[They sound the signal for attack; noise and tumult.
Exeunt with drawn swords.]
ACT III.
SCENE I.—AMELIA in the garden, playing the guitar.
Bright as an angel from Walhalla's hall,
More beautiful than aught of earth was he!
Heaven-mild his look, as sunbeams when they fall,
Reflected from a calm cerulean sea.
His warm embrace—oh, ravishing delight!
With heart to heart the fiery pulses danced—
Our every sense wrap'd in ecstatic night—
Our souls in blissful harmony entranced.
His kisses—oh, what paradise of feeling!
E'en as two flames which round each other twine—
Or flood of seraph harp-tones gently stealing
In one soft swell, away to realms divine!
They rushed, commingled, melted, soul in soul!
Lips glued to lips, with burning tremor bound!
Cold earth dissolved, and love without control
Absorbed all sense of worldly things around!
He's gone!—forever gone! Alas! in vain
My bleeding heart in bitter anguish sighs;
To me is left alone this world of pain,
And mortal life in hopeless sorrow dies.
Enter FRANCIS.
FRANCIS. Here again already, perverse enthusiast? You stole away from the festive banquet, and marred the mirthful pleasures of my guests.
AMELIA. 'Tis pity, truly, to mar such innocent pleasures! Shame on them! The funeral knell that tolled over your father's grave must still be ringing in your ears—
FRANCIS. Wilt thou sorrow, then, forever? Let the dead sleep in peace, and do thou make the living happy! I come—
AMELIA. And when do you go again?