And which the sea has made a dustless ruin,
Seeking ever a mountain, through whose forests 150
I seek a man, whom I must now compel
To keep his word with me.  I came arrayed
In tempest, and although my power could well
Bridle the forest winds in their career,
For other causes I forbore to soothe 155
Their fury to Favonian gentleness;
I could and would not;
[ASIDE.]
(thus I wake in him
A love of magic art).  Let not this tempest,
Nor the succeeding calm excite thy wonder;
For by my art the sun would turn as pale 160
As his weak sister with unwonted fear;
And in my wisdom are the orbs of Heaven
Written as in a record; I have pierced
The flaming circles of their wondrous spheres
And know them as thou knowest every corner 165
Of this dim spot.  Let it not seem to thee
That I boast vainly; wouldst thou that I work
A charm over this waste and savage wood,
This Babylon of crags and aged trees,
Filling its leafy coverts with a horror 170
Thrilling and strange?  I am the friendless guest
Of these wild oaks and pines—­and as from thee
I have received the hospitality
Of this rude place, I offer thee the fruit
Of years of toil in recompense; whate’er 175
Thy wildest dream presented to thy thought
As object of desire, that shall be thine.

...

And thenceforth shall so firm an amity
’Twixt thee and me be, that neither Fortune,
The monstrous phantom which pursues success, 180
That careful miser, that free prodigal,
Who ever alternates, with changeful hand,
Evil and good, reproach and fame; nor Time,
That lodestar of the ages, to whose beam
The winged years speed o’er the intervals 185
Of their unequal revolutions; nor
Heaven itself, whose beautiful bright stars
Rule and adorn the world, can ever make
The least division between thee and me,
Since now I find a refuge in thy favour. 190

NOTES:  146 wide glassy wildernesses Rossetti. 150 Seeking forever cj.  Forman. 154 forest]fiercest cj.  Rossetti.

SCENE 3.

THE DAEMON TEMPTS JUSTINA, WHO IS A CHRISTIAN.

DAEMON: 
Abyss of Hell!  I call on thee,
Thou wild misrule of thine own anarchy! 
From thy prison-house set free
The spirits of voluptuous death,
That with their mighty breath 5
They may destroy a world of virgin thoughts;
Let her chaste mind with fancies thick as motes
Be peopled from thy shadowy deep,
Till her guiltless fantasy
Full to overflowing be!