University of Virginia Library

SCENE VII.

Imogen enters veiled.
She throws up her veil. Leonatus stands in silent amazement.
Leon.
If the grave teems to life—
If universal nature, through her works,
Could yield another form like that—
All might not be illusion!—
Vision of harmony and light, yet, ere
Thou fleetest—thus I fix thee—O, 'tis warm!—
It lives, to sense, to rapture!

Imog.
My love, my lord, my life, my Leonatus!
Do I, then, hold thee?—Dost thou think me true—
The seat of memory so fill'd with thee,
As leaves no room beside?

Leon.
If I dwell not
Within the regions of creative fancy,
It is too much of bliss!—Methinks, I stand
Upon a pinnacle, so high in happiness,
My eye can see no bottom, whereunto
A doubt of this would plunge me.

Priest.
Hence with doubts
And fears, for ever!—Yes, ye are the two,
In whom I triumph; my blest, happy pair
Of priceless pearls, so match'd!—so matchless, too,
Save by each other!—

Priest enters.
Priest.
Madam, the King approaches—

Priestess.
It is well.
Renew the sacred fire.—My precious children,
[Exit Priest.
You may withdraw, awhile—not far—the time
Will give a speedy summons.

[Imogen and Leonatus retire.