Page:Sebastian of Portugal.pdf/7

 And if a home is left me still, brave Zamor, There will I bid thee welcome. [Exeunt.

Syl.—Whence art thou, stranger, and what wouldst thou with me? There is a fiery wildness in thine eye, Startling, and almost fearful!

Seb.—From the stern, And vast, and desolate wilderness, whose lord Is the fierce lion, and whose gentlest wind Breathes of the tomb, and whose dark children make The bow and spear their law; men bear not back That smilingness of aspect, wont to mask The secrets of their spirit, 'midst the stir Of courts and cities!—I have look'd on scenes Boundless, and strange, and terrible; I have known Sufferings, which are not in the shadowy scope Of wild imagination; and those things Have stamp'd me with their impress. Man of Peace! Thou look'st on one familiar with th' extremes Of grandeur and of misery.

Syl.—Stranger, speak Thy name and purpose briefly, for the time Ill suits these mysteries. I must hence; to-night I feast the Lords of Spain.

Seb.—Is that a task For King Sebastian's friend?

Syl.—Sebastian's friend! That name hath lost its meaning. Will the dead Rise from their silent dwellings, to upbraid The living for their mirth?—The grave sets bounds Unto all human friendship.

Seb.—On the plain Of Alcazar, full many a stately flower, The pride and crown of some high house, was laid Low in the dust of Afric; but of these Sebastian was not one.

Syl.—I am not skill'd To deal with men of mystery. Take thou off The strange dark scrutiny of thine eyes from mine. What mean'st thou? Speak!

Seb.—Sebastian died not there. —I read no joy in that cold doubting mien.