Bal.  Thou speakest a fearful riddle
                  I will not understand.

Pol.  Yet now as Fate
                  Approaches, and the Hours are breathing low,
                  The sands of Time are changed to golden grains,
                  And dazzle me, Baldazzar.  Alas! alas! 
                  I cannot die, having within my heart
                  So keen a relish for the beautiful
                  As hath been kindled within it.  Methinks the air
                  Is balmier now than it was wont to be—­
                  Rich melodies are floating in the winds—­
                  A rarer loveliness bedecks the earth—­
                  And with a holier lustre the quiet moon
                  Sitteth in Heaven.—­Hist! hist! thou canst not say
                  Thou hearest not now, Baldazzar?

Bal.  Indeed I hear not.

Pol.  Not hear it!—­listen—­now—­listen!—­the faintest sound
                  And yet the sweetest that ear ever heard! 
                  A lady’s voice!—­and sorrow in the tone! 
                  Baldazzar, it oppresses me like a spell! 
                  Again!—­again!—­how solemnly it falls
                  Into my heart of hearts! that eloquent voice
                  Surely I never heard—­yet it were well
                  Had I but heard it with its thrilling tones
                  In earlier days!

Bal.  I myself hear it now. 
                  Be still!—­the voice, if I mistake not greatly,
                  Proceeds from younder lattice—­which you may see
                  Very plainly through the window—­it belongs,
                  Does it not? unto this palace of the Duke. 
                  The singer is undoubtedly beneath
                  The roof of his Excellency—­and perhaps
                  Is even that Alessandra of whom he spoke
                  As the betrothed of Castiglione,
                  His son and heir.

Pol.  Be still!—­it comes again!

Voice
(very faintly).  “And is thy heart so strong [1]
                  As for to leave me thus,
                  That have loved thee so long,
                  In wealth and woe among? 
                  And is thy heart so strong
                  As for to leave me thus? 
                  Say nay! say nay!”

Bal.  The song is English, and I oft have heard it
                  In merry England—­never so plaintively—­
                  Hist! hist! it comes again!

Voice
(more loudly).  “Is it so strong
                  As for to leave me thus,
                  That have loved thee so long,
                  In wealth and woe among? 
                  And is thy heart so strong
                  As for to leave me thus? 
                  Say nay! say nay!”