Indic characters)Born o'er the soul by foolish phantasy:
How oft the night-wind, in its wanton play
Hangs such a cloud i'the path o'lady moon,
Veiling awhile her glorious, majesty.
[Walks up and down.]
How lonely!—and dost thou, O Solitude!
Thus haunt me here? Thou art a blighting curse,
Some fly to thee, for they do fondly dream
Thou hast the gentlest balm o' sympathy,
To heal the aching heart, to still its storm;
Some call the fruitful mother, tranquil nurse
Of thoughts or calm, or deep, or eagle-wing'd:
But to the great thou com'st e'en as the wrath,
The silent wrath of some offended God!
Thou seal'st all tongues for them; and mak'st their glory
—As beacon-fire on danger-circl'd rock
To warn the winged barque—appal away
Life's sweet, sweet social joys;
Methinks the proud and royal lioness
Oft in her loneliest mood doth sadly sigh
For the calm lot o' the I wlier gazelle!
[Shouts heard from different parts of the camp.
What mean these strange, tumultuous shouts?
[Shouts.]
Great God—
They bode no good! O, hush thou fluttering heart!
[Exit
Scene IV.
A distant part of the same.
Officer, Trumpeter.
<poem>Tramp. The whole camp is doter, most
Valiant Sirdar!—
Office. Aye—'tis the appointed hour.
summon the soldiers [Trumpet sounds.
There sounds the most o' the stately, royal stag!
Enter Soldiers.
My valiant men, it is the soldiers creed
To yield obedience unto the Powers that be
Unquestioning; a solemn sacrament,
Doth bind us to it; and 'twere foul dishonour
(Than which grim Death, in grimmest tenors clad,
Is far more welcome to the warrior soul)
