[Scene III.]
Dimsdell. O, she is beautiful!
The memory of her loveliness
Pervades my waking dreams, and, pleasant theft,
Deprives my sleep of dark oblivion.
And thus, while fleeing from the gentle bonds
Of love, I am become the thrall of passion,
And sigh my heart away in waste desire!
Had I but truly loved her,
Would not our joys, that then were innocent,
Have moulded soul to soul and made mine take
The form of her most dear perfections?
But, now!
No trait of Hester's noble purity
Remains with guilty me, for I purloined
Her precious diadem and like a rogue
I cast that crown away, afraid to wear
What would have been my dearest ornament.
Why can I not repent? Or is it true
Repentance is denied the hypocrite?
And must it then forever be that, though
I cast out sin, both root and branch, the seed
Of evil, scattered long ago, will sprout
[top] And bloom carnation thoughts that dull the soul
With subtle sweetness!
Oh! coward that I am!
Bound down, as to a rock, to form and place,
By iron chains of worldly precedent,
While my desires like eagles tear my breast,
And make of me a base Prometheus.
O, God!
I married all the family of sins,
When I espoused the pleasantest; I am
Become a liar through my lechery,
A thief of reputation through my cowardice,
And—puh! the rest but follow in the train
Of my dear wedded crime!
O, God! and shall this lust burn on in me
Still unconsumed? Can flagellation, fasting,
Nor fervent prayer itself, not cleanse my soul
From its fond doting on her comeliness?
Oh! heaven! is there no way for me to jump
My middle age and plunge this burning heart
Into the icy flood of cold decay?
None? O, wretched state of luxury!
This hot desire grows even in its death
And from its ashes doth arise full fledged
Renewed eternally!
A blinding flash of lightning, followed quickly by sharp thunder, discloses Dimsdell kneeling at his couch, and also shows Satan—an archangel with bat wings—who has just entered.
Have mercy upon me, O, my God, have mercy!
[top] According to thy gentle lovingkindness,
According to the multitude of all
Thy tender mercies, blot out my foul transgression.
Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean;
Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow;
Hide thy face from my sins, and blot out
All mine iniquities.
Satan. You mar the psalm, Sir priest, for you omit
The saving clause. Your sin is unconfessed.
Dimsdell. Who art thou that durst interpose between
My soul and God?
Satan. I am the stronger part of lower nature,
The worser part of all that came from Him
Whom all adore. Behold me!
Satan becomes visible by light emanating from himself.
Dimsdell. Thou art Satan! The Prince of Hell!
Satan. I am so called.