Climax.

His clotted locks | he backward thréw, ⋅
Across his brow | his hand he drew, '
From blood and mist | to clear his sight,¦
Then | gleamed aloft | his dágger bright !
But hate and fúry | ill supplied |

The stream of life's

exhausted tide, |
And all too late the advantage came, |
To turn the odds of deadly game; }
For, while the dagger gleamed on high, !
Reeled soul and sénse, reeled brain and eye.
Down came the blow! | but in the heath ¦
The erring blade | found bloodless sheath.
The struggling foe | may now unclásp |
The fainting Chief's relaxing grasp;—
Unwounded from the dreadful clóse, |
But breathless all, | Fitz-Jámes | aròse.
Quiet narrative. He faltered thanks to Heaven | for life
Redeemed, unhóped, | from desperate strife; |
Next on his fòe | his look | he cast, |
Whose every gasp | appeared his làst; |
In Roderick's gore | he dipped the bráid,
"Poor Blanche! | thy wrongs are déarly paid:
Yet with thy foe | must die, | or líve, |
The praise that Faith and Vàlour give.”-
With that he blew a bùgle-note,
Undid the collar from his throat,
Unbonneted, and by the wave |

Sáte down | his brow and hands | to làve.
Then faint afar | are héard | the feet

Of rushing steeds | in gallop fleet; |
The sounds increase, and now | are seen |

240

250

260

270

By loosened rein, | a saddled steed: |

Each onward | held his headlong course,

And by Fitz-James | reined up his horse,—|

245 Life's exhausted tide, his blood

spilt on the ground.

254 Close, contest.

260 The braid, of Blanche of Devan's

hair. See line 179.

262 Thy foe, Roderick, who had killed

her husband and taken her captive.

266 Unbonneted, took off his bonnet. The wave, the stream.

271 Lincoln green, the colour worn by the archers of Lincolnshire.

"With that he blew a bugle-note."-Page 246.

With wonder | viewed the bloody spot |
"Excláim not, gallants! | quèstion not.
You, Herbert and Luffness, | alight,
And bind the wounds of yonder knight; |
Let the gray pálfrey bear his weight, |
We destined for a fairer freight, |

And bring him on to Stirling | stràight: |
I will before at better spéed, |

The sun rides high;- | I must be boúne |
To see the archer-game | at noon; |

But lightly | Bayard | clears the lea.

De Vaux and Hérries, | fòllow me."

280 Palfrey, a light horse. 281 A fairer freight, a lady. 284 Weed, clothing.

285 Boune, ready.

280

288

287 Bayard, his horse.-The lea, the turf; the ground.

PRINCE ARTHUR AND HUBERT.

THE PLAY. The scenes are from Shakespeare's historical play, King John. The play covers the whole reign (seventeen years), and includes its most important incidents: John's scheme for the murder of Arthur, his nephew, who had a better right to the crown than he; his surrender of his crown to the Pope's legate; his quarrel with his nobles; his loss of his baggage in the Wash. It differs in some points from the historical narrative: for example, it is not known how Arthur died; and it is not certain that John was poisoned. THE POET.-William Shakespeare. See Note to "Julius Cæsar,"

page 183.

King John invades France, to chastise Philip for espousing the cause of Prince Arthur, the rightful heir to the English throne. In a battle before Angiers, Arthur is taken prisoner. Hubert, chamberlain to King John, is appointed Arthur's keeper, with instructions to find some means of depriving the young prince of life.

Spoken with guttural

voice and sidelong furtive glances.

Orotund voiceslow.

SCENE-King John's tent before Angiers,

KING JOHN AND HUBERT.

K. John. Come hither, Hubert. | O my gentle Húbert,
We owe thee much; |

Give me thy hand. | I had a thing | to say,- |
But I will fit it with some better time.

In good sooth, Hubert, | I am almost ashamed
To say what good respect | I have of thee.

