University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

SCENE I.

A ruined Abbey by Moonlight with a subterraneous Passage to a sepulchral vault.
LLANDORVIN,
(rising from the sepulchre.)
The bloodhounds, that have tracked me to this ruin,
Are foiled, and have rushed forward: Blest be you,
Ye sainted tenants of these sepulchres!
Who grant my injured age that kind protection,
The living dare not give; since my oppressors
Proclaim it death to screen their flying victim.
O my lost friends! dear brothers of my art!
You dying have ennobled basest death:
Arm me with courage for my harder task,
To bear the wretchedness of outcast life
In scenes, that wake regret at every step!
O Gwendylen! my dear angelic daughter!
How painful is the proof of love I give thee
To live at thy entreaty! yet sweet angel
Thy dictates are divine. I feel, as thou dost,
It is Llandorvin's duty still to cherish
Existence, tho' debased, while he can hope
His lips may breathe into the fainting frame
Of our racked country, that suspended spirit
Of manly freedom, which the ruthless Edward
Dreams, in his pride, to have suppressed for ever.
But hark! the friendly stillness of the night,
Enabling me to hear a foot approaching,
Bids me again within my sacred covert
Elude my keen pursuers.

(He descends into the sepulchre.

SCENE II.

CLYFFORD.
I have misled the saguinary troop,
That with a sportive rancour, hunt as prey
An injured, brave old man; and if this ruin,
As I surmise, conceals him—Ha! what form
Glides, like a shadowy phantom of the night
Beneath yon open grove, seeming, with steps
Quick and irregular to fear, and shun me?
But that I know her obstinately held
In such severe captivity, that love
And pity could not force her prison door,
I should believe, sweet Gwendylen herself
Had braved the perils of the night, to aid
Her wand'ring sire. Perhaps some kindred fair one
Assumes that angel's office. Hallowed shades!
Make me invisible! and let me learn
Why, at a time to freeze the female heart,
A woman wanders round these mould'ring tombs!

(Clyfford conceals himself.

SCENE III.

After a short pause, GWENDYLEN enters with circumspection.
'Twas but the dark illusion of my fears:
O guilt! what terror and dismay must haunt
Each step of thine, if I, sustained and guided
By filial piety, yet start at shadows,
And halt in my good purpose! but at last
I've reached the sacred sepulchre, that if
My bold and kind informer may be trusted,
Shall at my voice unfold its doors of darkness,
And give my living father to my arms.
Here is the subterraneous pass, by which
I am directed to descend: its gloom,
And icy dampness chill my trembling bosom:
Base terrors hence! I will descend! not all
The powers of darkness should by terror tempt me
To leave a father, so revered and loved,
To die unsuccoured in these dreary charnels.
Dear duty, be my guide!

SCENE IV.

GWENDYLEN, CLYFFORD.
CLYFFORD.
Stay! Gwendylen,
A moment stay! thou noblest, loveliest being,
That Heaven e'er formed, in the benignant purpose
To shew how pow'rful are the blended charms
Of peerless beauty, and consummate virtue.

GWENDYLEN.
Courage! my soul! that surely is the voice
Of gentle Clyfford! he will not betray
The wretched, whom his virtue wished to save.

CLYFFORD.
Betray thee! rather to a thousand perils
Would I expose my baser life, than bring
The least increase of danger upon thee,
Or the dear object of thy duteous care;
Whom at this secret hour, as I believed thee
Kept from him by vile bonds, I sought to comfort
With aid unlooked for from an English hand.

GWENDYLEN.
My heart would say, how much it is thy debtor,
But feels its obligations far outweigh
My little store of words. Let me then lead thee,
To where with nobler voice, just gratitude
May duly thank thee in my father's form.

CLYFFORD.
Yet stay, dear Gwendylen! I pray thee tell me
What power celestial burst thy prison doors,
Where I in vain have sued to gain admittance,
Enabling thee in this heart-trying service
To prove thy matchless fortitude and love.

GWENDYLEN.
I will not shun thy converse, when I know
My father is secure. But till I gain
Assurance of his safety, every pause
That keeps me from him, puts my soul to torture.
If he yet lives, this passage will conduct us
Within his earthy refuge. Follow me!

CLYFFORD.
Dear heroine of tenderness! 'tis mine
To be thy leader here. In these damp caverns,
These mould'ring passes to forgotten dust;
Some ravenous beast, that preys upon the dead,
Or poisonous reptile in its dark recess,
May lurk to wound thy foot; by whose pure touch
The consecrated earth would feel more hallowed,
Had it my awful sense of thy perfections.
I'll first explore the darkness, and return
To be thy guide.

GWENDYLEN.
No! I have no such fears,
Thy King's barbarity has made us suffer
To such excess, that to a Cambrian mind
All other pests of earth have lost their terror.
Forgive me generous Clyfford! that I cannot
Forget the cruel spirit of thy sovereign!
Come, English as thou art! my father's soul
Has oft exulted with magnanimous praise
To celebrate the virtues of a foe,
And turn base enmity to noble friendship.

