Page:Three Plays Sunderland Hills.pdf/65

Rh That blaz'd one moment sky-ward, and the next, Made with its dying all the wood more dim. Well, I have told my message, so farewell.

( moves in his sleep, sighs and wakes.)

It was a dream, a dream foreboding, what? These last few days I've had a brooding sense A strange, confus'd, distracted memory, Of obscure ominous presages half-forgot, Like warning of too-late remember'd dream, Equivocal menace of a half-caught word Of threatening danger vizarded and veil'd, Whisper'd by muffled dancers at a masque.

Ah, yet Sylvester, it is not too late, To take the warning, only pray and weep, 'Ere the long-boded meaning break on you