I'm the true cameleon,
And live but on the atmosphere;[196] your feasts 220
In castle halls, and social banquets, nurse not
My spirit--I'm a
forester
and breather
Of the steep mountain-tops,[197] where I love all
The eagle loves.
Byron
_ But you shall!
_Ulr._ _Shall!_
_Ida._ Yes, or be
No true knight.--Come, dear Ulric! yield to me
In this, for this one day: the day looks heavy,
And you are turned so pale and ill.
_Ulr._ You jest.
_Ida._ Indeed I do not:--ask of Rodolph.
_Rod._ Truly,
My Lord, within this quarter of an hour
You have changed more than e'er I saw you change
In years.
_Ulr._ 'Tis nothing; but if 'twere, the air
Would soon restore me.
I'm the true cameleon,
And live but on the atmosphere;[196] your feasts 220
In castle halls, and social banquets, nurse not
My spirit--I'm a
forester
and breather
Of the steep mountain-tops,[197] where I love all
The eagle loves.
_Ida._ Except his prey, I hope.
_Ulr._ Sweet Ida, wish me a fair chase, and I
Will bring you six boars' heads for trophies home.
_Ida._ And will you not stay, then? You shall not go!
Come! I will sing to you.
_Ulr._ Ida, you scarcely
Will make a soldier's wife.
_Ida._ I do not wish
To be so; for I trust these wars are over, 230
And you will live in peace on your domains.
