Rol. Or in a long trance?
Eul. She may revive.
I'll visit her. Art may prolong her days,
Whether she will or no. [Exeunt.
SCENE VI.
Chorus.
1. Alecto, rising from the lakes
Of nights sad empery,[337]
With knotty bunch of curled snakes
Doth lash fair Brittany.
2. More ghastly monster did not spring
From the Hibernian flood:
With which Morvidus[338] combating,
Of foe became his food.
3. Shall no more shepherds in the shade
Sit whistling without care?
Shall never spear be made a spade,
And sword a ploughing-share?
4. Grant, heaven, at last that music loud
Of bloody Mars be still:
That Britain's virgins in a crowd
With hymns the sky may fill!
2d Song.