CYRANO.
All, all,
All those I know; accept them scattered loose,
Unsought, unbound. I love you—let me breathe!—
I love thee[20], and I rave. 'Tis joy too much!
Thy name is in my heart as in a bell,
Roxane, and, as my heart forever throbs,
The bell is e'er the sounder of thy name.
Of thee there's nought I do not hoard and love:
I mind me that, last year, the twelfth of May,
A twist was changed in what's a crown, thy hair!
Thy glowing hair to me is truly light.
When we have gazed too long upon the sun,
We see on things around a halo reign;
'Tis thus when I have lost the light thou shedst:
My dazzled eyes are filled with golden sparks!
ROXANE.
Yes, this is love—
CYRANO.
The passion in my heart
Is jealous, fierce, with sadness tainted, but
It's really love—love shorn of selfish thought.
Would I could give my happiness for thine—
E'en shouldst thou ne'er suspect whose gift it was—
If I could hear, perchance and from afar,
The music of thy bliss, my offering!
From every glance of thine fresh virtue springs,
Fresh valour, too. Oh! say I'm understood,
And that thou feelst my soul ascend to thee!
All is to-night too beautiful and sweet!
And still it's true! I speak, at last, to thee.
Yes, I to thee! 'Tis bliss too great! My hopes,
My wildest hopes ne'er leaped to such a height;
My dream's no dream, and I can die content.
Because of me she quivers with the trees!
For, leaf divine, you tremble with the leaves!
Thou tremblest, for, against thy will or not,
I feel, oh, bliss! the tremour of thy hand
Descending now along these flowery vines.
(He imprints a passionate kiss upon one of the branches.)
ROXANE.
I tremble, yes; I weep, I love, I'm thine!
I am enthralled!