Bethlen. And did he leave her? What! had I a mother?
And left her bleeding, dying? Bought I vile life
With the desertion of a dying mother? 370
Oh agony!

Glycine. Alas! thou art bewildered,
And dost forget thou wert a helpless infant!

Bethlen. What else can I remember, but a mother
Mangled and left to perish?

Sarolta. Hush, Glycine!
It is the ground-swell of a teeming instinct: 375
Let it but lift itself to air and sunshine,
And it will find a mirror in the waters
It now makes boil above it. Check him not!

Bethlen. O that I were diffused among the waters
That pierce into the secret depths of earth, [380]
And find their way in darkness! Would that I
Could spread myself upon the homeless winds!
And I would seek her! for she is not dead!
She can not die! O pardon, gracious lady!
You were about to say, that he returned— 385

Sarolta. Deep Love, the godlike in us, still believes
Its objects as immortal as itself!

Bethlen. And found her still—

Sarolta. Alas! he did return,
[[914]] He left no spot unsearched in all the forest,
But she (I trust me by some friendly hand) [390]
Had been borne off.

Bethlen. O whither?

Glycine. Dearest Bethlen!
I would that you could weep like me! O do not
Gaze so upon the air!