 | The Dramatic and Poetical Works of Joanna Baillie |  |
SCENE II.
A royal apartment, and a servant discovered busily employed in lighting it up. Enter to him another servant.2d serv.
Wilt thou ne'er finish lighting these grim walls?
Will not those lamps suffice?
1st serv.
No, by my faith, we want as many more;
For still, thou seest, that pillar'd corner's dark,
[Pointing to a gloomy recess on the other side of the stage.
Wherein the eye of conscience-scared folks
Might fearful things espy. I am commanded
To lighten each apartment of this tower
To noon-day pitch.
2d serv.
Ay, Uthbert, these are fearful, bloody times!
Ethwald, God knows, has on his conscience laid
A weight of cruel deeds: the executioner
Works for him now in the grim holds of death,
Instead of armed warriors in the field;
And now men steal abroad in twilight's gloom,
To talk of fearful things, not by the blaze
Of cheerful fires, in peaceful cottage, heap'd
With sparkling faggots from the winter store.
1st serv.
Ay, thou sayst well; it is a fearful time;
No marvel Ethwald should not love the dark
In which his fancy shapes all fearful things.
2d serv.
What, dost thou think it is his fancy's shapes
He looks upon? No, no: believe me, friend,
Night and the darkness are inhabited
By those who move near neighbours to the living;
Close by their very sides, yet unperceiv'd
By all, but those whose eyes unveiled are
By heavenly power, in mercy or in wrath.
Such proofs of this I've heard.—Last night thou knowst
The royal grooms who near their master sleep,
In the adjoining chamber much were scar'd
With fearful sounds.
1st serv.
I know it not.—Who was it told it thee?
At midnight was it?
(Eagerly.)
2d serv.
Yes, come with me to Baldwick, he will tell thee;
He heard it all: thou wilt return in time
To finish, here, thy task. We'll have a horn
Of foaming ale, and thou shalt hear it all.
Good foaming ale: ay, mercy on us all'
We live in fearful times!
(Listening.)
1st serv.
(listening also).
What shall I do?
I hear the king a speaking angrily,
And coming hitherward. What shall I do?
Shall I remain and face him? nay, good faith!
I'll shun the storm; he is engag'd, perchance,
Too much to notice my unfinish'd task.
[Exeunt hastily.
Enter Ethwald, talking angrily to a noble Thane.
Ethw.
Nay, nay, these are excuses, noble Edmar,
Not reasons; all our northern troops ere now
Might well have been in readiness. 'Tis plain
Such backward sloth from disaffection springs.
Look to it well:—if with the waning moon,
He and his vassals have not join'd our standard,
I'll hold him as a traitor.
Th.
My royal lord, be not so wrathful with him,
Nor let your noble mind to dark suspicion
So quickly yield. This is the season still,
When unbraced warriors on the rushy floor
Stretch them in pleasing sloth; list'ning to tales
Of ancient crones, or merry harpers' lays,
And batt'ning on the housewife's gusty cheer:
Spring has not yet so temper'd the chill sky
That men will change their warm and shelt'ring roofs
For its cold canopy.
Ethw.
O foul befall their gluttony and sloth!
Fie on't! there is no season to the brave
For war unfit. With this moon's waning light
I will, with those who dare their king to follow,
My northern march begin.
Th.
Then, faith, my lord,
I much suspect your army will be small:
And what advantage may you well expect
From all this haste? E'en three weeks later, still
You will surprise the foe, but ill prepar'd
To oppose invasion. Do then, gracious king,
Listen to friendly counsel, and the while,
Within these walls, where ev'ry pleasure courts you,
Like a magnificent and royal king,
Your princely home enjoy.
Ethw.
Out on it, man, thou knowst not what thou sayst!
Home hath he none who once becomes a king!
Behind the pillar'd masses of his halls
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Do nightly echo to the whisper'd vows
Of those who curse him; at his costly board
With grinning smile the damned pois'ner sits;
Yea, e'en the void recesses of his chamber,
Void though they be unto all eyes but his,
Are peopled—
[Stopping short.
