University of Virginia Library

SCENE—An Arbour by an old Chapel.
Raymond and Bramville
RAYMOND.
The King and Guise this morning at my castle—

BRAMVILLE,
Yet hear, my Lord—

RAYMOND.
Saw my Erminia! and now are with her
Holding heir revelry. O woman's honour,
Poor glittering vapour, bursting at the touch
Of first intruder!

BRAMVILLE.
'Twas the King, my Lord,
Twas he intruded: in the Cypress Grove
By chance he met her: to the silent shade
Mournful she fled, to give her bleeding heart
The fainting ease and luxury of sorrow.
For thee, brave Raymond, bled her faithful heart.
In each sad life-throb. Fearful images
Of thee, stretch'd pale and breathless on the ground,
Haunted her tortur'd fancy: when the King
Affirm'd your safety—as an April sun
Smiles through the weeping clouds, she smil'd and glow'd
With sudden joy. But soon the pale-lipt sigh
Confest the cold return of doubtful fear.
The King's officious kindness seem'd ungrateful
To her pain'd heart: and soon indeed she left him.
All noon she linger'd pensive by the window,
Whence seen in distant view Marseilles' grey towers,
And Bourbon's camp held her attentive eye:
Loud roar'd the war, and hissing thro' the air,
The bombs shower'd on the city. At the burst
Of ev'ry groaning volley were her eyes
And hands held up to heaven; Oh spare my husband!
Wildly she cried, in all the strength of terror;
Then would have swoon'd; but waken'd by another,
And still another roar of Bourbon's thunder.
Oh spare my Raymond, heaven! she still exclaim'd;
Till silence with the evening sudden closed
The dreadful day—

RAYMOND.
Oh, what a treasure, gracious heaven, is mine!
Yes; I could weep, and all my heart is pour'd
O'er my Erminia's generous pain—my heart
Upbraids itself for its dishonest fears.
But speed thee, Bramville, bring my tender fair one
Where, unprofan'd by these gay revellers' eyes,
Here in the sacred Chapel, I may fold her
In my enraptur'd arms, and vow my love,
Ere on the battle-field I meet the foe
From whence, Heaven knows, if e'er my steps return.

BRAMVILLE.
I speed, my Lord.

RAYMOND.
Hah, what ill-boding omen!
My heart's dire dread—

Enter the King, Guise, and Lord Admiral.
KING.
What councils hold you here in these lone shades?
Raymond, thy brave protection of Marseilles
Receives our thanks; but our command bade Raymond
Guard well his shatter'd walls against surprize;
Nor leave Marseilles 'till we ourself reliev'd him.
But thou art here: How stands thy loyalty?
Our will was never disobey'd in vain.

RAYMOND.
My presence here, my Liege attests my loyalty
More than the numerous wounds thy battles gave me.
Two months has Bourbon pour'd his rage upon me;
Two months my walls have stopt his march thro' France:
Three nights and days successive, has his thunder
Pour'd on my city, when at last your Highness
Came to the rescue of Marseilles and France.
Then Bourbon fled; and rushing from my towers,
I dar'd the column where his ensign stream'd.
Himself I took not, tho' my spear was near him:
Yet some I made my prisoners; one of these
Carried this letter.
[Gives it to the King, who soon gives it to Guise.
To Marseilles I sent
My brave Lieutenant: to my Sovereign's camp,
(Other command of duty unreceived),
I sped to warn him of to-morrow's war.
Tho' wild confusion mark'd the flight of Bourbon.
The rising sun shall see his army marshall'd
In dread array offering their iron front.
Off with these silken robes and cap of velvet;
The vest of steel, my Liege, and brazen helmet,
Were fitter now

KING.
Raymond, such zeal we need not.
What Bourbon means we know: our camp expects him.
Marseilles demands your presence.
—Every moment
Your tarry here upbraids the king who honours you.
[Raymond retires.]
Good heaven, what mutiny of struggling passions
Raged in his eyes, and shook his lingering steps,
Foreboding dreadful issue!

LORD ADMIRAL.
On himself
Will ever fall the evil.

GUISE.
This the order
[holding the letter in his hand]
Of Bourbon to his generals may be wrought
By jealous Raymond: His ill-boding care
Secludes his Countess with such jealousy,
As if he meant these lonely shades should guard
The wanton rays of summer's genial suns
From playing round her.

KING.
Yet, much care behoves us.
Speed to the camp, Lord Admiral, and give
Our fixt command; let all in silent care
Lie under arms to-night. No sudden danger
Forbids the gay festivity, ordain'd
To win the angel Countess. 'Twere impiety
To love's coy God to slip so fair a season.

GUISE.
Behold, my Liege, with what a pleasing lustre
The star of Venus twinkles o'er the bowers
Inspiring love, as if she bade the lover
Steal to his mistress.

KING.
Every thought presents me
The lovely fair one—Ah, what tenderness,
What warmth of soul, beneath her innocence,
Artless appear'd!

GUISE.
If such dear scenes of transport
Rise in enamour'd fancy, think what transport,
While now the moon gleams thro' the lonely grove
Making the Primrose paler, while the gale
Wispers love sighs, to wander with the goddess,
Who gives the inspiration.

KING.
Oh, name it not.
I am all fire—Yes, I shall die or conquer.