Lures me on my death to meet
At my dearest Lyra's feet,
Giving her this bitter bread;
Bread, which from the foe was taken,—
Taken? 'Tis more precious food,
Purchased with the very blood
Of two friends, by luck forsaken.
[Lyra enters with some robes, which she is taking to be burned, and says:
Lyra.
What is this mine eyes behold?