The Legendary and Poetical Remains of John Roby Part 21

And adown the green valley the meadows were fair, And the breeze came to woo the young daffodils there.

There is a lip I have not press'd, A heart yet coldly beating; But true love's throb within that breast Will wake at others' greeting.

And adown through the valley the morn shone so fair, When the breeze gently kiss'd the young bud blus.h.i.+ng there.

And thou wilt light thy taper cold At some gay treacherous eye; Its flame shall still thy soul enfold When lovers' glance shall die!

And adown the green valley, while morn shone so fair, The breeze sigh'd, and left the young bud weeping there!

CARLOS.

Woman loves not her true lover, A treacherous lewdster best o'ersteps her grace!-- Another, Giulio: I could live in them-- They feed the soul, as doth ambrosia The mighty G.o.ds.

_GIULIO sings._ Let me rest mine head, lady, On thy bended knee: Every pulse to thine beats true; I would 'twere so with thee.

Sing heigho!

Under the willow tree.

My cheek will not harm thee, Start not from thy rest----

CARLOS.

Cease!--I do remember me the ballad Thou gavest yesterday. Upon my brain So loud the music rings, this chaunt I hear not.-- Prithee again thy strings touch to the carol.

GIULIO.

Yet by your preference I know it not.

How name you the ballad?

CARLOS.

'Twas of the pilgrim, and his goodly benison.

GIULIO.

Thus? (_Plays._)

CARLOS.

The same.

_GIULIO sings._ The chase was done, the feast was begun, When the monarch sate proudly high; And the revelry rode on the wind afar, As it swept from the darkening sky.

No lordly guest----

_Enter BERTRAND._

CARLOS.

Welcome. I grew oppress'd from thy long absence-- But why that heavy, that disquieted brow?

Some choler, scarce dismiss'd, hath moved thee!

BERTRAND.

The Duke--

CARLOS.

Didst thou complain to him Touching my wrong?

BERTRAND.

I did.

CARLOS.

Yet I have heard This prince o'er all his peers hereto extoll'd, The mirror of true courtesy; embodying The proud and chivalrous spirit of his time.-- How spake he?

BERTRAND.

Few his words;--but this good sword-- Bitter degradement!----Yon proud Duke, he gave-- When from this recreant hand the traitor fell!

He had disarm'd me, Carlos!

CARLOS.

He!--You fought?

BERTRAND.

Ay, with the Duke--thy mistress' paramour!

CARLOS.

The Duke!--_Her_ paramour!-- 'Tis fuel to my hate.

BERTRAND.

How fares thy wound?

CARLOS.

This?--where?--'tis well.--These garments I shake off, And put on my revenge--its panoply Shall case my bosom.--Henceforth unto all Compunction dead, and steel'd to every touch Of natural sympathy, mine o'ercharged hate, As the veil'd fire, pent in yon gathering cloud, Deep-brooding waits, in fearful silence crouching, Or ere it strike----'Twas for this minion She spurn'd me!

BERTRAND.

Such my hate to Andrea.

Together and in secret we devise-- Yet not with such precipitate haste, our counsel, As shall defeat its own resolve--some plan To furnish our revenge. [_Exeunt._

SCENE V.

_A Chamber in the Palace._

_Enter the DUKE._

DUKE.

Arouse thee!--fly.

Ere yet the fetters closer to thine heart Are riveted--immoved for ever!

Thou counsellest well--these are ign.o.ble trammels.

And I do rid me of them. Once--'tis fix'd-- A short, sad hour we meet, and then farewell!

Duty, remorseless, bids me.--There I'll pour Into her wondering ear a hapless tale Of thwarted love--hearts broken, severed By obdurate fate--and in that feign'd lament, Bewail mine own.--I must my story tell; None other cause could I with honour urge Why thus we part--for ever!

_Enter FABIAN._

FABIAN.

My lord, a woman of strange aspect, And habited in Eastern garb, sits now Within the western porch, waiting your presence.

She would not tell to me her errand.

DUKE.

How-- A stranger, and from whence?--Knowest thou her name?