University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

A small narrow street, before a private sombre-looking house. Enter Othus and Rodrigo.
Othus.
Move slowly here, for now we pass the fane,
In which the mystic vision-seeing sage
To ears of faith speaks his wild oracles.

Rod.
What, he of whom we've heard such marv'llous things?

Othus.
Yes; such perturbed times his harvest prove,
When anxious minds, in dread of coming ill,
Would draw aside, impatiently, the veil
Of dark futurity.—Softly, I pray:
A female form now issues from the door:
It moves, methinks, like Ella.

Enter Ella from the house, with a female Attendant.
Rod.
(eagerly).
It is herself, and I will speak to her.
Fair maid, as well I guess by that light trip,
Thy lover's fate hangs on a lucky thread;
Tough, and well whiten'd in a kindly sun.

Ella.
Well hast thou guess'd: fortune is passing kind;
She leads thee, fights for thee, and guards thy head
From ev'ry foeman's stroke.

Rod.
Ay, but thy lover, Ella! was it not
Of him we spoke?

Ella.
Fy, do not mock me thus!

Othus.
In truth he mocks thee, Ella, and no faith
To fates foretold or mystic sages gives.

Rod.
Believe him not, sweet maid. We seamen, truly,
Small dealings have with learned sorcery;
Nor bead, nor book, nor ring, nor mutter'd rhymes,
Are for our turn: but on the sea-rock's point,
In shape of hern, or gull, or carrion-bird,
Our un-feed wizards sit, and, with stretch'd throats,
Speak strange mysterious things to wave-toss'd men,
With many perils compass'd. Nay, ofttimes
The mermaid, seated on her coral throne,
Spreading her yellow hair to the sunn'd breeze,
Will sing a song of future fortunes fair
To him who has the luck to meet with her:
And e'en the nightly winds will through our shrouds
Distinctive voices utter unto those,
Who in their storm-rock'd cradles lie, and think
Of their far-distant homes.—I do believe
That all good fortune shall betide thy love,
Being thy love; for that doth far outdo
All other fortune; and besides, no doubt,
A fair and courtly youth.

Ella.
Go to! go to! thou mockest me again!
I love a brave man—

Rod.
And not passing fair,
Nor very courtly?

Othus.
No, nor wearing now
His youth's best bloom; but somewhat weatherbeaten,
And sunn'd on sultry shores?

Ella.
Fy on you both, you hold me in derision!
I'm young, and all unlearn'd, and well I know
Not passing sage; but do I merit this?

[Turns to go away from them in tears.
Rod.
By heavens thou shalt not go!
[Catching hold of her hand to prevent her.
Thou sweetest thing
That e'er did fix its lightly-fibred sprays
To the rude rock, ah! wouldst thou cling to me?
Rough and storm-worn I am: but if thou lov'st me,—
Thou truly dost,—I will love thee again
With true and honest heart, though all unmeet
To be the mate of such sweet gentleness.

Othus.
I hear a noise of footsteps: we'll retire;
Let us pursue our way.
[Looking behind as they go off.
'Tis one belonging to Valeria's train,
Who hither comes with quick and eager gait.

[Exeunt.