Are wandering far; there should be one to share
This awful and majestic solitude
Of sea and heaven with me.
[Procida enters unobserved.
It is the hour
He named, and yet he comes not.
Pro. (coming forward.) He is here.
Raim. Now, thou mysterious stranger—thou, whose glance
Doth fix itself on memory, and pursue
Thought like a spirit, haunting its lone hours—