Part 2 (1/2)
_Lucifer (pouring)._ Let not the quant.i.ty alarm you: You may drink all; it will not harm you.
_Prince Henry._ I am as one who on the brink Of a dark river stands and sees The waters flow, the landscape dim Around him waver, wheel, and swim, And, ere he plunges, stops to think Into what whirlpools he may sink; One moment pauses, and no more, Then madly plunges from the sh.o.r.e!
Headlong into the dark mysteries Of life and death I boldly leap, Nor fear the fateful current's sweep, Nor what in ambush lurks below!
For death is better than disease!
(_An_ ANGEL _with an aeolian harp hovers in the air_.)
_Angel._ Woe! woe! eternal woe!
Not only the whispered prayer Of love, But the imprecations of hate, Reverberate Forever and ever through the air Above!
This fearful curse Shakes the great universe!
_Lucifer (disappearing)._ Drink! drink!
And thy soul shall sink Down into the dark abyss, Into the infinite abyss, From which no plummet nor rope Ever drew up the silver sand of hope!
_Prince Henry (drinking)._ It is like a draught of fire!
Through every vein I feel again The fever of youth, the soft desire; A rapture that is almost pain Throbs in my heart and fills my brain!
O joy! O joy! I feel The band of steel That so long and heavily has pressed Upon my breast Uplifted, and the malediction Of my affliction Is taken from me, and my weary breast At length finds rest.
_The Angel._ It is but the rest of the fire, from which the air has been taken!
It is but the rest of the sand, when the hour-gla.s.s is not shaken!
It is but the rest of the tide between the ebb and the flow!
It is but the rest of the wind between the flaws that blow!
With fiendish laughter, Hereafter, This false physician Will mock thee in thy perdition.
_Prince Henry._ Speak! speak!
Who says that I am ill?
I am not ill! I am not weak!
The trance, the swoon, the dream, is o'er!
I feel the chill of death no more!
At length, I stand renewed in all my strength!
Beneath me I can feel The great earth stagger and reel, As it the feet of a descending G.o.d Upon its surface trod, And like a pebble it rolled beneath his heel!
This, O brave physician! this Is thy great Palingenesis!
(_Drinks again_.)
_The Angel._ Touch the goblet no more!
It will make thy heart sore To its very core!
Its perfume is the breath Of the Angel of Death, And the light that within it lies Is the flash of his evil eyes.
Beware! O, beware!
For sickness, sorrow, and care All are there!
_Prince Henry (sinking back)._ O thou voice within my breast!
Why entreat me, why upbraid me, When the steadfast tongues of truth And the flattering hopes of youth Have all deceived me and betrayed me?
Give me, give me rest, O, rest!