Claudius. 
Come and something newer learn
In the stratagem his father
Has arranged to cure the illness
Of Chrysanthus, whom he fancies . . .

Escarpin. 
What?

Claudius. 
       Is spell-bound by the Christians
Through the power of their enchantments:—­
(Since to-day I cannot see thee, [aside. 
Cynthia fair, forgive my absence). [Exit.

Escarpin. 
While these matters thus proceed,
I shall try, let what will happen,
Thee to see, divine Daria:—­
At my love, oh! be not angered,
Since the penalty of beauty
Is to be beloved:  then pardon. [Exit.

Scene ii.—­The Wood.

Enter Daria from the chase with bow and arrows.

Daria. 
O stag that swiftly flying
Before my feathered shafts the winds outvieing,
Impelled by wings, not feet,
If in this green retreat
Here panting thou wouldst die,
And stain with blood the fountain murmuring by,
Await another wound, another friend,
That so with quicker speed thy life may end;
For to a wretch that stroke a friend must be
That eases death and sooner sets life free.
[She stumbles and falls near the mouth of a cave.]
But, bless me, heaven!  I feel
My brain grow hot, my curdling blood congeal: 
A form of fire and snow
I seem at once to turn:  this sudden blow,
This stumbling, how I know not, by this stone,
This horrid mouth in which my grave is shown,
This cave of many shapes,
Through which the melancholy mountain gapes,
This mountain’s self, a vast
Abysmal shadow cast
Suddenly on my heart, as if ’t were meant
To be my rustic pyre, my strange new monument,
All fill my heart with wonder and with fear,
What buried mysteries are hidden here
That terrify me so,
And make me tremble ’neath impending woe.
[A solemn strain of music is heard from within.]
Nay more, illusion now doth bear to me
The sweetest sounds of dulcet harmony,
Music and voice combine:—­
O solitude! what phantasms are thine! 
But let me listen to the voice that blent
Sounds with the music of the instrument.

Music from within the cave.

Song. 
Oh! be the day for ever blest,
And blest be pitying heaven’s decree,
That makes the darksome cave to be
Daria’s tomb, her place of rest!

Daria. 
Blest! can such evil auguries bless? 
And happy can that strange fate be
That gives this darksome cave to me
As monument of my sad life?

Music. 
                             Yes.

Daria. 
Oh! who before in actual woe
The happier signs of bliss could read? 
Will not a fate so rigorous lead
To misery, not to rapture?—­

Music. 
                            No.

Daria. 
O fantasy! unwelcome guest! 
How can this cave bring good to me?