Thou hast granted,
Mary, my prayers!

I:3:6 ALAR.
Solisa, my Solisa!

I:3:7 SOL.
Thine, thine, Alarcos. But thou: whose art thou?

I:3:8 ALAR.
Within this chamber is my memory bound;
I have no thought, no consciousness beyond
Its precious walls.

I:3:9 SOL.
Thus did he look, thus speak,
When to my heart he clung, and I to him
Breathed my first love -- and last.

I:3:10 ALAR.
Alas! alas!
Woe to thy Mother, maiden.

I:3:11 SOL.
She has found
That which I oft have prayed for.

I:3:12 ALAR.
But not found
A doom more dark than ours.