V
Dawn. The place of execution, west of the city, looking seaward. The same crowd, leading Didymus.
A Voice. A long march is well ended. How fares he?
The Bailiff. He thrives; I hear him murmuring idle spells.
Didymus. Soft is the twilight breeze, soaked full of sea.
The veiled isle yonder rears her breathing lamp;
And under us, in hollows of the crags,
Each washing wave goes like a gentle gong.
Across the hills, there brims a lucent tide,