That horseman,
Who at full speed swept by us where the wood
Roared in the tempest, was within an ace
Of sending to his grave our precious Charge:
That would have been a vile mischance.
Who at full speed swept by us where the wood
Roared in the tempest, was within an ace
Of sending to his grave our precious Charge:
That would have been a vile mischance.
Wordsworth - 1
IDONEA God be praised,
That I have been his comforter till now!
And will be so through every change of fortune
And every sacrifice his peace requires. --
Let us be gone with speed, that he may hear
These joyful tidings from no lips but mine.
[Exeunt IDONEA and Pilgrims. ]
SCENE--The Area of a half-ruined Castle--on one side the entrance to a
dungeon--OSWALD and MARMADUKE pacing backwards and forwards.
MARMADUKE 'Tis a wild night.
OSWALD I'd give my cloak and bonnet
For sight of a warm fire.
MARMADUKE The wind blows keen;
My hands are numb.
OSWALD Ha! ha! 'tis nipping cold.
[Blowing his fingers. ]
I long for news of our brave Comrades; Lacy
Would drive those Scottish Rovers to their dens
If once they blew a horn this side the Tweed.
MARMADUKE I think I see a second range of Towers;
This castle has another Area--come,
Let us examine it.
OSWALD 'Tis a bitter night;
I hope Idonea is well housed.
That horseman,
Who at full speed swept by us where the wood
Roared in the tempest, was within an ace
Of sending to his grave our precious Charge:
That would have been a vile mischance.
MARMADUKE It would.
OSWALD Justice had been most cruelly defrauded.
MARMADUKE Most cruelly.
OSWALD As up the steep we clomb,
I saw a distant fire in the north-east;
I took it for the blaze of Cheviot Beacon:
With proper speed our quarters may be gained
To-morrow evening.
[He looks restlessly towards the mouth of the dungeon. ]
MARMADUKE When, upon the plank,
I had led him 'cross [4] the torrent, his voice blessed me:
You could not hear, for the foam beat the rocks
With deafening noise,--the benediction fell
Back on himself; but changed into a curse.
OSWALD As well indeed it might.
MARMADUKE And this you deem
The fittest place?
OSWALD (aside)
He is growing pitiful.
MARMADUKE (listening)
What an odd moaning that is! --
OSWALD. Mighty odd
The wind should pipe a little, while we stand
Cooling our heels in this way! --I'll begin
And count the stars.
MARMADUKE (still listening)
That dog of his, you are sure,
Could not come after us--he _must_ have perished;
The torrent would have dashed an oak to splinters.
You said you did not like his looks--that he
Would trouble us; if he were here again,
I swear the sight of him would quail me more
Than twenty armies.
