Thou canst not take him from me.
Husband. My beloved!
Is it not God hath taken him? the God
That took our first-born, o’er whose early grave
Thou didst bow down thy saint-like head, and say,
“His will be done!”
Agnes. Oh! that near household grave,
Under the turf of England, seem’d not half—
Not half so much to part me from my child
As these dark woods. It lay beside our home,