University of Virginia Library

SCENE IV.

The next day.—Morning.—The garden.

Mr. Melmoth.

Edmund.

Mr. M.
Oh, Edmund! I have hoped till hope was madness!

Edm.
It is not madness. You despair too soon,
Dear sir! That man is not infallible.
How dares he set a term upon her life,
Her precious life! But you'll have more advice.
Others may think of something—“Live till Spring!”
Did he not say that she might live till Spring?
Oh, God!—and I have toil'd five years for this!

Mr. M.
And I, my son! have toil'd thro' this hard world
Sixty-five years. I had a wife, three children,
Three beautiful children! the mother and her babes
(Our first-born two) were gathered to the grave
Within three years:—but I had still one left,
One precious lamb, to cherish in my bosom,
And be to me, wife! daughter! every thing!
I reared it up with fearful tenderness,
With love that never slumber'd, night or day.
It grew and flourished; and I thought at last
The thunder-cloud had spent its deadly bolts:
But just as I began to feel secure
The trial came. God sends to claim my lamb.
And shall I answer—“Lord! the lamb is mine,
I will not part with it.”—Or shall I say,
“Lord! wherefore didst thou give the lamb to me,
If 'tis thy pleasure now to take it back?”
Shall I say thus, my son?

Edm.
My more than father!
My Editha's father! I should comfort you.
And the meek patience of your sacred sorrow
Upbraids my wild, ungovernable grief:
And yet, my father, yet, I think—I hope—
While there is life, there's hope!—

Mr. M.
There is, my son
And ev'ry thing is possible to God—
He may be gracious to the humble hope
That questions not his justice in the issue.
She bore the meeting yesterday much better
Than I had dared to hope.

Edm.
And Martha says,
There was less fev'rish restlessness about her
Last night than there has been for many nights:
And she's so well this morning! and so cheerful!
She sent me for this rose to her own garden.
Oh! that thou wert the rose of eastern fable,
Whose perfumed breath restores the sick to health!

[Exit Edmund.
Mr. M.
(slowly following him)
Youth! sanguine youth!—how many floods of tears
Must fall before thy ardent hopes are quenched!

[Exit.