Chapter 47

CYPRIAN embracing the Figure of JUSTINA, which he carries in his arms.

CYPRIAN. Now, O beautiful Justina, In this sweet and secret covert, Where no beam of sun can enter, Nor the breeze of heaven blow roughly, Now the trophy of thy beauty Makes my magic toils triumphant, For here folding thee, no longer Have I need to fear disturbance. Fair Justina, thou hast cost me Even my soul. But in my judgment, Since the gain has been so glorious, Not so dear has been the purchase. Oh! unveil thyself, fair goddess, Not in the clouds obscure and murky, Not in vapours hide the sun, Show its golden rays refulgent. [He draws aside the cloak and discovers a skeleton. But, O woe! what's this I see! Is it a cold corse, mute, pulseless, That within its arms expects me? Who, in one brief moment's compass, Could upon these faded features, Pallid, motionless, and shrunken, Have extinguished the bright beauties Of the blush rose and the purple?

THE SKELETON. Cyprian, such are all the glories Of the world that you so covet.

[The Skeleton disappears. CLARIN rushes in frightened, and embraces CYPRIAN.

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