Bear him without then ever from this place,
That never more shall know a holy rite —
And from these gates, I care not to what tomb.
[To Amaury.
Then shall you hear this mystery's content,
That still as a madness measures to your sight.
Bear him without.
[The limp body is borne away. All follow but Amaury, Yolanda, Renier.
Now you shall hear, with shame,
But with exalted pride and happy tears;
Then come obliteration!
Speak, girl … Nobility
Had never better title to its truth.
[Kisses her hand and goes.
Amaury. Yolanda!.. He?.. This reverence as to
An angel? Speak!
Yolanda. Amaury —
Amaury. O pause not!
Yolanda. Then – to save her who's dead – from death and shame,
I took her place within the Paphian's arms.
Amaury. O! … and by me, driven by me, bore this?
[Overcome.
Pure as the rills of Paradise, endured?
Yolanda. For you! – and her who sleeps forgiven there.
[Raptly.
Now while her spirit weightless overwingeth
Night, to that Throne whose seeing heals all shame!
For her I did! but oh, for you, whose least
Murmur to me is infinite with Spring,
Whose smile is light, filling the air with dawn,
Whose touch, wafture of immortality
Unto my weariness; and whose eyes, now,
Are as the beams God lifted first, they tell us,
Over the uncreated,
In the far singing mother-dawn of the world! —
Come with me then, but tearless, to her side.
[They go to the bier and stand as in a dream. A pause, then her lips move, last, as if inspired.
While there is sin to sway the soul and sink it,
Pity should be as strong as love or death!
[With a cry of joy he enfolds her, and they kneel, wrapped about with the clear moon.
THE END