eam'd in blood upon
The fast decaying waters--that huge pile
Of gloomy worship to the God of ages,
Feels like this age's tomb and monument.
Would I were buried in it, so I might
Sleep there--for O, I cannot sleep to-night.
My molten blood runs singing through my veins.
It is no wonder: I have known less things
Disturb my rest; besides, there is a thought
Hath led me forth--Come, let me deal with it.

'Tis midnight! Now to face him were a deed,
To feel that one had done it--not to tell.
To fold the arms and look upon the work
That I have wrought with stedfast, iron will--
There's evil fascination in the thought:
Grows to desire!
I cannot stay my feet!
Like one in dreams, or hurried by a storm,
That hales him on with wild uncertain steps,
I move on to the thing I dread.
[_Sighs deeply._]
Methought
A voice stole on mine ears--as if a sword
[_Sighs again._]
Clove the oppressive air. Why do I shrink?
On Naseby field my bare head tower'd high;
And now I bend me, though my tingling ears
Unconscious but drink in the deep-drawn sigh,
That doth attend on greatness.
This is folly.
O coward fancy, lie still in thy grave!
A king doth keep his coffin, why not thou?
I'll meet him like a conqueror, whose cheek
Flushes with manly pity. Could it be
That he had lived without his country's shame!
But no! and thus, I come, Charles Stuart! to tell
Thy bloodless clay, that I repent me _not_!
No! if a hecatomb of kings were slain,
I'd own the deed unto their legion'd spirits! [_Exit, L._]

SCENE IV.

[_Last Grooves._]

_A State Room in Whitehall. The moon shines through
the windows._

_On a large bed with crimson hangings, surmounted
with black plumes, is seen a Coffin and pall, richly
emblazoned with the royal arms of England. On
each side an Ironside keeping guard with a matchlock.
They walk to and fro, and speak as they meet._

_1st Iron._ I tell thee, Bowtell, I would this watch
were over.

_2nd Iron._ I would it were a bright morning, with
our pike-heads glittering in the sun. I would rather
it were a charge of Rupert's best cavalry in our rear.

_1st Iron._ I mind when I saw him once alive, 'twas
at the close of the fight, and he would have charged
once more, but a false Scotch noble held him back to
his ruin. Had I been he, I would have cloven the
false Scot to the chine. I was a prisoner, and near
him; he had a tall white plume then. His dark face
showed very eager beneath it.

_2nd. Iro