Rosamund | Page 8

more she said, Surely: she said I would not yield her up To the arms of one my husband loves and holds Honoured at heart--I hate my husband so, She told thee--were the need avoidable Save by her sacrifice to shame.
ALMACHILDES.
Thou knowest All, as I knew, and lacked not from thy lips Confession.
ROSAMUND.
Warrior though thou be, and boy Though my lord call thee, brainless art thou not - No sword with man's face carven on the heft For mockery more than truth or help in fight. I do not and I durst not play with thee. Thy bride spake truth: I knew not she might need So much of truth to tempt thee toward her. Now Thou knowest, and I know. If this imminent night Make not thy darkling bride of her, by day Thy bride she may be never. She hath sworn.
ALMACHILDES.
Why wouldst thou shame her?
ROSAMUND.
Shamed she cannot be If thou be found not shameless. Plead no more Against thine own love's surety. Doubt thou not I wish thee well, and love her. Make not thou Out of her shamefast maidenhood and fear A sword to cleave your happiness in twain. What if some oath constrain me, sworn in haste, Infrangible for shame's sake, sealed in heaven Inevitable? Ask now no more of me. Nightfall is here upon us. Nought on earth May set the season of your bridal back If thou be true as she must. Wait awhile Here till a sign be sent thee--till a bell Strike softly from this chamber here at hand. I have sworn to her she shall not see thy face, So sore she prayed she might not: and for thee I swore that ere the darkling air grew grey Thou shouldst arise and leave her, and behold Thy midnight bride but when thou art bidden again To meet her here to-morrow. Strange it were, More strange than aught of all, that thou shouldst prove Dishonourable: and except thou be, these things Must all be wrought in this wise, lest her oath And mine, at peril of her soul and life, By passionate forgetfulness of thine Disloyally be broken. Swear to us now Thou wilt not break our oath and thine, or think To look to-night upon thy bride.
ALMACHILDES.
I swear.
ROSAMUND.
I take thine oath. I bid not thee take heed That I or thou or each of us at once, Couldst thou play false, may die: I bid thee think Thy bride will die, shamed. Swear me not again She shall not: all our trust is set on thee. What eyes and ears are keen about us here Thou knowest not. Love, my love and thine for her, Shall deafen and shall blind them. Be but thou A bridegroom blind and dumb--speak soft as love, And ask not answer louder than a sigh - And when to-morrow sets thy bride and thee Here face to face again, thy soul shall stand Amazed: thy joy shall turn to wonder. This Thy queen, whose power may seal her promise fast, Swears for thine oath again to thee. Good night. [Exit.
ALMACHILDES.
I cannot think I live. Our Sigurd loved not Brynhild as I love her, and even this hour Shall make us great as they. No spell to break, No fire to pass, divides us. Blind and dumb, Love knows, would I be ever while I live For love's sake rather than forego the joy That makes one godlike power of spirit and sense, One godhead born of manhood. God requite The queen who loves my love and cares for me Thus! How may man or God requite her? Ah!
[Bell rings softly from without.
There sounds the note that opens heaven on me, And how should man dare heaven? But love may dare. [Exit.

ACT III

An eastward room in the Palace.
Enter ALBOVINE.
ALBOVINE.
This sun--no sun like ours--burns out my soul. I would, when June takes hold on us like fire, The wind could waft and whirl us northward: here The splendour and the sweetness of the world Eat out all joy of life or manhood. Earth Is here too hard on heaven--the Italian air Too bright to breathe, as fire, its next of kin, Too keen to handle. God, whoe'er God be, Keep us from withering as the lords of Rome - Slackening and sickening toward the imperious end That wiped them out of empire! Yea, he shall.
Enter HILDEGARD.
HILDEGARD.
The queen would wait upon your majesty.
ALBOVINE.
Bid her come in. And tell her ere she come I wait upon her will. [Exit HILDEGARD.] What would she now?
Enter ROSAMUND.
By Christ, how fair thou art! I never saw thee So like the sun in heaven: no rose on earth Might think to match thee.
ROSAMUND.
All I am is thine.
ALBOVINE.
Mine? God might come from heaven to worship thee. Thine eyes outlighten all the stars: thy face Leaves