JUANITO.
Beside the lectern of St. Mary’s church
Within Viana, and the pomp was great,
For he had thought to bind a crown on once:
They gave him kingly honours.
LUCREZIA.
Oh, pray for him,
That he may rest in peace! There must be peace.
Great, agitated Spirit! Oh, let prayers,
Reverend Ippolito, let prayers be said
In every church, at every altar-stone,
By all the quiet lips that wait on God.
Leave me.... The prayers, the prayers, dear Cardinal,
That he may rest in everlasting peace!
Cristofero and the poor Squire—all go.
All pray for us.
[They leave her and she kneels before the crucifix of the little shrine.
Cesare, O my eagle!...
The stony tract!...
I am but for thy use
To pray thee into peace, to win a crown
Even now for thee, where the vast Majesty
Gives each his destined aim made bright by prayers.
Maria, aid! It is his heritage.
Spare him and aid me! Every day, at night,
On through the years while I must see the sun
Who have lost my sun fallen in that dire west—
On to the silence of the hour of death,
Let me not cease my voice! It is my love
Sole to him, as I am. O Cesare,
My body evermore, till sepulture,
Shall bind the hair-shirt to its flesh as barbs,
Never forgetful how thou wert cast forth
Stripped to the sky, with nothing in the world
To plead to God with but thy valiant blood,
Thy regal front below Him.
I could almost
Swoon into prayer, but for the intercession
Of the great, peaceful companies on earth,
And bowing through the heavens and round God’s Throne.
[She sinks into a still ecstasy. Silently Suor Lucia enters and kneels beside her.
SCENE IV
The Château of La Motte-Feuilly in France.
A balcony hung with black—below it are forest-trees, some in full leaf, others creeping into green. Solemn masses of wild hyacinths clump up against the castle walls.