University of Virginia Library

SCENE V.

—The Boat.
Mariner.
Master, we strive in vain.

Leon.
We can but die.

Mar.
Why toil for it?

Leon.
As one who strikes his foe,
Though conscious that he battles without hope,
And dies in the brave conflict.—Ha! she stirs.

Isabel,
[recovering.]
Horrible sounds are rushing through my ears,
More like the cries of demons, mad for blood,
Than the hoarse billows and the roaring winds.
They dart into my brain, and seem to shout,
Triumphant, oh, my brother, o'er our fate;—
Speak of the sorrow in our father's halls,
That, with an anguish, far too great for speech,
Grows dumb and scorns expression. Could we live—
But live to see him once!—oh, bear me up;—
Desert me not, dear Leon, but entwine,
Closely, thy arm around; nor let these waves,
That seem impatient of their midnight feast,
Suck me into their black and ravenous jaws.

Leon.
Doubt me not, Isabel, in this dark hour!
Think'st thou I could desert thee, precious sweetness,
To whose frail nature and too delicate youth
Sweet elements should minister with love,
Not hunt with hate. I have thee in my arms;
Will hold thee, while they have their hold in life,
And I have thought and sense to will the struggle
That wards the final danger from thy breast.
But, cling to me, my sister.

Isabel.
Will I not?
Why should we think of death?

Mar.
It comes! It comes!

[The boat strikes and goes to pieces.
Leon.
Isabel,—sister!

Isabel,
[faintly afar off.]
Here, Leon, here!

Leon.
Oh, Jesu! lost!

[Scene closes.