Scene IV.
A tapestried chamber in the same.
Hesperus discovered in a disturbed slumber.
Hesp.
(starting from his couch.)
Who speaks?
Who whispers there? A light! a light!
I'll search the room, something hath called me thrice,
With a low muttering voice of toadish hisses,
And thrice I slept again. But still it came
Nearer and nearer, plucked my mantle from me,
And made mine heart an ear, in which it poured
Its loathed enticing courtship. Ho! a light.
Enter Attendant with a torch.
Thou drowsy snail, thy footsteps are asleep,
Hold up the torch.
Attend.
My lord, you are disturbed.
Have you seen aught?
Hesp.
I lay upon my bed,
And something in the air, out-jetting night,
Converting feeling to intenser vision,
Featured its ghastly self upon my soul
Deeper than sight.
Attend.
This is Delusion surely;
She's busy with men's thoughts at all night hours,
And to the waking subtle apprehension
The darkling chamber's still and sleepy air
Hath breath and motion oft.
Hesp.
Lift up the hangings, mark the doors, the corners;
Seest nothing yet? No face of fiendlike mirth,
More frightful than the fixed and doggish grin
Of a dead madman?
Attend.
Nought I see, my lord,
Save the long, varied crowd of warlike shapes
Set in the stitched picture.
Hesp.
Heard ye then?
There was a sound, as though some marble tongue
Moved on its rusty hinge, syllabling harshly
The hoarse death-rattle into speech.
Attend.
The wind is high, and through the silent rooms
Murmurs his burthen, to an heedless ear
Almost articulate.
Hesp.
Thou sleepest, fool;
A voice has been at my bedside to-night,
Its breath is burning on my forehead still,
Still o'er my brain its accents, wildly sweet,
Hover and fall. Away and dream again:
I'll watch myself.
[He takes the torch and turns to the hangings.
Exit Attendant.
Aye, these are living colours,
Those cheeks have worn their youth these hundred years,
Those flowers are verdant in their worsted spring
And blooming still;
While she, whose needle limned so cunningly,
Sleeps and dreams not. It is a goodly state,
And there is one I wish had ta'en her bed
In the stone dormitory.
(Blindfold moth,
Thou shalt not burn thy life; there, I have saved thee;
If thou art grateful, mingle with the air
That feeds the lips of her I thought of once,
Choak her, moth, choak her. I could be content,
If she were safe in heaven.)
Yon stout dagger
Is fairly fashioned for a blade of stitches,
And shines, methinks, most grimly; well, thou art
An useful tool sometimes, thy tooth works quickly,
And, if thou gnawest a secret from the heart,
Thou tellest it not again: ha! the feigned steel
Doth blush and steam. There is a snuff of blood.
[Grasps his dagger convulsively.
Who placed this iron aspic in my hand?
Speak! who is at my ear?
[He turns, and addresses his shadow.
I know thee now,
I know the hideous laughter of thy face.
'Tis Malice' eldest imp, the heir of hell,
Red-handed Murther. Slow it whispers me,
Coaxingly with its serpent voice. Well sung,
Syren of Acheron!
I'll not look on thee;
Why does thy frantic weapon dig the air
With such most frightful vehemence? Back, back,
Tell the dark grave I will not give it food.
Back to thy home of night. What! playest thou still?
Then thus I banish thee. Out, treacherous torch,
Sure thou wert kindled in infernal floods,
Or thy bright eye would blind at sights like this.
[Dashes the torch on the ground.
Tempt me no more; I tell thee, Floribel
Shall never bleed. I pray thee, guilty word,
Tempt me no more.
[Wraps himself in his mantle.
I'm deaf, my ears are safe,
I do not hear thee woo me to the deed;
Thou tellest to one without auricular sense
Olivia's beauties and that bad one's faults.
Oh! bring me thoughts of pity. Come, come, come,
Or I am lost.
Bad goblin, must I fly thee?
[Exit.
