Page:Keats - Poetical Works, DeWolfe, 1884.djvu/360

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OTHO THE GREAT.
Come, fair Auranthe, try if your soft handsCan manage those hard rivets to set freeSo brave a prince and soldier
 Auranthe (sets him free).Welcome task!
 Gersa. I am wound up in deep astonishment!Thank you, fair lady, Otho! emperor!You rob me of myself; my dignityIs now your infant; I am a weak child.
 Otho. Give me your hand, and let this kindly graspLive in our memories.
 Gersa.In mine it will.I blush to think of my unchasten'd tongue;But I was haunted by the monstrous ghostOf all our slain battalions. Sire, reflect,And pardon you will grant, that, as this hour,The bruised remnants of our stricken campAre huddling undistinguished, my dear friends,With common thousands, into shallow graves.
 Otho. Enough, most noble Gersa. You are freeTo cheer the brave remainder of your hostBy your own healing presence, and that too,Not as their leader merely, but their king;For, as I hear, the wily enemy,Who eas'd the crownet from your infant brows,Bloody Taraxa, is among the dead.
 Gersa. Then I retire, so generous Otho please,Bearing with me a weight of benefitsToo heavy to be borne.
 Otho.It is not so;Still understand me, King of Hungary,Nor judge my open purposes awry.
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