Th.
(eagerly).
Good my lord! what do you mean?
Ethw.
In the confusion of tumultuous war,
'Midst the terrific shouts of closing foes,
And trampling steeds, and din of bick'ring arms;
Where dying warriors groan unheard, and things
Horrid to nature are as though they were not,
Unwail'd, unheeded:
Where the rough chance of each contentious day
Blots out all irksome mem'ry of the past,
All fear of that to follow: where like herds,
Of savage beasts, on the bleak mountain's side,
Drench'd with the rain, the weary warriors lie,
Whilst nightly tempests howling o'er their heads
Lull them to rest; there is my home, good Thane.
Th.
No marvel, then, my lord, if to the field
You turn your eager thoughts! I only fear
Your royal arms will in Northumberland
Find no contention worthy of their force;
For rumour says, the northern prince is gone
With his best troops against the Scottish king.
Ethw.
If this be true, it is unto my fortune
Most fair occasion; master of the north
I soon shall be, and on the west again
Pour like a torrent big with gather'd strength.
Who told thee this? it breaks upon me, friend,
Like bright'ning sunbeams thwart a low'ring sky.
Th.
A northern villain brought to me the tale,
And told with circumstances of good credit.
Ethw.
Run thou and find him out; I'll wait thee here;
I must have more assurance of this matter.
Quickly, my worthy Edmar! [Exit Thane.
(Alone.)
If that this rumour bear a true report,
Th' opposing rocks on which my rising tide
So long has beat, before me now give way,
And through the beach my onward waves shall roll
To the wide limits of their destin'd reach.
Full day, although tempestuous it may prove,
Now breaks on me! now come the glorious height,
And the proud front, and the full grasp of power!
Fly, gloomy thoughts, and hideous fantasies,
Back to the sprites that sent you! England's king
Behind him casts the fears of Mercia's lord.
The north subdued, then stretching to the west
My growing strength—
[Stretching out his arms in the vehemence of action, he turns himself round, directly facing the gloomy recess on the opposite side of the stage.
Ha! doth some gloomy void still yawn before me,
In fearful shade?
[Turning his eyes away hastily from it.
No; I saw nothing: shall I thus be moved
With ev'ry murky nook? I'll look again.
[Steals a fearful look to the recess, and then starting back, turns away from it with horror.
O they're all there again! and ev'ry phantom
Mark'd with its grisly wounds, e'en as before.
Ho! who waits there? Hugon! I say, ho, Hugon!
Come to me! quickly come!
Enter a Groom of his chamber.
Groom.
Save you, my royal lord! What is your pleasure?
Are you in pain? Your voice did sound, methought,
With strange unnatural strength.
Ethw.
Bring me lights here.
Groom.
A hundred lamps would scarce suffice, I ween,
To light this spacious chamber.
Ethw.
Then let a thousand do it; must I still
In ev'ry shady corner of my house
See hideous—quickly go, and do my bidding.
Why star'st thou round thee thus? Dost thou see aught?
Groom.
No, nothing.
[Looking round fearfully.
Ethw.
Thou needst not look; 'tis nothing; fancy oft
Deceives the eye with strange and flitting things.
Regard it not, but quickly bring more lamps
Groom.
Nay, good my lord, shall I remain with you,
And call my fellow?
Ethw.
(angrily).
Do as thou art commanded.
[Exit groom.
This man perceives the weakness of my mind.
Am I, indeed, the warlike king of Mercia?
[Re-enter two grooms with lamps, which they place in the recess. Ethwald, not venturing to look on it again till the lights are placed, now turns round to it, and seems relieved.
Ye have done well.
[After a pause, in which he walks several times across the stage, stopping short, and seeing the grooms still there.
Why do ye linger here? I want ye not.
Begone.
[Exeunt grooms.
But that I would not to those fools
Betray the shameful secret of my mind,
I fain would call them back.
What are these horrors?
A fearful visitation of a time
That will o'erpass? O might I so believe it!
