While patience, duty, conscience, vail their heads
'Fore obstinate defence and fierce attack.
Such steeds no charioteer controls--for they
Mistake both curb and reign for maddening whip.
Ah! what a base, unworthy fear is mine!
How ill I read these fair, these noble souls,
Whose virtue must all common snares o'erleap!
Their gold unstained by dross or mean alloy!
As generous foes so will they--must they meet!
Yet are they rivals--this the thought that kills!
Not even here--at home--is Polyeucte safe,
The eagle wings of Rome reach over all.
Oh, if my father bow to Roman might,
If he repent the choice that he hath made,--
At this one thought hope's flame leaps up to die!
Or--if new-born--dies ere she see the light.
Hope but deceived,--my fear alone I trust,
Heaven grant such confidence be false--be vain!

(Enter Stratonice.)

Nay, let me know the worst! What, girl!--no word?
The rites are o'er? What hast thou seen--what heard?
They met in amity?--In peace they part?

STRAT.
Alas! Alas!

PAUL.
Nay, soothe my aching heart!