Have aught in common with the vapid toy
We break and cast aside? Oh, sordid Earth,
Praise Heaven that leaves this angel yet unclaimed.
Oh, heart of mine—oh, wilful, wayward heart,
Bow down in homage—thou art caught and caged!
[During these lines Hilda, seated by the fountain, has been playing with its water, and kissing her wet hands.
Hil. The sun has set—the fierce hot thirsty sun
Who, like a greedy vampire as he is,
Drinks my love’s life-blood till it pines away,
And dwindles to a thread. The moon’s abroad—