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Unto a Mercian chief by lot consign'd: Mine aged grandsire, lowly at his feet, Rent his grey hair: Ethwald, a youthful warriour, Receiv'd the old man's pray'r and set him free; Yea even to the last heifer of his herds Restor'd his wealth. For this good deed, do not insult the fallen! He was not ruthless once. Qu. If thou of good king Oswal, thine old master, Aught of rememb'rance hast,——

Her. I do remember; And deeply grieve to think a child of his Has so belied her mild and gentle stock. Nothing hast thou to fear; in some safe place, In holy privacy, may'st thou repent The evil thou hast done; for know, proud dame, Thou art beneath our vengeance, But as for thine advisers, that dark villain, The artful Alwy, and that impious man, Who does dishonour to his sacred garb, Their crimes have earn'd for them a bitter meed, And they shall have it.