Power.
The Stranger comes, whose scepter rules the world.
Poetry [to Sorrow].
Now shall thy spell be broken. Dost thou hear
The measured footsteps of approaching Fate?
The one who comes clad in a Pilgrim's garb
Has ever proved thy silent conqueror.
Sorrow.
I yield to him who is the greatest here,
But those who have not met me by the way
Can never know him as he may be known.
They only who have trod the dark abyss
May dare to stand upon the topmost height.
For they whose eyes were blindfold for awhile
Alone can bear that blaze of brilliant light.
Thus have I brought thee more than all thy Court.
Learn from his lips to see the world anew.
I drew that gray veil all about thy head
Thinking perchance to keep thee for my own,
But thou wert made for sunlight, not for gloom.
Thus do I leave thee. Fare thee well, Princess!
[Enter Love.]
Douce-cœur [starts up and tries to hold Sorrow back].
Ah, stay with me, thou art my only friend!
[Love and Sorrow look at each other, she draws her veil across her face and exit.]
Douce-cœur.
Who art thou, Stranger, in a pilgrim's guise
Who comest unattended, unannounced?
Love.
I may not tell thee that. Thou first must learn
Out of thine own heart to recall my name.
Douce-cœur.
Fame, Power, and Riches brought me costly gifts
Which I refused.
Love. I come with empty hands.