68 THE TEMPLARS DE CYPRUS. [ACT It. A Templc-brothcr, nn Adept ! Thy fate Tho Ancient Brethren know : and many know Thee personally, only never think To find thee in this working garb. Disclose Thyself unto the brethren—Philip's ban, In Cyprus, cannot hurt a hair of thine. PHILIP. Ha, that I mock at !—Yet I cannot be, And may not be, a Templar-Knight. MOLAY. 0, let The ambrosial blossoms of our youth once more Breathe round thee ! When ns yet we scarce were men, Thou wert my brother. Bo so once ngain In holy sense ! I journey forth—To whom Leave I my new creation ?—Can ho act, Tho veteran Grand-Commander ? Let him bear The name—but do thou carry on tho work !— And if it be God's will that I must fall, To His most holy cause a sacrifice, And for His Promised Land,—0 then do thou Complete what I began ! PHILIP. My friend, my brother ! Tho kernel of my life !—Thou only tie That to this disenchanted earth still binds My worn-out heart ! For thy sake, once again I might consent to plunge me in the whirl Of this wave-tossed, upheaving, turbid vortex Which falsely men call Life. But, vain the thought ! A solemn vow-debars me. MOLAT. Ay ! a vow ?— Astonishing ! PHILIP. Yes, friend ! without reserve