Then the king ( amazèd, mild,
As one reasoning with a child
All his speech ):‘ My wife! my fair!
And his hand on her brown hair
Trembles;‘ Lady, dost indeed
Weigh the meaning of thy rede?
Would'st thou dare the dropping away
Of allegiance, should our sway
And sweet splendour and renown
All be risked? ( methinks a crown
Doth become thee marvellous well ).
We ourself are, truth to tell,
Kingly both of wont and kind,
Suits not such the craven mind.’
‘ Yet this weird thou can'st not dree.’
Quoth the queen,‘ And live;’ then he,
‘ I must die and leave the fair
Unborn, long-desired heir
To his rightful heritage.’