University of Virginia Library

Scene I.—Night. Gothic Bedchamber. Bed with canopy, plumes, and heraldic ornaments, &c. A lamp burning dimly. In the bed Veronica asleep. Beside the bed, in a chair, Orval, also asleep.
Orval
(speaking in his sleep).
Whence com'st thou? wherefore art thou here again?
Thou whom, for many a wretched night and day,
Lone as an orphan in a stepdame's house,
Sad as a Sadducee beside a tomb,
Memory hath mourn'd! What rests 'twixt thee and me
Of aught resembling intercourse, less vain
Than fancy figures from a wind that sighs
Between two graves? Why dost thou haunt me thus?
What can I more? art thou not satisfied?
Why are the dead not dead? who can undo
What time hath done? who can win back the wind?
Beckon lost music from a broken lute?
Renew the redness of a last year's rose?
Or dig the sunken sunset from the deep?
Why lingerest thou, with those heart-breaking eyes?
What can my love avail thee? Life is lost.
Why beckonest thou? How can I follow thee?
Dost thou not see Prometheus' fate is mine?
The rock, the chain, the vulture at the heart!
Away!
(Awaking).
Where am I? Ah . . . beside my wife!
My wife? . . . What is there in that little word
To make my flesh creep, and my conscience cry,
And wrap my life fast with infernal fire,
And change this pleasant earth into a hell?
Veronica! . . . thou light of a lost star,
Thou heaven unhallow'd, thou unhaloed saint,
Thou injured injury, thou sinless source
Of sin, thou faultlessness all full of faults,
Thou loss in gain, thou death in life! What woe
That wants a name yet shall have thine to wear?
Happy, thou sleepest, thou unhappy cause
Of sleeplessness. Sleep on! dream on! wake never!
Would I had never slept, or never waked!
For I have slept too long, or waked too soon,
Who, dreaming, dream'd thee . . . what thou never wast,
And, waking, wake to . . . what can never be!
I dream'd, and saw . . . . 'twas nothing but a dream!
I wake, and see . . . 'tis nothing like my dream!
Yet thou art fair, my lost Veronica:
Too fair thou art, too fair not to be woo'd,
And fond as fair . . . too fond not to be won:
Tender as evening air, true as a star;
Pure as the dewdrop of an April dawn;
Gentle, as creatures that were never wrong'd;
Faithful, as creatures that no wrong can change,
Because their faith is like a dead friend's love,
Something that's ever what it was . . . But She?
. . . O heavenly angels! Are these haunted eyes
The dupes, or the deceivers, of my heart?

Evil Spirit
(rises).
Woe! woe! thou hast betray'd me and thyself!

(Evil Spirit sinks.)
Orval
(starting up).
Accursèd be the day, accurst the hour,
Wherein I wedded! Curst the hour, the day,
When I betray'd . . . madman, for what? for what?
The glorious bride of my immortal soul!
Whose beauty . . . Fool, to think Earth's fairest face
Could outface Heaven's!

Veronica
(waking).
Home of my heart! my Orval!
—Where is he? Am I alone? . . . Love, art thou there?
Thank God! thank God! I dream'd of thee. My dream
Was sad and strange. But thou art there, thank God!
What ails thee, love? Arisen, and clad already?
Thou should'st have waked me sooner. Day? is it day?

Orval
Day? no, child. Night. Black midnight. Sleep again!
Turn thee upon thy pillow. Sleep! sleep fast!

Veronica.
What ails thee, love? thy voice is strange: thine eyes
Are wild . . .

Orval.
Air, air! fresh air! An evil dream—
A feverish fancy—nothing. Heed me not.
Sleep, child. Thou canst. Sleep on. I'll walk awhile.
Heaven's breath upon my brow, the sight of stars,
The fresh cold rustling in the roofless fields
Of the first birds, will help this aching head.
Sleep fast, Veronica! The night is long.

(He rushes out.)