University of Virginia Library

SCENE IV.

Enter, to Ethelbert, Sifrid—with a wild and distracted air; as having just dismist the Banditti; and without observing Ethelbert.
Ethelbert. Sifrid.
Sifrid.
(To himself)
They're gone; all gone; at last I am alone!
Would I had been so ever! Never known man!
Had perisht ere my eyes were op'd to light!
Or wither'd, an untimely fruit!—O where!
Where are the golden visions that, but now,
Ravisht my soul, with ecstacies of joy?
Where now the treacherous hope which made thee mine,
Too faithful Emma? Never more shall I,
With arms of love, encircle thee. No more!—
Would God that I had died,—that thou hadst died,
Ere this accursed hour of dark despair.
That we were slumbering in the peaceful grave.
Now, when shall I know peace? Never! never!—
O that I knew not that thou still didst live!
That yet I thought thee dead! Then, as before,
I now should rise, fierce-panting for revenge.
Thy fancied death—my own foul wrongs—despair—
United, would urge on my furious hand;
And make the work of death seem just and joyful.
But now,—horrible state!—tho' heaven itself
Entices me to turn;—tho' I do know
Where it will plunge me;—stand upon the brink;—
Tottering;—I must— (starting back)
horror! horror!

Ethelbert.
Sifrid!

Sifrid.
Who calls upon that wretch? (Seeing Ethelbert.)
And is it thee?

(Tenderly.)
Ethelbert.
'Tis me, 'tis Ethelbert, it is thy friend!
Why dost thou look thus wildly on me, Sifrid?
What is it that so shakes thy frame? What cause—?

Sifrid.
Have I not cause enough,—Eternal Powers!
Have I not cause enough, for my distress?

Ethelbert.
Whence is this dreadful passion which destroys thee?
Art thou not master of thy native fields?
Is not thy Emma free, and faithful to thee?
Does she not languish for thy quick return?

Sifrid.
Ay, but my oath! For I am bound; have sworn.

Ethelbert.
And think'st thou any oath hath force to bind
Against the eternal ordinance of Heaven?
Believe it not.—What hast thou sworn to do?
To murder and despoil, is 't not?—Beware!
The positive injunction sure is plain;
Casting stern condemnation in thy face.

Sifrid.
Ay, but my truth is pledg'd; my honor giv'n;
And were eternal death the sure event,
I've sworn upon my soul,—and must go on.

Ethelbert.
Horrid, but powerless, oath.

Sifrid.
Immutable!
O agony supreme! I see my fate.—
Emma!—yes, thee I must leave:—Forever!
I must fulfil my destiny of death.
The wrath of Heaven falls heavy, and I sink.

(A short pause.)
Ethelbert.
O be calm, my dearest friend! Let sweet peace
Soft settle on thy soul, and sooth its woes.

Sifrid.
Never more shall peace visit this bosom.

Ethelbert.
Nay, think not so!—it shall, my friend, it shall.
Observe the pleasing prospects that invite thee.
Untoucht, thy hamlet, and paternal fields:
These, by thy care, shall thrive; there shalt thou live;
And, with thy Emma, see thy joys renew'd.

Sifrid.
Never again, will joy be mine!

Ethelbert.
It will.—
Leave but these scenes, and, 'mid thy native shades,
Gain independence from the cultur'd soil;
Thou shalt be truly happy.—Here, around,
On every side, danger approaches swift.
The alarmed nation hastens to destroy thee.
Toils, dangers, and distress, and many deaths,
Perchance of thy best chiefs, most sure await thee.
If fortunate at first, it can not last;
Unfortunate, thy people's, and thy, lot,
How dreadful! The reverse, how sweet! Where thou,
Where they, a ready pardon, from the throne,
Procur'd, secure, the joys of peace may taste;
And life steal on, serene, to honor'd age.

Sifrid.
O I do see how many, many joys,
I might, full sure, obtain! But, I have sworn.

Ethelbert.
And will not they, to whom thy oath is given,
Like thee, discern the danger, and avoid it?
Dost thou not think thy brothers of the war
Would share thy toil?

Sifrid.
(With frantic ecstacy.)
They will!
(Suddenly relapsing into despair.)
No! they can not.
I must still live a very wretch.

Ethelbert.
(A pause.)
Sifrid!
What mean'st thou? Wherefore can they not?

Sifrid.
Ask not.
Leave me, my friend, to perish. Thy kindness
Can not, now, avail me.

Ethelbert.
Sifrid, I can not,
Must not, leave thee.—Explain what thou dost mean.

Sifrid.
Are we not bound by mutual oaths, to death?
Is it not death to him who first shall dare
Request a change? And how shall I, who fram'd,
Propos'd, the oath; exacted their acceptance;
Dare, first, to seek exemption from its bonds?
O, would they but relent; unite, with me,
In more endeared toils; (to Ethelbert)
thou wilt have rais'd
A weight that presses me to deep perdition.

Ethelbert.
Thy passion, Sifrid, doth unman thy soul;
And makes thee estimate the danger more
Than reason will allow.—Cheer up my friend!
And when, from this their search, thy Band return,
Do thou address them with a manly zeal:
Point but their way, and I will fields bestow,
Untill'd, thro' fear of their despoiling hands,
Which soon would bud and blossom, by their aid.

Sifrid.
'Tis well!—I am resolv'd! It can not be
But only death.—Emma! I can not bring
Thee hither;—and, without thee, this little,
Little day of life, were agony; were death.—
I will address them.

Ethelbert.
Fear not; they will comply.
Pardon, and rural wealth, shall crown the act;
And fairer suns shall rise to gild thy day.

Sifrid.

[They go out.