MARMADUKE Now, for a word about your Barony: 
              I fancy when you left the Holy Land,
              And came to—­what’s your title—­eh? your claims
              Were undisputed!

HERBERT Like a mendicant,
              Whom no one comes to meet, I stood alone;—­
              I murmured—­but, remembering Him who feeds
              The pelican and ostrich of the desert,
              From my own threshold I looked up to Heaven
              And did not want glimmerings of quiet hope. 
              So, from the court I passed, and down the brook,
              Led by its murmur, to the ancient oak
              I came; and when I felt its cooling shade,
              I sate me down, and cannot but believe—­
              While in my lap I held my little Babe
              And clasped her to my heart, my heart that ached
              More with delight than grief—­I heard a voice
              Such as by Cherith on Elijah called;
              It said, “I will be with thee.”  A little boy,
              A shepherd-lad, ere yet my trance was gone,
              Hailed us as if he had been sent from heaven,
              And said, with tears, that he would be our guide: 
              I had a better guide—­that innocent Babe—­
              Her, who hath saved me, to this hour, from harm,
              From cold, from hunger, penury, and death;
              To whom I owe the best of all the good
              I have, or wish for, upon earth—­and more
              And higher far than lies within earth’s bounds: 
              Therefore I bless her:  when I think of Man,
              I bless her with sad spirit,—­when of God,
              I bless her in the fulness of my joy!

MARMADUKE The name of daughter in his mouth, he prays! 
              With nerves so steady, that the very flies
              Sit unmolested on his staff.—­Innocent!—­
              If he were innocent—­then he would tremble
              And be disturbed, as I am. 
     (Turning aside.) I have read
              In Story, what men now alive have witnessed,
              How, when the People’s mind was racked with doubt,
              Appeal was made to the great Judge:  the Accused
              With naked feet walked over burning ploughshares. 
              Here is a Man by Nature’s hand prepared
              For a like trial, but more merciful. 
              Why else have I been led to this bleak Waste? 
              Bare is it, without house or track, and destitute
              Of obvious shelter, as a shipless sea. 
              Here will I leave him—­here—­All-seeing God! 
              Such as he is, and sore perplexed as I am,
              I will commit him to this final Ordeal!—­