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On each live spray, no vapour steaming up,
And no expressless glory in the east?
When I am by you, to be ever by you,
When I have won you and may worship you,
Oh, Mildred, can you say "this will not be?"
Mil. Sin has surprised us; so will punishment.
Mer. No-me alone, who sinned alone!
Mil.
You likened our past life to-was it storm
Throughout to you then, Henry?

Mer.

The night

Of your life

I spoke what am I, what my life, to waste

A thought about, when you are by me?—you
It was, I said my folly called the storm

And pulled the night upon.-'Twas day with me-
Perpetual dawn with me.

Mil.

You have been happy: take my hand!

Mer. [After a pause.]

Your brother is ! I figured him a cold

Come what, come will,

How good

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Oh, what is over? what must I live through
And say, "tis over?" Is our meeting over?
Have I received in presence of them all
The partner of my guilty love,—with brow
Trying to seem a maiden's brow-with lips

Which make believe that when they strive to form
Replies to you and tremble as they strive,

It is the nearest ever they approached

A stranger's... Henry, yours that stranger's . .

lip

With cheek that looks a virgin's, and that is
Ah, God! some prodigy of Thine will stop
This planned piece of deliberate wickedness
In its birth even-some fierce leprous spot
Will mar the brow's dissimulating—I

Shall murmur no smooth speeches got by heart,
But, frenzied, pour forth all our woeful story,
The love, the shame, and the despair-with them
Round me aghast as men round some cursed fount
That should spurt water, and spouts blood. I'll not
. . Henry, you do not wish that I should draw
This vengeance down? I'll not affect a grace
That's gone from me-gone once, and gone for ever!
Mer. Mildred, my honour is your own.

Disgrace I cannot suffer by myself.

A word informs your brother I retract

I'll share

This morning's offer; time will yet bring forth
Some better way of saving both of us.

Mil. I'll meet their faces, Mertoun !
Mer.

Get done with it!

Mil.

When? to-morrow?

Oh, Henry, not to-morrow!

Next day! I never shall prepare my words

And looks and gestures sooner.-How you must
Despise me !

Mer.

Mildred, break it if you choose,

A heart the love of you uplifted-still

Uplifts, thro' this protracted agony,

To Heaven! but, Mildred, answer me,—first pace
The chamber with me-once again-now, say

Calmly the part, the . . . what it is of me

You see contempt (for you did say contempt)
-Contempt for you in! I would pluck it off
And cast it from me!--but no-no, you'll not
Repeat that? —will you, Mildred, repeat that?
Mil. Dear Henry !

Mer.

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I was scarce a boy--e'en now

What am I more? And you were infantine
When first I met you-why, your hair fell loose
On either side !—my fool's cheek reddens now
Only in the recalling how it burned

That morn to see the shape of many a dream
-You know we boys are prodigal of charms
To her we dream of-I had heard of one,
Had dreamed of her, and I was close to her,
Might speak to her, might live and die her own,
Who knew?—I spoke-Oh, Mildred, feel you not
That now, while I remember every glance

Of yours, each word of yours, with power to test
And weigh them in the diamond scales of Pride,
Resolved the treasure of a first and last
Heart's love shall have been bartered at its worth,
..--That now I think upon your purity
And utter ignorance of guilt-your own
Or other's guilt-the girlish undisguised
Delight at a strange novel prize-(I talk
A silly language, but interpret, you!)
If I, with fancy at its full, and reason
Scarce in its germ, enjoined you secrecy,
had pity on my passion, pity
On my protested sickness of the soul

If

you

To sit beside you, hear you breathe, and watch
Your eyelids and the eyes beneath-if you
Accorded gifts and knew not they were gifts--

If I grew mad at last with enterprise

And must behold my beauty in her bower
Or perish-(I was ignorant of even

My own desires-what then were you ?) if sorrow-
Sin-if the end came-must I now renounce

My reason, blind myself to light, say truth
Is false and lie to God and my own soul?
Contempt were all of this!

Mil.

Do you believe.

Or, Henry, I'll not wrong you-you believe
That I was ignorant. I scarce grieve o'er

The past! We'll love on-you will love me still!
Mer. Oh, to love less what one has injured! Dove,
Whose pinion I have rashly hurt, my breast's-
Shall my heart's warmth not nurse thee into strength?
Flower I have crushed, shall I not care for thee?
Bloom o'er my crest my fight-mark and device!
Mildred, I love you, and you love me!

Go!

Mil.
Be that your last word. I shall sleep to-night.

Mer. This is not our last meeting?

Mil.

One night more.

Then, no sweet courtship-days,

Mer. And then-think, then!

Mil.

No dawning consciousness of love for us,

No strange and palpitating births of sense

From words and looks, no innocent fears and hopes,
Reserves and confidences: morning's over!

Mer. How else should love's perfected noontide

follow?

All the dawn promised shall the day perform.

Mil. So may it be! but

You are cautious, love?

2

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His foot is on the yew-tree bough; the turf

Receives him now the moonlight as he runs

:

Embraces him—but he must go—is gone

Ah, once again he turns-thanks, thanks, my love!
He's gone.
Oh I'll believe him every word!
I was so young-I loved him so I had

No mother-God forgot me—and I fell.

There may be pardon yet: all's doubt beyond.
Surely the bitterness of death is past!

FROM COLOMBE'S BIRTHDAY.

THE COURTIERS OF COLOMBE, DUCHESS OF JULIERS AND CLEVES, LEARN THAT HER DUCHY IS CLAIMED BY PRINCE BERTHOLD.

Guibert. That this should be her birthday; and the day

We all invested her, twelve months ago,

As the late Duke's true heiress and our liege;

And that this also must become the day. .

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2nd Court. Well, Guibert?

3rd Court. But your news, my friend, your news! The sooner, friend, one learns Prince Berthold's

pleasure

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