LITMIR.BIZ

                       I love no longer!

         Because your heart forbids it, or your oath?

         Leave me; nor never touch this theme again.

         Because your oath forbids it, or your heart?

         Because my duty – but, alas, alas!

         To what avails this scrutiny of fate,

         Which we must both obey?

                      Must – must obey?

         What means this solemn tone?

                        Thus much it means

         That Carlos is not one to yield to must

         Where he hath power to will! It means, besides,

         'That Carlos is not minded to live on,

         The most unhappy man in all his realm,

         When it would only cost the overthrow

         Of Spanish laws to be the happiest.

         Do I interpret rightly? Still you hope?

         Dare you hope on, when all is lost forever?

         I look on naught as lost – except the dead.

         For me – your mother, do you dare to hope?

         And yet why not? A new elected monarch

         Can do far more – make bonfires of the laws

         His father left – o'erthrow his monuments —

         Nay, more than this – for what shall hinder him? —

         Drag from his tomb, in the Escurial,

         The sacred corpse of his departed sire,

         Make it a public spectacle, and scatter

         Forth to the winds his desecrated dust.

         And then, at last, to fill the measure up —

         Merciful heavens, finish not the picture!

         End all by wedding with his mother.

                            Oh!

         Accursed son!

                 Yes, now 'tis out, 'tis out!

         I see it clear as day. Oh, would it had

         Been veiled from me in everlasting darkness!

         Yes, thou art gone from me – gone – gone forever.

         The die is cast; and thou art lost to me.

         Oh, in that thought lies hell; and a hell, too,

         Lies in the other thought, to call thee mine.

         Oh, misery! I can bear my fate no longer,

         My very heart-strings strain as they would burst.

         Alas, alas! dear Charles, I feel it all,

         The nameless pang that rages in your breast;

         Your pangs are infinite, as is your love,

         And infinite as both will be the glory

         Of overmastering both. Up, be a man,

         Wrestle with them boldly. The prize is worthy

         Of a young warrior's high, heroic heart;

         Worthy of him in whom the virtues flow

         Of a long ancestry of mighty kings.

         Courage! my noble prince! Great Charles's grandson

         Begins the contest with undaunted heart,

         Where sons of meaner men would yield at once.

         Too late, too late! O God, it is too late!

         Too late to be a man! O Carlos, Carlos!

         How nobly shows our virtue when the heart

         Breaks in its exercise! The hand of Heaven

         Has set you up on high, – far higher, prince,

         Than millions of your brethren. All she took

         From others she bestowed with partial hand

         On thee, her favorite; and millions ask,

         What was your merit, thus before your birth

         To be endowed so far above mankind?

         Up, then, and justify the ways of Heaven;

         Deserve to take the lead of all the world,

         And make a sacrifice ne'er made before.

         I will, I will; I have a giant's strength

         To win your favor; but to lose you, none.

         Confess, my Carlos, I have harshly read thee;

         It is but spoken, and waywardness, and pride,

         Attract you thus so madly to your mother!

         The heart you lavish on myself belongs

         To the great empire you one day shall rule.

         Look that you sport not with your sacred trust!

         Love is your high vocation; until now

         It hath been wrongly bent upon your mother:

         Oh, lead it back upon your future realms,

         And so, instead of the fell stings of conscience,

         Enjoy the bliss of being more than man.

         Elizabeth has been your earliest love,

         Your second must be Spain. How gladly, Carlos,

         Will I give place to this more worthy choice!

         How great thou art, my angel! Yes, I'll do

         All, all thou canst desire. So let it be.

         Here in the sight of heaven I stand and swear —

         I swear to thee, eternal – no, great Heaven! —

         Eternal silence only, – not oblivion!

         How can I ask from you what I myself

         Am not

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