Raim. “Oh! not thus—
I would not thus be thought of.”
Pro. Let me deem
Again that thou art base!—for thy bright looks,
Thy glorious mien of fearlessness and truth,
Then would not haunt me as the avenging powers
Follow’d the parricide. Farewell, farewell!
I have no tears. Oh! thus thy mother look’d,
When, with a sad, yet half-triumphant smile,
All radiant with deep meaning, from her deathbed