUS.
Ah me, to find
Words, that might affect thy mind!
Melt thy heart!

DARIA.
Ah, me, who e'er
Saw a martyrdom so rare?--

POLEMIUS.
Wouldst thou then the torment fly,
Thou hast only to deny
Christ.

CHRYSANTHUS.
The Saviour of mankind?
This I cannot do.

DARIA.
Nor I.

POLEMIUS.
Let them instantly from this
To their punishment be led.--

ESCARPIN.
Do not budge from what you said.
It is excellent as it is.

CHRYSANTHUS.
Woe is me! but wherefore fear,
O beloved betroth`ed mine?--
Trust in God, that power divine
For whose sake we suffer here:--
HE will aid us and be near:--

DARIA.
In that confidence I live,
For if He His life could give
For my love, and me select,
He His honour will protect.

CHRYSANTHUS.
These sad tears He will forgive.
Ne'er to see thee more! thus driven. . .

DARIA.
Cease, my heart like thine is riven,
But again we 'll see each other,
When in heaven we 'll be, my brother,
The two lover saints of Heaven. (They are led out.

SCENE II.--The hall of a bordel.

Soldiers conducting Daria.

A SOLDIER.
Here Polemius bade us leave her,
The great senator of Rome.[14] (exeunt.)

DARIA.
As the noonday might be left
In the midnight's dusky robe,
As the light amid the darkness,
As 'mid clouds the solar globe:
But although the shades and shadows,
Through the vapours of Heaven's dome.
Strive with villainous presumption
Light and splendour to enfold,
Though they may conceal the lustre,
Still they cannot stain it, no.
And it is a consolation
This to know, that even the gold,
How so many be its carats,
How so rich may be the lode,
Is not certain of its value
'Till the crucible hath told.
Ah! from