ELENA.

Nay, your promise!

Tell what you saw; I must not be denied
After a promise given; tell me of that.

ARTEVELDE.

I say to what conclusion came I then,
These winding links to fasten?

ELENA.

I surmise

To none; such ramblings end where they begin.

ARTEVELDE.

Conclusions inconclusive, that I own;

Yet, I would say, not vain, not nothing worth.
This circulating principle of life

That vivifies the outside of the earth

And permeates the sea; that here and there
Awakening up a particle of matter,

Informs it, organises, gives it power

To gather and associate to itself,

Transmute, incorporate other, for a term Sustains the congruous fabric, and then quits it; This vagrant principle so multiform,

Ebullient here and undetected there,

Is not unauthorised, nor increate,

Though indestructible. Life never dies;
Matter dies off it, and it lives elsewhere,
Or elsehow circumstanced and shaped; it goes;
At every instant we may say 'tis gone,

But never it hath ceased; the type is changed,

Is ever in transition, for life's law

To its eternal essence doth prescribe

Eternal mutability: and thus

To say I live-says, I partake of that

Which never dies. But how far I may hold
An interest indivisible from life

Through change (and whether it be mortal change,
Change of senescence, or of gradual growth,

Or other whatsoever 'tis alike)

Is question not of argument, but fact.

In all men some such interest inheres;
In most 'tis posthumous; the more expand
Our thoughts and feelings past the very present,
The more that interest overtakes of change
And comprehends, till what it comprehends
Is comprehended in eternity,

And in no less a span.

ELENA.

Love is eternal.

Whatever dies, that lives, I feel and know.
It is too great a thing to die.

ARTEVELDE.

So be it!

ELENA.

But, Artevelde, you shall not lead me off

Through by-ways from my quest. Touching this sight Which you have seen.

ARTEVELDE.

Touching this eye-creation;
What is it to surprise us? Here we are
Engender'd out of nothing cognisable.
If this be not a wonder, nothing is ;
If this be wonderful, then all is so.
Man's grosser attributes can generate

What is not, and has never been at all;
What should forbid his fancy to restore
A being pass'd away? The wonder lies
In the mind merely of the wondering man.
Treading the steps of common life with eyes
Of curious inquisition, some will stare
At each discovery of nature's ways,
As it were new to find that God contrives.
The contrary were marvellous to me,
And till I find it I shall marvel not.
Or all is wonderful, or nothing is.
As for this creature of my eyes-

Or more than like; it was the very same.

It was the image of my wife.

Why should not fancy summon to its presence
This shape as soon as any?

ELENA.

Gracious Heaven!

And were you not afraid?

ARTEVELDE.

I felt no fear.

Dejected I had been before: that sight
Inspired a deeper sadness, but no fear.
Nor had it struck that sadness to my soul
But for the dismal cheer the thing put on,
And the unsightly points of circumstance
That sullied its appearance and departure.

For how long saw you it?

ELENA.

ARTEVELDE.

I cannot tell.

I did not mark.

ELENA.

And what was that appearance

You say was so unsightly?

ARTEVELDE.

She appear'd

In white, as when I saw her last, laid out

After her death; suspended in the air

She seem'd, and o'er her breast her arms were cross'd; Her feet were drawn together pointing downwards,

And rigid was her form and motionless.

From near her heart, as if the source were there,
A stain of blood went wavering to her feet.

So she remain'd inflexible as stone

BB

And I as fixedly regarding her.

Then suddenly, and in a line oblique,

Thy figure darted past her, whereupon,

Though rigid still and straight, she downward moved,
And as she pierced the river with her feet
Descending steadily, the streak of blood

Peel'd off upon the water, which, as she vanish'd,
Appear'd all blood, and swell'd and welter'd sore,
And midmost in the eddy and the whirl

My own face saw I, which was pale and calm
As death could make it :- -then the vision pass'd,
And I perceived the river and the bridge,
The mottled sky and horizontal moon,

The distant camp, and all things as they were.

ELENA.

If you are not afraid to see such things,

I am to hear them. Go not near that bridge ;-
You said that something happen'd there before-
Oh, cross it not again; for my sake do not.

ARTEVELDE.

The river cannot otherwise be pass'd.

Oh, cross it not !

ELENA.

ARTEVELDE.

That were a strange resolve,

And to the French most acceptable: yes,

You will be held of council with King Charles,

Opposing thus my passage.

Enter VAUCLAIRE and VAN RYK.

Sirs, good day!

You're soon astir for men that watch'd so late.