The fair earth smiles 'neath a summer sky
Through the joyous fleeting hours.
But oh! in the slave girl's lonely heart,
Sad thoughts and memories dwell,
And tears fall fast as she mournfully sings,
Home, dear home, farewell!

Though the chains they bind be all of flowers,
Where no hidden thorn may be,
Still the free heart sighs 'neath its fragrant bonds,
And pines for its liberty.
And sweet, sad thoughts of the joy now gone,
In the slave girl's heart shall dwell,
As she mournfully sings to her sighing harp,
Native land, native land, farewell!

Con. 'Tis a plaintive song. Is it thine own lot thou art mourning? If
so, thou art a slave no longer.

Ione. Nay, my lord. It was one my Lady Irene loved, and thus I thought
would please thee.

Con. Then never sing it more,--speak not her name! Nay, forgive me if I
pain thee. She was thy mistress, and thou didst love her. Was she kind
to thee? By what name shall I call thee?

Ione. Ione, your Highness. Ah, yes; she was too kind. She never spake a
cruel word, nor chid me for my many faults. Never can I love another as
I loved my gentle mistress.

Con. And is she very fair? Has she no pride, no passion or disdain to
mar her loveliness? She is a princess; is she a true and tender woman
too?

Ione. Though a princess, 'neath her royal robes there beats a warm, true
heart, faithful and fond, longing to be beloved and seeking to be worthy
such great joy when it shall come. Thou ask'st me of her beauty.
Painters place her face among their fairest works, and sculptors carve
her form in marble. Yes, she is beautiful; but 'tis not that thou
wouldst most care for. Couldst thou only know her!--pardon, but I think
thou couldst not bear so cold a heart within thy breast as now.

Con. Ah, do not cease! say on! There is that in the music of thy voice
that soothes and comforts me. Come, sit beside me, fair Ione, and I will
tell thee why I do not love thy princess.

Ione. You do forget, my lord, I am a slave; I will kneel here.

[_Prince reclines upon a couch._ Ione _kneels beside him._

Con. Listen! From a boy I have been alone; no loving sister had I, no
gentle friend,--only cold councillors or humble slaves. My mother was a
queen, and 'mid the cares of State, tho' fondly loving me, her only son,
could find no time to win me from my lonely life.

Thus, tho' dwelling 'neath a palace roof with every wish suppli