Now that our horses gone) this side the ridge,
Find your way back to dear old home again;
While I--Come, come!--
What, weeping my poor fellow?
FIFE.
Leave you here
Alone--my Lady--Lord! I mean my Lord--
In a strange country--among savages--
Oh, now I know--you would be rid of me
For fear my stumbling speech--
ROS.
Oh, no, no, no!--
I want you with me for a thousand sakes
To which that is as nothing--I myself
More apt to let the secret out myself
Without your help at all--Come, come, cheer up!
And if you sing again, 'Come weal, come woe,'
Let it be that; for we will never part
Until you give the signal.
FIFE.
'Tis a bargain.
ROS.
Now to begin, then. 'Follow, follow me,
'You fairy elves that be.'
FIFE.
Ay, and go on--
Something of 'following darkness like a dream,'
For that we're after.
ROS.
No, after the sun;
Trying to catch hold of his glittering skirts
That hang upon the mountain as he goes.
FIFE.
Ah, he's himself past catching--as you spoke
He heard what you were saying, and--just so--
Like some scared water-bird,
As we say in my country, _dove_ below.
ROS.
Well, we must follow him as best we may.
Poland is no great country, and, as rich
In men and means, will but few acres spare
To lie beneath her barrier mountains bare.
We cannot, I believe, be very far
From mankind or their dwellings.
FIFE.
Send it so!
And well provided for man, woman, and beast.
No, not for beast. Ah, but my heart begins
To yearn for her--
ROS.
Keep close, and keep your feet
From serving you as hers did.
FIFE.
As for beasts,
If in default of other entertainment,
We should provide them with ourselves to eat--
Bears, lions, wolves--
ROS.
Oh, never fear.
FIFE.
Or else,
Default of other beasts, beastlier men,
Cannibals, Anthropophagi, bare Poles
Who never knew a tailor but by taste.
ROS.
Look, look! Unless my fancy misconceive
With twilight--down among the rocks there, Fife--
Some human dwelling, surely--
Or think you but a rock torn from the rocks
In some convulsion like to-day's, and perch'd
Quaintly among them in mock-masonry?
FIFE.
|