Part 4 (2/2)

_Asan._ Of Bosphorus saidst thou?

And her name is?

_Gycia._ Irene. Didst thou know her?

_Asan._ Nay, love, or if I did I have forgot her.

_Gycia._ Poor soul! to-day when first we met, she saw Her lover 'midst thy train and swooned away.

_Asan._ Poor heart! This shall be seen to. Tell me, Gycia, Didst love me at first sight?

_Gycia._ Unreasonable, To bid me tell what well thou knowest already.

Thou know'st I did. And when did love take thee?

_Asan._ I was wrapt up in spleen and haughty pride, When, looking up, a great contentment took me, Shed from thy gracious eyes. Nought else I saw, Than thy dear self.

_Gycia._ And hadst thou ever loved?

_Asan._ Never, dear Gycia.

I have been so rapt in warlike enterprises Or in the nimble chase, all my youth long, That never had I looked upon a woman With thought of love before, though it may be That some had thought of me, being a Prince And heir of Bosphorus.

_Gycia._ Not for thyself; That could not be. Deceiver!

_Asan._ Nay, indeed!

_Gycia._ Oh, thou dear youth!

_Asan._ I weary for the day When we our mutual love shall crown with marriage.

_Gycia._ Not yet, my love, we are so happy now.

_Asan._ But happier then, dear Gycia.

_Gycia._ Nay, I know not If I could bear it and live. But hark, my love!

The music ceases, and the sated guests Will soon be sped. Thou must resume thy place Of honour for a little. I must go, If my reluctant feet will bear me hence, To dream of thee the livelong night. Farewell, Farewell till morning. All the saints of heaven Have thee in keeping!

_Asan._ Go not yet, my sweet; And yet I bid thee go. Upon thy lips I set love's seal, thus, thus.

[_Kisses her. They embrace._

Good night!

_Gycia._ Good night!

[_Exit_ GYCIA.

_Enter_ IRENE _unperceived._

_Asan._ Ah, sweetest, best of women! paragon Of all thy s.e.x, since first thy ancestress Helen, the curse of cities and of men, Marshalled the hosts of Greece! But she brought discord; Thou, by thy all-compelling sweetness, peace And harmony for strife. What have I done, I a rough soldier, like a thousand others Upon our widespread plains, to have won this flower Of womanhood--this jewel for the front Of knightly pride to wear, and, wearing it, Let all things else go by? To think that I, Fool that I was, only a few hours since, Bemoaned the lot which brought me here and bade me Leave my own land, which now sinks fathoms deep Beyond my memory's depths, and scarce would deign To obey thee, best of fathers, when thy wisdom Designed to make me blest! Was ever woman So gracious and so comely? And I scorned her For her Greek blood and love of liberty!

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