(I see it well) doth sicken for the pure
Free-wandering breezes of the joyous hills,
Where thy young brothers, o’er the rock and heath,
Bound in glad boyhood, e’en as torrent-streams
Leap brightly from the heights. Had we not been
Within these walls thus suddenly begirt,
Thou shouldst have track’d ere now, with step as light,
Their wild-wood paths.
Xim. I would not but have shared
These hours of woe and peril, though the deep