Britain ... - Blue-Lite

60 THE ENGLISH SLAVE. [Act IV.
s5 Well quaff the wine-cup mingled with our blood, ( )
And swear eternal friendship. Hark ! I hear
The distant signals of a coming storm.
Thou wilt not heed the huffing of the blast?
ALBERT.
I heed it ? Why on yon bleak, barren moor
I've met the tempest in its fiercest wrath,
[Thunder remote.
When awful spirits and unholy forms,
That walk at night the desert, from their wings
while the thunder
Shook the pale lightning round me ;
Made tor and mountain quake, till sunk its voice
In the far-sounding cataract's solemn roar,
Whose grandeur fills the wild :
yet have I 36
laughed ( )
These mountain flaws to scorn, breasting their rage
Unflinchingly.
ROGVALLA.
Come, then, and let us on.
ALBERT.
Now shall I, Gondabert, have full revenge
For thy contempt and black ingratitude,
That deemed my life more worthless than thy dog's.
A sword ere long my arm will grace, and I
Shall onward rush to glory o'er thy neck.
\Eoceunt.
SCENE II. A Forest. The stage quite dark. A
Tempest, with thunder and lightning.
Enter two Robbers, dragging in Elfilia in a swoon.
I'll carry her no further.
FIRST ROBBER.
SECOND ROBBER.
I do not half like this bloody business and such a