Rolla. Judge not so harshly!—Love, like honour, is the parent of great actions!—But I—for whom should I fight?—Is there on earth a heart to which I should communicate joy, were I longer to pursue the road to fame?—Cora does not love me!—I have neither father nor mother, neither brother nor sister!—I am alone in the world.
High-Priest. (Clasping him in his arms) My son!—my son!
Rolla. Leave me, leave me, uncle!—I cannot return this love. You, with those grey hairs, clothed in those priestly garments, bearing an appearance so solemn, so entitled to respect, can never become the confident of my bosom. In you I cannot separate the man from the dignity of the priesthood.—Ah that I had a mother!—God created woman to be the confident of man!—Canst thou not share thy sorrows with her who loves thee? then fly to thy mother!—But I—I enjoy not the love of any one!—I have no mother!
High-Priest. Fly then to the gods!
Rolla. The gods hate me, because I love a maiden who is devoted to their service—because I love this maiden more than I love the gods themselves?—Whether I behold the sun rise, or see Cora appear, a like impression is made upon my senses, upon my heart!—Ah no!—Cora makes the strongest impression on both.
High-Priest. May the gods pardon this enthusiasm!—Ah, Rolla! it is thus that the children of mortality always desire most eagerly, what is impossible to be attained. Cora, the maiden, had only pleased your fancy—Cora, the Virgin of the Sun, you love with unbounded passion.
Rolla. (With rising warmth) What!—(he restrains himself; but casts a look of indignation upon the High-Priest) Good night, uncle. (He is going into his cave.)
High-Priest. Whither art thou going, young man?—Cannot thy friend, thy sincere friend, obtain some little influence over thee?—Live according to thy own pleasure!—Withdraw thyself if thou wilt from mankind, only fly this desert, where fatal images inevitably disturb thy soul, as the wild thorns thy senses. Come to my house!—that quarter of it which runs down to the sea shore is well known to thee;—there may’st thou live sequestered and in solitude, even in the midst of thousands; and there no importunate intruder shall deprive thee of the visions which thy heart so fondly loves to cherish. Thy doors may be closed against me—mine shall always be open to thee.
Rolla. Uncle, accept my thanks. I feel these proposals to be meant in kindness—I know your habitation; I know that it abounds with charms for those who love retirement; but Rolla is resolved to live and die in this cave. There, where the cupola of the temple towers above the trees—there Cora lives—here I can at least behold her dwelling.—Rolla, then, must live and die in this cave!—Good night.
High-Priest. Obstinate young man!—Yet, surely you will not forget what your duty requires during the solemnities of to-morrow. Your presence in the king’s palace, and in the temple, is indispensible at the grand festival of the Sun.