 | Ethwald |  |
SCENE V.
A narrow gallery in an abbey or cloister, with several doors opening into it. Enter Hexulf and Ongar and two monks.Hex.
Fear not, brave Ongar, we, upon thy hint,
Will quickly act; for here our eager wishes
Are with the church's good most closely join'd.
1st monk.
This is the time when he should walk abroad. (Listening.)
I hear him at his door.
Hex.
Leave us, good Ongar.
Ong.
To your good skill I do commit it then;
Having but only you, most rev'rend father,
To take my part against this wizard Thane.
1st monk
(still listening).
Begone, he issues forth.
[Exit Ongar.
[One of the doors opens slowly, and enters Woggarwolfe, wrapped in a cloak, and his head bound.
Hex.
Good morrow, valiant Thane, whose pious gifts
Have won heav'n's grace to renovate thy strength,
And grant thee longer life, how goes thy health?
Wog.
I thank you, rev'rend father, greatly mended.
1st monk.
The prayers of holy men have power to save,
E'en on the very borders of the tomb,
The humbled soul who doth with gifts enrich
The holy church.
2d monk.
Didst thou not feel within thee
A peaceful calm, a cheering confidence,
Soon as thy pious offering was accepted?
Wog.
(hesitating).
Yes, rev'rend fathers,—I have
thought indeed—
Perhaps you meant it so—that since that time
The devil has not scar'd me in my dreams
So oft as he was wont, when sore with wounds
I first was laid upon my bed of pain.
Hex.
Ay, that is much; but noble Woggarwolfe,
Thinkest thou not the church doth merit well
Some stable gift, some fix'd inheritance?
Thou hast those lands that are so nearly join'd
Unto Saint Alban's abbey.
Wog.
(much surprised).
My lands! give up my lands?
1st monk.
What are thy lands
Compar'd to that which they will purchase for thee?
2d monk.
To lay thy coffin'd body in the ground,
Rob'd in the garb of holy men, and bless'd?
1st monk.
To have thy tomb beneath the shading arch
Of sacred roof, where nought profane may enter;
While midnight spirits stand and yell without,
But o'er the sacred threshold dare not trespass.
Wog.
(with a rueful countenance).
What, do you think I shall be dead so soon?
Hex.
Life is uncertain; but how glorious, Thane,
To look beyond this wicked world of strife,
158
With saints and holy men, and angel bands!
Wog.
Nay, father, I am not so highly bent;
Do but secure me from the horrid fangs
Of the terrific fiend: I am not proud,
That will suffice me.
Hex.
Nay, herein thy humility we praise not,
And much I fear, at such a humble pitch,
He who so lately scar'd thee in thy dreams
May reach thee still.
1st monk.
O think of this!
Hex.
Dreadful it is, thou knowst,
To see him in thy dreams; but when awake,
Naked, and all uncloth'd of flesh and blood,
As thou at last must be; how wilt thou bear
To see him yelling o'er thee as his prey;
Bearing aloft his dark and hideous form;
Grinding his horrid jaws and darting on thee
His eyes of vivid fire?
[The monks sign themselves with great marks of fear, and Woggarwolfe looks terrified.
Ah! thinkst thou, Thane,
That many gifts, ay, half of all thou'rt worth,
Would dearly purchase safety from such terrors?
Wog.
(in a quick perturbed voice).
I have the
plunder of two neighb'ring chiefs,
Whom I surprised within their towers and slew;
I'll give you all—if that suffices not,
I'll fall upon a third, ay, though it were
My next of kin, nor spare of all his goods
One fragment for myself. O, holy fathers!
I humbly crave saintly protection of you.
Hex.
Nay, Woggarwolfe, on shrines of holy saints
No gift ere works with efficacious power
By force and violence gain'd; unless, indeed,
It be the spoil of some unsaintly Thane,
Some faithless wizard or foul heretic.
Thou hast a neighbour, impious Ethelbert;
His towers to burn and consecrate his spoils,
O'er all thy sins would cast a sacred robe,
On which nor fiend nor devil durst fix a fang.
But now thou lackest strength for such a work,
And mayst be dead ere thou hast time to do it:
Therefore I counsel thee, give up thy lands.
Wog.
O, no! I'm strong enough: my men are strong.
Give us your rev'rend blessing o'er our heads,
And we'll set out forthwith.
Hex.
Then nothing doubt that on your worthy zeal
Will fall the blessing. Let us onward move.
Where are thy followers?
[Exeunt: Hex. talking busily to Wog., and the monks smiling to one another as they go out.
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