Ay, wast thou, child--a Briton born: God give Thy name the grace on British tongues to live!
SABRINA.
Is that so good a gift of God's--to die And leave a name alive in memory? IWould rather live this river's life, and be Held of no less or more account than he.
Lo, how he lives and laughs! and hath no name, Thou sayest--or one forgotten even of fame That lives on poor men's lips and falters down To nothing.But thy father? and his crown?
Did he less hate the coil of it than mine, Or love thee less--nay, then he were not thine -Than he, my sire, loves me?
ESTRILD.
And wilt thou hear All? Child, my child, love born of love, more dear Than very love was ever! Hearken then.
This plague, this fire, that hunts us--Guendolen -Was wedded to thy sire ere I and he Cast ever eyes on either.Woe is me!
Thou canst not dream, sweet, what my soul would say And not affright thee.
SABRINA.
Thou affright me? Nay, Mock not.This evil woman--when he knew Thee, this my sweet good mother, wise and true -He cast from him and hated.
ESTRILD.
Yea--and now For that shall haply he and I and thou Die.
SABRINA.
What is death? I never saw his face That I should fear it.
ESTRILD.
Whether grief or grace Or curse or blessing breathe from it, and give Aught worse or better than the life we live, I know no more than thou knowest; perchance, Less.When we sleep, they say, or fall in trance, We die awhile.Well spake thine innocent breath -I THINK THERE IS NO DEATH BUT FEAR OF DEATH.
SABRINA.
Did I say this? but that was long ago -
Months.Now I know not--yet I think I know -Whether I fear or fear not it.Hard by Men fight even now--they strike and kill and die Red-handed; nay, we hear the roar and see The lightning of the battle: can it be That what no soul of all these brave men fears Should sound so fearful save in foolish ears?
But all this while I know not where it lay, Thy father's kingdom.
ESTRILD.
Far from here away It lies beyond the wide waste water's bound That clasps with bitter waves this sweet land round.
Thou hast seen the great sea never, nor canst dream How fairer far than earth's most lordly stream It rolls its royal waters here and there, Most glorious born of all things anywhere, Most fateful and most godlike; fit to make Men love life better for the sweet sight's sake And less fear death if death for them should be Shrined in the sacred splendours of the sea As God in heaven s mid mystery.Night and day Forth of my tower-girt homestead would I stray To gaze thereon as thou upon the bright Soft river whence thy soul took less delight Than mine of the outer sea, albeit I know How great thy joy was of it.Now--for so The high gods willed it should be--once at morn Strange men there landing bore me thence forlorn Across the wan wild waters in their bark, I wist not where, through change of light and dark, Till their fierce lord, the son of spoil and strife, Made me by forceful marriage-rites his wife.
Then sailed they toward the white and flower-sweet strand Whose free folk follow on thy father's hand, And warred against him, slaying his brother: and he Hurled all their force back hurtling toward the sea, And slew my lord their king; but me he gave Grace, and received not as a wandering slave, But one whom seeing he loved for pity: why Should else a sad strange woman such as IFind in his fair sight favour? and for me He built the bower wherein I bare him thee, And whence but now he hath brought us westward, here To abide the extreme of utmost hope or fear.
And come what end may ever, death or life, I live or die, if truth be truth, his wife;And none but I and thou, though day wax dim, Though night grow strong, hath any part in him.
SABRINA.
What should we fear, then? whence might any Fall on us?
ESTRILD.
Ah! Ah me! God answers here.
Enter LOCRINE, wounded.
LOCRINE.
