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 Ador'd like her before? Yet this is she, The cold of heart, th' ungrateful, who hath left Her husband and her infants! This is she, O my deserted children! who at once Bereaves you of your parents.

Alc. Woe is me! I hear the bitter and reproachful cries Of my despairing lord. With life's last powers, Oh! let me strive to soothe him still. Approach, My handmaids, raise me, and support my steps To the distracted mourner. Bear me hence, That he may hear and see me.

Adm. Is it thou? And do I see thee still? and com'st thou thus To comfort me, Alcestis? Must I hear Thy dying accents thus? Alas! return To thy sad couch, return! 'tis meet for me There by thy side for ever to remain.

Alc. For me thy care is vain. Though meet for thee——

Adm. O voice! O looks of death! are these, are these Thus darkly shrouded with mortality The eyes that were the sunbeams and the life Of my fond soul? Alas! how faint a ray Falls from their faded orbs, so brilliant once, Upon my drooping brow! How heavily With what a weight of death thy languid voice Sinks on my heart! too faithful far, too fond, Alcestis! thou art dying—and for me! Alcestis! and thy feeble hand supports With its last power, supports my sinking head, E'en now, while death is on thee! Oh! the touch Rekindles tenfold frenzy in my heart, I rush, I fly impetuous to the shrine, The image of yon ruthless Deity, Impatient for her prey. Before thy death, There, there, I too, self-sacrificed, will fall. Vain is each obstacle.—In vain the gods Themselves would check my fury—I am lord Of my own days—and thus I swear—

Alc. Yes! swear Admetus! for thy children to sustain The load of life. All other impious vows, Which thou, a rebel to the sovereign will Of those who rule on high, might'st dare to form Within thy breast; thy lip, by them enchained, Would vainly seek to utter.—See'st thou not, It is from them the inspiration flows, Which in my language breathes? They lend me power,