CARLOMAN.
Ha! ha! He shuts the door—so blank a sound!
And now the river comes about my brain,
And now the music foams incessantly,
The music of my funeral. Enough
For me that I shall lie against the heart
Of that on-pouring volume ...
I am left
By every creature I have breathed beside—
They do not want me. God—He least of all!
He has a King to crown.
All’s well, all are provided for.... My brother
Is in my place; my friend will take my wife.
How Geneviva shuddered at my chains
And clung to her old paramour! So easy
The world’s wounds are to heal. A little time,
Ten years, a year—and all is found defeat
In any life, all turned to ridicule.
[Enter Marcomir in lay dress.]
MARCOMIR.
I have great news for you.
CARLOMAN.
But I am dying!
And now if all the doors were open wide
I should not move to pass through any one.
You cannot bring great news; I know it all,
All that must come now: I can alter nothing.
Rome will be succoured.
MARCOMIR.
Yes, the siege is raised,
And Astolph in retreat. I am not come
To talk of politics.