CLYFFORD.
I am no son of England, if to be so
Must make me hateful in his sight, or yours:
But leading such a daughter to his bosom
My proud heart tells me, I may share his blessing.
The vault is utter darkness: I conjure you
Lean on my arm.

GWENDYLEN.
O! if this hallowed shelter
Gives my safe father to my longing arms;
This will indeed be passing thro' the grave,
To reach the blessed light of heavenly joy.

(They descend.

SCENE V.

THE INSIDE OF AN ANCIENT SEPULCHRE.
LLANDORVIN.
(reclining against a broken Monument with a lamp.)
When the soul sickens at the bloody scenes
Of barbarous outrage, that deform the world,
How sweetly peaceful is the silent tomb!
Yet such is the base fury of our foes,
That senseless havoc even here has raged
Against the honoured dead. Ye shattered forms
Of warriors, who of old for freedom fought,
How gladly would my injured age become
Insensible as you to savage wrongs,
But that my darling child—again my fancy
Would mock me with the sound of her approach.
It is the hour! but she perchance—Again
The crumbling earth tells me some foot is near.
How fondly eager are my lips to hail
The expected daughter; and yet dare not call her
Till I can catch her voice. O righteous Heaven!
Delude not my fond senses, that persuade me
I may distinguish in some distant sounds
The utterance of my child.

GWENDYLEN,
(behind the scene.)
Have I a father?
'Tis Gwendylen who calls.

LLANDORVIN.
My child! my child!

SCENE VI.

LLANDORVIN, GWENDYLEN, CLYFFORD.
GWENDYLEN.
He lives! he lives to bless me for his life!

LLANDORVIN.
The exulting angel, who shall call to glory
The spirits of the just, can never prove
A visitant more dear to raptured saints,
Awakened from the slumber of the grave,
Than thou art to thy father.

CLYFFORD.
Thou blest sire,
Allow a stranger, whose unhardened heart
Bled for thy wrongs, to share at this dear moment
Thy tears of hallowed extacy!

LLANDORVIN.
Thy accent,
Ingenuous youth, informs me thou art English:
A name to wake hostility, and hate
In every Cambrian heart! but gracious nature
On thy fair brow has written characters,
That lead to confidence, if not to friendship.
If, as my mind conjectures, generous pity
Has prompted thee to guard this damsel, passing
Thro' nightly perils to relieve her father,
Thou wilt not deem that father's benediction,
(All his base foes have left him to bestow)
A worthless recompense of care so noble.

CLYFFORD.
My heart will prize it as a richer treasure,
Than royalty can give. But, my kind father,
O let me ever hail by that dear name,
The man I venerate with filial ardour!
Tho' I confess I covet thy esteem
Beyond the praise of princes, let me not
Meanly attempt to win it by a semblance
Of merit, not my own! I came not hither
Guarding your lovely daughter: to herself,
To the firm virtues of her tender heart
Solely you owe this interview of transport.

LLANDORVIN.
Tell me, my child!—

GWENDYLEN.
O graceful modesty!
How sweet thou shewest in a princely patron,
Who, giving all, believes he nothing gives!
But for the caution of this noble youth,
Thy Gwendylen, my father, might again
Have put thy rescued life within the power
Of the remorseless Edward.

CLYFFORD.
Hate me not,
Thou injured veteran of purest glory!
In hearing, I am bound by strongest ties
To thy detested foe, the mighty Edward!
Trained by his bounty, partial to his virtues,
Yet by the radiance of his power unblinded,
I wish that high imperial spirit tempered
With all the mildness of my gentle sire,
His more pacific brother.

LLANDORVIN.
Gracious Heaven!
Art thou, engaging youth, art thou the son
Of that loved prince, that real king uncrowned,
Who, scorning the vile vassalage of fear,
Reigns by beneficence o'er grateful hearts.

CLYFFORD.
Had not the proffer of Sicilia's sceptre
Detained him far from this devoted land,
In his humanity we should have found
The strongest earthly advocate against
The hasty rigor of th'offended King.
But the invisible angelic host
Are surely your protectors; could I else
Behold this fair one, whom I left a captive
In hopeless bondage, freely here fulfilling
This arduous duty of undaunted love?

GWENDYLEN.
A simple incident I have to tell
Will clear that mystery: it was my chance,
(So Heaven ordained to bless an anxious daughter)
To see the humble guard, who watched my prison,
Nursing his sickly infant: by the pity
I shewed his child, I led the honest soldier
To sympathize in all my filial sufferings,
Till, at the peril of his life, he gave me
The power to pay my nightly visit here:
But on my plighted word, that by the dawn
I will return his voluntary prisoner.

CLYFFORD.
Blest be his generous pity! if I live,
Such brave compassion shall be well rewarded.

