Page:Miscellaneous Plays 1.pdf/453

Rh

He who so noble and so gentle was— Well skill'd art thou to paint the deeds of men— Thou wilt not suffer him to be forgotten? What means that woeful motion of thy head? Mine eyes wax dim, or do I truly see thee? Thy visage has a strange and ghastly look: How is it with thee?

As one who standeth at the city's gate, Thro' which his earlier friends have past, and waits Impatiently, girt in his traveller's robe, To hear the welcome creaking of its bars.

Ah! art thou wounded then? Alas! alas! Art thou too of our company? sad trav'llers Unto a world unknown.

Nay, say not sad, tho' to a world unknown. The foster'd nursling, at th' appointed season, Who leaves his narrow crib and cottage-home For the fair mansion of his lordly sire, Goes to a world unknown.

Ay, thou would'st cheer me, and I will be cheer'd. There reigns above who casts his dark shade o'er us, Mantling us on our way to glorious light. I have offended, and I should be fearful,