Rousing the fiery feelings, and proud thoughts,
In all their fearful strength!—'Tis ever thus,
And doubly so with me; for I awoke
With high aspirings, making it a curse
To breathe where noble minds are bow'd, as here.
—To breathe!—it is not breath!
Con.I know thy grief,
— And is't not mine?—for those devoted men
Doom'd with their life to expiate some wild word,
Born of the social hour. Oh! I have knelt,
E'en at my brother's feet, with fruitless tears,
Imploring him to spare. His heart is shut
Against my voice; yet will I not forsake
The cause of mercy.
Rai.Waste not thou thy prayers,
Oh, gentle love, for them. There's little need
For Pity, tho' the galling chain be worn
By some few slaves the less. Let them depart!
There is a world beyond th' oppressor's reach,
And thither lies their way.
Con.Alas! I see
That some new wrong hath pierced you to the soul.
Rai. Pardon, beloved Constance, if my words,
From feelings hourly stung, have caught, perchance,
A tone of bitterness.—Oh! when thine eyes,
With their sweet eloquent thoughtfulness, are fix'd
Thus tenderly on mine, I should forget
All else in their soft beams; and yet I came
To tell thee—
