Page:The Mysterious Mother - Walpole (1781).djvu/39
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A TRAGEDY.
31
The troubled sky, and chase the darken'd sun.
Heav'n vindicates its altars: tongues licentious
Have scoff'd our holy rites, and hidden sins
Have forc'd th' offended elements to borrow
Tremendous organs! Sixteen fatal years
Has Narbonne's province groan'd beneath the hand
Of desolation—for what crimes we know not!
To edge suspended vengeance art thou come?
Heav'n vindicates its altars: tongues licentious
Have scoff'd our holy rites, and hidden sins
Have forc'd th' offended elements to borrow
Tremendous organs! Sixteen fatal years
Has Narbonne's province groan'd beneath the hand
Of desolation—for what crimes we know not!
To edge suspended vengeance art thou come?
EDMUND, preventing Florian.
My friend, reply not—Father, I lament
This casual jarring—let us crave your pardon.
I feel your country's woes: I lov'd count Edmund:
Revere his father's ashes. I will visit
The ruin'd monument—and at your leisure
Could wish some conf'rence with you.
My friend, reply not—Father, I lament
This casual jarring—let us crave your pardon.
I feel your country's woes: I lov'd count Edmund:
Revere his father's ashes. I will visit
The ruin'd monument—and at your leisure
Could wish some conf'rence with you.
MARTIN.
(This is well: [Aside.
I almost had forgotten)—Be it so.
Where is your haunt?
(This is well: [Aside.
I almost had forgotten)—Be it so.
Where is your haunt?
EDMUND.
A mile without the town:
Hard by St. Bridget's nunnery.
A mile without the town:
Hard by St. Bridget's nunnery.
MARTIN.
There expect me.
Aside.] (I must to Benedict)—Heav'n's peace be with you.
[Exeunt.
There expect me.
Aside.] (I must to Benedict)—Heav'n's peace be with you.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
COUNTESS, PORTER.
PORTER.
Return, my gracious lady. Tho' the storm
Return, my gracious lady. Tho' the storm
Abates