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Updated: May 15, 2025
"This seemeth more in truth like witch's dwelling. Whatsoe'er it be here we stay until the storm abates. We are from the queen, woman." Dame Margery said no more, but began to bestir herself about the supper. "Some of you see about the horses," commanded the leader, placing himself before the fire. Two of the men went out and presently returned.
That when we stand with tearless eye And turn the beggar from our door, They still approve us when we sigh, "Ah, had I but ONE THOUSAND MORE!" That weakness smoothed the path of sin, In half the slips our youth has known; And whatsoe'er its blame has been, That Mercy flowers on faults outgrown.
Sir Gilles is a mighty jouster and skilled withal, moreover he rideth his famous horse Mars a noble beast and fresh, while thine is something wearied. And then, master, direst of all, she thou would'st champion is a witch " "That worketh no evil by day, Roger. So do I charge thee, whatsoe'er betide, look to the maid, take her across thy saddle and strive to bring her to safety.
Then bear thee like a genuine son of Moscow, With reverence due to all her usages. Keep promise with the Poles, and value them, For thou hast need of friends on thy new throne: The arm that placed thee there can hurl thee down. Esteem them honorably, yet ape them not; Strange customs thrive not in a foreign soil. And, whatsoe'er thou dost, revere thy mother You'll find a mother
'O gracious creature and benign! who go'st Visiting, through this element obscure, Us, who the world with bloody stain imbrued, If, for a friend, the King of all, we own'd, Our prayer to him should for thy peace arise, Since thou hast pity on our evil plight Of whatsoe'er to hear or to discourse It pleases thee, that will we hear, of that Freely with thee discourse, while e'er the wind As now is mute The land that gave me birth Is situate on the coast, where Po descends To rest in ocean with his sequent streams 'Love that in gentle heart is quickly learnt Entangled him by that fair form, from me Ta'en in such cruel sort, as grieves me still, Love that denial takes from none beloved Caught me with pleasing him so passing well That as thou seest, he yet deserts me not 'Love brought us to one death, Caina waits The soul who spilt our life' Such were their words, At hearing which downward I bent my looks And held them there so long that the bard cried 'What art thou pondering? I in answer thus 'Alas' by what sweet thoughts, what fond desire Must they at length to that ill pass have reached' Then turning, I to them my speech address'd, And thus began 'Francesca! your sad fate Even to tears my grief and pity moves But tell me, in the time of your sweet sighs, By what, and how Love granted, that ye knew Your yet uncertain wishes? She replied 'No greater grief then to remember days Of joy when misery is at hand That kens Thy learn'd instructor Yet so eagerly If thou art bent to know the primal root From whence our love gat being, I will do As one who weeps and tells his tale One day For our delight we read of Lancelot, How him love thrall'd Alone we were and no Suspicion near us Oft-times by that reading Our eyes were drawn together, and the hue Fled from our altered cheek But at one point Alone we fell When of that smile we read, That wished smile, so rapturously kissed By one so deep in love, then he, who ne'er From me shall separate, at once my lips All trembling kissed The book and writer both Were love's purveyors In its leaves that day We read no more' While thus one spirit spake The other wailed so sorely, that heart-struck I, through compassion fainting, seem'd not far From death and like a corse fell to the ground"
They know whither fate is driving them: Isolda has said as much to Brangaena: "she may end it ... whatsoe'er she make me, wheresoe'er take me, hers am I wholly, so let me obey her solely."
"Whatsoe'er within the Shrine Eyes may see or soul divine, Swear we secret as the deep, Silent as the Urn to keep. By the Light we claim to share, By the Fount of Light, we swear." As these words were uttered, I became aware that some change had taken place at the further end of the Hall.
"It may not be our lot to wield The sickle in the ripened field; Nor ours to hear on summer eves, The reaper's song among the sheaves; Yet, when our duty's task is wrought, In unison with God's great thought, The near and future blend in one, And whatsoe'er is willed is done." I have come to entertain very serious doubts about my "orthodoxy" on the subject of doing good.
But when I heard this I gave such a cry that the whole vault shook; and when my poor child, who was dying of terror and despair, had heard my voice she first struggled with her bound hands and feet like a lamb that lies dying in the slaughter-house, and then cried out, "Loose me, and I will confess whatsoe'er you will." Hereat Dom.
"Did I sleep?" she questioned drowsily, "Beltane," she sighed, speaking low and thick "I charge thee, whatsoe'er the future doth bring yet love me alway or I, methinks shall die!" Awhile she lay against him breathing deep and slow, then started of a sudden, looking upon him vague-eyed. "Beltane," she murmured, "art there, beloved? 'Tis dark, and my eyes heavy. Methinks I must sleep awhile.
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