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What dost thou see? thou look'st on things most dreadful! O look not thus, but say what thou dost see!

I see a frowning chief, the crescent's champion, In bold defiance meet thy valiant lord. The fight is fierce and bloody.

Again thou pausest yet more terribly.— Had thou no utterance for what thou see'st? O God! O God! thou look'st upon his death! (Clasping her hands violently.) Dost thou not speak? wilt thou not answer me? Thou look'st upon his death!

I look on nothing, for thy frantic terrors Have broke the fabric of my air-shap'd vision, And all is blank.

And will it not return to thee again? O fix thine eyes, and to it bend thy soul Intently, if it still may rise before thee, For thou had made me frantic!

The forms again return,—