[SCENE: _The garden of a somber Lombardian Palace. To the right the wall of a house, which is at an angle with the moderately high garden wall that encloses it. The lower portion of the house is built of rough granite, above which rests a strip of plain marble forming a sill, which, under each window, is adorned with a lion's head in repose. Two windows are visible, each one having a small angular balcony with a stone railing, spaced sufficiently to show the feet of those standing there. Both windows are curtained to the floor. The garden is a mere lawn with a few scattered fruit trees. The corner of the garden between the wall and the house is crowded with high box wood bushes. A leafy grapevine, trained over stunted chestnut trees, forms an arbor which completely fills the left side of the stage; only this entrance is visible. The arbor slants irregularly to the left rear. Behind the rear wall there may be seen (by the gallery spectator) a narrow path beyond which is the neighbor's garden wall--no house is visible. In the neighbor's garden and as far as the eye can reach, the tops of the trees are illuminated by the evening glow of a brilliant sunset._] DIANORA [_at the window_]. A harvester I see, and not the last, No, not the last, descending from the hill. There are three more, and there, and there! Have you no end, you never-ending day? How have I dragged the hours away from you, Torn them to shreds and cast them in the flood, As I do now with these poor tattered blooms! How have I coaxed each minute of this day. Each bracelet, and each earring was clasped on, Ta'en off again, then once more tried, until 'Twas thrown aside, exchanged, and others brought-- I slowly dripped the fountain, drop on drop All through my tresses, dried them languidly; With quiet, measured step, out in the sun I walked me to and fro--oh! to and fro! But 'twas still damp--the path is narrow there. I looked among the bushes, for the birds,-- Less than a zephyr's breath I bent them back, Those swaying branches, sat 'neath rustling trees, And felt on cheeks and hands in waiting woe The little flickerings of warm sunshine. I closed my eyes, and almost thought soft lips Gently caressing, strayed my clammy brow. Sometimes hours come when this duplicity, All this concealment, seems so fruitless, and I cannot bear it. I can only gaze With eyes of steel far up into the sky Where flocks of wild geese float, or bend me low O'er some mad, rushing plunging waterfall That tears my weakling shadow with its flow,-- I will be patient--why, I must, I am!-- Madonna--I will climb the steepest mount And on my knees will count me every stone With this, my rosary, if only now, Oh, soon,--this day will sink into the night. It is so long! I have its measured tread With these same beads been scanning o'er and o'er.