In the exercising ground of the Prison of Holdfast. Vulnar, Fortunatus
and Scrutus are at exercise. The first two have halted and are
engaged in conversation. It is the day before their trial.
_Vulnar._ “This I assume is the _last_ chance I’ll have To speak to
you, Isola. Without doubt The verdict will be Guilty, sentence Death.
My lawyer tells me that the angry wave Of that most fickle Judge,
Public Opinion, Is rabid for our instant execution! We are, in fact,
condemned before being tried; A wave of anger has possessed the land,
Fostered, encouraged by the powers that be. Ah! well, t’will soon be
o’er. I fear not death, To die beside you is enough for me. Vulnar
asks not a better fate, indeed, But to be faithful to the very end—
To Love, to Justice and to mighty Truth, All three the seraphs of a
perfect Life. Forgive me, Isola, for breathing love, But I _have_
loved you faithfully and well. To feel you feel this and forgive
Vulnar, Would make his last days peaceful and content. He could not
help his love, it came on him Long long ago when he was yet a boy; He
loved this love and hugged it very tight, And nurtured it, until it
grew so strong He knew no mortal pow’r could sever it; The sapling
had become, in fact, an oak— An oak impervious to ev’ry storm. Kind
Isola, I know that you forgive And do not blame Vulnar for loving
you.”
_Isola._ “Why do men love me thus? What is the spell Which makes them
love with such unselfish love? Oh! Vulnar, could I blame _you_ for
such love? Rather, I thank you for your brave devotion. Kind Vulnar,
loving friend of Escanior, ’Tis good, indeed, to have so true a
friend; If it to you is joy to have loved me, Believe me, ’tis a joy
to me, Vulnar. I would not sell your love for all the world; I would
not barter it for Life itself. Such love in man is so uncommon, rare,
To own a gem so rare is wealth, indeed. Yes, Death is nigh, that
death men fear so much. Why do they fear it, if their God is good?
Why fear to go to what is loving, kind? If God is as a father, they
should laugh And clap with joy their hands at sight of Death. This
they do not, but fear it fearfully. Why? Because they have made an
untrue heav’n; A cruel hell, a hydra-headed God Whom they call Good
and yet fear to approach, Whom they adore and yet seek to evade!
Small wonder seeing they are human and This God is most inhuman. Oh!
fair Truth Prevail, prevail, come quickly and prevail. Well, Vulnar,
Life is fair and Life is Life— To us who know that Thought can never
die And is the soul of Life, we fear not Death; Because we feel ’tis
but an open door Where Life rejoins the Thought which cannot die, And
starts afresh upon Life’s pilgrimage. I will not say farewell, we’ll
meet again, You and my fair-haired, blue-eyed Escanior; We’ll meet,
our forceful thought attracting us To be together. Yes, to be, to
be.”
_Warder_ (approaching): “Time’s up for exercise. Back to your cells.
Silence. No further speaking is allowed.”
[_All re-enter the prison._