That kindred look, rais'd such strong instinct here,

   And kindled all my bosom at thy danger.

 Theod. But must we bear to be thus tamely coop'd

   By such insulting, petty despotism?

   I look to my unguarded side in vain;

   Had I a sword——

 Aust. Think not of vengeance now;

   A mightier arm than thine prepares it for him.

   Pass but a little space, we shall behold him

   The object of our pity, not our anger.

   Yes, he must suffer; my rapt soul foresees it:

   Empires shall sink; the pond'rous globe of earth

   Crumble to dust; the sun and stars be quench'd;

   But O, Eternal Father! of thy will,

   To the last letter, all shall be accomplish'd.

[pg 38]

[pg 38]

 Theod. So let it be! but, if his pride must fall,

  Ye saints, who watch o'er loveliness and virtue,

  Confound not with his crimes, her innocence!

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