Ros. 
     Well, be that as it may, Fife, it reminds me
     Of what perhaps I should have thought before,
     But better late than never—­You know I love you,
     As you, I know, love me, and loyally
     Have follow’d me thus far in my wild venture. 
     Well! now then—­having seen me safe thus far
     Safe if not wholly sound—­over the rocks
     Into the country where my business lies
     Why should not you return the way we came,
     The storm all clear’d away, and, leaving me
     (Who now shall want you, though not thank you, less,
     Now that our horses gone) this side the ridge,
     Find your way back to dear old home again;
     While I—­Come, come!—­
     What, weeping my poor fellow?

     Fife. 
     Leave you here
     Alone—­my Lady—­Lord!  I mean my Lord—­
     In a strange country—­among savages—­
     Oh, now I know—­you would be rid of me
     For fear my stumbling speech—­

     Ros. 
     Oh, no, no, no!—­
     I want you with me for a thousand sakes
     To which that is as nothing—­I myself
     More apt to let the secret out myself
     Without your help at all—­Come, come, cheer up! 
     And if you sing again, ‘Come weal, come woe,’
     Let it be that; for we will never part
     Until you give the signal.

     Fife. 
     ’Tis a bargain.

     Ros. 
     Now to begin, then.  ’Follow, follow me,
     ‘You fairy elves that be.’

     Fife. 
     Ay, and go on—­
     Something of ‘following darkness like a dream,’
     For that we’re after.

     Ros. 
     No, after the sun;
     Trying to catch hold of his glittering skirts
     That hang upon the mountain as he goes.

     Fife. 
     Ah, he’s himself past catching—­as you spoke
     He heard what you were saying, and—­just so—­
     Like some scared water-bird,
     As we say in my country, dove below.

     Ros. 
     Well, we must follow him as best we may. 
     Poland is no great country, and, as rich
     In men and means, will but few acres spare
     To lie beneath her barrier mountains bare. 
     We cannot, I believe, be very far
     From mankind or their dwellings.

     Fife. 
     Send it so! 
     And well provided for man, woman, and beast. 
     No, not for beast.  Ah, but my heart begins
     To yearn for her—­

     Ros. 
     Keep close, and keep your feet
     From serving you as hers did.

     Fife. 
     As for beasts,
     If in default of other entertainment,
     We should provide them with ourselves to eat—­
     Bears, lions, wolves—­

     Ros. 
     Oh, never fear.

     Fife. 
     Or else,
     Default of other beasts, beastlier men,
     Cannibals, Anthropophagi, bare Poles
     Who never knew a tailor but by taste.