Page:Poet Lore, volume 34, 1923.djvu/58

 without a sound. Even the sun sets—can man then live forever?

Nyola.—In thy simple words there is truth. Already I silently bow my head before the eternal order, changeless from the beginning of creation.

Radúz (Behind the scenes) —Mother! Mother!

Nyola—Hark! Why has my heart begun stormily to beat with untimely joy, on the very threshold behind which lies the dead man? Was that the voice of my sonora deception which will melt away and still more terribly remind me of my bereavement?

Radúz (Appearing).— Mother! My knees shake, my step falters, and I totter So weak am I from joy and sorrow as well!

Nyola (Gazing as if in a dream).—Who advances there and appears as if alive? He is pale as if arisen from the grave, a specter, and measureless grief wraps him as in a dark robe. And he raises his arms Vanish, phantom; torture me not with deceitful illusions and plague not my heart with empty hope!

Radúz.—Mother! (Approaches her.)

Nyola.—Shade, thou proclaimest to me that Radúz no longer lives!

Populace.—Leave thy revery; it is he, thy son! He is alive! Welcome, prince; welcome to us!

Radúz.—People, people! Mother! (He embraces her knees.) O, mother, I am Radúz, thy son! I am alive and happy, revered mother, for I embrace thy precious knees, on which in sweet childhood thou didst rock me! O, bend towards me; dost thou not recognize me? I am rescued; O, as if by miracle! I have saved myself by flight; here I am, here I am, O dearest mother! (Kisses her robe.)

Nyola.—O bliss unutterable, Radúz! Thou art alive, art here! O, joy kills me not;I still live! (Is about to kiss him.)

Radúz.—No, mother mine, dearer than my soul; no, kiss me not. Marvel not at my words; I will tell thee—

Nyola.—I understand, dear Radúz! There in the palace lies thy dead father, and thou dost forbid thyself the wild joy of my kisses; thou dost not desire joy, even the most holy, in this sorrowful and grievous moment. Yet I could not restrain my heart; and, overcome by joy, I exulted when I saw thee once more; nor could I reflect which should be the greater, whether the joy