Britain ... - Blue-Lite

Scene II.] THE VARANGIAN. 281
IVO.
O, good my sovereign lord, I am a man
Scant in my words
Thou soundly sleep'st.
KING.
That may be, Ivo, when
ivo.
Now know I not, my lord,
Where words to find sufficient for my tale
Of stratagems and robberies, plots and battles,
Of my escapes and dangers. Yet it skills
Not me to speak of half which I have done :
But, not to boast, which I could ne'er endure,
I've been a whirlwind in my wrath against
That bog-encircled isle a very whirlwind,
Which sweeps down groves of oaks, and on its back
Bears off whole villages ; then, fiercer still,
Crumbles to fragments palaces and towers,
And in their dust its nakedness arrays,
Assuming visible shape
Has been my fury.
KING.
And yet still doubt we
! such and so wild
If Ely stands not where it did of yore,
With all its reeds and willows firmly fixt,
Ay, and its castle, by that rebel built
Stout Hereward de Brunne, even in
The whirlwind of thine anger.
despite
ivo.
Good my liege,
That pirate, may the foul fiend of the moor
Blast him with leprosy ! is to this isle
Returned, with many followers, from the East ;
And now the Saxon outlaws of the woods,