Edwin and Angelina ; or the Banditti An opera, in three acts |
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| 2. | SCENE II. |
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 | Edwin and Angelina ; or the Banditti |  |
SCENE II.
Ethelbert enters from the opposite side.Ethelbert.
What have I not encounter'd? Famine; flood;
The tyger's haunts; and fierce and dangerous battle.
—True, I escap'd; I live; but vainly live:
Alas! Heaven smiles not on my enterprize.
—And can it be? am I the same? unchang'd?
And is it Ethelbert that danger braves?
Why toil has been my hate; my very jest
Was constancy; and love, my fixt contempt.
—O Angelina! peerless maid! a world
Of unknown beauty, hast thou op'd unto me.
Transporting sight! were not the glorious scene,
By recollection of foul crimes, obscur'd.
—O Sifrid! Emma! not of pangs like mine,
Tho' ye are wretched both, by me made wretched,
Not of such pangs, such anguish, are ye slaves.
Yours is the grief which from oppression springs,
And even 'mid all your woes doth innocence,
With its sweet peace, your sorrowing souls support.
But I—a very wretch—(whose tongue hath dar'd
At all of sacred use to scoff; whose hand,
Still hath atchiev'd whate'er wild passion prompted;)
The sport of agony,—know no relief.
—Thou Angelina! it is thou, whose voice
Hath lur'd me back, to virtue, from perdition.
Thou fliest:—in vain I seek thee;—and in vain
The woods I penetrate. Day and the night
Slow pass, and on my faint and weary way,
Sorrowing I see returning morning break.
The tyger's haunts; and fierce and dangerous battle.
—True, I escap'd; I live; but vainly live:
Alas! Heaven smiles not on my enterprize.
—And can it be? am I the same? unchang'd?
And is it Ethelbert that danger braves?
Why toil has been my hate; my very jest
Was constancy; and love, my fixt contempt.
—O Angelina! peerless maid! a world
Of unknown beauty, hast thou op'd unto me.
Transporting sight! were not the glorious scene,
By recollection of foul crimes, obscur'd.
—O Sifrid! Emma! not of pangs like mine,
Tho' ye are wretched both, by me made wretched,
Not of such pangs, such anguish, are ye slaves.
Yours is the grief which from oppression springs,
And even 'mid all your woes doth innocence,
With its sweet peace, your sorrowing souls support.
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At all of sacred use to scoff; whose hand,
Still hath atchiev'd whate'er wild passion prompted;)
The sport of agony,—know no relief.
—Thou Angelina! it is thou, whose voice
Hath lur'd me back, to virtue, from perdition.
Thou fliest:—in vain I seek thee;—and in vain
The woods I penetrate. Day and the night
Slow pass, and on my faint and weary way,
Sorrowing I see returning morning break.
The lover, journeying to his fair,
Beholds, with joy, the day appear,
To light him on his short'ning way;
But ah! if far from her he roam,
Unwisht, he sees the morning come;
For distance grows with every day.
[He goes out.
Beholds, with joy, the day appear,
To light him on his short'ning way;
But ah! if far from her he roam,
Unwisht, he sees the morning come;
For distance grows with every day.
| Edwin and Angelina ; or the Banditti | |