And part me, with its dark remembrances,
For ever from the sunshine!—O'er my soul
Bright shadowings of a nobler destiny
Float in dim beauty through the gloom; but here,
On earth, my hopes are closed.
Pro. Thy hopes are closed
And what were they to mine?—Thou wilt not fly!
Why, let all traitors flock to thee, and learn
How proudly guilt can talk!—Let fathers rear
Their offspring henceforth, as the free wild birds
Foster their young; when these can mount alone,
Dissolving nature's bonds—why should it not
Be so with us?
Rai. Oh, Father!—Now I feel
What high prerogatives belong to death.
He hath a deep, tho' voiceless eloquence,
To which I leave my cause. "His solemn veil
"Doth with mysterious beauty clothe our virtues,
"And in its vast, oblivious folds, for ever
"Give shelter to our faults."—When I am gone,
The mists of passion which have dimm'd my name
Will melt like day-dreams; and my memory then
Will be—not what it should have been—for I
Must pass without my fame—but yet, unstain'd
As a clear morning dew-drop. Oh! the grave
Hath rights inviolate as a sanctuary's,
And they should be my own!
Pro. Now, by just heaven,
I will not thus be tortured!—Were my heart
