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432

Yes, we have heard: they told us as we enter'd. Most noble woman, worthy of thy lord! This day's rough tempest's o'er, my good Rodrigo, And thou still liv'st to strive in other storms: Heaven's high blessing and my dying thanks Rest on thy gen'rous worth!—I would say more, But now I feel I may not. Where art thou, Ella?(Putting Ella's hand in his.) Here do I return The trust thou gavest me; and if the sultan Will yet to me one last request vouchsafe, He will confirm this gift.

It is confirm'd.

I thank you, gracious victor. Othus, the dead go to their silent rest, (To Othus, looking fixedly at him.) And are no more remember'd: but thy lord— He whom thou lovedst—he whom all hearts lov'd—