Part 29 (2/2)

I feel as if I were again a child That prattled by thy side, ere strife had come, And sown those wrinkles in thy lofty brow; 'Bend till my faded fingers reach to smooth them!

I cannot think but of an evening walk, When thou didst tell me of the life of David, And how he dwelt with G.o.d--'twas on the bench Round the oak tree in the fair pasturage, [_Organ plays._]

Behind the church;--see, see, yon arched window Is full of light. Hus.h.!.+ they are singing, hus.h.!.+

The sun is cheerful! Nature praises G.o.d.

Leave me not yet, my father, spare one hour Unto thy child. Nay, then, we shall meet soon.

Thou smil'st, sweet Spirit, all the rest grows dim!

See by yon pale and monumental form, The old man kneeling, weeps. I come! I come!

[_Falls back and dies, her hands clasped in the att.i.tude of a rec.u.mbent marble effigy. During the latter part, till the interruption, an organ is heard playing solemn music._]

_Enter a Servant, L.; he makes a sign that some one is coming. CROMWELL bows his head. Enter a PHYSICIAN, LADY CROMWELL, and Sisters, L._

_Phy._ Doth she sleep?--

_Crom._ Ay, tread softly, for the ground Is holy--

_Phy._ [_Addressing the body._] Lady!

_Crom._ He, she answereth, Is there! [_Points above._]

_Lady Crom._ Dead! oh, Elizabeth!

_Crom._ Why griev'st thou, woman!

Rejoice with the angels rather.

Did I not hear But now an organ?-- [_To the Physician._]

_Phy._ 'Twas, I think, my lord, Your secretary, Milton.

_Crom._ Let him come here.

[_Exit PHYSICIAN, U.E.R. During this time, LADY CROMWELL kneels by the body of her daughter, whilst a curtain is drawn round the couch. The folding-doors and curtains close all in as CROMWELL goes, L._]

_Enter an OFFICER and Officers in Naval Uniform with Despatches, L._

_Offi._ These to your Highness!

_Crom._ [_Tearing them open._] C. From our admiral, The gallant Blake. Another victory-- The Hollanders have yielded, that did late Insult our English flag.

[_Shouting is heard without._]

_Milton._ [_Who has entered, U.E.R., unperceived._]

Most humble tenders From France and Spain await your Excellency.

_Crom._ Ay! we will treat anon.

_Milton._ The Turks have yielded The traitor Hyde--The Vaudois, sav'd, are blessing, In their bright peaceful valleys, your great name, First in their prayers to Heaven--

_An Usher._ Sir, there are messages From various sects; the enfranchis'd Jews, and all Whose burdens you have lighten'd, pray to see you.

_Crom._ Let all come in. I need all grateful hearts Around me now.

_Enter an Officer with IRONSIDES, L._

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