Preys on her, like the Egyptian’s asp.”
But she is mistaken; for presently the queen, on recognizing the “veiled mourner,” says tenderly:
“I part
The tresses on thy brow; and gaze upon thee
With the strong yearning of a blighted love.
I know thee, sister! Take me to thine arms—
And let me weep.”
The weeping revives Mary’s energy, but that energy takes a shape in which we see the old despair combined with a new fanaticism.
“Elizabeth. These mingling tears wash out
All venom from past sorrow—”