Page:Dramas 1.pdf/74

66

 Speak not the word; I'm weaker than I thought. Is it not near the dawn?

I think 'tis distant still.

Surely it is not. We'll to the eastern turret, and look forth: Should they escape!—My brain burns at the thought. [Exeunt.

 

The dull light through yon bank of misty clouds Hath changed its tanny hue for silver grey; 'T is near, 'tis actually, 't is past the time.

Have patience; for the sun, I guess, is still Behind the eastern hills.

Should they escape!—Some cursed emissary, 