91
If any lingering hope that he was wrong,
Smoothed o'er him now and then, 'twas not so long.
Next night, as sullenly awake he lay,
Considering what to do the approaching day,
He heard his wife say something in her sleep:—
He shook and listened;—she began to weep,
And moaning loudlier, seemed to shake her head,
Till all at once articulate, she said,
"He loves his brother yet—dear heaven, 'twas I—"
Then lower voiced—"only—do let me die."
Smoothed o'er him now and then, 'twas not so long.
Next night, as sullenly awake he lay,
Considering what to do the approaching day,
He heard his wife say something in her sleep:—
He shook and listened;—she began to weep,
And moaning loudlier, seemed to shake her head,
Till all at once articulate, she said,
"He loves his brother yet—dear heaven, 'twas I—"
Then lower voiced—"only—do let me die."
The prince looked at her hastily;—no more;
He dresses, takes his sword, and through the door
Goes, like a spirit, in the morning air;—
His squire awaked attends; and they repair,
Silent as wonder, to his brother's room:—
His squire calls him up too; and forth they come.
He dresses, takes his sword, and through the door
Goes, like a spirit, in the morning air;—
His squire awaked attends; and they repair,
Silent as wonder, to his brother's room:—
His squire calls him up too; and forth they come.
