“This meeting as the sign, and speak, and die!”

“Child,” said the Queen, “your years are yet too few.

See how I live,—and yet what sorrows lie

About my heart.”—“I know,—the world spake true!

You too have loved him; ay, he seems to stand

Between us! Queen, you had the Prince’s hand,

“But not his love!” Across the good Queen’s brow

A flame of anger reddened, as when one

Meets unprepared a swift and ruthless blow,

But instant paled to pity, as she thought,