I can--whilst facing thee--but weep--and cry----
(Enter Maria and Thomasius both fully conscious, so that they can hear and understand all that goes on, and speak about it.)
Maria, terror reigns on every side, It closeth in and presseth on my soul; Whence shall come inward strength to conquer it?
My holy, earnest vow doth ray out power: And thou canst bear this pressure on thy soul If thou wilt feel the healing power it gives.
'Tis Benedictus who hath sent them here; He guided them that they might recognize And know me, when they feel me in my realm.
(He speaks the rest so that Thomasius and Maria can hear.)
Thomasius, the Guardian did direct Thy footsteps first of all toward my realm Since they will lead thee to the very light Thou seekest in the depths of thine own self. Here I can give thee truth although with pain, As I have suffered many thousand years, For though the truth can penetrate to me, It must first separate itself from joy Before it dares to venture though my porch.
So must I joylessly behold the soul Whom I so ardently desire to see?
A wish doth only lead to happiness When warmth of soul can cherish it; but here All wishes freeze, and needs must live in cold.
E'en in the ever empty fields of ice I may go with my friend, where he will be Encircled by the light which spirits bring When darkness wounds and maims the powers of life. Thomasius, feel now thy soul's full strength.
(The Guardian appears upon the Threshold.)
The Guardian himself must bring the light That thou dost now so ardently desire.
The soul that on my threshold clothed itself In that same veil which many years ago It wore on earth, hath kindled in the depths Of thine own soul in solemn hours of life The strongest love which was concealed in thee. While thou wert standing yet outside this realm And first didst beg from me an entrance here, It stood before thee in a pictured form, And, being thus conceived by inward wish, Can only show delusion's vain conceits. But now thou shalt in very truth behold The soul that in a life of long ago Was dwelling in that old man whom thou saw'st.
I see him now again in his long cloak, That worthy ancient with his earnest brow; O soul, who dwelt within this covering Why dost thou hide thyself so long from me? It must--it can--but Theodora be. Ah, see--now from the covered picture, comes Reality: 'tis Theo ... 'tis myself----