Paul monologue — Polyeucte

Last night I saw Severus: but his eye With anger blazed; his port was proud and high, No suppliant he--no feeble, formless shade, With dim, averted eye; no sword had made My hero lifeless ghost. Nor wound, nor scar Marked death his only conqueror in war. Nor spoil of death, nor memory's child was he, His mien triumphant, full of majesty! So might victorious Caesar near his home To claim the key to every heart in Rome! He spoke: in nameless awe I heard his voice,-- 'Give love, that is my due, to him--thy choice,-- But know, oh faithless one, ere day expires, All vain these tears for him thy heart desires!' Anon a Christian band (an impious horde), With shameful cross in hand, attest his word; They vouch Severus' truth--and, to complete My doom, hurl Polyeucte beneath his feet! I cried, 'O father, timely succour bear!' He heard, he came, my grief was now despair! He drew his dagger--plunged it in the breast Of him, my husband, late his honoured guest! Relief came but from agony supreme-- I shrieked--I writhed--I woke--it was a dream! And yet my dream is true!