 | The Borderers |  |
Scene, A desolate prospect—a ridge of rocks—a
Chapel on the summit of one—Moon behind the
rocks—night stormy—irregular sound of a bell
—Herbert enters exhausted.
Her.
That Chapel-bell in mercy seemed to guide me,
But now it mocks my steps; its fitful stroke
Can scarcely be the work of human hands.
Hear me, ye Men, upon the cliffs, if such
There be who pray nightly before the Altar.
Oh that I had but strength to reach the place!
My Child—my Child—dark—dark—I faint—this wind—
These stifling blasts—God help me!
Enter Eldred.
Eld.
Her.
(feebly).
A stranger has done this,
And in the arms of a stranger I must die.
Eld.
Nay, think not so: come, let me raise you up:
[Raises him.
This is a dismal place—well—that is well—
I was too fearful—take me for your guide
And your support—my hut is not far off.
[Draws him gently off the stage.
Her.
That Chapel-bell in mercy seemed to guide me,
But now it mocks my steps; its fitful stroke
Can scarcely be the work of human hands.
Hear me, ye Men, upon the cliffs, if such
There be who pray nightly before the Altar.
Oh that I had but strength to reach the place!
My Child—my Child—dark—dark—I faint—this wind—
These stifling blasts—God help me!
Enter Eldred.
Eld.
Better this bare rock,
Though it were tottering over a man's head,
Than a tight case of dungeon walls for shelter
From such rough dealing.
[A moaning voice is heard.
Though it were tottering over a man's head,
Than a tight case of dungeon walls for shelter
From such rough dealing.
Ha! what sound is that?
Trees creaking in the wind (but none are here)
Send forth such noises—and that weary bell!
Surely some evil Spirit abroad to-night
Is ringing it—'twould stop a Saint in prayer,
And that—what is it? never was sound so like
A human groan. Ha! what is here? Poor Man—
Murdered! alas! speak—speak, I am your friend:
No answer—hush—lost wretch, he lifts his hand
And lays it to his heart— (Kneels to him).
I pray you speak!
What has befallen you?
Trees creaking in the wind (but none are here)
Send forth such noises—and that weary bell!
Surely some evil Spirit abroad to-night
Is ringing it—'twould stop a Saint in prayer,
And that—what is it? never was sound so like
A human groan. Ha! what is here? Poor Man—
Murdered! alas! speak—speak, I am your friend:
No answer—hush—lost wretch, he lifts his hand
And lays it to his heart— (Kneels to him).
I pray you speak!
What has befallen you?
124
(feebly).
A stranger has done this,
And in the arms of a stranger I must die.
Eld.
Nay, think not so: come, let me raise you up:
[Raises him.
This is a dismal place—well—that is well—
I was too fearful—take me for your guide
And your support—my hut is not far off.
[Draws him gently off the stage.
| The Borderers | |