Racine: Phaedra

LIFE A DREAM 233
Again, which meditation, as they say,
So often loves to float upon ?
Segismund.— The music?
No—
yes— perhaps the trumpet [Aside.] Yet if that
Brought back the troop
A Lord.— The trumpet! There again
How trumpet-like spoke out the blood of Poland
Chamberlain.—Before the morning is far up, your Highness
Will have the trumpet marshalling your soldiers
Under the Palace windows.
Segismund.— Ah, my soldiers
My soldiers—not black-vizor'd ?
Chamberlain.— Sir?
Segismund.— No matter.
But—one thing— for a moment—in your ear
Do you know one Clotaldo ?
Chamberlain.— Oh, my Lord,
He and myself together, I may say,
Although in different vocations,
t Have silver'd in your royal father's service
* And, as I trust, with both of us a few
White hairs to fall in yours.
Segismund.— Well said, well said!
Basilio, my father—well—Clotaldo
Is he my kinsman too?
Chamberlain.— Oh, my good Lord,
A General simply in your Highness' service.
Than whom your Highness has no trustier.
Segismund.—Ay, so you said before, I think. And you
With that white wand of yours
Why, now I think on't, I have read of such
A silver-hair'd magician with a wand,
Who in a moment, with a wave of it,
Turn'd rags to jewels, clowns to emperors.
By some benigner magic than the stars
Spirited poor good people out of hand
From all their woes ;
in some enchanted sleep
Carried them off on cloud or dragon-back
Over the mountains, over the wide deep,
And set them down to wake in fairyland.