« ZurückWeiter »
L. 7.G. Still wilt thou frame thy Speech to this vain Purpose, When the wan King of Terrors stalks before us, When Universal Ruin gathers round, And no Escape is left us? Are we not, Like Wretches in a Storm, whom ev'ry Moment The greedy Deep is gaping to devour? Around us see the pale desparing Crew, Wring their fad Hands, and give their Labour over ; The Hope of Life has ev'ry Heart forfook, And Horror sits on each distracted Look, One folemn Thought of Death does all employ, And cancels, like a Dream, Delight and Joy ; One Sorrow streams from all their weeping Eyes, And one consenting Voice for Mercy cries Trembling, they dread just Heav'ns avenging Power, Mourit their past Lives, and wait the fatal Hour.
Enter the Duke of NORTHUMBERLAND,
and the Duke of SUFFOL K.
E r then be chear'd my Heart amidst thy Mourning.
Tho' Fate hang heavy o'er us, tho' pale Fear
And wild Distraction fit on ev'ry Face,
Tho' neyer Day of Grief was known like this,
Let me rejoyce, and bless the hallowed Light,
Whose Beams aufpicious shine upon our Union,
And bid me call the Noble Suffolk Brother.
Suff. I know not what my secret Soul presages,
But something seems to whisper 'me within,
That we have been too hasty. For my felf;
I wish this Matter had been yet delay'd ;
That we had waited some more blessed Time,
Some better Day with happier Omens hallowed,
For Love to kindle up his holy Flame.
But you, my Noble Brother, wou'd prevail,
And I have yielded to you.
Norih. Doubt not any thing;
Norhold the Hour unlucky, That good Heaven,
Who softens the Corrections of his Hand,
And mixes still a Comfort with Afflictions,
Has giv'n to Day á Blessing in our Children,
To wipe away our Tears for dying Edward.
Suff. In that I trust. Good Angels be our Guard,
And make my Fears prove vain. But fee! My Wife !
With her, your Son, the generous Guilford comes,
She has inform’d him of our present Purpose.
[Enter the Dutchess of Suffolk, and Lord Guilford.]
* L. Guil. How shall I speak the Fulness of my Heart?
Whatshall I say, to bless you for this Goodness?
Oh! Gracieus Princess ! But my Life is your's,
And all the Business of my Years to come,
Is, to attend with humblest Duty on you,
And pay my vow'd Obedience at your Feet.
Duts. Suff. Yes, Noble Youth, I share in all thy Joys,
In all the Joys which this sad Day can give.
The dear Delight I have to call thee Son,
Comes like a Cordial to my drooping Spirits ;
It broods with gentle Warmth upon my Bosom,
And melts that Frost of Death which hung about me.
But hatte! Inform my Daughter of our Pleasure ;
Let thy Tongue put on all its pleasing Eloquence,
Indruct thy Love to speak of Comfort to her,
To booth her Griefs, and chear the inourning Maid.
Nor h. All defolate and drown'd in flowing Tears,
By Iliard's bed the Pious Princess lits
Fast from her lifted Eyes the Pearly Drops
Fall trickling o'er her Cheek, while Holy Ardor
And fervent Zeal pour forth her lab'ring Soul;
And ev'ry Sigh is wing'd with Pray'rs so potent,
As strive with Heav'en to save her dying Lord.
Dute, Suf. From the first early Days of Infant Life,
A gentle Band of Friendship grew betwixt'em ;
And while our Royal Uncle Henry reign'd,
As Brother and as Sister bred together,
Beneath one common Parent's Care they liv'd.
North. A wondrous Sympathy of Souls confpir'd
To form the Sacred Union. Lady JÄNE,
Of all his Royal Blood, was still the dearest:
In ev'ry Innocent Delight they shar'd,
They sung and danc'd, and fat, and walk'd together.
Nay, in the graver Business of his Youth,
When Books and Learning call'd him from his Sports,
Ev’n there the Princely Maid was his Companion.
She left the shining Court to share his Toil,
To turn with him the grave Historian's Page,
And taste the Rapture of the Poet's Song;
To search the Latin and the Grecian Stores,
And wonder at the mighty Minds of old.
[Enter Lady J ANE GRAY weeping.]
L. 7. Gray. Wo't thou not break, my Heart!
Suff. Alas! What mean'st thou?
Guil. Oh, speak !
Dutch, Suff. How fares the King?
North, Say! Is he dead?
L. 7. Gray
L.F. Gray. The Saints and Angels have him,
Dutc. Suff. When I left him,
He seem'd a little chear'd, just as you enter'd.
L. 7. Gray. As I approach'd to kneel and pay my Duty,
He rais'd his feeble Eyes, and faintly frniling,
Are you then come? he cry'd. I only liv’d
To bid farewel to thee, my gentle Cousin,
To speak a few short Words to thee, and die.
With that he preft my Hand, and Oh! - he said,
When I am gone, do thou be good to England ;
Keep to that Faith in which we both were bred,
And to the End be constant. More I wou'd,
But cannot. --------- There his falt’ring Spirits faild,
And turning ey'ry Thought from Earth at once,
To that blest Place where all his Hopes were fix’d,
Earnest he pray'd, Merciful, Great Defender!
Preserve thy Holy Altars undefild,
Protect this Land from bloody Men and Idols,
Save my poor People from the Yoke of Rome,
And take thy painful Servant to thy Mercy.
Then sinking on his Pillow, with a Sigh,
He breath'd his innocent and faithful Soul
Into his Hands who gave it.
Guil. Crowns of Glory,
Such as the brightest Angels wear, be on him
Peace guard his Ashes here, and Paradise
With all its endless Bliss be open to him.
North. Our Grief be on his Grave. Our present Duty
Injoins to see his last Commands obey'd.
I hold it fit his Death be not made known
To any but our Friends. To Morrow early