Volume 4 / Act 1 — SCENE VI
Reading edition
THE PRINCE (coming forward). Now, on thine orb, phantasmic creature, Fortune, Whose veil a faint wind's breathing even now Lifts as a sail, roll hither! Thou hast touched My hair in passing; as thou hovered'st near Already from thy horn of plenty thou Benignantly hast cast me down a pledge. Child of the gods, today, O fugitive one, I will pursue thee on the field of battle, Seize thee, tear low thy horn of plenty, pour Wholly thy radiant blessings round my feet, Though sevenfold chains of iron bind thee fast To the triumphant chariot of the Swede!
[Exit.]