 | Alfred |  |
SCENE VI.
Alfred, Corin, advancing.Corin.
They are but three.
Alfred.
And were that number trebled,
This island is their grave; this sacred spot,
34
Preserve it, all-inviolate and holy,
From impious infidels: or, with our blood,
If now we perish, sanctify it's earth
For after-times to visit and revere.
Corin.
Lift, lift, my lord—
Alfred.
What noise was that?—By heaven,
The shrieks of women! Now, stern vengeance guide
The sword we draw.
| Alfred | |