Screaming his hideous omens; spectres glide,

   Gibbering and pointing as we pass along;

   While the deep earth's unorganized caves

   Send forth wild sounds, and clamours, terrible;

   These towers shake round us, though the untroubled air

   Stagnates to lethargy:—our children perish,

   And new disasters blacken every hour.

   Blood shed unrighteously, blood unappeas'd,

   (Though we are guiltless,) cries, I fear, for vengeance.

 Count. Blood shed unrighteously! have I shed blood?

   No; nature's common frailties set aside,

   I'll meet my audit boldly.

 Countess. Mighty Lord!

   O! not on us, with justice too severe,

   Visit the sin, not ours.

 Count. What can this mean?

   Something thou wouldst reveal, that's terrible.

 Countess. Too long, alas! it has weigh'd upon my heart;

   A thousand times I have thought to tell thee all;

   But my tongue falter'd, and refus'd to wound thee.

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