JOANNA BAILLIE. THE PHRENZY OF ORRA. Hartman. Theobald. Her body is. Is she well? Hart. And not her mind? oh, direst wreck of all! Some powerful movement of a transient nature; Theo. "Tis Heaven's infliction; let us call it so; Eleanora. Nay, do not thus despair; when she beholds us, She'll know her friends, and, by our kindly soothing, Be gradually restored Alice. Let me go to her. Theo. Nay, forbear, I pray thee; I will myself with thee, my worthy Hartman, Go in and lead her forth. Orra. Come back, come back! the fierce and fiery light! Theo. Shrink not, dear love! it is the light of day. Orra. Have cocks crow'd yet? Theo. Yes; twice I've heard already Their matin sound. Look up to the blue sky- Orra. Aye, so it is; day takes his daily turn, Rising between the gulfy dells of night, Till glow-worms gleam, and stars peep through the dark, They will not come again. [Bending her ear to the ground. Hark, hark! aye, hark! They are all there: I hear their hollow sound Full many a fathom down. Theo. Be still, poor troubled soul! they'll ne'er return They are for ever gone. Be well assured Thou shalt from henceforth have a cheerful home, To speak to thee and cheer thee. See, my Orra! Orra. 'Tis like an old tune to my ear return'd. And breathe sweet air, and speak with pleasant sounds; I wot not now how long. Hughobert. Keen words that rend my heart! thou hadst a home, And one whose faith was pledged for thy protection. Urston. Be more composed, my Lord; some faint remembrance Returns upon her, with the well-known sound Of voices once familiar to her ear. Let Alice sing to her some fav'rite tune, That may lost thoughts recall. [Alice sings. Orra. Ha, ha! the witch'd air sings for thee bravely. Hoot owls through mantling fog for matin birds? THE PHRENZY OF ORRA. Why are ye here?-That is the blessed sun. Hart. Oh, grievous state! what terror seizes thee? Come not again; I'm strong and terrible now: Mine eyes have look'd upon all dreadful things; And when the earth yawns, and the hell-blast sounds, With stiff, clench'd, terrible strength. Hugh. A murd'rer is a guiltless wretch to me. Orra. Take off from me thy strangely-fasten'd eye; Elea. Alas, the piteous sight! to see her thus, Theo. Out on thy hateful and ungenerous guile! [Raising Orra from the ground. No liege man to his crownèd mistress sworn, And he who offers to thy alter'd state The slightest seeming of diminish'd rev'rence, Must in my blood-(To Hartman)-O pardon me, my friend! Thou'st wrung my heart. Hart. Nay, do thou pardon me,-I am to blame: Thy nobler heart shall not again be wrung. But what can now be done? O'er such wild ravings There must be some control. Theo. O none! none! none! but gentle sympathy, And watchfulness of love. My noble Orra! Wander where'er thou wilt, thy vagrant steps Alice. See how she gazes on him with a look, Half saying that she knows him. El. There is a kindness in her changing eye. GRAHAME. THE SABBATH. How still the morning of the hallow'd day! The plough-boy's whistle, and the milk-maid's song. Hath ceas'd; all, all around is quietness. |