Classic Poem

SCENE VIII.

Cyl. O blessed opportunity, I thank thee.
If for this pious act of love I perish,
Let not Sophernes rashly follow me.
Live to revenge me, and the world shall praise thee.
Though all my hours be doom'd to chains and darkness,
The pleasing thought that I have giv'n thee safety,
Will chear me more than liberty and day-light.
Though I'm condemned to suffer shameful death.
Ev'n in that hour I shall forget his terrors,
And knowing that preserv'd thee, dye with pleasure.
But hark! what noise was that? New fears alarm me.
Is he detected? — Heaven has more compassion.
Be still, my heart. I go to take his place,
And wait th' event with steady resignation.