As falls on man, beholding all he loves
Perish before him, while his strength can but
Strive with his agony—thou’lt meet me then.
Look on me, love!—I am not oft so moved—
Thou’lt meet me?
Con. Oh! what mean thy words? If then
My steps are free,—I will. Be thou but calm.
Raim. Be calm!—there is a cold and sullen calm,
And, were my wild fears made realities,
It might be mine; but, in this dread suspense—