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Come, friends, till I am summon'd to my trial: I shun not now thy friendly aid, good Carlos; My heart is lighten'd of its heavy load, And I can take a good man by the hand, And feel we are akin.

To all that is most great and admirable Thou art akin. I have no words to speak The thoughts I have of thee, thou noble man!

And thou, too, gentle youth; give me thy hand. Thy noble confidence did point to me The true and honour'd path. For, hadst thou fled, I might have shrunk aside, and been on earth A sullen secret thing of wretchedness, Cursing the light of heaven. Gentle youth, I've felt the kindly pressure of thy hand, And all thy gen'rous sympathy: forgive me. That I did hold thy mind so long in doubt.

O nothing did I doubt that thou did'st know My innocence, and would protect it; yet, This noble, terrible act I ne'er divined. Would I had fled my prison at thy bidding,