Edmar, methinks, ere this might be return'd:
I'll wait for him no more: I'll go myself
And meet him.
[Going towards the large arched door by which he entered, he starts back from it with horror.
Ha! they are there again!
E'en in the very door-way do they front me!
Still foremost Ethelbert and Selred tower
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Their death-strain'd eye-balls: and behind them frowns
The murder'd youth, and Oswal's scepter'd ghost:
While seen, as if half-fading into air,
The pale distracted maid shows her faint form.
Thrice in this very form and order seen
They have before me stood. What may it mean?
I've heard that shapes like these will to the utterance
Of human voice give back articulate sound,
And having been adjured so, depart.
[Stretching out both his hands, and clenching them resolutely.
I'll do it, though behind them hell should yawn,
With all its unveil'd horrors.
[Turning again to the doorway with awful solemnity.
If aught ye be but flitting fantasies,
But empty semblance of the form ye wear;
If aught ye be that can to human voice
Real audience give, and a real sense receive
Of that on which your fix'd and hollow eyes
So stern and fix'dly glare; I do conjure you
Depart from me, and come again no more!
From me depart! Full well those ghastly wounds
Have been return'd into this tortur'd breast:
O drive me not unto the horrid brink
Of dire distraction!
Speak, Ethelbert! O speak, if voice thou hast!
Tell me what sacrifice can soothe your spirits;
Can still the unquiet sleepers of the grave:
For this most horrid visitation is
Beyond endurance of the boldest mind,
In flesh and blood enrob'd.—It takes no heed,
But fix'dly glares upon me as before.
I speak to empty air: it can be nothing.
Is it not some delusion of the eyes?
[Rubbing his eyes very hard, and rousing himself.
Ah! still the hideous semblance is before me,
Plain as at first. I cannot suffer this!
[Runs to the lamps, and taking one in each hand, rushes forward in despair to the doorway.
They are all gone! Before the searching light
Resolv'd to nothing!
Enter Hexulf and Alwy.
Ethw.
(turning hastily upon hearing them enter behind him).
Ha! is it you? Most happily you come!
Welcome you are, most welcome!
Alwy.
Thanks to you, good my lord! but on my life
This holy bishop and myself are come,
Unwillingly, with most untoward tidings.
Ethw.
Well, use not many words: what now befalls?
Hex.
The rebel Hereulf and his thralled mates
Have, with more strength than human hands may own,
For that the holy church—
Ethw.
Well, well, what meanest thou?
And what should follow this?
Alwy.
They've brok'n their prison walls and are escap'd.
Ethw.
I am glad on't! be it so! in faith I'm glad!
We have shed blood enough.
Alwy.
Nay, but my lord, unto their towers of strength
They will return; where bruiting abroad
Their piteous tale, as 'nighted travellers
To the false plainings of some water fiend,
All men will turn to them; nor can your troops
In safety now begin their northern march
With such fell foes behind them.
Ethw.
(roused).
Ay, thou sayst true; it is a damned let!
Here falls another rock to bar my way.
But I will on! Come, let us instantly
Set out, and foil them ere they gather strength.
Alwy.
This would be well, but that within these walls
Some of their faithful friends are still confin'd,
Who in our absence might disturbance breed,
As but a feeble guard can now be spar'd
To hold the castle. How shall this be settled?
Shall we confine them in the stronger vaults?
Ethw.
(fiercely).
No, no! I'll have no more imprisonments!
Let them be slain; yea all: even to a man!
This is no time for weak uncertain deeds.
Saw you not Edmar as you hither came?
Alwy.
We saw him with a stranger much engaged,
By a faint lamp, near to the eastern tower.
Ethw.
Then follow me, and let us find him out.
Hex.
We follow you, my lord.
Ethw.
(as he is about to go out, turning hastily round to Alwy).
Bear thou a light.
My house is like a faintly mooned cave,
And hateful shadows cross each murky aisle.
[Exeunt, Alwy bearing a light.
| The Dramatic and Poetical Works of Joanna Baillie | |