LLANDORVIN.
Excellent youth! thou almost mak'st my heart
Enamoured of adversity: for that,
That only gives, what I this moment feel,
Exquisite joy in such consummate friendship,
As wanting not progressive aid from time,
Springs, like creation, perfect from the breath
Of pure beneficence.—

CLYFFORD.
To prove thy friend,
And change the colour of thy destiny,
Shall be the darling study of my soul.

LLANDORVIN.
I know it will: but O beware, dear youth,
Lest on thyself thou draw the perilous wrath
Of thy inexorable sovereign! fate
Could curse me with no misery more bitter,
Than to behold thy blooming life become
The victim of thy zeal to snatch from death
An old man weary of embittered age.

GWENDYLEN.
My honored father! Nature has exempted
Thy generous bosom from all selfish terror;
But thy kind heart is quick, as woman's fancy,
To catch an anxious fond inquietude
For every object of thy just affection.
Be not alarmed for this our noble friend!
Should he incense the King, by now promoting
Thy absolute escape, he will not suffer:
A lovely pow'rful angel of protection,
The gentle Eleanor! will be his guard,
And save the princely youth, whom she has fostered,
From her offended lord.

CLYFFORD.
O! she has virtues,
More than the warm impassioned eloquence
Of gratitude could speak: and she, I doubt not,
She will, in time, win, from the softened Edward,
All the atonement to your injured age,
That power can make for past indignities:
But, in this season of his recent anger,
You must not trust his mercy.

GWENDYLEN.
Haste, my father!
O haste to profit of the friendly night!
And speed in darkness to some distant refuge,
Less desolate than this!

CLYFFORD.
Dear Gwendylen!
Forgive me, that I thwart your eager prayer!
But at this time of peril, when our soldiers,
Lured by that watchful demon, avarice,
Are prowling for their prey, I wish your father
To rest, some days, in this dark sanctuary,
That death appears to consecrate, forbidding
The superstitious vulgar to approach.
Myself, as constant as the night returns,
Will visit him with sustenance and comfort.

LLANDORVIN.
Brave youth! I like thy counsel: this calm mansion
Tempers my troubled spirit: here my mind
Catches an hallowed energy, superior
To what the glittering scenes of life can give
To proud prosperity. Friend of distress!
My confidence in thee is my support;
For I confide to thee a charge, dear Clyfford!
More precious to my heart, than life or freedom,
The honor of my child! whate'er my fate,
Be thou her guardian! yes! I know thou wilt;
For in thy features I distinctly read
Truth incorruptible, and virtuous friendship.
But come, my children, honor bids us part:
The night's half wasted: come! Ill lead you forth
By paths more intricate: I have discovered
A winding cavity, that leads to light:
Take each of you my arm!—This way affords
A better chance of passing unobserved.

GWENDYLEN.
Dear father, ever vigilant for others!
Be careful of thy safety! and remember,
The life of Gwendylen depends on thine!

(Exeunt.

SCENE VII.

A ruined Abbey with the front of the sepulchral vault.
A PARTY OF SOLDIERS.
FIRST SOLDIER.
Would we could light upon this lurking rebel!
Courage, my friends! he'll prove a golden prize,
And pay the toil of our pursuit. You, Neville,
You, and your comrade pass yon mould'ring wall,
Search thro' each ruined cell of this old abbey,
While we remain in front, prepared to seize
The traitor, started from his secret haunt.

(Exeunt two Soldiers.
SECOND SOLDIER.
Heard you no noise?

FIRST SOLDIER.
No, nothing but their steps.

SECOND SOLDIER.
Hark! they have just descried some nightly rover.

SOLDIER,
(behind the scene.)
Come forth! base runnagate! nay, if thou dost not,
We shall pursue, and drag thee from thy den.

FIRST SOLDIER.
My life on't he is found: stand firm, brave comrades,
If he is armed, fear not to strike him down!
Dead, or alive, our prize will be the same.

(The door of the Sepulchre opens, and Llandorvin rushes forth with a Sword.)
FIRST SOLDIER.
Yield, rebel, or thou diest.

LLANDORVIN.
No! ye poor slaves!
Enfeebled as I am, with age and wo,
Yet my good sword can make for me a passage
Thro' twice your opposition; I have seen
Your tyrant, in my day, glad to retreat
From the keen lightning of this radiant blade.
I pray ye, force me not to stain its lustre
With your ignoble blood!

FIRST SOLDIER.
Proud Cambrian, die!

LLANDORVIN.
Nay! then thou draw'st perdition on thyself:
(Llandorvin strikes, but after his first blow, the two Soldiers who pursued him, issue from the Sepulchre and seize him.)
Fate is against me! but exult in silence,
Ye prosperous servants of oppressive power!
And, while ye haste to claim the gold, ye covet,
Still reverence your captive! still my soul
Gives me to exercise the nobler courage,
To triumph over wrongs by brave endurance.