DARIA. O stag that swiftly flying Before my feathered shafts the winds outvieing, Impelled by wings, not feet, If in this green retreat Here panting thou wouldst die, And stain with blood the fountain murmuring by, Await another wound, another friend, That so with quicker speed thy life may end; For to a wretch that stroke a friend must be That eases death and sooner sets life free. [She stumbles and falls near the mouth of a cave.] But, bless me, heaven! I feel My brain grow hot, my curdling blood congeal: A form of fire and snow I seem at once to turn: this sudden blow, This stumbling, how I know not, by this stone, This horrid mouth in which my grave is shown, This cave of many shapes, Through which the melancholy mountain gapes, This mountain's self, a vast Abysmal shadow cast Suddenly on my heart, as if 't were meant To be my rustic pyre, my strange new monument, All fill my heart with wonder and with fear, What buried mysteries are hidden here That terrify me so, And make me tremble 'neath impending woe. [A solemn strain of music is heard from within.] Nay more, illusion now doth bear to me The sweetest sounds of dulcet harmony, Music and voice combine:-- O solitude! what phantasms are thine! But let me listen to the voice that blent Sounds with the music of the instrument. Music from within the cave. SONG. Oh! be the day for ever blest, And blest be pitying heaven's decree, That makes the darksome cave to be Daria's tomb, her place of rest! DARIA. Blest! can such evil auguries bless? And happy can that strange fate be That gives this darksome cave to me As monument of my sad life? MUSIC. Yes. DARIA. Oh! who before in actual woe The happier signs of bliss could read? Will not a fate so rigorous lead To misery, not to rapture?-- MUSIC. No. DARIA. O fantasy! unwelcome guest! How can this cave bring good to me? MUSIC. Itself will tell, when it shall be Daria's tomb, her place of rest. DARIA. But then, who gave the stern decree, That this dark cave my bones should hide? MUSIC. Daria, it was he who died, Who gave his life for love of thee. DARIA. "Who gave his life for love of me!" Ah! me, and can it be in sooth That gentle noble Roman youth I answered with such cruelty In this same wood the other day, Saying that I his love would be If he would only die for me! Can he have cast himself away Down this dark cave, and there lies dead, Buried within the dread abyss, Waiting my love, his promised bliss?-- My soul, not now mine own, has fled! CYNTHIA (within). Forward! forward! through the gloom Every cave and cavern enter, Search the dark wood to its centre, Lest it prove Daria's tomb.