_Mar._ The spirits of good men, allowed to wander After their death about the mortal sites Where once they dwelt, there where they love to rest Shed virtue on the soil, as doth a ray Of sunlight: but the immortal qualities By which their races differ, as they once Differed in blood alive, with various power 1780 Favour the various vegetable germs With kindred specialty. This herb, I think, Grows where the Greek hath been. Its beauty shows A subtle and full knowledge, and betrays A genius of contrivance. Seest thou how The fading emerald and azure blent On the white petals are immeshed about With delicate sprigs of green? ’Tis therefore called Love-in-a-mist. _Pal._ Who is this thistle here? _Mar._ O, he, with plumèd crest, springing all armed In steely lustre, and erect as Mars, 1791 That is the Roman. _Pal._ Find the Saracen. _Mar._ This hot gladiolus, with waving swords And crying colour. _Pal._ And this marigold? _Mar._ That is the Norman: nay, his furious blood Blazes the secret. ’Tis said where’er he roamed This flower is common; but ’tis in those climes Where he wrought best it wears the strongest hue, And so with us ’tis bravest. _Pal._ And that’s thy countryman! Dost thou know Greek? _Mar._ My father ever spoke it; 1800 And Manuel made me study in it, because Their learning was the best. _Pal._ And yet their books Were little thought of till great Frederick’s time,— The infidel. _Mar._ Was he an infidel? _Pal._ He loved their heathen books and mocked the Pope: And brought into his court a Scottish wizard, Who trafficked with the devil.—See, Margaret; Their courts are all alike. Here is the letter Fat Blasco writes me. He betrays his master For those few coins thou gav’st me in thy bag. 1810 [_Mar. takes letter._ Gold goeth in at any gate but heaven’s. Ay, ’tis his writing, tho’ it be not signed. It tells how Hugo would escape by ship, And how to intercept him. _Enter hastily a Brigand._ _BRIGAND._ Captain, a word. _Pal._ Speak, Roger. _Brig._ ’Tis for thee, captain, alone. _Pal._ I am alone, this lady is as I. What is’t? _Brig._ Thou biddest? _Pal._ Speak, man, by heav’n! _Brig._ Our men Are all betrayed. They were in dark of night Closely surrounded at their several trysts 1819 By Hugo’s soldiers; bound, and taken to prison. _Pal._ O, Christ! my dream.