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SCENE V.
To them, Dunelm.Dunelm.
Beauteous Captive,
A Messenger from Gothmund—
Thyra.
Oh, my Fears!
Dunelm.
He wills, that all depart,
Save only Thee: for he hath much to say,
Meet for thy private Ear.
Thyra.
Alas, Edwina!
What shall I do! Oh leave me not, Edwina!
Undone, undone!
Dunelm.
Nay, weep not, beauteous Captive.
Let all depart; else ye provoke his Rage.
[Ex. Dun. Ed.
24
Now which Way shall I turn me! Whither fly
To shun these gathering Horrors!—Wou'd I had fallen
Beneath the Battle's Fury! That the Spear
Had pierc'd my Heart! Or that some flaming Tow'r
Had been my funeral Pile!—Why was I spar'd,
To sink in deeper Woes!—Oh, pitying Heav'n,
If e'er thy Care regarded Innocence,
Restore me to my Lord!
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