University of Virginia Library

Scene I.

—Sweno's Hall; a Banquet.
[Sweno, Ubald, Reynald, Bertha, Agnes, Knights, Ladies, and Attendants.]
Sweno.
Sit, lords, and be the draught of pleasure fill'd
E'en to the goblet's brink! We bid you welcome.
And thou, dear lady, whose hand lock'd in mine,
As on this day, twenty blithe years have witness'd,
We pledge thee in this brimming cup of love.

GUESTS,
(drinking.)
Health and long life to Sweno and his dame!

BERTHA.
Thanks, gentles, for this courtesy.

SWENO.
My Bertha,
Time has sped well with us. Our lovely hostess
Wears yet the hue of freshness unalloy'd,
While her ripe scion, our sweet Agnes, glows
With beauty's blush, like a new beam of morning.
We lack not aught, wherewith to tax the fates
As niggards of their gifts, being doubly blest
In our loved daughter and adopted son.
Ubald, thy prowess in each listed field
Speaks no mean lineage. As my child I greet thee.

UBALD.
If to revere you as man's noblest type,
To love you as my worthier self, to prize
The far-famed honours of your noble house
As things most dear, which from ill chance to shield,
I would encounter danger in such shapes
As human daring may but ill assay,
Be a son's duty, it is freely paid,
And Ubald still the debtor. Good my lord,
Your kindness makes me bankrupt of all thanks,
Save the poor service of a faithful arm
To ward your rights.

SWENO.
And we dare trust it, Ubald,
Though half our honors hung on the event.
To-morrow, sirs, it is our mind to hold
A gorgeous tournament, and, by my knighthood,
Who wins hath leave to be our daughter's suitor.
Good Reynald, is thy lance as keen and strong,
As when it tumbled the grim Saracen,
Horseman and horse, tilting in Palestine?

REYNALD.
Ay, noble Sweno; and a lovelier prize
Makes not the hand more sluggard in the charge.
I pledge my glove to win.

SWENO.
Take it, young Ubald,
And may all guardian saints to-morrow speed thee!
So in the tilt thou dost approve thee victor,
Loud proclamation shall our heralds make
To all who dare impugn thy long-lost birthright;
And, if none answer to that bold appeal,
Valiant we know thee, and shall hold thee noble.

UBALD.
Ay, marry will I. If he cast his gauntlet,
And this arm thrust him from his saddle-bow,
By heaven and good Saint Olaf, he shall eat it,
As that huge dragon, which he slew in Syria,
Would have gulp'd up the princess of . . . Plague on it!
I cannot scan the name of half those regions,
Whence he has scared the devil and his imps.

REYNALD,
(rising.)
Sweno, I was bred in war, and learnt the laws
Of knightly courtesy which arrest mine anger.
I know both what is due to host and guests;
Nor would I stain thy social board with blood
E'en of one chattering pie; else, taunting youth,
I well remember, how in Holy Land,
When a base renegade provoked my scorn
By some light speech, I slew the turban'd caitif
With his own rapier.

UBALD.
And made his bare skull
A bonnet for thy mistress.

SWENO.
Peace, peace, Ubald.
Let us have music. Friends, the merry Bacchus
Brims not your flowing cups with wonted glee.
Agnes, we tax thy sweet voice for a song.

Music. Agnes sings.
(While she is singing, Sweno appears strangely agitated, and interrupts her when she has just uttered the word vengeance.)
SWENO.
'Tis a fiend's song. Where gat you that foul strain,
Crossing our mirth with such portentous sounds,
As if the deep could send the unshrouded dead
To scare us from our joys?

AGNES.
Father, it bodes not
Evil to us; a wild lay, long since learnt
From a wierd woman that craved alms: the notes
So sweetly rung in mine attentive ear,
Time has not robb'd me of their melody.

(Thunder and lightning, which had begun faintly while she was singing, becomes loud and bright, with noise of violent rain. The agitation of Sweno increases.)
SWENO
The heavens frown on this our festival.
'Tis passing strange, that sounds of such dire omen
Should break upon our wassail; quelling the pulse
Of high-born mirth; turning the cheek of joy
To very paleness. Daughter, thy sad notes
Breathe an infectious gloom, and our kind guests
Have miss'd the scope of that sweet mirth we wish'd them.
(Rising.)
The tempest waxes, and this ancient castle
Rocks with the blast. May the sun's kindlier beam
Smile on our pomp to-morrow. I crave your leave.
Health and light thoughts attend our welcome friends.

[Exeunt Sweno, Ubald, Bertha, Agnes and others. Manent Reynald and two other Knights.]
REYNALD.
Great heaven! is this the man, whose mighty name
Is blown to the four corners of Christ's empire,
Famed for stern valor, marshalling in war
With proud array his feudatory swords
Like a half-king in Jutland! To be thus moved!

FIRST KNIGHT.
'Tis the distemper of his inward nature.
The subtle fluid of that flaming mischief
Which gives the thunder voice, steals to his heart
With secret sickness, curdling all the blood
Till his flesh creeps.

SECOND KNIGHT.
Ay; ever since that morn,
Which to his wedded couch gave noble Bertha.

