He was, and beautiful he must be now,60
My Ulric! my adored!
Wer.I have been full oft
The chase of Fortune; now she hath o'ertaken
My spirit where it cannot turn at bay,—
Sick, poor, and lonely.
Jos.Lonely! my dear husband?
Wer. Or worse—involving all I love, in this
Far worse than solitude. Alone, I had died,
And all been over in a nameless grave.