Beatrice of Swabia
A prisoner on the moonlit, murmuring sea
'Twixt Naples and Palermo. Though I lay
On a soft couch and women waited on me,
And spoke to me in reverent, gentle tones,
And seemed so kind and good, yet still I thought
"They're only tricking me; they know full well
I am but hastening to another prison."
Cons. And had you no faith, then, in the Admiral
Who brought you here in triumph?
Beat. Ah, you know not
How I was dizzied, dazzled by the lights,
The voices, the strange faces, the strange burst
Of golden moon and sea, when first my boat
Shot into the bright labyrinth of ships
Bestarred with torchlight, and a shout rose up—
A sound I ne'er had heard the like of—roar
On roar—'twas "Viva, viva, Beatrice!"—
They told me after, but I heard no words.
I knew not whether it were friend or foe,
Or love or hatred speaking in that din.
Then as I touched the deck a lofty form
Stood o'er me like a tower, and bowed his head
Before me and said something—what, I know not.
I was resigned to all, to death or life,
So savage was his smile. But his loud voice
In the night watches pealing o'er my head,
His heavy tread above me made my heart
'Twixt Naples and Palermo. Though I lay
On a soft couch and women waited on me,
And spoke to me in reverent, gentle tones,
And seemed so kind and good, yet still I thought
"They're only tricking me; they know full well
I am but hastening to another prison."
Cons. And had you no faith, then, in the Admiral
Who brought you here in triumph?
Beat. Ah, you know not
How I was dizzied, dazzled by the lights,
The voices, the strange faces, the strange burst
Of golden moon and sea, when first my boat
Shot into the bright labyrinth of ships
Bestarred with torchlight, and a shout rose up—
A sound I ne'er had heard the like of—roar
On roar—'twas "Viva, viva, Beatrice!"—
They told me after, but I heard no words.
I knew not whether it were friend or foe,
Or love or hatred speaking in that din.
Then as I touched the deck a lofty form
Stood o'er me like a tower, and bowed his head
Before me and said something—what, I know not.
I was resigned to all, to death or life,
So savage was his smile. But his loud voice
In the night watches pealing o'er my head,
His heavy tread above me made my heart
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