Demand me, that they call my father's name.
Oh! what a fiery heart was his! such souls
Whose sudden visitations daze the world,
Vanish like lightning, but they leave behind
A voice that in the distance far away
Wakens the slumbering ages. Oh! my father!
Thy life is eloquent, and more persuades
Unto dominion than thy death deters;
For that reminds me of a debt of blood
Descended with my patrimony to me,
Whose paying off would clear my soul's estate.

Enter CLARA.

CLARA.

Was some one here? I thought I heard you speak.

Found favor with the audience your ears;
But this poor orator of mine finds none,
For all at once, I see they droop and flag.
Will you not listen? I've a tale to tell.

ARTEVELDE (as suddenly resuming himself).

My fairest, sweetest, best beloved girl!

Who in the whole world would protect thy youth
If I were gone?

CLARA.

Gone! where? what ails you, Philip?

ARTEVELDE.

Nowhere, my love. Well, what hast thou to tell?

CLARA.

When I came home, on entering the hall
I stared to see the household all before me.
There was the steward sitting on the bench,
His head upon his hands between his knees.
In the oak chair old Ursel sate upright,
Swaying her body-so- from side to side,
Whilst maids and varlets stood disconsolate round.
What cheer? quoth I. But not a soul replied.
Is Philip well? Yea, madam, God be praised.
Then what dost look so gloomy for, my friend?
Alack-a-day, the stork! then all chimed in,
The stork, the stork, the stork! What he is sick?
No madam; sick!
he's flown away.

he's gone.

Why then, quoth I, God speed him; speaking so,

To raise their hearts, but they were all-too-heavy.

And Philip, to say truth, I could have wished
This had not happened.

I thought I missed his clatter all night long.

CLARA.

Old Ursel says the sign proved never false
In all her time, and she's so very old!

And then she says that Roger was esteemed
The wisest stork in Ghent, and flew away

But twice before; the first time in the night
Before my father took that office up

Which proved so fatal in the end, and then
The second time, the night before he died.

ARTEVELDE.

Sooner or later, something, it is certain,

Must bring men to their graves. Our every act

Is death's forerunner.

That puzzles us to fix.

It is but the date

My father lived

In that ill-omened office many a year,
And men had augured he must die at last
Without the stork to aid. If this be all
The wisest of his tribe can prophecy,

I am as wise as he. Enough of this.
Thou hast been visiting thy friend to day,—
The Lady Adriana.

CLARA.

I come thence:

She is impatiently expecting you.

ARTEVELDE.

Can she with such impatience flatter one

So slothful and obscure as Artevelde?

How mean you?

CLARA.

ARTEVELDE.

Clara, know I not your sex?

Is she not one of you? Are you not all,

All from the shade averse? all prompt and prone To make your idol of the million's idol?

Had I been one of these rash White-Hood chiefs,
Who live by military larceny,

Then might I well believe that she would wait
Impatiently my coming.

In that unloving humor to abide.
To wed a White-Hood, other ills apart,
Would put in jeopardy her fair possessions.
Fatal perchance it might be to her wealth;
Fatal it surely would be to her weal.
Farewell her peace, if such a one she loved.

CLARA.

Go ask her, Philip, ask her whom she loves,
And she will tell you it is no such man.

Why go you not?

ARTEVELDE.

My mind is not at ease.

Yet I am going to my chamber now,

Where let me own an undisturbed half hour

Of rumination; - afterward to her.

SCENE VII.

[Exeunt.

THE ENTRANCE HALL OF THE HOUSE VAN MERESTYN.

Enter VAN ARTEVELDE, with Attendants.

VAN ARTEVELDE.

Bear thou these letters to my steward; say
That messengers must straight proceed with them
To Grammont and elsewhere, as superscribed;
And should mishap occur to any one
Upon the road, which is not overfree,

I charge me with ten masses for his soul.

(To another.)

My service to the noble Lord of Occo ;
I thank him for his counsel, and will weigh it.

I will return alone. If any come

(To the rest.)

To seek me at my house, entreat their stay.

(They withdraw, and a WAITING-WOMAN enters.) This, if I err not, is the pretty wench

That waits upon my lady. What, fair maid!
Thy mistress having comeliness to spare,