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SCENE VI.
Sifroy, Beaufort Senior, Beaufort Junior.Beaufort Junior.
Thy soul's sweet peace!—Never, no never more
To be regain'd!—Shame, anguish, and despair
Shall haunt thy future hours! Severe Remorse
Shall strike his vulture talons thro' thy heart,
And rend thy vital threads.
Beaufort Senior.
What means my son?
Sifroy.
My brother!—if I may conjure thee yet
By that dear name—
Beaufort Junior.
Thou may'st not—I disclaim it!
Sifroy.
Why dost thou thus alarm my shuddering soul
With rising terrors?
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My dear son, relieve
Thy father from this dread suspence!
Beaufort Junior.
O sir! how shall I speak! or in what words
Unfold the horrors of this night?—My sister—
Lost to her wretched self—thro' dreary wilds
Wanders distracted—void of Reason's light
To guide her devious steps.
Beaufort Senior.
Support me, Heaven!
Then every hope is fled!—Thy will be done!—
Where is my child? Where was she found?
Beaufort Junior.
Alas!
Of soul too delicate, too soft to bear
Unjust reproach, and undeserved shame,
Distraction seiz'd her in the gloom of night,
As passing thro' the wood she sought the arms
Of a protecting father.
Sifroy.
Do I live?
Is such a wretch permitted still to breathe?
Why opens not this earth? why sleeps above
The lightening's vengeful blast? Is Heaven unjust?
Or am I still reserv'd for deeper woe?
I hope not mercy—that were impious—
Pour then on my bare head, ye ministers
Of wrath! your hottest vengeance—
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Stop—forbear—
Nor imprecate that vengeance which unseen,
Already hangs o'er thy devoted life.
O wretch! thou know'st not yet how curst thou art.
Thy child, thy lovely child, a bloody corse,
Lies breathless by its frantic mother's side—
Murder'd, as it should seem, by her own hand,
When Reason in her brain had lost dominion.
Sifroy.
O my torn heart!—Is there in Heaven no pity?
But Fate's last bolt is thrown, and I am curst
Beyond all power to aggravate my woe!
O I am scorn'd, abandon'd, and cast out
By Heaven and Earth!—I must not call thee father—
I have undone thee, robb'd thee of that name.
Beaufort Senior.
Forbear, my son, to aggravate thy woes,
Already too severe. Kind Providence
May yet restore, and harmonize her mind.
Sifroy.
May Heaven pour blessings on thy reverend head
For that sweet hope! But say, where shall I see her?—
How bear the dreadful sight!
Beaufort Junior.
Dreadful indeed!
On the cold earth they found her laid: her head,
Supported on her arm, hung o'er her child,
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Sometimes she speaks fond words, and seems to smile
On the dead babe as 'twere alive.—Now like
The melancholy bird of night, she pours
A soft and melting strain, as if to soothe
Its slumbers:—and now clasps it to her breast,
Cries Glanville is not here—fear not, my love,
He shall not come—then wildly throws her eyes
Around, and in the tenderest accent calls
Aloud on thee, to save her from dishonour!
Sifroy.
Haste, let us haste—distracted thus she grows
Still dearer, still more precious to my soul!
O let me soothe her sorrows into peace.
Beaufort Senior.
Stay—calls she frequently on Glanville's name?
Beaufort Junior.
So they report who found her.
Beaufort Senior.
Left they her
Alone?
Beaufort Junior.
No: but all arts to court her thence were vain.
Beaufort Senior.
Thither with speed this moment let us fly.
Let Glanville too attend. From the wild words
Of madness and delirium, he who struck
From darkness light—may call Discovery forth,
To guide our footsteps.
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Just is your resolve,
And I will follow you—but have receiv'd
Intelligence of somewhat that imports us,
Which I must first attend.
Beaufort Senior.
To gain us light,
Be no means left untry'd.
[Exit Beaufort Junior.
Sifroy.
But haste, we linger.
Yet whither can I fly? Where seek for peace?
O in its tenderest vein my heart is wounded!
Had I been smote in any other part,
I could have born with firmness; but in Thee,
My wrong'd, my ruin'd love, I bleed to death.
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