That speaks of maddening strife, and bloodstained fields to come.
VIII.
It was in truth a momentary pang;
Yet how comprising myriad shapes of woe!
First when in Gertrude’s ear the summons rang,
A husband to the battle doomed to go!
“Nay meet not thou,” she cries, “thy kindred foe!
But peaceful let us seek fair England’s strand!”
“Ah, Gertrude! thy belovèd heart, I know,
Would feel like mine, the stigmatising brand!