Bethlen. Was it then
That timid eye, was it those maiden hands
That sped the shaft, which saved me and avenged me? [165]
Old Bathory. 'Twas as a vision blazoned on a cloud
By lightning, shaped into a passionate scheme
Of life and death! I saw the traitor, Laska,
Stoop and snatch up the javelin of his comrade;
The point was at your back, when her shaft reached him. 170
The coward turned, and at the self-same instant
The braver villain fell beneath your sword.
[Enter Zapolya.
Zapolya. Bethlen! my child! and safe too!
Bethlen. Mother! Queen.
Royal Zapolya! name me Andreas!
Nor blame thy son, if being a king, he yet 175
Hath made his own arm minister of his justice.
So do the gods who launch the thunderbolt!
Zapolya. O Raab Kiuprili! Friend! Protector! Guide!
In vain we trenched the altar round with waters,
A flash from Heaven hath touched the hidden incense— [180]
Bethlen. And that majestic form that stood beside thee
Was Raab Kiuprili!
Zapolya. It was Raab Kiuprili;
As sure as thou art Andreas, and the king.
Old Bathory. Hail Andreas! hail my king!
Andreas. Stop, thou revered one,
Lest we offend the jealous destinies 185
By shouts ere victory. Deem it then thy duty
To pay this homage, when 'tis mine to claim it.