WALTER.
With old words!
With the soliloquy with which God broke
The silence of the dead eternities.
At which most ancient words, O beautiful!
With showery tresses like a child from sleep,
Uprose the splendid-mooned and jewelled night,—
The loveliest born of God.
LADY.
Then your first chorus
Must be the shoutings of the morning stars!
What martial music is to marching men
Should Song be to Humanity. In song
The infant ages born and swathèd are.
A beauteous menial to our wants divine,
A shape celestial tending the dark earth
With light and silver service like the moon,
Is Poesy; ever remember this—
How wilt thou end it?
WALTER.
With God and Silence!
When the great universe subsides in God,
Ev'n as a moment's foam subsides again
Upon the wave that bears it.
LADY.
Why, thy plan
Is wide and daring as a comet's path!
And doubtless 'twill contain the tale of earth
By way of episode or anecdote.
This precious world which one pale marrèd face
Dropt tears upon. This base and beggar world
To your rich soul! O! Marc Anthony,
With a fine scorn did toss your world away
For Cleopatra's lips!—so rich, so poor.