Britain ... - Blue-Lite

44 THE ENGLISH SLAVE. [Act III.
RODERICK.
Ha ! ha ! ha ! ha !
GONDABERT.
The sound of hell is in thy fiendish mockery,
To him who feels th' undying worm within.
And hell, if thou art mortal, sent thee here
Another dark and bloody scene to act.
That look ferocious speaks thee ready still
To do my bidding.
Give me, then, thy hand
'Tis warm with life. Welcome, thrice welcome,
Roderick.
RODERICK.
I thank thee, Thane. Hearing of thy return,
I hastened hither to renew our friendship,
If, proud in fortune's sun and winged with fame,
Thou soar'st not to a height above my reach.
I have not been without my victories, too,
Or many a fair prize on the moor's wild skirts,
Won gallantly in spite of sword and law.
GONDABERT.
Most opportunely com'st thou to my wish.
RODERICK.
Thou somewhat knowest my deeds. Thine elder brother
By my bold daring
fell into the hands
Of those death-dealing Danes, who spared him not :
And both his infant sons, consigned by thee
To these kind nursing arms, I rocked asleep ;
Nor have they from their slumbers e'er awoke.
GONDABERT.
Roderick, I've seen them oft.
RODERICK (alarmed.)
Ha ! where, my lord ?