Icilius. This is an eve of witchery, an hour Alluring, swelled with love and weighted down With dreams. Virg. A time when all our best ideals Are perfected. Reality is dead, Deep-buried in her grave, and Heaven and Earth, Swayed by the wand of sweet Imagination, Languish beneath the velvet robes of Night. Icilius. And 'tis a night more fair than when Dian Cast lustre on the young, unwitting face Of that deep-slumbering boy, Endymion. Virg. Oh! happy boy! a goddess kissed thy hair, Mused o'er thy brows, and sighed above thy lips. Icilius. Thrice happy man, who treasures human love, And humbly may accept that precious gift, A mortal maiden's heart, nor sigh for more.[22] There is no more, nor anything so fair, As such a dear possession. Happy he, Who can, though but one instant, close and warm, Hold woman's form, or kiss the starry light Into her eyes, the blood into her cheeks! And such a man, Virginia, am I. Virg. (shyly). Not once in life, dear Love, but many times. Icilius. Not once, not twice, not thrice, but many times. Virg. What might lies in the warmth of kisses given! Like wine they strengthen, quicken, stimulate, Like flame they warm, like moonlight satisfy. Like stars uplift above the common world. Dear Love, I am a weak and fearful child And need my wine, my flame, my moon and stars, To fit me for the years that lie ahead. Icilius. Thou lookest pale, in need of stimulant—      [Kisses her. Once more, sweetheart! Nay, wouldst thou draw away? Virg. Not so. Mine ears deceived me, hearing sounds Of stealthy listeners. Icilius. Virginia, Rest here upon this bed of roses. They Are "red with anguish for Adonis' death," That mortal love of Venus. Dear, recline, And let thy tresses, darker than the night, In the breeze fluttering, caress my cheek, Breathing thy love for me. Virg. Icilius, 'Twas only yestereve I wandered here. The sun was casting forth his fading beams In final efforts most supreme; my thoughts[23] Were full of peace and thee. And in the light Shed by the homing sun—the purple, red, And gold—I dreamed fair dreams, imagined visions. Methought I saw the coming years of bliss, Deepened with sorrow, lined with simple care; The sorrow of a mortal, and the care Of wife and mother. Then, at once, arose Longings that I might always worthy be, As was Eurydice of Orpheus. Never to falter, howsoe'er I feared, Turn not, stay not, fail not; a woman in My services and steadfast faith, as well As my most passionate love. My thoughts are grave; Perchance they do accord not with thy mood? Icilius. Not so, thou spirit of sweet harmony, My life and soul, my one bright guiding star. Thy lover is a rude and careless man, A Roman tribune, weighted with affairs, Stern to my fellows, tender but to thee. Yet when I look on thy beloved 

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