No More Learning

I heard it not.

Pol. Thou heardst it not! --Baldazaar, speak no more
To me, Politian, of thy camps and courts.
Oh! I am sick, sick, sick, even unto death,
Of the hollow and high-sounding vanities
Of the populous Earth! Bear with me yet awhile!
We have been boys together--schoolfellows--
And now are friends--yet shall not be so long--
For in the eternal city thou shalt do me
A kind and gentle office, and a Power--
A Power august, benignant and supreme--
Shall then absolve thee of all further duties
Unto thy friend.

Bal. Thou speakest a fearful riddle
I will not understand.

Pol. Yet now as Fate
Approaches, and the Hours are breathing low,
The sands of Time are changed to golden grains,
And dazzle me, Baldazzar. Alas! alas!
I cannot die, having within my heart
So keen a relish for the beautiful
As hath been kindled within it.
Methinks the air
Is balmier now than it was wont to be--
Rich melodies are floating in the winds--
A rarer loveliness bedecks the earth--
And with a holier lustre the quiet moon
Sitteth in Heaven. --Hist! hist! thou canst not say
Thou hearest not now, Baldazzar?

Bal. Indeed I hear not.

Pol. Not hear it! --listen now! --listen! --the faintest sound
And yet the sweetest that ear ever heard!
A lady's voice! --and sorrow in the tone!
Baldazzar, it oppresses me like a spell!
Again! --again!