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Bas. I will perform it.

Vict. Farewell, my lord. [ with her Ladies.

Bas, alone. "Farewell, my lord," O! what delightful sweetness The musick of that voice dwells on the ear! "Farewell, my lord!"—Ay, and then look'd she so— The slightest glance of her bewitching eye, Those dark blue eyes, command the inmost soul. Well, there is yet one day of life before me, And whatsoe'er betides I will enjoy it. Tho' but a partial sunshine in my lot I will converse with her, gaze on her still, If all behind were pain and misery. Pain! were it not the easing of all pain, E'en in the dismal gloom of after years, Such dear rememb'rance on the mind to wear? Like silv'ry moon-beams on the 'nighted deep, When heav'n's blest sun is gone! Kind mercy! how my heart within me beat When she so sweetly pled the cause of love! Can she have lov'd? why shrink I at the thought? Why should she not? no, no, it cannot be— No man on earth is-worthy of her love. Ah! if she could, how blest a man were he! Where rove my giddy thoughts? it must not be. Yet might she well some gentle kindness bear; Think of him oft, his absent fate enquire, And, should he fall in battle, mourn his fall.