10
the outlaw.
But my sad tears; yet, with a woman's constancy,
I love the cruel heart that thus
Could bid me linger far, far from each fond tie.
My father, where art thou? Who now will cheer
Thy sinking heart, when wintry age creeps on?
With tender care watch thy slow faltering steps,—
And when that hour of mortal pain draws nigh—
As with deep groan the lingering soul springs forth,
On its eternal flight,—who then will close thine aged eyes
And weep above thy dear remains?—[Weeps.
I love the cruel heart that thus
Could bid me linger far, far from each fond tie.
My father, where art thou? Who now will cheer
Thy sinking heart, when wintry age creeps on?
With tender care watch thy slow faltering steps,—
And when that hour of mortal pain draws nigh—
As with deep groan the lingering soul springs forth,
On its eternal flight,—who then will close thine aged eyes
And weep above thy dear remains?—[Weeps.
Enter Amelia.
Ame. Dear lady, weep not so;
There may be happy hours in store for thee;
E'en now thy page from Dresden hath returned,
With messages and pacquet from thy friends.
Shall I admit him?
L. Isabel. Do so, Amelia. [Exit Amelia.
Alas, my heart speaks not of hope,
There may be happy hours in store for thee;
E'en now thy page from Dresden hath returned,
With messages and pacquet from thy friends.
Shall I admit him?
L. Isabel. Do so, Amelia. [Exit Amelia.
Alas, my heart speaks not of hope,
