Whose vaulted roof once rung with harmless mirth;
Where every passing stranger was a guest,
And every guest a friend? I fear me much,
If once our nobles scorn their rural seats,
Their rural greatness, and their vassals’ love,
Freedom and English grandeur are no more.”
The following passage, in which Bertha seeks to exculpate herself for the breach of faith with which Percy, whom she meets by accident after his return, charges her, is full of pathos:—
“I could withstand his fury; but his tears—
Ah, they undid me! Percy, dost thou know
The cruel tyranny of tenderness?