University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

SCENE I.

—Ina's Tent.
A Recess in the centre, with a curtain drawn before it.
Enter Guthrum, Edith, and Oscar.
Guth.
What say the priests?

Osc.
You may not spare his life!
Your oath to Odin must be kept, unless
His country he forswears, and serves the God—
Conditions which he spurns. Would, else, the tide
Of your great nation's prosperous fortune ebb
To an eternal drought! Among the ranks
They run, thy oath reiterating, and, with words
Ambiguous, starting fears, you may retract,
And curse your people!

Guth.
Let their altar reek!
Blood rain upon them till it drown them! Leave
The tent!

Osc.
Shall they prepare to sacrifice?

Guth.
Tell them, if for command of mine they wait,
I will not give it!—No! not for their god!
She speaks not?

[Oscar goes out.
Edith.
Nay, my lord, at times a word;
But none that leads to certain inference.

Guth.
Has she not slept?

Edith.
Nought but unnatural sleep—
Rest that might pass for wakefulness—that scarce
Doth shut the lid—which weariness itself
Beholding, ere 'twould taste, would watch; it seems
So far from sweet! All listlessness without,
While all within's astir!

Guth.
I will not see her.

Edith.
My lord?

Guth.
I did not speak; or if I did,
'Twas not to thee! I thought myself a father!
I thought as never father loved his child
I loved my Ina! 'Twas my pride to show it;
Yea, even when she ruled me like a child!
I used to think that of my fiercest mood
She was the mistress, from my wildest flight
Could call me down, but lit my eye upon her,
As the loved lure the falcon!—and I've kill'd her!
I'm not a father!—No, I never loved her
But as a child, a toy! Come, show her to me!
Undraw the curtain! He that makes a corse
Of what he loves, may sure be flint enough
To look upon't.
[Edith undraws the curtain, and Ina is discovered sitting in a state of fixed abstraction. Edith raises her, and leads her forward to a couch, Ina moving as if it were mechanically.
Leave us to ourselves.
[Edith goes out.
Why, 'tis enough to make the sickly heart
Break out in laughter, when the very work
Our eyes could weep them tearless at, our hands
May boast the making of!
[Approaches, and sits down beside her.
My Ina! Ina!—
My child! you'll speak to me?—What, are you ill?
How feel you?—You look well!—There, my own girl,
Lie in your father's bosom!—Speak to him!
What say'st thou, Sweet?—Wast not about to speak?
Thou wast. Go on, go on!—Speak to me—Ina;
Or I'll go mad!—Dost hear?—On my knees,
I pray you speak to me!—Now, this is wilful!
Away!—You but dissemble!—'Tis put on!—
For shame, for shame! You've seen my eyes in tears!
You've seen my knees upon the ground!—You know
It is your father—your old father, and
You'll not speak to him!—Think you he can't see?
Why, any one could do't! To fix the eye
And keep the visage motionless, and sit
As you were riveted to your seat! A child
Were scant of wit that lack'd such obvious power—
Of simulation! I renounce you, Ina!—
[Going.
Will you not speak to me, my child? Speak to me!
[Returns.
A word—a whisper—anything!—a sign—
To show me that you are not worse than dead—
Alive, and just the same! I can be rash!
I can give way to fury!—I will try
If life be in thy heart!
[Draws his dagger, and rushes up to her.
I'd scare a stone!

[Wild discordant music is heard without. Ina starts up and clasps her hands.
Guth.
Ha!

Ina.
There it is!

Guth.
She speaks!—She is alive!

Ina.
I've listen'd for't
So long, I fear'd 'twould never come!

Guth.
What, Ina?

[Music again.
Ina.
Again!

Guth.
Do they prepare to lead him forth;
The sacrifice will presently begin!
They make a pretext of their god to mock
My power!

Ina.
He's ready!—Let me go to him!

Guth.
To whom? Thy lover?

Ina.
I should like to get
My father's blessing first!

Guth.
Thou hast it, Ina!

