Page:Miscellaneous Plays 1.pdf/346

326

O, most mysterious and wonderful! Nothing is hid from thee: thou see'st afar The distant death's day of the swathed babe, Falling in hoary age, and the life's morn Of those who are not.—Here then all confess'd, A wretched empress and a trembling wife, I stand before thee. O let thy keen eye Thro' the dark mist that limits nature's sight, Follow that phantom o'er whose head doth soar Th' imperial bird! for, be it good or ill, His fate is mine, and in his fate alone I seek to know it.

And hast thou strength to bear it? art thou firm? For that which smites mine eye must smite thine ear.

Thou reck'nest then to look on dreadful things?

I may or may not; but with mind not brac'd In its full strength, seek not thy fate to know.

I can bear all things but the dread uncertainty Of what I am to bear.