[_She runs suddenly on to the raised part of the poop._] And now I can put fear away as a queen should. [_She mounts on the bulwark and turns towards FORGAEL._] Fool, fool! Although you have looked into my face You did not see my purpose. I shall have gone Before a hand can touch me. _Forgael_ [_folding his arms_]. My hands are still; The ever-living hold us. Do what you will, You cannot leap out of the golden net. _First Sailor._ There is no need for you to drown. Give us our pardon and we will bring you home on your own ship, and make an end of this man that is leading us to death. _Dectora._ I promise it. _Aibric._ I am on his side. I’d strike a blow for him to give him time To cast his dreams away. _First Sailor._ He has put a sudden darkness over the moon. _Dectora._ Nine swords with handles of rhinoceros horn To him that strikes him first. _First Sailor._ I will strike him first. No! for that music of his might put a beast’s head upon my shoulders, or it may be two heads and they devouring one another. _Dectora._ I’ll give a golden galley full of fruit That has the heady flavour of new wine To him that wounds him to the death. _First Sailor._ I’ll strike at him. His spells, when he dies, will die with him and vanish away. _Second Sailor._ I’ll strike at him. _The Others._ And I! And I! And I! [_FORGAEL plays upon the harp._] _First Sailor_ [_falling into a dream_]. It is what they are saying, there is some person dead in the other ship; we have to go and wake him. They did not say what way he came to his end, but it was sudden. _Second Sailor._ You are right, you are right. We have to go to that wake. _Dectora._ He has flung a Druid spell upon the air, And set you dreaming. _Second Sailor._ What way can we raise a keen, not knowing what name to call him by? _First Sailor._ Come on to his ship. His name will come to mind in a moment. All I know is he died a thousand years ago, and was never yet waked. _Second Sailor._ How can we wake him having no ale? _First Sailor._ I saw a skin of ale aboard her—a pigskin of brown ale. _Third Sailor._ Come to the ale, a pigskin of brown ale, a goatskin of yellow. _First Sailor_ [_singing_]. Brown ale and yellow; yellow and brown ale; a goatskin of yellow. _All_ [_singing_]. Brown ale and yellow; yellow and brown ale! [Sailors _go out_. _Dectora._ Protect me now, gods, that my people swear by! [_AIBRIC has risen from the ground where he had fallen. He has begun looking for his sword as if in a dream._ _Aibric._ Where is my sword that fell out of my hand When I first heard the news? Ah, there it is! [_He goes dreamily towards the sword, but DECTORA runs at it and takes it up before he can reach it._ _Aibric_ [_sleepily_]. Queen, give it me. _Dectora._ No, I have need of it.