PHILIP. We for many and many a year, Who have lived here from our youth, Never dared to learn the truth Of the secrets hidden here; For the entrance did appear In itself enough to make Even the bravest heart to quake. No one yet has dared to brave The wild rocks that guard this cave, Or the waters of this lake. KING. And for auguries we heard, Borne the troubled wind along, Oft the sad funereal song Of some lone nocturnal bird. PHILIP. Be the rash attempt deferred. PATRICK. Let not causeless fear arise; For a treasure of the skies Here is hidden. KING. What is fear? Could it ever me come near In an earthquake's agonies? No; for though the flames should break As from some sulphureous lake, And the mountains' sides run red From the molten fires outshed, They could ne'er my courage shake, Never make me fear. * * * * * SCENE XIX. POLONIA. -- THE SAME. POLONIA. Oh, stay, Wandering from the path astray, Hapless crowd, rash, indiscreet, Turn away your erring feet, For misfortune lies that way. Here from myself with hurried footsteps flying, I dared to treat this wilderness profound, Beneath the mountain whose proud top defying The pure bright sunbeam is with huge rocks crowned, Hoping that here, as in its dark grave lying, Never my sin could on the earth be found, And I myself might find a port of peace Where all the tempests of the world might cease. No polar star had hostile fate decreed me, As on my perilous path I dared to stray, So great its pride, no hand presumed to lead me, And guide my silent footstep on its way. Not yet the aspect of the place has freed me From the dread terror, anguish and dismay, Which were awakened by this mountain's gloom, And all the hidden wonders of its womb. See ye not here this rock some power secureth, That grasps with awful toil the hill-side brown, And with the very anguish it endureth Age after age seems slowly coming down? Suspended there with effort, it obscureth A mighty cave beneath, which it doth crown;-- An open mouth the horrid cavern shapes, Wherewith the melancholy mountain gapes.* [footnote] * "But I remember, Two miles on this side of the fort, the road Crosses a deep ravine; 'tis rough and narrow, And winds with short turns down the precipice; And in its depth there is a mighty rock Which has from unimaginable years, Sustained itself with terror and with toil Over the gulf, and with the agony With which it clings seems slowly coming down; Even as a wretched soul hour after hour Clings to the mass of life: yet, clinging, leans; And leaning, makes more dark the dread abyss In which it fears to fall. Beneath this crag, Huge as despair, as if in weariness The melancholy mountain yawns."--THE CENCI.