University of Virginia Library

Scene III.

—A retired spot in another part of the seashore.
Enter Lorenzo, Fisherman, &c. Harold stretched upon the ground against a rock.
Fisher.
This way, my lord! There! with the moon full on him!
He has half raised himself I see—his head
Rests on his hand.

Lor.
It is himself indeed.
I know him, though his face is turned away.
Wait! I 'll move softly on.

Har.
My love, my darling!

Fisher.
He sees us not!

Har.
They died who wished to live,
But I was wrecked already.

Lor.
Dane, thy fate!

[Stabs him.
Har.
(starting to his feet, then falling again)
Well done, assassin! fisherman, come hither!

Lor.
Go to him.

Fisher.
My lord, I dare not.

Har.
I am dying,
And could not hurt thee if I would. Come nearer—
Seest thou this ring? Go, throw it in the water.
You have done well.

[Dies.
Fisher.
He is dead, my lord.

Lor.
We two
Could not exist together in one world.
Vengeance is over—next the marriage morn.

[Exit Lorenzo and followers.
Enter Fisherman's wife.
Wife.
Oh, husband, what is this? what, the Dane killed?
Alas, this is a woeful evening's work!

Fisher.
Panagia! how he started to his feet—
I thought that moment we were all dead men!—
When the sharp steel went through him, and ere twice
My heart could bound, fell down again like a tower!—
What witchcraft was there in that ring I wonder!
It would have made my fortune. For such pearls,
I think our Duchess would have given her soul.

Wife.
Ah me, but I shall dream of that pale giant
And feel all night his great blue eyes upon me!
Perhaps e'en he, for as terrible as he is,
Has wife or sister left at home to mourn him.
They might have spared him when the waves had mercy!
I feared him then, but now I pity him,
And dread his death may bring a curse upon us.

A Voice from the sea.
Harold! Harold! Harold!

Wife.
Hark! Hark! oh heaven! A drowning woman's cry!
Husband, 't is terrible! can naught be done?
Canst thou not save her?

Fisher.
Look!

Enter Astrid from the sea.
Wife.
A ghost! a ghost!

Fisher.
Hush, let us see what happens.

Wife.
Oh, great heavens!
This is too dreadful! why then was he murdered,
To bring this on us?

Fisher.
This is the ring's doing—
I would I had not thrown it.

Wife.
Can ghosts sob so,
And wring such piteous hands, and shed such tears?

Ast.
My brother! oh, my brother! oh, my brother!

Wife.
Do you see that crown of coral on her head?
And oh, what ringlets, like a golden veil!

Fisher.
Look there! look there! more of them! Oh, the sea
Is all ashine with these white, gold-haired creatures!
On every wave there 's one.

Wife.
Oh, come away,
Come away, husband! I can bear no more!
This bodes no good to Naxos, nor the Duchess.