Ina.
I know I have. Who says he does not love me?
I'd not believe it, though he were to kill me!
He'd do't in madness, and he'd kill himself
When he had found he had done it! Bless his Ina?
He always blesses me!—at morning when
He sees me first, and then, again, at night!
Yea, ofttimes through the day! He'd bless me, though
I broke his heart; and I'll bless him, although
He has broken mine!

Guth.
She knows me not!

Ina.
We'll wed
As never lovers did. We'll have our nuptials
Of a new fashion. Who'd be bid to them,
Let him bring tears with him, he's welcome—such
As gush with sobs! We'll have no smiles at them!
The meanest churl gets handfuls when he weds!
Nor songs! such minstrelsy a beggar buys
For thanks! No, give us shrieks! and laughter! but
Such laughter as it withers joy to hear!—
As breaketh from the heart of madness!—as
Resounds from lips that wish their owners dead!

Guth.
What mean those words, my child?

Ina.
I'll wed him as
Ne'er wedded maid, to let him never from
My side; but dwell in such entrancement with him,
The day for us may go without his sun,
And night without her cloud! all converse cease,
Of tongue or eye; that not ourselves shall break
The silence sweet of our deep ecstasy.

Guth.
Perception's all within; without is none.
Passion hath drunk up sense! I feel a touch
Of her condition while I look upon her—
Go mad! You had a daughter yesterday—
Brag of her now! Point to her cheek, and ask
If ever grew such smiles as blossom there!
And bid the ear that listens to her, note
The sweetness that it feasts on! [Music.]
Hark! thou'rt call'd!
What! not go through the task thou hast begun
So bravely? Slay thy child, and finish it!

[Rushes out.
Ina
[alone].
They'd thwart a maid in her first love, they would?
They think it easy, but they'll find it hard!
When first I thought I should become a bride,
Wondering how I would deck me, I ran through
The ranks of fairest flowers to pick me one
To set it in my bosom; and I remember
It was a rose I pitch'd on—There's my rose!
[Draws a dagger, and returns it to her bosom.
[Music.]
The rites begin,—Let me steal after them,
And watch the time! I'm coming to thee, Oswith!
I'll show thee how a Danish maid can love!

[Goes out.

SCENE II.

—Selwood Forest.
Enter Oddune and Oswald, meeting.
Od.
No sign of Alfred?

Osw.
None! Our scouts have all
Return'd, dishearten'd with their fruitless search.

Od.
Where can he linger, with so fair a welcome
Impatient waiting him, as he would meet
From yonder gallant bands? The spirits now
That bear their crests so high, from his delay
To lead them on to action, will anon
Begin to droop—perchance may quite subside!

Osw.
How many do we muster?

Od.
By the last
Return, six thousand men.

Osw.
The field shows fair!

Od.
Fair cause—fair field! Who'd e'er expect so soon
To see the armour burnish'd up again
They cast aside for good! A pity 'twere
What shows such thrift should not be turn'd to use,
But, bootless, thrown away! They will not fight
Unless the king commands them!

Osw.
See, my lord,
What movement's that?

Od.
Here's one will tell us.

Edg.
[Entering.]
Be
Prepared, my lord. The soldiers clamour for
The king, and doubts are spreading through the ranks;
You humour them—he will not come to lead them.
Their chiefs conduct them hither, from your own lips
Assurance to receive, and fair encouragement.

Enter Egbert, Kenrick, Arthur, Chief, and Soldiers.
Eg.
Now Kenrick, speak! Say what the soldiers want.

Od.
Well, gallant friends! Is England to be free?
Shall we change places with our conquerors,
Or still endure the yoke?

Ken.
We want the king!
Let him appear, we cannot meet the foe
Too soon!

Od.
As surely shall you see him, as
You long to see the foe!

