my promise
To respect thee evermore.

DARIA.
Mighty monarch of these deserts,
King of beasts, so plainly known
By thy crown of golden tresses
O'er thy tawny forehead thrown,
In the name of Him who sent thee
To defend that faith I hold,
I command thee to release him,
Free this man and let him go.

ESCARPIN.
What a most obsequious monster!
With his mane he sweeps the floor,
And before her humbly falling,
Kisses her fair feet.

DARIA.
What more
Need we ask, that Thou didst send him,
O great God so late adored,
Than to see his pride thus humbled
When he heard thy name implored?
But upon his feet uprising,
The great roaring Campeador[15]
Of the mountains makes a signal
I should follow: yes, I go,
Fearless now since Thou hast freed me
From this infamous abode.
What will not that lover do
Who for love his life foregoes!-- (Goes out preceded by the lion.

ESCARPIN.
With a lion for her bully
Ready to fight all her foes,
Who will dare to interrupt her?
None, if they are wise I trow.
With her hand upon his mane,
Quite familiarly they go
Through the centre of the city.
Crowds give way as they approach,
And as he who looketh on
Knoweth of the game much more
Than the players, I perceive
They the open country seek
On the further side of Rome.
Like a husband and a wife,
In the pleasant sunshine's glow,
Taking the sweet air they seem.
Well the whole affair doth show
So much curious contradiction,
That, my thought, a brief discourse
You and I must have together.
Is the God whose name is known
To Daria, the same God
Whom Carpophorus adored?
Why, from this what inference follows?
Only this, if it be so,
That Daria He defends,
But the poor Carpophorus, no.
And as I am much more likely
His sad fate to undergo,
Than to be like her protected,
I to change my faith am loth.
So part pagan and part christian
I 'll remain--a bit of both. (Exit.

SCENE III.--The Wood.

(Enter NISIDA and CYNTHIA, flying.)

CYNTHIA.
Fly, fly, Nisida.

NISIDA.
Fly, fly, Cynthia,
Since a terror and a woe
Threatens us by far more fearful
Than when late a horror froze
All our words, and o'er our reason
Strange lethargic dulness flowed.

CYNTHIA.
Thou art right, for then 't was only
Our intelligence that owned
The effect of an enchantment,
A mere pause of thought alone.
Here our very life doth leave us,
Seeing with what awful force
Stalks along this mighty lion
Tramplin