Britain ... - Blue-Lite

118 THE DEVOTED ONE. [Act I.
So like a brainless ninny. 'Tis not I
That am the fool. No, no ; let wise men judge
If from my lips such mad words ever fell.
GODWIN.
My father ? He, kind easy man, lives on
Contented with his cottage-home and farm,
The master of a few poor flocks and herds,
And stupid slaves like thee : he never dreamt
Of those gay scenes that shed the golden light
Of fairy -land round rank and lordly power :
He never felt the unsatisfied desire
Great and renowned to live,
to win a name
Eternal in the annals of his country.
He is content
To live as his fore-fathers lived, to breathe
Awhile in simple ease, and then descend
To mingle with their dust in dark oblivion :
He looks on greatness and its witching pomp
As listless as the evening wolf regards
The queen of heaven, when on her forehead shine
The thickly gathered sunbeams. I would be
That savage wolf and nightly howl for food,
Rather than live a life so meanly worthless.
BORNWULF.
Bless me ! a wolf ? And why may he not lead
A life to him as happy as a Thane
With all his wealth enjoys?
GODWIN.
O, there is one, one only path for me.
Dull-minded carl !
Through fields of war that track will I pursue,
And live with glory, or with honour die.
Yes, great I shall be ! for I met the witch,