'
'Idle! Ask Asriel, question Ithamar. Idle! 'tis written in their
tablets, their bloody scroll of rapine and of murder. Thy death led only
to mine, and, had they hoped my bird would but have yielded his gentle
mate, they would have spared him. Ay! ay! 'tis I whom they hate, 'tis I
whom they would destroy. This form, I fear it has lost its lustre, but
still 'tis thine, and once thou saidst thou lovedst it; this form was to
have been hacked and mangled; this ivory bosom was to have been ripped
up and tortured, and this warm blood, that flows alone for thee,
that fell Jabaster was to pour its tide upon the altar of his ancient
vengeance. He ever hated me!'
'Jabaster! Schirene! Where are we, and what are we? Life, life, they
lie, that call thee Nature! Nature never sent these gusts of agony. Oh!
my heart will break. I drove him from my thought, and now she calls him
up, and now must I remember he is my-prisoner! God of heaven, God of my
fathers, is it come to this? Why did he not escape? Why must Abidan, a
common cut-throat, save his graceless life, and this great soul, this
stern and mighty being---- Ah me! I have lived long enough. Would they
had not failed, would----'
'Stop, stop, Alroy! I pray thee, love, be calm.
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