 | Alfred |  |
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SCENE II.
Alfred, Eltruda.Eltruda.
Here will I lean
On this green bank, to wait the wish'd return
Of morning, and my lord.
Alfred.
My gentle love,
Eltruda, why to this untimely sky
Expose thy health? The dews of night fall fast:
The chill breeze sighs aloud.
Eltruda.
I could not rest.
Can Love repose when Apprehension wakes,
And whispers to the heart all fearful things,
That walk with night and solitude? Methought,
In each deaf murmur of the woods, I heard
The dreadful foe—or heard my Alfred groan!
Our tender infants too—their fancy'd cries
Still sound within my ears!
Alfred.
Eltruda, there
I am a woman too: I who should cheer,
And shelter thee from every care. My children!
The thought of what may chance to them compleats
Their father's sum of woes. O what safe shade
Can skreen their opening blossom from the storm
That beats severe on us! Not sweeter buds
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At winter's churlish blast—
Eltruda.
Behold, my Lord—
Good Angels shield us—What a flood of brightness
Waves round our heads!
Alfred.
The Hermit moves this way.
That wondrous man holds converse with the host
Of higher natures. These far-beaming fires
Were doubtless kindled up at his command.
Be silent and attentive.
| Alfred | |