Britain ... - Blue-Lite

22 THE ENGLISH SLAVE. [Act II.
'Tis darkness on the sun. Thou wouldst adorn
Earth's mightiest throne ! Away, then, all sad thoughts,
For ere to-morrow's eve-clouds dim the west,
Thou shalt be free, and in these arms a bride.
Enter Albert.
ALBERT.
So, my young harper, thou art here again !
Pve marked thy frequent visits to our valley ;
And now I learn thine errand. Hie thee hence,
And leave this maid to me.
EDGAR.
To thee, base slave !
ALBERT.
Hah f how that word falls on me with a curse,
And to my heart-core burns like glowing iron !
I am no slave ! at least I shall not be,
Proud youth, ere long.
I will be free as thou,
Or e'en the haughtiest lord that treads the soil ;
And though desertless now, I'll bravely wrest
From Gondabert my liberty, or fling
This carcass to the eagles of the moor.
ELFILIA.
Nay, Albert, thou to me hast still been kind,
And gentle as a brother. What hath stirred
These stormy feelings in thy bosom thus ?
And why that brow of wrath ?
ALBERT.
My wrongs, my sufferings !
Long have I borne them, and in secret long
Brooded o'er my despair, as on the mountain
The heavy tempest lours, till came thy beauty