Britain ... - Blue-Lite

288 THE VARANGIAN. [Act I.
What shall be done to win this last strong-hold
Of rebels in the kingdom,
KING.
Well, proceed.
Yet, if thy words be true, what hope hast thou
Where thy great valour failed ?
ivo.
O my good lord,
'Tis not in human strength. But, sire, there is
A strange unearthly woman,, who hath long
Dwelt lonely on the bleak and desert moor, 17
( )
Two leagues from our war-station. None will dare
Myself excepted
when pale day expires,
Her hut f approach beneath its blasted oaks,
On which two devils, shaped like ravens, sit
Hoarse croaking to the moon, while faint and far
The shriek of spectres o'er the lone waste comes ;
For she holds converse with invisible things,
Making the dead to speak,
fierce fiends obey
Her warlock spells, and she can taint the flocks
And herds with murrain, blast with racking pains
And fires all cloud-begotten those on whom
Her withering curses light. Let me but place
The wonder-working hag amid our ranks,
I'll pledge my life to vanquish, by her aid,
That fell Varangian robber.
KING.
Ivo, thou
Dost counsel well. Since honourable arms
Of knighthood fail against that blood-baptized,
That demon-child of evil, we will meet
And make him quail beneath our arrows, winged
With mightier spells than his. Speed, Ivo, hence,