ELSIE. 
                     It is I.

URSULA. 
Elsie! what ails thee, my poor child?

ELSIE. 
I am disturbed and much distressed,
In thinking our dear Prince must die;
I cannot close mine eyes, nor rest,

GOTTLIEB. 
What wouldst thou?  In the Power Divine
His healing lies, not in our own;
It is in the hand of God alone,

ELSIE. 
Nay, He has put it into mine,
And into my heart!

GOTTLIEB. 
                 Thy words are wild!

URSULA. 
What dost thou mean? my child!  My child!

ELSIE. 
That for our dear Prince Henry’s sake
I will myself the offering make,
And give my life to purchase his.

URSULA. 
Am I still dreaming, or awake? 
Thou speakest carelessly of death,
And yet thou knowest not what it is.

ELSIE. 
’T is the cessation of our breath. 
Silent and motionless we lie;
And no one knoweth more than this. 
I saw our little Gertrude die;
She left off breathing, and no more
I smoothed the pillow beneath her head. 
She was more beautiful than before. 
Like violets faded were her eyes;
By this we knew that she was dead. 
Through the open window looked the skies
Into the chamber where she lay,
And the wind was like the sound of wings,
As if angels came to bear her away. 
Ah! when I saw and felt these things,
I found it difficult to stay;
I longed to die, as she had died,
And go forth with her, side by side. 
The Saints are dead, the Martyrs dead
And Mary, and our Lord; and I
Would follow in humility
The way by them illumined!

URSULA. 
My child! my child! thou must not die!

ELSIE. 
Why should I live?  Do I not know
The life of woman is full of woe? 
Toiling on and on and on,
With breaking heart, and tearful eyes,
And silent lips, and in the soul
The secret longings that arise,
Which this world never satisfies! 
Some more, some less, but of the whole
Not one quite happy, no, not one!

URSULA. 
It is the malediction of Eve!

ELSIE. 
In place of it, let me receive
The benediction of Mary, then.

GOTTLIEB. 
Ah, woe is me!  Ah, woe is me! 
Most wretched am I among men!

URSULA. 
Alas! that I should live to see
Thy death, beloved, and to stand
Above thy grave!  Ah, woe the day!

ELSIE. 
Thou wilt not see it.  I shall lie
Beneath the flowers of another land,
For at Salerno, far away
Over the mountains, over the sea,
It is appointed me to die! 
And it will seem no more to thee
Than if at the village on market-day
I should a little longer stay
Than I am wont.

URSULA. 
               Even as thou sayest! 
And how my heart beats, when thou stayest! 
I cannot rest until my sight
Is satisfied with seeing thee,
What, then, if thou wert dead?