Page:Passions 2.pdf/244

And, when a boy, oft on the air-hung bough
I've fearless trode, beneath me roaring far
The deep swoln floods, with ev'ry erring step
Instant destruction. Had I perish'd then——
Would that I had, since it is come to this!
(raising up his hands vehemently to heaven.)

Eth. Be not so vehement: this will endanger
The little chance thou still may'st have for life.
The God we fear is merciful.

Ethw. Ay, he is merciful; but may it reach—
O listen to me!—Oswal I have murder’d,
And Edward, brave and gentle—Ay, this bites
With a fell tooth! I vilely have enthrall'd;
Of all his rights deprived. The loving Bertha;
Too will thou know'st what I have been to her—
Ah I thinkest thou a thousand robed priests
Can pray down mercy on a soul so foul?

Eth. The inward sighs of humble penitence
Rise to the ear of heav'n when pealed hymns
Are scatter'd with the sounds of commmon air:
If I indeed may speak unto a king
Of low humility.

Ethw. Thy words bite keenly, friend. O king me not!
Grant me but longer life, and thou shalt see
What brave amends I'll make for past offences.
Thou thinkest hardly of me; ne'ertheless.
Rough as my warriour's life has been, good thoughts
Have sometimes harbour'd here, (putting his hand on his heart.)
If I had lived,