Page:The Family Legend.pdf/137

Too much the woeful widower's alter'd looks
Upon thy face I see.

LOCHTARISH, (to Argyll.)

You see, my lord, his eyes with too much weeping

Are weak, and shun the light. Nor should we marvel:
What must to him the sudden loss have been,
When even to us, who were more distantly
Connected with her rare and matchless virtue,
It brought such keen affliction?

ARGYLL.

Yes, good Lochtarish, I did give her to ye—

To your right worthy chief, a noble creature,
With every kindly virtue—every grace
That might become a noble chieftain's wife:
And that ye have so well esteem'd—so well
Regarded, cherish'd, and respected her,
As your excessive sorrow now declares,
Receive from me a grateful father's thanks.
Lochtarish, most of all to thy good love
I am beholden.

LOCHTARISH.

Ah! small was the merit

Such goodness to respect.