Page:Keats - Poetical Works, DeWolfe, 1884.djvu/409

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OTHO THE GREAT.
393
In unimagined tortures, or breathe throughA long life in the foulest sink o' the world!He dies! 'Tis well she do not advertiseThe caitiff of the cold steel at his back.[Exit Conrad. 
Enter Ludolph and Page.
 Ludolph. Miss'd the way, boy? Say not that on your peril!
 Page. Indeed, indeed I cannot trace them further.
 Ludolph. Must I stop here? Here solitary die?Stifled beneath the thick oppressive shadeOf these dull boughs,—this oven of dark thickets,—Silent,—without revenge?—pshaw!—bitter end,—A bitter death,—a suffocating death,—A gnawing—silent—deadly, quiet death!Escaped?—fled?—vanish'd? melted into air?She's gone! I cannot clutch her! no revenge!A muffled death, ensnared in horrid silence!Suck'd to my grave amid a dreamy calm!O, where is that illustrious noise of war,To smother up this sound of laboring breath,This rustle of the trees![Auranthe shrieks at distance. 
 Page.My lord, a noise!This way—hark
 Ludolph.Yes, yes! A hope! A music!A glorious clamor! How I live again![Exeunt.  
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