Scene III.—The Wood.
(Enter Nisida and Cynthia, flying.)
Cynthia.
Fly, fly, Nisida.
Nisida.
Fly, fly, Cynthia,
Since a terror and a woe
Threatens us by far more fearful
Than when late a horror froze
All our words, and o'er our reason
Strange lethargic dulness flowed.
Cynthia.
Thou art right, for then 't was only
Our intelligence that owned
The effect of an enchantment,
A mere pause of thought alone.
Here our very life doth leave us,
Seeing with what awful force
Stalks along this mighty lion
Trampling all that stops his course.
Nisida.
Whither shall we fly for shelter?
Cynthia.
O Diana, we implore
Help from thee! But stranger still!—
Him who doth appal us so,
The wild monarch of the mountain
See! a woman calm and slow
Follows.