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FRIEDERICH WERNER
The Templars in Cyprus
page 165
And Inde, from me thy pure nnd lovely form That thy pale countenance dismay me not ? Hide not thyself from sight of thy belov'd Spirit of my Agnes ! Thou nffright'st mo not !— Hark ! Is not someone rustling even now ?— Father, is't you ?
PlIILIP (irho romet in wildly and hurriedly). Yes, Adnlbert. Put time Is precious ! Como with me, my only son !
ADALBERT.
What would you, Father, now, in such an hour ?
PHILIP.
If not this hour, my son, then nevermore !
(Leading ADALBERT to the altar.) Approach ! Thou knowcst this youth, and who he
ADALBERT.
'Tis St. Sebastian !
PHILIP. As he would not yield, And disavow his faith, a tyrant's will Transpierced him with these arrows. Tyranny Has likewise bleached this head (pointing to his
despot's rage Has also ploughed with many deep-cut lines These furrows on thy father's countenance ! My son ! my firstborn, and my only child ! In this supreme, in this most awful hour, I here adjure thee—do as I command !
ADALBERT.
What you command is right, and I concur !
PHILIP.
Then swear to me in this tremendous hour— By this thy father's head made early grey, Thy mother's terror-stricken death of pain,
1C-2
THE TEMPLARS IX CYPRUS.
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