Felix monologue — Polyeucte

Why lags that hand? A willing victim I, I choose to suffer for my perfidy; My doubts, my fears unworthy, all I own, I have offended--let my death atone. Take thou my honours, their poor lustre thine, I kneel before another, nobler shrine. The Power that moved me, groping through the night Of wrong and darkness, wafts me to The Light! I slew thee, Polyeucte, but thy pardoning hand Shall guide thy murderer to the better land! He prays for me, and by his sacrifice, New-born upon his ashes I arise. (To Pauline.) Raised by his death from out the grave of sin, Thou tread'st the path thy father shall begin; By me his martyr-crown, as all my bliss By him. His Christ is mine, and I am his; O, blessed Christian vengeance! All my loss Is turned to gain by the redeeming Cross! Now, Pauline, am I thine, a Christian I, That Death gives life by which alike we die! (To Severus.) Then slay us both! Behold a willing prey!