Beatrice of Swabia
Beat. Those lovely, lovely sounds that tremble
Across the water towards us?
Loria. Ha! the town
Wakes, and from every steeple rings us welcome.
It seems to reel with joy! And sec the boats
Swarming to meet us! What, fair lady, tears?
Nay, nay, but laugh, as I do at the deed
That there was done while yet you pined in bonds.
That blessed March day when those very bells
Rang out to vespers, but no vesper prayer
Went up to Heaven: for choral anthems, then
The yell of "Muoja! muoja!"—for response
The groans of Frenchmen, curses, cries for mercy,
From all their thousand throats—but mercy¢ none
For one false foreign felon knight or squire
Or man-at-arms, or craven stutterer
That strove for life to sound one little word,
Three little syllables, a shibboleth
That did its work, I tell you! "Cieiri!"
They could not for their lives. "Cieiri" slew them.
No mercy then for woman or for child!
Sicily had her daughters to avenge!
Till tingled both the ears of all who heard,
Till Charles his ivory sceptre gnawed for rage.
'Twill taste as bitter now.
Across the water towards us?
Loria. Ha! the town
Wakes, and from every steeple rings us welcome.
It seems to reel with joy! And sec the boats
Swarming to meet us! What, fair lady, tears?
Nay, nay, but laugh, as I do at the deed
That there was done while yet you pined in bonds.
That blessed March day when those very bells
Rang out to vespers, but no vesper prayer
Went up to Heaven: for choral anthems, then
The yell of "Muoja! muoja!"—for response
The groans of Frenchmen, curses, cries for mercy,
From all their thousand throats—but mercy¢ none
For one false foreign felon knight or squire
Or man-at-arms, or craven stutterer
That strove for life to sound one little word,
Three little syllables, a shibboleth
That did its work, I tell you! "Cieiri!"
They could not for their lives. "Cieiri" slew them.
No mercy then for woman or for child!
Sicily had her daughters to avenge!
Till tingled both the ears of all who heard,
Till Charles his ivory sceptre gnawed for rage.
'Twill taste as bitter now.
The Prince of Salerno comes on deck
195