Ken.
But when, my lord?
'Tis that we'd know! When was the king the last
Upon the field? Has he not ever, on
The eve of battle, earlier than his chiefs,
Been out; with looks of ardour heartening us?—
Our morning sun, that never clouded rose—
Enduing us with life and vigour new!
At most we muster bare six thousand men
To meet the Danish host! The king, among us,
Would make our numbers treble! Show us the king.
The only waving of his plume in battle
Were worth a hundred spears in hands as bold
As ever brandish'd weapon!

Od.
What, and if
Indeed he should not come? Ought you to feel
Your tyrant's feet upon your necks the less?
Your king is present in his cause! Be that
Your king!
[Alfred enters, still disguised.
Whoever leads you, meet the Dane!
I speak not, friends, because I'm next in place!
I care not for myself! Point out my post;
The van, the rear; I'll be content to take
My stand beside the man of meanest note
Among you! Make yon minstrel without helm
Or sword your leader, I will follow him!
So that I fight, I care not in what rank!
Let him who makes the absence of his king,
Plea to desert his country and his king,
Fall off! So Heaven sustain me in the cause,
Although our Alfred's presence now would add
Ten other richer lives to mine; yet say
He should not come, this faithful sword I draw,
I will not sheathe till it has struck a blow
For liberty!

Eg.
I second you, brave Oddune.

Osw.
And so do I!

Od.
And so will every man,
Unless there be among the people one
That does not love his king!

Ken.
No, Oddune, no!
The people live but for their king!

Alf.
[Discovering himself.]
The king
Lives only for his people! Oh, my people!
You are the drops of blood that make your king!
And do I see you once again in arms!
[Bursts into tears. The chiefs and general soldiers seem affected.]
O friends! Why draw you hands across your eyes,
If mine should be ashamed of what they do?
We've met again, my friends! Who is the foe
Shall sunder us again? O England! England!
Too fair—too richly gifted—not to tempt
The spoiler—well that thou hast sons, too true,
To leave thee to his ravine! Thou'lt be free
Till thou art childless! Think not, gallant friends,
An hour I've squander'd that was due to you,
And to our common country! I have seen
The Danish camp!

Od.
Their camp, my liege!

Alf.
Have stood
In Guthrum's very presence! That disguise
Will tell thee how. They'd fall an easy prey
To half our numbers! Friends! a royal stake
I've laid upon your heads, that you will win
The day!

Od.
What stake, my liege?

Alf.
Your prince and queen!
They're in the spoiler's power. I might, indeed,
Have ransom'd them, but what he ask'd, your king could not afford to pay.

Od.
What was't, my liege?

Alf.
My people, Oddune!

Eg.
In the spoiler's power
Our prince and queen! What wait we for?

Od.
For nothing,
But the king's word to move upon the foe!

Alf.
Upon him, then! Now think you on the things
You most do love! Husbands and fathers on
Their wives and children—lovers upon their mistresses—
And all upon their country! When you use
Your weapons, think on the beseeching eyes
To whet them could have lent you tears for water.
Oh, now be men or never! From your hearths
Thrust the unbidden feet, that from their nooks
Your aged fathers drove—your wives and babes!
The couches your fair-handed daughters used
To spread, let not the vaunting stranger press,
Weary from spoiling you! Your roofs that hear
The wanton riot of the intruding guest
That mocks their masters—clear them for the sake
Of the manhood, to which all that's precious clings,
Else perishes. The land that bore you—oh!
Do honour to her! Let her glory in
Your breeding!—Rescue her—Revenge her, or
Ne'er call her mother more! Come on, my friends!
And where you take your stand upon the field,
Thence, howsoever you advance, resolve
A foot you'll ne'er recede; while from the tongues
Of womanhood and childhood, helplessness
Invokes you to be strong! Come on! Come on!
I'll bring you to the foe! And when you meet him,
Strike hard! Strike home! Strike while a blow
Is in an arm! Strike till you're free, or fall!

[They go out.

SCENE III.