FIRST KNIGHT.
'Twas a rough morn. The curse of that fair maid,
Who perish'd in the flood, hath ever since
Weigh'd like a stone on his distemper'd soul.

SECOND KNIGHT.
By heaven, methinks, when piping winds do blow,
Her form is manifest to his estranged eye,
As when she stood on the rock's slippery verge
That morn by Helen's chapel.

REYNALD.
Sirs, to me
Your words speak riddles.

SECOND KNIGHT.
Heard you ne'er the tale?
'Tis twenty years by-gone, as on this morn,
Since Sweno led, with pomp and bravery
Of princely cost, his bride unto the altar
In Helen's chapel, built on the beetling rock
Over the torrent, when Saint Mary's church
Lay under the Pope's ban, for a foul murder
Done in the very aisle while mass was singing.

REYNALD.
I have mark'd its site, a wild romantic spot;
And its high tower a goodly structure, now
Half ruinous: 'tis said that evil spirits
Shriek oft at night within its lonesome walls.

SECOND KNIGHT.
'Tis like they may; it hath been long disused,
A darksome fabric now, and the bleak winds
Howl through its broken casements

FIRST KNIGHT.
But that morn
Of blazing tapers there was cost enough.

SECOND KNIGHT.
'Twas a gay pomp; but, as the nuptial train,
Advancing, near'd that huge o'er-shelving rock
Fast by the stream, the shrill winds mustering stirr'd
With such fierce outrage, that each flag was rent,
And the thick clouds seem'd big with lowering tempest.
When, as they 'gan ascend, a form above
Stood with dishevell'd hair, that stream'd upon
The blustering gale. It was the loveliest shape,
My eyes ere then or since have witness'd; pale
As the chaste moon, and sad as sorrow's statue:
But a wild fierceness lighten'd from her looks,
As, with one hand out-stretch'd, she gave her words
To the rude blast of heaven, I heard them not
With clear precision render's to mine ear,
But it was bruited, that on princely Sweno
And all his race she breathed a deadly curse,
Summoning them to the dread throne of Judgment.

REYNALD.
Whence and who was she?

SECOND KNIGHT.
It was never known;
She vanish'd like a wraith; but on a bough,
Which overhung the swoln stream's eddying foam,
Her mantle was found, drench'd by the angry flood;
And 'tis past doubt, she perish'd in the waters,
Which roar'd that night, as they would burst their bed.

REYNALD.
How fared the bridal?

SECOND KNIGHT.
Sad as a death-wake.
The bridegroom rapt in care, like one distraught
By some dark agony; his lovely bride
Trembling and ashy pale: and all the while
The thunder raved with such rebounding roar,
That the roof quaked, and the blue lightning's blaze
Made every face like a gaunt spectre glare.

FIRST KNIGHT.
Ne'er has good Sweno, since that ominous morn,
Held the mind's peaceful tenor. When winds roar,
And the hoarse thunder makes the welkin tremble,
His heart seems touch'd as by some icy hand,
Shrivelling its core; and some deep cankering wound,
That preys within his soul, bleeds fresh and green.

REYNALD.
'Tis past belief, in one, whose actions swell
Fame's chronicle, far-told; filling the ear
Of expectation with amazing deeds;
Lending new lustre to renowned war.

FIRST KNIGHT.
There doth not breathe a more undaunted knight
Than this same Sweno, saving that touch of weakness,
Unless it be you flower of chivalry,
All conquering Ubald, fame and fortune's minion.

REYNALD.
Whence sprung that fiery youth, whose haughty eye
Lords o'er this court, as if created man
Was form'd for him, not he to yield man service;
So confident, and reckless?

SECOND KNIGHT.
Faith I know not.
The lady Bertha found him, a weak infant,
Cradled midst roses and all summer sweets
In that fair chamber, now young Agnes' bower,
Fast by the blooming garden. The strange elf,
Lapt in deep slumber, smiled, and waking stretch'd
Its little arms as if imploring kindness;
And she, just risen from a matron's throes,
To pitying love by that endearment moved,
Kiss'd its chill'd lips that ask'd the milk of nature,
And on her beauteous bosom bade it hush.
Protection first, then favour he obtain'd,
Waxing in years, and worth, and valor; proud
As if from kingly blood, hot as a lion,
And mastering all spirits by his strength,
The people's darling, and the bolt of battle.

FIRST KNIGHT.
Saving your prowess, I would pawn my sword
He wins to-morrow: for of Denmark's knights
There lives not one can stand this Ubald's onset.

REYNALD.
Is it thus? Yet shall he find one shaft too doughty,
Tried oft at Acre and at Ascalon,
Which hath beat down the brunt of Mahound's chieftains,
Though arm'd with spells of Paynim sorcery.

FIRST KNIGHT.
God speed you, sir! 'Twill be no mean encounter
Shall stoop his crest to-morrow.

SECOND KNIGHT.
Till then, Reynald,
Let us be joyous, and with some free cheer
Kill lagging time.

REYNALD.
E'en so; we have seen no spectres;
And yet methinks all heaven's blasts are stirring,
And its rent bosom seems one sheet of flame.

[Exeunt.