Its balm in solitude.
[Exit Theresa.
My mother! peace
Is heaven’s benignant answer to the cry
Of wounded spirits. Wilt thou kneel with me?
Elm. Away! ’tis but for souls unstain’d, to wear
Heaven’s tranquil image on their depths.—The stream
Of my dark thoughts, all broken by the storm,
Reflects but clouds and lightnings!—Didst thou speak
Of peace?—’tis fled from earth! But there is joy!