Or is the
Hungarian
near 430
To shed more blood?
To shed more blood?
Byron
_ Count, 'tis a marriage of your making,
So be it of your wooing; but to please you,
I will now pay my duty to my mother, 400
With whom, you know, the lady Ida is. --
What would you have? You have forbid my stirring
For manly sports beyond the castle walls,
And I obey; you bid me turn a chamberer,
To pick up gloves, and fans, and knitting-needles,
And list to songs and tunes, and watch for smiles,
And smile at pretty prattle, and look into
The eyes of feminine, as though they were
The stars receding early to our wish
Upon the dawn of a world-winning battle-- 410
What can a son or man do more? [_Exit_ ULRIC.
_Sieg. _ (_solus_). Too much! --
Too much of duty, and too little love!
He pays me in the coin he owes me not:
For such hath been my wayward fate, I could not
Fulfil a parent's duties by his side
Till now; but love he owes me, for my thoughts
Ne'er left him, nor my eyes longed without tears
To see my child again,--and now I have found him!
But how! obedient, but with coldness; duteous
In my sight, but with carelessness; mysterious-- 420
Abstracted--distant--much given to long absence,
And where--none know--in league with the most riotous
Of our young nobles; though, to do him justice,
He never stoops down to their vulgar pleasures;
Yet there's some tie between them which I can not
Unravel. They look up to him--consult him--
Throng round him as a leader: but with me
He hath no confidence! Ah! can I hope it
After--what! doth my father's curse descend
Even to my child?
Or is the Hungarian near 430
To shed more blood? or--Oh! if it should be!
Spirit of Stralenheim, dost thou walk these walls
To wither him and his--who, though they slew not,
Unlatched the door of Death for thee? 'Twas not
Our fault, nor is our sin: thou wert our foe,
And yet I spared thee when my own destruction
Slept with thee, to awake with thine awakening!
And only took--Accursed gold! thou liest
Like poison in my hands; I dare not use thee,
Nor part from thee; thou camest in such a guise, 440
Methinks thou wouldst contaminate all hands
Like mine. Yet I have done, to atone for thee,
Thou villanous gold! and thy dead master's doom,
Though he died not by me or mine, as much
As if he were my brother! I have ta'en
His orphan Ida--cherished her as one
Who will be mine.
_Enter an_ ATTENDANT.
_Atten. _ The abbot, if it please
Your Excellency, whom you sent for, waits
Upon you. [_Exit_ ATTENDANT.
_Enter the_ PRIOR ALBERT.
_Prior_.
So be it of your wooing; but to please you,
I will now pay my duty to my mother, 400
With whom, you know, the lady Ida is. --
What would you have? You have forbid my stirring
For manly sports beyond the castle walls,
And I obey; you bid me turn a chamberer,
To pick up gloves, and fans, and knitting-needles,
And list to songs and tunes, and watch for smiles,
And smile at pretty prattle, and look into
The eyes of feminine, as though they were
The stars receding early to our wish
Upon the dawn of a world-winning battle-- 410
What can a son or man do more? [_Exit_ ULRIC.
_Sieg. _ (_solus_). Too much! --
Too much of duty, and too little love!
He pays me in the coin he owes me not:
For such hath been my wayward fate, I could not
Fulfil a parent's duties by his side
Till now; but love he owes me, for my thoughts
Ne'er left him, nor my eyes longed without tears
To see my child again,--and now I have found him!
But how! obedient, but with coldness; duteous
In my sight, but with carelessness; mysterious-- 420
Abstracted--distant--much given to long absence,
And where--none know--in league with the most riotous
Of our young nobles; though, to do him justice,
He never stoops down to their vulgar pleasures;
Yet there's some tie between them which I can not
Unravel. They look up to him--consult him--
Throng round him as a leader: but with me
He hath no confidence! Ah! can I hope it
After--what! doth my father's curse descend
Even to my child?
Or is the Hungarian near 430
To shed more blood? or--Oh! if it should be!
Spirit of Stralenheim, dost thou walk these walls
To wither him and his--who, though they slew not,
Unlatched the door of Death for thee? 'Twas not
Our fault, nor is our sin: thou wert our foe,
And yet I spared thee when my own destruction
Slept with thee, to awake with thine awakening!
And only took--Accursed gold! thou liest
Like poison in my hands; I dare not use thee,
Nor part from thee; thou camest in such a guise, 440
Methinks thou wouldst contaminate all hands
Like mine. Yet I have done, to atone for thee,
Thou villanous gold! and thy dead master's doom,
Though he died not by me or mine, as much
As if he were my brother! I have ta'en
His orphan Ida--cherished her as one
Who will be mine.
_Enter an_ ATTENDANT.
_Atten. _ The abbot, if it please
Your Excellency, whom you sent for, waits
Upon you. [_Exit_ ATTENDANT.
_Enter the_ PRIOR ALBERT.
_Prior_.
