Britain ... - Blue-Lite

64 THE ENGLISH SLAVE. [Act IV.
From off thy feet, do any service for thee,
And lose the name of man.
RODERICK.
I've other work
For thee to do. Hence with them to our cave.
A curse ay,
ALBERT.
and a thousand on thee fall !
I'll plant a dagger in thy throat for this. [Exeunt.
SCENE III. -Another part of the Forest. Storm
continues.
Enter Elfilia.
ELFILIA.
Have pity on me, all ye saints of light,
In this appalling hour. Assuage your wrath,
Ye storms, that beat on my devoted head,
And pass in pity on. Yet what are all
The terrors of the angry elements
Compared with those of cruel men, who seek
To shed my guiltless blood ? Did ever heart
Feel anguish like to mine ? Where can I flee
For hope or refuge ? Heaven, enwrapped in fire,
and through the storm I hear
Threatens above ;
The dismal howlings of the hungry wolf,
And wild halloo of ruffians armed to
slay me !
O, Edgar, dearest Edgar, didst thou know
What now is my sad doom ! All gracious heavens !
I hear the murderer's footstep rushing on.
Where can I hide me from his blood-hound search ?
[As Elfilia attempts to go off, enter one of the Robbers;
she flies
to the
opposite
side and meets
another, both having their daggers drawn.