—Look to it yet!—To-morrow I return.
[Exit Eribert.
Vit. To-morrow!—Some ere now have slept and dreamt
Of morrows which ne’er dawn’d—or ne’er for them;
So silently their deep and still repose
Hath melted into death! Are there not balms
In nature’s boundless realm, to pour out sleep
Like this on me? Yet should my spirit still
Endure its earthly bonds, till it could bear
To his a glorious tale of his own isle,