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Of these—and fold endurance to our hearts, And bravely die!

Blanche.A dark and fearful way! An evil doom for thy dear honour'd head! Oh! thou, the kind, the gracious!—whom all eyes Bless'd as they look'd upon!—Speak yet again— Say, will they part us?

D'Aubigné.No, my Blanche; in death We shall not be divided.

Blanche.Thanks to God! He, by thy glance, will aid me—I shall see His light before me to the last.—And when— Oh! pardon these weak shrinkings of thy child!— When shall the hour befall?

D'Aubigné.Oh! swiftly now, And suddenly, with brief dread interval, Comes down the mortal stroke.—But of that hour As yet I know not.—Each low throbbing pulse Of the quick pendulum may usher in Eternity!