HERBERT Fallen am I, and worn out, a useless Man;
              Kindly have you protected me to-night,
              And no return have I to make but prayers;
              May you in age be blest with such a daughter!—­
              When from the Holy Land I had returned
              Sightless, and from my heritage was driven,
              A wretched Outcast—­but this strain of thought
              Would lead me to talk fondly.

MARMADUKE Do not fear;
              Your words are precious to my ears; go on.

HERBERT You will forgive me, but my heart runs over. 
              When my old Leader slipped into the flood
              And perished, what a piercing outcry you
              Sent after him.  I have loved you ever since. 
              You start—­where are we?

MARMADUKE Oh, there is no danger;
              The cold blast struck me.

HERBERT
                                      ’Twas a foolish question.

MARMADUKE But when you were an Outcast?—­Heaven is just;
              Your piety would not miss its due reward;
              The little Orphan then would be your succour,
              And do good service, though she knew it not.

HERBERT I turned me from the dwellings of my Fathers,
              Where none but those who trampled on my rights
              Seemed to remember me.  To the wide world
              I bore her, in my arms; her looks won pity;
              She was my Raven in the wilderness,
              And brought me food.  Have I not cause to love her?

MARMADUKE Yes.

HERBERT More than ever Parent loved a Child?

MARMADUKE Yes, yes.

HERBERT I will not murmur, merciful God! 
              I will not murmur; blasted as I have been,
              Thou hast left me ears to hear my Daughter’s voice,
              And arms to fold her to my heart.  Submissively
              Thee I adore, and find my rest in faith.

[Enter OSWALD.]

OSWALD Herbert!—­confusion! (aside). 
                                           Here it is, my Friend,
     [Presents the Horn.]
              A charming beverage for you to carouse,
              This bitter night.

HERBERT Ha!  Oswald! ten bright crosses
              I would have given, not many minutes gone,
              To have heard your voice.

OSWALD Your couch, I fear, good Baron,
              Has been but comfortless; and yet that place,
              When the tempestuous wind first drove us hither,
              Felt warm as a wren’s nest.  You’d better turn
              And under covert rest till break of day,