Hyp. So would not I. Too many pleasant visions
Hover before me; phantoms of delight
Beckon me on, and wave their golden wings,
Making the Future radiant with their smiles.
Vic. Would it were so with me! For I behold
Nothing but shadows; and the Future stands
Before me like a wall of adamant
I cannot climb.
Hyp. And right above it gleams
A glorious star. Be patient—trust thy star.