University of Virginia Library

SCENE IV.

To them, Athelstan; with his Train.
Gothmund.
I greet thee, Athelstan. Thy mighty Arm,
On this great Day, hath sham'd it's former Doings.
Thro' the red Tracks of Death I saw thee seek
The King. His Troops, stricken with coward Guilt,
Fled trembling at the Sight of injur'd Valour
Wak'd into Wrath. Yes, wondring Denmark saw,
How Terror stalk'd before thee thro' the Streets,
While thy broad Faulcion flam'd; and dread Revenge
Frown'd on thy Helm like Fate.

Athelstan.
No Flattery, Gothmund.
Balm to the Fool's, it wounds the brave Man's Ear.
My Sword hath reap'd full Vengeance on its Foes;
And vanquish'd Ethelred with Tears and Groans
Shall rue the Wrongs he did me.

Gothmund.
Valiant Duke,
Such Vengeance well became such Wrongs as thine.

Athelstan.
My Wrongs were loud for Vengeance. Pity wept:
But Reason choak'd her Voice:—For awful Justice
Must drop her Sword, unnerve her lifted Arm,
Unbridled Pow'r turn Order into Chaos,
Shou'd Pity melt at proud Oppression's Fall.—
What Youth is that, who from the captive Throng
Comes forth with haughty Strides?

Gothmund.
An unknown Briton:
Yet fierce in Battle; for his Sword was fatal
To many a Dane; and midst the falling Ranks
Rag'd like a Whirlwind. Mark his fearless Mien.
He wears the Pride of Conquest, tho' in Chains.
His Eye devours thee, Athelstan.—

Athelstan.
I reck not.
Let him come on: I'll meet his Pride unmov'd.
Egbert advancing.
Who dares to frown on Athelstan?

Egbert.
A Briton.

Athelstan.
Who art thou?

Egbert.
One, who heedless of thy Rage,
Dares throw his Scorn on Guilt.

Athelstan.
Audacious Captive!
Think'st thou I fear thy frown?

Egbert.
Oh, bleeding England!
Behold thy fatal Foe!

[He bursts into Tears.
Athelstan.
Weep'st thou, brave Youth?
Tho' I have pour'd Destruction on thy King,
I wage no War with Captives. Gen'rous Warrior,
My Pow'r shall shield thee, and unbind thy Chains.

Egbert.
Stand off.—I chuse to wear them.

Athelstan.
Why that Choice?

Egbert.
Lest these brave captive Britons, shackled there,
Should brand me for a Traitor.

Athelstan.
Heed thee well.
Think what thou art, and where.—

Egbert.
Thank Heav'n,
I am not Athelstan!

Athelstan.
Nay, I can frown too.—

Egbert.
Blush,—rather blush! The crimson Hue of Shame
Wou'd better suit thy Crimes!

Gothmund.
Peace, arrogant Youth!

Athelstan.
Who gave to thee this Privilege of Scorn?
This Right of Insult and bold Accusation?

Egbert.
That Pow'r who gave me Reason and Humanity:
That awful Pow'r Above, who bids me dare
To strip false Treason of her Mask of Pride;
And shew the Hag, in her own Shape and Hue,
The foulest Fiend of Hell.

Athelstan.
Thy Chains protect thee!

Gothmund.
Goodwin, lead forth these Captives to the Fleet;
And let the first fair Breeze that fills the Sail
Waft them to Denmark's Shore.—Harold, bear hence,
And guard that Insolent.

[Pointing to Egbert.
Egbert.
Farewell, brave Friends!
My faithful Countrymen! I weep your Fate,
Doom'd to th' Oppressions of a barbarous Clime!
Oh, may some friendly Storm in Pity rise,
And bid the Fury of devouring Seas
In Mercy swallow you!—Accursed Treason!
Lo, thy devoted Train! Oh false, false Athelstan!
[Ex. Egbert, Harold, Goodwin, Dunelm, and Captives.

Athelstan.
Go, froward Briton!

Gothmund.
Valiant Athelstan,
Heed not a Captive's Clamour. Denmark now
Boasts thee her Friend. And for undoubted Proof
Of that Esteem, wherewith I note thy Valour;
Behold the precious Spoils my Arm hath won
Amid the gen'ral Plunder: Gold or Captives,
Lands, Palaces, whate'er inventive Passion
Can fancy for Enjoyment, waits thy Will:
Command it; for 'tis thine.

Athelstan.
Of Gold, or Lands,
The Plunder of the War, I reck not aught.
For, to the noble Mind, a great Revenge
Outweighs all other Good. This I have reap'd
Full-measur'd; Of my thankless Country's Blood
My Sword hath drank, ev'n to Satiety:
No other Boon it craves.

Gothmund.
Brave Athelstan,
Ev'n as thou wilt.—Has then no precious Spoil
Inrich'd thy Valour?

Athelstan.
Yes: one beauteous Captive,
Won in the City's Storm: and now consign'd
To Siward's Care, a brave and faithful Friend,
Who leads her hitherward. So winning sweet!
The surly Troops gaz'd on her as she pass'd,
And Silence spoke their Wonder.

Gothmund.
Such a Fair
May haply mourn in secret; that her Lot
Fell to thy aged Arm. Some youthful Warrior
Might better suit her Wish.

Athelstan.
I mean, to shield her
From the rude Will of insolent Desire.

Gothmund.
Indeed!

Athelstan.
Indeed.—It was her chaste Request.
And mark me: Tho' my Arm hath quell'd it's Foes,
Yet Athelstan would blush, to wreak his Vengeance
On a defenceless Woman.

Gothmund.
By what Chance
Did'st thou obtain this Captive?

Athelstan.
While the Storm
Rag'd in the Streets; Fate led my conqu'ring Band,
Where this fair Captive mourn'd the Lot of War.
I found her kneeling; with uplifted Eyes,
And Majesty resign'd, imploring Heav'n.
Rouz'd by the Shouts of War, she rose: Her Train
Fill'd all the Place with female Lamentation:
But she, in Grief superior, check'd their Cries,
And grac'd her Woes with regal Dignity.
With such a noble Mien she su'd for Mercy,
That Vengeance stood subdu'd: while nameless Graces,
Beauty, and Mildness, and majestic Grief,
Like Guardian Pow'rs which Heav'n had planted round her,
Check'd the rude Access of unhallow'd Rage:
That ev'n the Sons of Violence drop'd the Sword,
To gaze at awful Distance.—Tow'rd her Tent,
This Way she moves with her attendant Train.
Behold her here.