Poly monologue — Polyeucte

I know that dreams are born to fade away, And melt in air before the light of day; I know that misty vapours of the night Dissolve and fly before the morning bright. The dream is naught--but the dear dreamer--all! She has my soul, Nearchus, fast in thrall; Who holds the marriage torch--august, divine, Bids me to her sweet voice my will resign. She fears my death--tho' baseless this her fright, Pauline is wrung with fear--by day--by night; My road to duty hampered by her fears, How can I go when all undried her tears? Her terror I disown--and all alarms, Yet pity holds me in her loving arms: No bolts or bars imprison,--yet her sighs My fetters are--my conquerors, her eyes! Say, kind Nearchus, is the cause you press Such as to make me deaf to her distress? The bonds I slacken I would not unloose Nothing I yield--yet grant a timely truce.