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From the French of W. F. Nokes From “ Polyeucte”
SEVERUS— I stand agaze, | |
| Rooted, confounded, in sheer wonderment. | |
| Such blind resolve is so unparalleled, | |
| I scarce may trust the witness of mine ears. | |
| A heart that loves you—and what heart so poor | 5 |
| That knowing, loves you not?—one loved of you, | |
| To leave regretless so much bliss just won! | |
| Nay, more—as though it were a fatal prize— | |
| To his corrival straight to yield it up! | |
| Truly, or wondrous manias Christians have, | 10 |
| Or their self-happiness must be sans bourn, | |
| Since to attain it they will cast away | |
| What others at an empire’s cost would win. | |
| For me, had fate, a little sooner kind, | |
| Blessed my true service with your hand’s reward, | 15 |
| The glory of your eyes had been my worship; | |
| My twin kings had they reigned—kings? nay, my gods! | |
| To dust, to powder, had I grinded been | |
E’er I had—
PAULINA—Hold! let me not hear too much; | |
| Let not the smoldering embers of old time | 20 |
| Relume to speech unworthy of us both. | |
| Severus, know Paulina utterly: | |
| His latest hour my Polyeuctus nears; | |
| Nay, scarce a minute has he yet to live. | |
| You all unwittingly have been the cause | 25 |
| Of this his death. I know not if your thoughts, | |
| Their portals opening to your wish’s knock, | |
| Have dared to some wild hope give harboring, | |
| Based upon his undoing; but know well, | |
| No death so cruel I would not boldly front, | 30 |
| Hell hath no tortures I would not endure, | |
| Or e’er my stainless honor I would spot, | |
| My hand bestowing upon any man | |
| Who any wise were his death’s instrument. | |
| And could you for such madness deem me apt, | 35 |
| Hate would replace my erstwhile tender love. | |
| You ’re generous—still be so, to the end: | |
| My father fears you; is in mood to grant | |
| All you might ask; ay, I e’en dare aver | |
| That if my husband he do sacrifice, | 40 |
| ’Twill be to you. Save then your hapless victim; | |
| Bestir yourself; stretch him your helping hand! | |
| That this is much to claim of you, I know, | |
| But more the effort ’s great, the more the glory! | |
| To save a rival ’spite of rivalry | 45 |
| Were greatness all particular to you. | |
| And—be that not enough for your renown— | |
| ’T were much to let a woman erst so loved, | |
| And haply who may yet be somewhat dear, | |
| Her greatest treasure owe to your great heart. | 50 |
| In fine, remember that you are Severus! | |
| Adieu! alone determine of your course; | |
| For if you be not all I think you are, | |
| I ’d still, not knowing it, believe you such. | |
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