So should my task be to evolve her love :
If for myself! - if for another .well.

Berth. Heroic truly! And your sole reward, -
The secret pride in yielding up love's right?

Val. Who thought upon reward? And yet how much Comes after oh, what amplest recompense!

Is the knowledge of her, nought? the memory, nought?
Lady, should such an one have looked on you,
Ne'er wrong yourself so far as quote the world
And say, love can go unrequited here!

You will have blessed him to his whole life's end
Low passions hindered, baser cares kept back,
All goodness cherished where you dwelt and dwell.
What would he have? He holds you - you, both form
And mind, in his, - where self-love makes such room
For love of you, he would not serve you now
The vulgar way, repulse your enemies,
Win you new realms, or best, to save the old
Die blissfully - that's past so long ago!
He wishes you no need, thought, care of him
Your good, by any means, himself unseen,
Away, forgotten!-He gives that life's task up,
As it were... but this charge which I return

Wishing your good.

[Offers the requisition, which she takes.

The D. [having subscribed it.] And opportunely, sir
Since at a birthday's close, like this of mine,
Good wishes gentle deeds reciprocate.

Most on a wedding-day, as mine is too,

Should gifts be thought of: yours comes first by right.
Ask of me!

Berth. He shall have whate'er he asks,
For your sake and his own.

Val. [Aside.]

If I should ask

perhaps,

The withered bunch of flowers she wears
One last touch of her hand, I never more

Shall see!

[After a pause, presenting his paper to the Prince. Cleves' Prince, redress the wrongs of Cleves!

Berth. I will, sir!

The D. [as VALENCE prepares to retire.] — Nay, do out your

duty, first!

You bore this paper; I have registered

My answer to it: read it and have done!

I take him give up Juliers and the world.
This is my Birthday.

[VALENCE reads it.

Mel.

Berthold, my one hero

Of the world she gives up, one friend worth my books,
Sole man I think it pays the pains to watch,

Speak, for I know you through your Popes and Kings!
Berth. [after a pause.] Lady, well rewarded! Sir, as well
deserved!

I could not imitate

I hardly envy-
All is for the best.

now,

I do admire you.
Too costly a flower were this, I
see it
To pluck and set upon my barren helm
To wither any garish plume will do.
I'll not insult you and refuse your Duchy -
You can so well afford to yield it me,
And I were left, without it, sadly lorn.
As it is- for me - if that will flatter you,

A somewhat wearier life seems to remain

Than I thought possible where . . . 'faith, their life
Begins already! They're too occupied

To listen and few words content me best.

[Abruptly to the Courtiers.] I am your Duke, though! Who obey me here?

The D. Adolf and Sabyne follow us

Gui. [starting from the Courtiers.] - And I?

Do I not follow them, if I may n't you?

Shall not I get some little duties up

At Ravestein and emulate the rest?

God save you, Gaucelme ! 'Tis my Birthday, too!
Berth. You happy handful that remain with me
That is, with Dietrich the black Barnabite

I shall leave over you

will earn your wages

Or Dietrich has forgot to ply his trade!
Meantime, go copy me the precedents
Of every installation, proper styles
And pedigrees of all your Juliers' Dukes
While I prepare to plod on my old way,
And somewhat wearily, I must confess!

The D. [with a light joyous laugh as she turns from them.]
Come, Valence, to our friends, God's earth

Val. [as she falls into his arms.]

...

- And thee!

DRAMATIC ROMANCES

INCIDENT OF THE FRENCH CAMP.

I.

You know, we French stormed Ratisbon: A mile or so away,

On a little mound, Napoleon

Stood on our storming-day;

With neck out-thrust, you fancy how,

Legs wide, arms locked behind, As if to balance the prone brow Oppressive with its mind.

II.

Just as perhaps he mused "My plans
That soar, to earth may fall,

Let once my army-leader Lannes
Waver at yonder wall,"

Out 'twixt the battery-smokes there flew
A rider, bound on bound

Full-galloping; nor bridle drew

Until he reached the mound.

III.

Then off there flung in smiling joy,
And held himself erect

By just his horse's mane, a boy:

You hardly could suspect

(So tight he kept his lips compressed,
Scarce any blood came through)

You looked twice ere you saw his breast
Was all but shot in two.

IV.

66 "Well," cried he, "Emperor, by God's grace

We've got you Ratisbon !

The Marshal's in the market-place,
And you'll be there anon

To see your flag-bird flap his vans
Where I, to heart's desire,

Perched him!" The chief's eye flashed; his plans
Soared up again like fire.

V.

The chief's eye flashed; but presently

Softened itself, as sheathes

A film the mother-eagle's eye

When her bruised eaglet breathes;

"You're wounded!" 66

'Nay," the soldier's pride

Touched to the quick, he said:

"I'm killed, Sire!" And his chief beside, Smiling the boy fell dead.

THE PATRIOT.

AN OLD STORY.

I.

It was roses, roses, all the way,

With myrtle mixed in my path like mad:
The house-roofs seemed to heave and sway,
The church-spires flamed, such flags they had,
A year ago on this very day.

II.

The air broke into a mist with bells,

The old walls rocked with the crowd and cries. Had I said, "Good folk, mere noise repels

But give me your sun from yonder skies!' They had answered, " And afterward, what else?"

III.

Alack, it was I who leaped at the sun
To give it my loving friends to keep!

Nought man could do, have I left undone :
And you see my harvest, what I reap
This very day, now a year is run.

IV.

There's nobody on the house-tops now -
Just a palsied few at the windows set;
For the best of the sight is, all allow,

I go in the rain, and, more than needs,
A rope cuts both my wrists behind;
And I think, by the feel, my forehead bleeds,
For they fling, whoever has a mind,
Stones at me for my year's misdeeds.

VI.

Thus I entered, and thus I go!

In triumphs, people have dropped down dead. "Paid by the world, what dost thou owe

Me?"- God might question; now instead, 'Tis God shall repay: I am safer so.

MY LAST DUCHESS.

FERRARA.

That's my last Duchess painted on the wall,
Looking as if she were alive. I call

That piece a wonder, now: Frà Pandolf's hands
Worked busily a day, and there she stands.
Will 't please you sit and look at her? I said
"Frà Pandolf" by design, for never read
Strangers like you that pictured countenance,
The depth and passion of its earnest glance,
But to myself they turned (since none puts by
The curtain I have drawn for you, but I)
And seemed as they would ask me, if they durst,
How such a glance came there; so, not the first
Are you to turn and ask thus. Sir, 't was not
Her husband's presence only, called that spot
Of joy into the Duchess' cheek: perhaps
Frà Pandolf chanced to say "Her mantle laps
Over my lady's wrist too much," or "Paint
Must never hope to reproduce the faint
Half-flush that dies along her throat:" such stuff
Was courtesy, she thought, and cause enough
For calling up that spot of joy. She had

A heart-how shall I say?-too soon made glad, Too easily impressed; she liked whate'er

She looked on, and her looks went everywhere.