Hub. I am much bounden | to your majesty. I

K. John. Good friend, | thou hast no cause to say so

yét; |

But thou shalt have: | and | creep time | ne'er so slów, |
Yet it shall come for me to do thee | good. |

I had a thing to say- | but | let it gò:|
The sun is in the heaven, | and the proud dáy, |
Attended with the pleasures of the world, |
Is all too wanton, and too full of gáwds, |
To give me audience :- | If the midnight bell |
Díd, with his iron tongue and brazen móuth, |
Sound One | unto the drowsy race of night; |
If this same were a churchyard | where we stand, |
And thou possessed with a thousand wròngs; |
Or if that surly spirit, | Mèlancholy, |

Had baked thy blood, | and made it heavy-thick, |

7 Bounden, obliged.

14 Wanton, playful.

Gawds, ornaments; gaieties.

15 Audience, hearing.

17 The drowsy race, sleepers.

21 Baked, hardened.

10

20

Impatiently.

(Which, élse, | runs tickling up and down the véins, |
Making that idiot, | laughter, | keep men's eyes |
And strain their cheeks to idle mérriment,

A passion | hateful to my púrposes ;) |

Sotto voce. Or if that thou couldst | see me without eyes, |
Hear me without thine ears, and make reply
Without a tongue, using concéit alone, |

Without èyes, | ears, | and harmful sound of words;—
Then, in despite of brooded watchful day, |

Deep voice. I would | into thy bosom | pour my thoughts: |
Drawing But, ah, | I will not:- | yet | I love thee well; |
And, by my troth, | I think thou lovest mè well.

a long

breath.

Hub. Só well, that what you bíd me undertake, | Though that my death | were adjunct to my act, | Indeed, I'd dò't. |

30

With aspirated

K. John.

66

He shall not live."-Page 250.

Do not I know thou wouldst,

Good Hubert? | Húbert, | Hùbert, throw thine eye | voice. On yon young boy: | I'll tell thee what, my friend,

28 Conceit, thought; that which is

conceived in the mind.

30 Brooded, watchful.

33 By my troth, in truth.

35 Adjunct to, dependent on, or a con

sequence of.

He is a very serpent | in my way;|

And, wheresoe'er this foot of mine doth tréad, Hé lies before me: | dost thou understand me? ¦ Meaningly. Thou art his | keeper. |

In lond whisper. Surprised. In a hissed

whisper.

In tone of decision.

Relieved

Hub.

And I will keep him só,
That he shall not offend your majesty. |

40

A gràve.

He shall not live. |
Enough.

50

I could be merry now: | Hubert, I love thee. |
Well, I'll not say what I intend for thee: |
Remember.

Constance, mother to Prince Arthur, is overwhelmed with grief at the capture of her son.

Tearfully spoken.

Soothingly

-then aside.

SCENE-The French King's tent.

PANDULPH, CONSTANCE, AND KING PHILIP.

Pand. Lady, you utter madness, and not sorrow. |
Const. Thou art not hòly, to belie me so;

I am not mad: | this hair I tear is mine; |
My name is Constance; | I was Géffrey's wife; |
Young Arthur is my són, | and he is lost : |

I am nót màd;- | I would, | in sooth, | I wére; |
For then, 'tis like I should forget myself: |
O, if I could, | what grief should I forget!— ¦
Preach some philosophy | to make me mad. |
If I were mad, | I should forget my son:
I am not mad; | too well, too well I feel |
The different plague | of eách calàmity. |
K. Phi. Bind up those trèsses.

60

O what love I note |

In the fair multitude of these | her háirs! |
When | but by chance | a silver dróp | hath fallen, |
Even to that drop | ten thousand wiry friends |

Do glue themselves in sóciable grief, |
Like true, inseparable, | faithful lovers, |
Sticking together | in calàmity.- |

42 Lies before me, hinders me.

55 Belie me, speak falsely of me.

70

Henry II., and John's elder brother.

57 Constance, daughter of the Duke of 65 Plague, stroke.

Bretagne.-Geffrey, third son of 70 Sociable, neighbourly.