—A Wood.
The statue of Odin in the centre; before it an altar prepared for sacrifice. Enter procession of sacrifice, in the following order: —Danish Chief, with a body of Danish Soldiers; a body of Danish Chiefs, and Amund, Edric, and Guthrum; a body of Danish Priests; Assistants with torches; Boys carrying censers; one Boy with a cushion, on which the knife of sacrifice is laid; Chief Priest of Odin; Oswith; a body of Danish Soldiers. The procession marches to the following chorus:—
[Chorus.]
Prepare the faggot—light the brand—
The victim's ready for the God!
The knife is bare in the sacred hand,
That on the altar pours the blood!
Prepare!—Prepare!—Prepare!—
Great Odin's rites
The mortal who slights,
His roof shall blaze in peace—his spear shall break in war!

Guth.
Saxon! Thou hast of life a moment yet
At thy command—Use it for life!—for love!—
For liberty! But say the word, at once
The weapon, ready for thy blood, is sheath'd,
Unstain'd and harmless!

Os.
I'm prepared to die!

Priest.
Saxon!

Os.
I come!

Priest.
Come! Bare his breast! Odin, receive thy victim!

Ina.
[Rushing in.]
Oswith, I wed thee thus!

[She is on the point of plunging the dagger into her heart; Oswith bursts from the Priest and arrests her arm.
Os.
Hold, Ina, hold!
Thou shalt not die with Oswith!

Guth.
Oswith, live!
Although the God himself demanded him,
He shall not die who saves my Ina's life!

Priest.
The servants of the God protect his rights!

Danish Soldiers.
[Rushing in.]
The Saxon's in the camp, and down upon us!

Alf.
[without].
Press on—press on—the first that comes to blows
Is the king's 'squire! Press on!

[The Danes front the stage on which the Saxons are coming, who enter, headed by Alfred. Danes are driven off; Alfred and Guthrum engage; Guthrum is disarmed.
Alf.
Guthrum, live
The friend of Alfred! Serve the God he serves!
To wear a crown, thou need'st not fight for one,
Except to keep it! Fair Northumbria
Receives thee for her king—My queen and son!

[Oddune leads on Elswith and Ethelred.
Enter Egbert and Edric, guarded.
Alf.
Who's he?

Eg.
A traitor to our cause, my lord—
Whose sword has made more havoc 'mongst our people,
Than any ten of your foes! His hand, accurst,
It was that fired the hold where slept your queen
And son.

Ken. and others.
Despatch him!

Alf.
Hold! This victory
I will perpetuate by such an act
As shall from future kings remove the power
To make their public functions pander to
Their private gust! Select twelve men, his peers,
And swearing them upon the book of God,
As they shall answer at the judgment-day,
To try their prisoner fairly, let the charge
Be brought before them; and as they decide,
Be finally his innocence or guilt
Establish'd. Hence! Hereby shall private right,
Which, guarded, fortifieth, more than arms,
The conservator of the public weal,
Be sacred even from the sceptre's touch!
Thus to a people faithful to their king,
A faithful king an institution gives
That makes the lowly cottage lofty as
The regal dome—holds justice paramount
Of all—before her throne the peasant and
The king himself on equal footing brings!—
A gift which you'll preserve for ever whole!
From which, as from your blood, pollution keep!
Which, if you're ask'd to render back, by all
You owe yourselves, your country, and the throne,
You'll answer no! Which, when you'd name, you'll call
Trial by Jury!

Guth.
Great the victory
That kings gain o'er themselves. Blest are the heads
That bow to sway like thine!

Alf.
My countrymen!
Sons of the sea—henceforth her restless plain
Shall be your battle-field! There shall you meet
The threat'ning storm of war! There shall it burst,
Its rage unfelt at home—its din unheard!
You've fought like England's true-born sons, to-day!
You've taught a lesson to her sons to come!
By your example fired, should e'er a foe
In after-times invade her envied shores,
Her sons, of all descriptions and degrees,
To succour her, shall grapple soul and hand;
Rampart her throne with living walls of hearts,
And teach the fell invader that the sea
Embraced her, never to betray her glory!