In beauty, to the world; forgetting, so,
Its peers, whose number baffles mortal power?
And, this determined, wast thou ne'er seduced
By memories and regrets and passionate love,
To glance once more farewell? and did their eyes
Fasten thee, brighter and more bright, until
Thou couldst but stagger back unto their feet,
And laugh that man's applause or welfare ever
Could tempt thee to forsake them? Or when years
Had passed and still their love possessed thee wholly,
When from without some murmur startled thee

Of darkling mortals famished for one ray

Of thy so-hoarded luxury of light,

Didst thou ne'er strive even yet to break those spells

And prove thou couldst recover and fulfil

Thy early mission, long ago renounced,

And to that end, select some shape once more?
And did not mist-like influences, thick films,
Faint memories of the rest that charmed so long
Thine eyes, float fast, confuse thee, bear thee off,
As whirling snow-drifts blind a man who treads
A mountain ridge, with guiding spear, through storm?
Say, though I fell, I had excuse to fall;

Say, I was tempted sorely say but this,
Dear lord, Aprile's lord!

Paracelsus.

Clasp me not thus,

Aprile! That the truth should reach me thus!

We are weak dust. Nay, clasp not or I faint!
Aprile. My king! and envious thoughts could outrage

thee?

Lo, I forget my ruin, and rejoice

In thy success, as thou! Let our God's praise
Go bravely through the world at last! What care
Through me or thee? I feel thy breath. Why, tears?
Tears in the darkness, and from thee to me?

Paracelsus. Love me henceforth, Aprile, while I learn
To love; and, merciful God, forgive us both!
We wake at length from weary dreams; but both
Have slept in fairy-land: though dark and drear
Appears the world before us, we no less
Wake with our wrists and ankles jewelled still.
I too have sought to KNOW as thou to LOVE-
Excluding love as thou refusedst knowledge.
Still thou hast beauty and I, power.

We wake:

What penance canst devise for both of us?

Aprile. I hear thee faintly. The thick darkness!

Even

Thine eyes are hid. 'T is as I knew I speak,

And now I die. But I have seen thy face!

O poet, think of me, and sing of me!

But to have seen thee and to die so soon!

Paracelsus. Die not, Aprile! We must never part.

Are we not halves of one dissevered world,

Whom this strange chance unites once more? Part?

never!

Till thou the lover, know; and I, the knower,
Love-until both are saved. Aprile, hear!
We will accept our gains, and use them-now!
God, he will die upon my breast! Aprile!

Aprile. To speak but once, and die! yet by his side. Hush! hush!

Ha! go you ever girt about

With phantoms, powers? I have created such,

But these seem real as I.

Paracelsus.

Through the accursed darkness?

Aprile.

Whom can you see

Stay; I know,

I know them: who should know them well as I?

White brows, lit up with glory; poets all!

Paracelsus. Let him but live, and I have my reward! Aprile. Yes; I see now. God is the perfect poet, Who in his person acts his own creations.

Had you but told me this at first! Hush! hush! Paracelsus. Live! for my sake, because of my great sin,

To help my brain, oppressed by these wild words
And their deep import. Live! 't is not too late.

I have a quiet home for us, and friends.

Michal shall smile on you.

Hear you? Lean thus,

And breathe my breath. I shall not lose one word
Of all your speech, one little word, Aprile!

Aprile. No, no. Crown me? I am not one of you! 'T is he, the king, you seek. I am not one.

Paracelsus. Thy spirit, at least, Aprile! Let me love!

I have attained, and now I may depart.

67

PART III.

PARACELSUS.

SCENE.-Basil; a chamber in the house of PARACELSUS.

1526.

PARACELSUS, FESTUS.

Paracelsus. Heap logs and let the blaze laugh out ! Festus.

'T is very fit all, time and chance and change

True, true!

Have wrought since last we sat thus, face to face
And soul to soul-all cares, far-looking fears,

Vague apprehensions, all vain fancies bred
By your long absence, should be cast away,
Forgotten in this glad unhoped renewal
Of our affections.

Paracelsus.

Oh, omit not aught

Which witnesses your own and Michal's own
Affection spare not that! Only forget
The honours and the glories and what not,
It pleases you to tell profusely out.