But you, fairest of all my hopes, what word!
The vaunting of this victory is done.
We are alone at last.
Michal. Yes.
David. That is all?...
For Israel I've wrought to-day—and for
You, ever round about me as a mist
Of armèd mighty angels triumphing.
Michal. Yes: It was well.
David. To you no more? to you
Whom not a slave can serve unhonoured?
Michal (struggling). Nothing.
David. Empty of glow then seems it, impotent,
A shrivelled hallowing ...
Ashes of ecstasy that burned in vain.
Michal. No, no! I——
David. Michal?
Michal. No, divine it was!
And had I cried my praise the ground had broke
To Eden under me with blossoming.
Where was so wonderful a deed as this,
So fair a springing of salvation up?
Glory above the heavens could I seize,
Wreathing of dawn and loveliness unfading,
To crown you with and crown!