Page:Three Plays Sunderland Hills.pdf/111

Rh You do not well, for in these evil days, At the decisive parting of the paths, The old unswerving as the Appian way With firm foundation fixed unfathomably, The new a devious track thro' bog and fen The destinies of our Eternal Rome Demand a constancy in all we do.

O leave the jargon of conflicting creed, And hear me when I tell you of my love. I cannot woo like a philosopher Weaving you fine-spun specious sophistries, I only seek to fold you in my arms And love you as a man. My father's faith Is nothing to me, all the good I have I dedicate to you that did inspire As men may pour to Dionysos wine,

(Kneels to her.)