 | The Vestal Virgin |  |
SCENE III.
Favonius enters.Favon.
O, my Lord—
Lavinia made a votary of Vesta!
She cannot, sir, she must not—'twere a breach
Of laws divine and human! She is mine,
My sworn, my plighted bride, my soul's espous'd,
By every band that can retain the universe
From sinking into chaos!
Valer.
Sir, those bands
Might have been somewhat firmer, had they claim'd
The sanction of a father's hand!
Favon.
'Tis true—
I own it, my dread lord!—but then there was not,
Or time, or place, or possibility
Of suit, for that dear sanction. At first interview,
Our conscious looks exprest the mutual stroke
Of fated love—together rush'd our souls,
Like meeting streams no more divisible,
Since each was lost in the other!—
Valer.
Darest thou, then,
Avow, nay, vindicate thy breach of duty?
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But to solicit pardon for a fault
Inevitable—where my will itself
Had lost all power, so suddenly made captive!
O, if you ever felt the sickening passion,
Have pity!—if you ever felt the sense
Of human frailty, pardon!—On my knee
Thus prostrate, catching, grasping at your clemency—
If, in the bridal arms of my chaste mother,
You ere knew transport—if your parent heart
Knew meltings, when she brought your first born forth,
And gave a little self into your arms,
Have mercy!—O, restore my heart's sole love,
My indivisible, who, in the parting,
Pulls with her life itself!
Valer.
Favonius, rise—
Rise, my dear child!—I call the gods to witness,
That were the universe at my disposal,
There is but one thing in that universe,
I would refuse to Cimbrius!—Such a father
May merit some concession, sure—some proof
Of filial reverence, of filial love!
Favon.
Put me to instant trial—let it be
To pass the flame! to scale the dizzy pinnacle!
Or, in the wrath and whirling of the tempest,
To plunge unto the bottom of the deep,
And bring the pearl of your desires to light,
Or perish!—
Valer.
I pity poor Valeria,
But plead for her no more!—Look round, my son—
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For highest station—all my powers shall be
Exerted for you—all my wealth pour'd forth,
As water on the flooded beach, to swell
The spring-tide of your bliss!
Favon.
O, sir—Lavinia—
Valer.
Away, away! the bars are infinite,
Insuperable!—But, I well perceive,
Proud, stubborn boy, because in this, alone,
I would oppose, 'tis, therefore, thou art obstinate,
Rebellious!—
Favon.
Drive me not to desperation!—
You may repent, and soon!
Valer.
Yes—I have heard
Of thy intrigues amongst the frantic legions—
Go, traitor—turn their swords upon thy country,
As did the champion of Corioli!—
What lets, but I see justice done upon thee,
As Marius did upon his nobler boy?
Favon.
Bowels of flint, inclosed in frost indissoluble!
You have burst my heart strings—torn the bleeding band
Of kindly nature, the dear tender cords
Of father and of child!—Why, be it so!—
Henceforth, I cast all duty to the winds,
To the wild winds, to perish on the rocks,
Or freeze in Zembla!—O, adieu for ever!
[Exeunt severally.
| The Vestal Virgin | |