POLONIA. O, happy traveller! who here
Hast come so far in storm and shine,
Within this treasury divine
To feel and find salvation near,
Well can I guide thee on thy way,
Since 'tis for this alone amid these wilds I stray.
Seest thou this mountain?
LUIS. Ah! I see
My death in it.
POLONIA [aside]. My heart grows cold.
Ah! who is this that I behold?
LUIS [aside]. I cannot think it. Is it she?
POLONIA [aside]. 'Tis Luis, now I know.
LUIS [aside]. Perhaps illusion it may be
To baffle my intent, and lead
My erring feet astray. — [to POLONIA}. Proceed.
POLONIA [aside]. Say, can it be to conquer me
The common enemy doth send
This spectre here?
LUIS. You do not speak.
POLONIA. Attend.
This mighty mountain, rock bestrown,
Full well the dreaded secret knows;
But no one to its centre goes
By any path o'er land alone:
He who would see this wondrous cave
Must in a bark put forth and tempt the lake's dark wave.