Rai. (bending to receive the Priest's blessing.)
Holy man, I come
From a lost battle.
Urb. And thou bring'st the heart
Whose spirit yields not to defeat.
Rai. I bring
My father's bier.
Urb. His bier! I marvel not
To see your brow thus darken'd! And he died,
As he had lived, in arms?
Rai. (gloomily.) Not, not in arms—
His war-cry had been silenced. Have ye place
Amidst your ancient knightly sepulchres
For a warrior with his sword? He bade me bear
His dust to slumber here.
Urb. And it shall sleep
Beside our noblest, while we yet can call
One holy place our own! Heard you, my lord,
That the fierce Kaled's host is on its march
Against our city?
Rai. (with sudden exultation.) That were joy to know!
That were proud joy!—Who told it?—there’s a weight
That must be heaved from off my troubled heart
By the strong tide of battle! Kaled?—ay,
A gallant name! How heard you?
Urb. Nay, it seem'd
As if a breeze first bore the rumour in.
I know not how it rose; but now it comes
Like fearful truth, and we were sad, thus left
1First published in Edition of Collected Works, vol. iv. 1840.
