Page:Passions 2.pdf/290

To wear it now as those to whom it comes
By dull and leaden paced inheritance?
As the dead shepherd's scrip and knotted crook
Go to his milk-fed son? Like those dull images,
On whose calm, tamed brows the faint impression
Of far preceding heroes faintly rests,
As the weak colours of a fading rainbow
On a spent cloud?
I'd rather in the centre of the earth
Inclosed be to dig my upward way
To the far distant light, than stay me thus,
And, looking round upon my bounded state,
Say, this is all. No; lowr it as it may,
I'll to the bold aspirings of my mind
Still steady prove, whilst that around my standard
Harness doth clatter, or a falchion gleam.

Alwy. What boot the bold aspirings of the great,
When secret foes beneath his footsteps work
Their treach'rous mine?

Ethw. Ay, thou before hast hinted of such foes.

Alwy. Fear for your safety, king, may make me err:
But these combined chiefs, it is full plain,
Under the mask of zeal for public good,
Do court with many wiles your people's hearts;
Breathing into their ears the praise of peace,
Yea, and of peaceful kings. The thralled Edward,
Whose prison-tower stands distant from this castle
But scarce a league———

Ethw. (starting.) Is it so near us?