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To wear it now as those to whom it comes By dull and leaden paced inheritance? As the dead shepherd's scrip and knotted crook Go to his milk-fed son? Like those dull images, On whose calm, tamed brows the faint impression Of far preceding heroes faintly rests, As the weak colours of a fading rainbow On a spent cloud? I'd rather in the centre of the earth Inclosed be to dig my upward way To the far distant light, than stay me thus, And, looking round upon my bounded state, Say, this is all. No; lowr it as it may, I'll to the bold aspirings of my mind Still steady prove, whilst that around my standard Harness doth clatter, or a falchion gleam.

Alwy. What boot the bold aspirings of the great, When secret foes beneath his footsteps work Their treach'rous mine?

Ethw. Ay, thou before hast hinted of such foes.

Alwy. Fear for your safety, king, may make me err: But these combined chiefs, it is full plain, Under the mask of zeal for public good, Do court with many wiles your people's hearts; Breathing into their ears the praise of peace, Yea, and of peaceful kings. The thralled Edward, Whose prison-tower stands distant from this castle But scarce a league

''Ethw. (starting.)'' Is it so near us?