O Husband, O clothed
With the grave's everlasting,
All-covering darkness! O King,
Well-mourn'd, but ill-avenged!
Approv'st thou thy wife now?——
The axe!—who brings it?
The Chorus
'Tis here!
But thy gesture, thy look,
Appals me, shakes me with awe.
Merope
Thrust back now the bolt of that door!
The Chorus
Alas! alas!—
Behold the fastenings withdrawn
Of the guest-chamber door!—
Ah! I beseech thee—with tears——
Merope
The Chorus