Paul. 
     Ah! this no cause for fear!

     Felix. 
     At Decius’ court, he, held in honour dear,
     Risked life to save his Emperor from his foes,
     ’Tis to his saviour Decius honour shows!

     Paul. 
     Thus fickle Fortune bows her head to fate,
     And pays the honour due, though all too late!

     Felix. 
     He comes!  Is near——­

     Paul. 
     The gods——­

     Felix. 
     Do all things well.

     Paul. 
     My dream fulfilled!  But how?  O father, tell!

     Felix. 
     Let Albin speak, who saw him face to face
     With tribe of courtiers; all to him give place;
     Unscathed in battle, all extol his fame,
     Unstained, undimmed, his glory, life and name!

     Albin. 
     You know the issue of that glorious fight: 
     The crowning glory his—­who, in despite
     Of danger sore to life and liberty,
     Became a slave to set his Emperor free: 
     Rome gave her honours to Severus’ shade,
     Whilst he, her ransomer, in a dungeon stayed. 
     His death they mourned above ten thousand slain,
     While Persia held him—­yes, their tears were vain,
     But not in vain his noble sacrifice! 
     The king released him:  Rome grudged not the price;
     No Persian bribe could tempt him from his home. 
     When Decius cried—­’Fight once again for Rome!’
     Again he fights—­he leads—­all others hope resign;
     But from despair’s deep breast he plucks a star benign,
     This—­hope’s fair fruit, contentment, plenty, ease,
     Brings joy from grief, to crown a lasting peace. 
     The Emperor holds him as his dearest friend,
     And doth Severus to Armenia send—­
     To offer up to Mars, and mighty Jove,
     ’Mid feast and sacrifice, his thanks and love.

     Felix. 
     Ah, Fortune, turn thy wheel, else I misfortune meet!

     Albin. 
     This news I learn’d from one of great Severus’ suite: 
     Thence, swiftly here, the tale to tell I sped.

     Felix. 
     He who once vainly wooed, hopes now to wed. 
     The sacrifice, the offering, all are feigned,
     All but the suit, which lightly I disdained.

     Paul. 
     Yes, this may be, for ah! he loved me well!

     Felix. 
     What room for hope?  Such wrath is child of hell. 
     Before his righteous ire I shrink, I cower;
     Revenge I dread—­and vengeance linked with power
     Unnerves me quite.

     Paul. 
     Fear not, his soul is great.

     Felix. 
     Thy comfort, oh my daughter, comes too late. 
     The thought to crush me down, to turn my heart to stone,
     This, that I prized not worth for worth’s dear sake alone! 
     Too well, Pauline, thou hast thy sire obeyed;