Page:A Series of Plays on the Passions Volume 1.pdf/381

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Yon sailing cloud bears on its dusky length! And now transformed by the passing wind, Methinks it seems a flying Pegasus. Ay, but a shapeless band of blacker hue Come swiftly after.— A hollow murm'ring wind comes thro' the trees; I hear it from afar; this bodes a storm. I must not linger here— (A bell heard at some distance.) What bell is this? It sends a solemn sound upon the breeze. Now, to a fearful superstitious mind, In such a scene, 'twould like a death-knell come: For me it tells but of a shelter near, And so I bid it welcome.[

''The inside of a Convent Chapel, of old Gothick architecture, almost dark; two torches only are seen at a distance, burning over a new-made grave. The noise of loud wind, beating upon the windows and roof, is heard. Enter two ''

1st Monk. The storm increases: hark how dismally It howls along the cloisters. How goes time?

2d Monk. It is the hour: I hear them near at hand; And when the solemn requiem has been sung For the departed sister, we'll retire. Yet, should this tempest still more violent grow,