Britain ... - Blue-Lite

Scene II.] THE VARANGIAN. 401
The bitter loss thou in Northumberland,
That kind and worthy husband, hast sustained.
Would he were living
for thy sake I wish it
To dry those tears which unavailingly
Thou o'er his grave wilt weep !
Can never weep.
Is lavished all on thee ;
JUDITH.
I o'er his grave
Too well thou know'st my love
and could these eyes
Shed tears, they would be tears of joy that I
On thee can gaze with transport,
free from guilt.
OSMOND.
Guilt ! lady ? Why what guilt
can we have known ?
My friendship for still thy beauty hath been
Like the pure love of youthful Troubadour,
Across the sunlight of whose angel-dreams
Comes no unholy shadow. 5o
( )
JUDITH.
Death and hell !
Is this not mockery ? Ay, thou scoffing lord,
I see it in the glances of thine
eye,
And on that misproud lip.
But have a care
How thou dost wake the whirlwind of my rage.
I cannot brook, as softer ladies can,
The insults of thy sex, no, nor endure,
Where I have loved to such a mad excess,
To find my fondness cast, all cast away,
Like seed upon a barren wind-swept rock,
And reap no kind return. And canst thou think
To break thine oaths, thy vows of constancy,
That drew me on to hope for happier days
Of freedom from my bondage ? And when now
Those days are come, wilt thou not ask the King,
2D