.. call it the well's bubbling, the bird's
warble!
[A figure wrapped in a mantle appears at the window.]
And this woman says, "My days were sunless and my nights were
moonless,
Parched the pleasant April herbage, and the lark's heart's outbreak
tuneless,
If you loved me not!" And I who--(ah, for words of flame!) adore
her,
Who am mad to lay my spirit prostrate palpably before her--
[He enters, approaches her seat, and bends over her.]
I may enter at her portal soon, as now her lattice takes me,
And by noontide as by midnight make her mine, as hers she makes me!
[The EARL throws off his slouched hat and long cloak.]
My very heart sings, so I sing, Beloved!
MILDRED. Sit, Henry--do not take my hand!
MERTOUN. 'Tis mine.
The meeting that appalled us both so much
Is ended.
MILDRED. What begins now?
MERTOUN. Happiness
Such as the world contains not.
MILDRED. That is it.
Our happiness would, as you say, exceed
The whole world's best of blisses: we--do we
Deserve that? Utter to your soul, what mine
Long since, Beloved, has grown used to hear,
Like a death-knell, so much regarded once,
And so familiar now; this will not be!
MERTOUN. Oh, Mildred, have I met your brother's face?
Compelled myself--if not to speak untruth,
Yet to disguise, to shun, to put aside
The truth, as--what had e'er prevailed on me
Save you to venture? Have I gained at last
Your brother, the one scarer of your dreams,
And waking thoughts' sole apprehension too?
Does a new life, like a young sunrise, break
On the strange unrest of our night, confused
With rain and stormy flaw--and will you see
No dripping blossoms, no fire-tinted drops
On each live spray, no vapour steaming up,
And no expressless glory in the East?
When I am by you, to be ever by you,
When I have won you and may worship you,
Oh, Mildred, can you say "this will not be"?
MILDRED.
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