Page:The Mysterious Mother - Walpole (1781).djvu/54

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THE MYSTERIOUS MOTHER.
Nor was it artifice and pious fraud,
When but this morning I announc'd thy Edmund
Was number'd with the dead—

COUNTESS.
Nor dally with a mother's apprePriest, mock me not!
Nor dally with a mother's apprehension.
Lives, or lives not my son?

BENEDICT.
On Buda's plain thy slaugWoman, heav'n mocks thee!
On Buda's plain thy slaughter'd Edmund lies.
An unbeliever's weapon cleft his heart;
But 'twas thy unbelief that pois'd the shaft,
And sped its aim.

COUNTESS.
Oh! may its joysTo heav'n's high will I bow me.
Oh! may its joys be open to his soul,
Tho' clos'd to mine for ever!

BENEDICT.
Lov'd him!—oh! nature, bleThen you lov'd him!

COUNTESS.
Lov'd him!—oh! nature, bleeding at my heart,
Hearest thou this? Lov'd him!—ha! whither!—rage,
Be dumb—Now, listen, monk, nor dare reply
Beyond my purpose. In the grave, thou say'st,
My Edmund sleeps—how didst thou learn his fate?

BENEDICT.
No angel whisper'd it; no dæmon spoke it.
Thou, by the self-same means I learn'd, may'st learn it.

COUNTESS.
Be brief.

BENEDICT.
To a poorThen—but what boots his life or death
To a poor taunted friar—Benedict,

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