hermione.
How—a billet! Where?
zorayda.
In that bright bosom, lady. Search it well—
And yet a thing of nought: 'tis but a form,
An every-day express of custom'd greeting,
But as a precious relic thou dost wear it;
And 'tis to thee a coveted possession
Of more esteem than the sun-ripen'd gems
Golconda bears!
hermione.
Is this my unveil'd thought?
Not thus I'm fool'd. Perchance thy cunning eye,
For ever on the watch, hath spied this billet.
'Tis here. What more knowest thou?
zorayda.
Reserve thy scorn,
'Twill soon give place——Hark! [Distant music.
Ah! start not thus.—Why that frail shudder?
Yon guest within the chamber of thine ear
Ere this hath had sweet audience. But come,
My pretty spirit, hither speed, and frame
Thine uncorporeal organ to the sound
Of bodily voice.—[Music approaches.]—Hark, lady!—ever knew
Your ear aforetime yon wild melody?
SONG.
Lady, list to me, Thy gentle spirit I'll be; The fire is my garment, the flood is my bed, And I paint the first cloud with the sunbeam red That rolls o'er the broad blue sea.
Lady, list to me; To the mountain top I flee, There I watch the first wave that comes laden with light, And its soft hue I spread o'er each billow so bright; With its beam I enkindle each heaven-peering height, And the morn's radiant canopy.
hermione.
Mysterious being, say from whence that voice!
But once—and on such feverish perception,
The sound did strike, I thought some air-form'd vision,
Some fantasy, hot from the teeming brain,
Imposed unreal conceptions on mine ear,
To which sense held no cognizance. Say where,
Thou awful visitor!
zorayda.
'Twas on the terrace, when the charmed moon
Hung o'er the trembling stream. And thinkest thou
Spirits have not such utterance?—Oft unseen,
Upon the viewless air, strange visions float,
And voices people the unfetter'd blast,
Vouchsafed not save to those who reverence
And bow to their high bidding. Now—they speak!
hermione.
And to what import?