Britain ... - Blue-Lite

Scene 1. 1 THE
VARANGIAN. 267
That dashed the sunlight off in vivid streams,
Till far the shining plain seemed all on fire.
In such an hour, how swelled my joyous heart
As the loud trump rang forth its martial peal,
And called me to the strife. From helm to spur
Gleaming in gold and gems, I onward urged
My war-horse like the fire-levin bolt of Jove ;
While round the picture of my lady-love
On my broad shield displayed, ( 7 ) that orb's bright marge
Shot forth encircling splendours !
FITZ-ROLLO.
Ha ! ha ! ha !
OSMOND.
Why dost thou laugh, and interrupt my dream
Of knightly glory ?
FITZ-ROLLO.
O, I laugh to think
How oft the artist was employed to paint
Fresh damsels on that shield, save it could change
To Flattery's mirror by some wizard spell,
Wherein whatever maid, to whom at each
New tilt thou for the envied prize didst kneel,
Might proudly glass her beauty.
OSMOND.
Thou dost grow,
My knightly brother, somewhat too severe.
FITZ-ROLLO.
O, by St. Rimini ! I'd rather see
The flames ascending from some city sacked,
Than all the proud chevaunche of merry knights.
Then, for a gallant prize, give me a herd
Of lusty slaves fit for the public mart.
They're worth a million of your love-devices,