_Apr._ I hear thee faintly. The thick darkness! Even Thine eyes are hid, 'T is as I knew: I speak, And now I die. But I have seen thy face! O poet, think of me, and sing of me! But to have seen thee and to die so soon! _Par._ Die not, Aprile! We must never part. Are we not halves of one dissevered world, Whom this strange chance unites once more? Part? never! Till thou the lover, know; and I, the knower, Love--until both are saved. Aprile, hear! We will accept our gains, and use them--now! God, he will die upon my breast! Aprile! _Apr._ To speak but once, and die! yet by his side. Hush! hush! Ha! go you ever girt about With phantoms, powers? I have created such, But these seem real as I. _Par._ Whom can you see Through the accursed darkness? _Apr._ Stay; I know, I know them: who should know them well as I? White brows, lit up with glory; poets all! _Par._ Let him but live, and I have my reward! _Apr._ Yes; I see now. God is the perfect poet, Who in his person acts his own creations. Had you but told me this at first! Hush! hush! _Par._ Live! for my sake, because of my great sin, To help my brain, oppressed by these wild words And their deep import. Live! 't is not too late. I have a quiet home for us, and friends. Michal shall smile on you. Hear you? Lean thus, And breathe my breath. I shall not lose one word Of all your speech, one little word, Aprile! _Apr._ No, no. Crown me? I am not one of you! 'T is he, the king, you seek. I am not one. _Par._ Thy spirit, at least, Aprile! Let me love. I have attained, and now I may depart. III. PARACELSUS SCENE, _Basel: a chamber in the house of_ PARACELSUS. 1526. PARACELSUS, FESTUS. _Par._ Heap logs and let the blaze laugh out! _Fest._ True, true! 'T is very fit all, time and chance and change Have wrought since last we sat thus, face to face And soul to soul--all cares, far-looking fears, Vague apprehensions, all vain fancies bred By your long absence, should be cast away, Forgotten in this glad unhoped renewal Of our affections. _Par._ Oh, omit not aught Which witnesses your own and Michal's own Affection: spare not that! Only forget The honors and the glories and what not, It pleases you to tell profusely out.