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To thee I lift my voice; to thee address
Enter Lord RANDOLPH.
Lady R. Silent, alas! is he for whom I mourn: Childless, without memorial of his name, He only now in my remembrance lives. “ This fatal day stirs my time-settled sorrow, “ Troubles afresh the fountain of my heart. “ Lord R. When was it pure of sadness! These
black weeds “ Express the wonted colour of thy mind, “For ever dark and dismal.
Seven long years “Are pass’d, since we were join'd by sacred ties : « Clouds all the while have hung upon thy brow, “ Nor broke, nor parted by one gleam of joy." Time, that wears out the trace of deepest anguish, “ As the sea smoothes the prints made in the sand," Has pass’d o'er thee in vain.
Lady R. If time to come “Should prove as ineffectual, yet, my lord, “ Thou cans't not blame me. When our Scottish
youth “ Vy'd with each other for my luckless love, “Oft I besought them, I implor'd them all " Not to assail me with my father's aid, “Nor blend their better destiny with mine. “For melancholy had congeald my blood, “ And froze affection in my chilly breast. “At last my Sire, rous'd with the base attempt “ To force me from him, which thou rend'red'st vain, “To his own daughter bow'd his hoary head,
Besought me to commiserate his age, “ And vow'd he should not, could not die in peace, “ Unless he saw me wedded, and secur'd “ From violence and outrage. Then, my lord ! “In my extreme distress I callid on thee, “ Thee I bespake, profess'd my strong desire “ To lead a single, solitary life, “And begg'd thy Nobleness, not to demand “ Her for a wife whose heart was dead to love. “ How thou persisted’st after this, thou knowost, « And must confess that I am not unjust, “ Nor more to thee than to myself injurious.
“ Lord R. That I confess; yet ever must regret “ The grief I cannot cure.” Would thou wert not Compos’d of grief and tenderness alone, “ But had’st a spark of other passions in thee, " Pride, anger, vanity, the strong desire