What! He in the tomb and I in this cell—
He a victim and I a prisoner!
I saw him fall! In truth, he's dead!
And this crime, this awful crime—
They say it is my work!
The stem of our life, while yet green, is broken.
Phœbus has gone, and he shows me the way.
Yesterday they made his grave,
To-morrow they'll make mine!
ROMANCE
Phœbus, is there nothing left,
No help given, to those bereft
In this cruel wise—
Neither filters, love, nor charms,
To assuage the soul's alarms,
Or reopen closèd eyes?
God in heaven, I adore thee!
Every hour I implore thee!
Deign to end my life to-day
Or to take my love away!
Phœbus, let us turn our wings
Toward the lights supernal,
Where all things must go at last,
Where love bides and is eternal.
On earth our bodies sleep together,
In heaven our souls will live forever!
God in heaven, I adore thee!
Every hour I implore thee!
Deign to end my life to-day
Or to take my love away!
[The door opens. Claude Frollo enters, a lamp in his hand, his hood pulled over his face: he comes and stands, motionless, in front of Esmeralda.
ESMERALDA (jumping up with terror).
Who is this man?
CLAUDE FROLLO (covered by his hood).