soldier's eye
Marked this poor face, from which must Polyeucte fly;
Severus was his name:--Ah! memory
May spare love linked with death a tear, a sigh!

STRAT.
Say, is it he who, at the risk of life,
Saved Decius from his foes and endless strife?
Who, dying, dealt to Persia stroke of death,
And shouted 'Victory!' with his latest breath?
His whitening bones, amid the nameless brave,
Lie still unfound, unknown, without a grave;
Unburied lies his dust amid the slain,
While Decius rears an empty urn in vain!

PAUL.
Alas! 'tis he; all Rome attests his worth,
Hide not his memory, kindly Mother Earth!
'Tis but his memory that I adore
The past is past--and I can say no more.
All gifts save one had he--yes, Fortune held her hand,
And I, as Fortune's slave, obeyed my sire's command.

STRAT.
Ah! I must wish that love the day had won!

PAUL.
Which duty lost--then had I been undone;
Though duty gave, yet duty healed, my pain;
Yet say not that my love was weak or vain!
Our tears fell fast, yet ne'er bore our distress
The fatal fruit of strife and bitterness.
Then, then, I left my hero, hope and Rome,
And, far from him, I found another home;
While he, in his despair, sought sure relief
In death, the only end to life's long grief!
You know the rest:--you know that Polyeucte's eye
Was caught,--his fancy pleased; his wife am I.
Once more by counsel of my father led,
To Armenia's greatest noble am I wed;
Ambition, prudence, policy his guide
Yet only duty made Pauline his bride;
Love might have bound me to Severus' heart,
Had duty not enforced a sterner part.
Yes, let these fears attest, all trembling for his life,
That I am his for aye--his faithful, loving wife.

STRAT.
Thy new love true and tender as the old:--
But this thy dream? No more thy tale withhold!

PAUL.
Last night I saw Severus: but his eye
With anger blazed; his port was proud and high,
No suppliant he--no feeble, formless shade,
With dim, averted eye; no sword had made
My hero lifeless ghost. Nor wound, nor scar
Marked death his only conqueror in war.
Nor spoil of death, nor memory's child was he,
His mien triumphant, full of majesty!
So might victorious Caesar near his home
To cl