Page:Keats - Poetical Works, DeWolfe, 1884.djvu/373

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OTHO THE GREAT.
357
Of my great love for thee, my supreme child!Come close, and let me breathe into thine ear.I knew you through disguise. You are the Arab[Embracing him.You can't deny it.
 Ludolph.Happiest of days!
 Otho. We'll make it so
 Ludolph.'Stead of one fatted calfTen hecatombs shall bellow out their last,Smote 'twixt the horns by the death-stunning maceOf Mars, and all the soldiery shall feastNobly as Nimrod's masons, when the towersOf Nineveh new kiss'd the parted clouds!
 Otho. Large as a God speak out, where all is thine.
 Ludolph. Ay, father, but the fire in my sad breastIs quench'd with inward tears! I must rejoiceFor you, whose wings so shadow over meIn tender victory, but for myselfI still must mourn. The fair Auranthe mine!Too great a boon! I pr'ythee let me askWhat more than I know of could so have changedYour purpose touching her.
 Otho.At a word, this:In no deed did you give me more offenceThan your rejection of Erminia.To my appalling, I saw too good proofOf your keen-eyed suspicion, she is naught!
 Ludolph. You are convinc'd?
 Otho.Ay, spite of her sweet looks.O, that my brother's daughter should so fall!Her fame has pass'd in to the grosser lipsOf soldiers in their cups.
 Ludolph.'Tis very sad.
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