Who leaves a dying brother, and his eyes
Were fill’d with tears like thine. No! not like thine:
His bosom knew no falsehood, and he deem’d
Thine clear and stainless as a warrior’s shield,
Wherein high deeds and noble forms alone
Are brightly imaged forth.
Sylv. What now avail
These recollections?
Seb. What! I have seen thee shrink,
As a murderer from the eye of light, before me: