'Tis enough for thee To hear of Magnus' peril; and thy love (35) Deceives thee with the thought that thou canst gaze Unmoved on civil strife.

It shames my soul On the eve of war to slumber at thy side, And rise from thy dear breast when trumpets call A woeful world to misery and arms.
I fear in civil war to feel no loss To Magnus.

Meantime safer than a king Lie hid, nor let the fortune of thy lord Whelm thee with all its weight.

If unkind heaven Our armies rout, still let my choicest part Survive in thee; if fated is my flight, Still leave me that whereto I fain would flee." Hardly at first her senses grasped the words In their full misery; then her mind amazed Could scarce find utterance for the grief that pressed.
"Nought, Magnus, now is left wherewith to upbraid The gods and fates of marriage; 'tis not death That parts our love, nor yet the funeral pyre, Nor that dread torch which marks the end of all.
I share the ignoble lot of vulgar lives: My spouse rejects me.

Yes, the foe is come! Break we our bonds and Julia's sire appease! -- Is this thy consort, Magnus, this thy faith In her fond loving heart?
Can danger fright Her and not thee?
Long since our mutual fates Hang by one chain; and dost thou bid me now The thunder-bolts of ruin to withstand Without thee?
Is it well that I should die Even while you pray for fortune?
And suppose I flee from evil and with death self-sought Follow thy footsteps to the realms below -- Am I to live till to that distant isle Some tardy rumour of thy fall may come?
Add that thou fain by use would'st give me strength To bear such sorrow and my doom.