There is a cloud now rising in the west,
In shape a hand, and scarcely would its grasp
Exceed mine own, it is so small; a spot,
A speck; see now again its colour flits!
A lurid tint; they call it on our coast
'The hand of God;' I for when its finger rises
From out the horizon, there are storms abroad
And awful judgments.
V:1:9 COUN.
Ah! it beckons me.
V:1:10 ORAN.
Lady!
V:1:11 COUN.
Yes, yes, see now the finger moves
And points to me. I feel it on my spirit.
V:1:12 ORAN.
Methinks it points to me --
V:1:13 COUN.
To both of us.
It may be so. And what would it portend?
My heart's grown strangely calm. If there be chance
Of storms, my children should be safe. Let's home.
SCENE 2
An illuminated Hall in the Royal Palace at Burgos;
in the background Dancers.
Groups of GUESTS passing.
V:2:1 1ST GUEST.
Radiant!
V:2:2 2ND GUEST.
Recalls old days.
V:2:3 3RD GUEST.
The Queen herself
Ne'er revelled it so high!
V:2:4 4TH GUEST.
The Infanta beams
Like some bright star!
V:2:5 5TH GUEST.
Pages:
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112