Thrown out as dust and refuse to the river,
My worship!—leaving me
As one who is no more. My life’s high hope
Snatched under darkness, sodden,
A dead boy, who was proud and beautiful.
Francesco, in a single night! O Cousin,
I thought that he was comforting his youth
In a kind Thaïs’ arms and he was down
At the bottom of that river!
CARDINAL BORGIA.
Nay, dear Holiness,
Has not this Giorgio seen a hundred times....
ALEXANDER.
You think Giovanni lives?
CARDINAL BORGIA.
God grant it!
ALEXANDER.
He has ridden
Beyond the walls, at some castello wooing
Maiden or wife, since summer bans the chase;
A foolish pastime ’mid infested country!
But now the vineyards are as silken tents
For Amor’s camp. I am too precipitous
In passion: I must wait another night,
And then ... fold him again
Upon my heart! Go back, go back, my heart!
Patience! [He finds himself at the window.
But see, there, see
The lights are sailing to one point. Out yonder
What is that spot of dusk?