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No sound of peace came to thy dying ear, No look of pity to thy closing eyes! Pitied and pardon'd art thou in this breast, But canst not know it now.—Alas! alas!

Prepare ye speedily to move the body. Mean time, our prisoners within the castle Secure ye well.

Ay, bear me now within your prison walls; Alive indeed, thought ye to bind me? No. Two years within your dungeons have I lived, But lived for vengeance: closed that hope, the earth Close o'er me too!—Alive to bind Benlora! (Falls.)

Ha! have ye slain him?—Fierce and warlike spirit! I'm glad that thou hast had a soldier's death,