Than to endure the inner strife, The specious glare, but real weight Of pomp, and power, and pride, and state, And all the vanities of life; How would we shudder could we deem That life itself, in truth, is but a fleeting dream. * * * * * SCENE VII. LUIS. -- POLONIA. LUIS [aside]. True to my purpose on I go, With footsteps firm and bosom brave, Seeking for that mysterious cave Wherein the pitying heavens will show How I salvation there may gain, By bearing in this life the Purgatorial pain. [To POLONIA. Tell me, O holy woman! thou Who in these wilds a home hast found, A dweller in this mountain ground Obedient to some sacred vow, Which is the road to Patrick's cave, Where penitential man his soul in life may save? POLONIA. O, happy traveller! who here Hast come so far in storm and shine, Within this treasury divine To feel and find salvation near, Well can I guide thee on thy way, Since 'tis for this alone amid these wilds I stray. Seest thou this mountain? LUIS. Ah! I see My death in it. POLONIA [aside]. My heart grows cold. Ah! who is this that I behold? LUIS [aside]. I cannot think it. Is it she? POLONIA [aside]. 'Tis Luis, now I know. LUIS [aside]. Perhaps illusion it may be To baffle my intent, and lead My erring feet astray. -- [to POLONIA}. Proceed. POLONIA [aside]. Say, can it be to conquer me The common enemy doth send This spectre here? LUIS. You do not speak. POLONIA. Attend. This mighty mountain, rock bestrown, Full well the dreaded secret knows; But no one to its centre goes By any path o'er land alone: He who would see this wondrous cave Must in a bark put forth and tempt the lake's dark wave. [Aside.] I struggle with a wish to wreak Revenge, which pity doth subdue. LUIS [aside]. It doth my happiness renew Once more to see and hear her speak. POLONIA [aside]. Within me opposite thoughts contend. LUIS [aside]. Ah, me! I die. -- You do not speak. POLONIA. Attend. This darksome lake doth all surround The lofty mountain's rugged base, And so to reach the awful place An easy passage may be found: A sacred convent in the island stands, Midway between the mountain and the sands. Some pious priests inhabit there, And for this task alone they live, With loving zeal to freely give The helping hand, the strengthening prayer -- Confession, and the Holy Mass, And every needful help to all who thither pass. Telling them what they first must do, Before they dare presume to go, Alive, within the realm of woe.-- [Aside.] Let not this enemy subdue My soul, O Lord! LUIS [aside]. My hopes are fair. Let me not feel, O Lord! the anguish of despair, Seeing before my startled sight My greatest, deepest crime arise; Let not the fiend my soul that tries, Subdue me in this dreadful fight. POLONIA [aside]. 'Gainst what a powerful foe must I defend Myself to-day! LUIS. You do not speak. POLONIA. Attend.