Britain ... - Blue-Lite

Scene III.] THE ENGLISH SLAVE. 83
Atone the wrongs I've done. O, could I live
To tell thee of my noble birth, how I,
Wouldst thou be mine But no, I am cut off,
Ay, in my dawn of glory ; I must sink
To an untrophied grave,
Of me hereafter.
Forget thy noble goodness ;
no voice shall speak
ELFILIA.
Albert, I will ne'er
and my hand,
Should I survive the terrors of this night,
Shall strew thy grave with flowers.
ALBERT.
Ah, let me press
On that kind hand one last, one dying kiss ;
And in thy happy hours, oh ! sometimes think
On him who loved thee more Farewell, Elfilia. [Dies.
ELFILIA.
Alas ! he died for me. Can I refuse
These tears of tender pity ?
[Music in the camp, Elfilia starts.
(shrieks} that horn
Ha !
Proclaims the approaching sacrifice to Odin.
Oh, Edgar, thou wilt be led forth and slain,
Ere I can save thee from their gory knives. [Rushes off.
SCENE III. The Hall in Lydford Castle.
Enter Gondabert.
GONDABERT.
I thought my heart had reached the haven of peace.
There is no peace to the foul murderer's conscience.
Will nothing calm the stormy passions here ?