No sound of peace came to thy dying ear,
No look of pity to thy closing eyes!
Pitied and pardon'd art thou in this breast,
But canst not know it now.—Alas! alas!
ARGYLL, (to Attendants.)
Mean time, our prisoners within the castle
Secure ye well.
(To other Attendants, who lay hold of Lochtarish and Glenfadden, while Benlora, drawing his sword, attacks furiously those who attempt to seize and disarm him, and they, closing round and endeavouring to overpower him, he is mortally wounded in the scuffle.)
BENLORA.
Alive indeed, thought ye to bind me? No.
Two years within your dungeons have I lived,
But lived for vengeance: closed that hope, the earth
Close o'er me too!—Alive to bind Benlora!
(Falls.)
LORNE, (running up to him).
I'm glad that thou hast had a soldier's death,
