University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

A PRIVATE APARTMENT IN THE CASTLE.
GWENDYLEN, CLYFFORD.
GWENDYLEN.
Remorseless homicide! is this his mercy?
Insulting whom he murders! strike him, Heaven!
Strike and remove from earth this curse of nature,
This base deformer of her dearest scenes,
Who calls his outrage justice!

CLYFFORD.
Gwendylen!
Hear me, dear Gwendylen!

GWENDYLEN.
I had a brother!
That he were living now! or that I could
Unsex me, and become the man he was!

CLYFFORD.
Thou hast a brother still! O thou hast more,
Dear Gwendylen in me; for all my soul,
Its hopes, its fears, its faculties are thine.

GWENDYLEN.
No! no! thy arm is fettered by thy station:
Else, generous youth! I could indeed believe
That thou hast pity to feel all our wrongs,
And courage to avenge them.

CLYFFORD.
Lovely victim!
My sense of what thou sufferest is so keen,
Thy honored father seems to me my own.
Inflamed by Edward's cruelty towards him,
My alienated heart at times forgets
The love and duty, that I owe my king.

GWENDYLEN.
Thou matchless friend of misery! how my heart
Reveres thee for thy sympathy!

CLYFFORD.
Believe me,
Never did man more feel another's wrongs,
(To noble minds more piercing than their own)
Than my indignant spirit feels thy father's.
If nought remained to save his injured virtue,
Perchance my hand—but hence! detested image!
Still, lovely Gwendylen, with better thoughts
I can revive thy hope.

GWENDYLEN.
Kind comforter!
Inform me, now the charm of thy compassion
Has given my troubled soul a transient calm,
To hear thee as I ought.

CLYFFORD.
The sudden order,
To fix conspicuous on the mountain's brow
Thy father's barbarous doom, is known abroad;
And as blind cruelty exasperates
Those, it intends to awe, a gallant band
Of new insurgents, at this very moment,
Form a brave ambuscade, in hopes to rescue
The victim, idolised by dauntless friendship.

GWENDYLEN.
Our Cambrian valour is not yet extinguished:
Ye powers of liberty, and justice prosper
These generous men! O spirit of my brother,
Thou wilt forsake thy Heaven for this dear purpose,
And hover with a shield angelical
O'er the heroic band, who aim to rescue
Our virtuous parent from imperial murder.
These are blest tidings: yet I wish to learn,
My kind consoler, how they flew to thee.

CLYFFORD.
A countryman of thine, to whom my power
Had rendered service, and who knows how keenly
My soul is anxious for thy father's safety,
Gave me quick notice, with an added prayer
That I—but see, the Queen!—Thou best of daughters
Console thy father in his gloomy prison,
While I, with ceaseless importunity,
Solicit her pure mind again to aid me.

SCENE II.

CLYFFORD, QUEEN.
QUEEN.
What loitering here! O shame to soldiership!
Never till now was ardent Clyfford seen
Reckless of arms, when his heroic king
Had issued for the field.

CLYFFORD.
Can it be so?
Has new commotion called his vigilant spirit
Forth on the sudden?

QUEEN.
Yes! with eyes that flashed
Indignant fire, prepared for fierce assault,
With that dread weapon, which his powerful arm
Alone can wield, he sallied to chastise
Such opposition, as I trust will fly,
E'en at the distant gleam of his high crest.
His anger kindled at the fresh report,
That a wild troop is lurking in the mountain
To intercept Llandorvin.

CLYFFORD.
Hapless father!
Then Heaven forsakes thee.

QUEEN.
What! is thy young heart,
Once the warm seat of gratitude and duty,
Now touched with pity only for the foes
Of thy kind sovereign? at the very time,
When he, who fondly trained thy youth to arms,
Ought to behold thee anxious at his side,
To ward off peril from his sacred person?

CLYFFORD.
Noblest, and justly most adored of women!
Adored by me in every character,
That can excite the fondest veneration!
A charge of base ingratitude from thee
Strikes me, as would a seraph's keen rebuke.
Freely to thee, as to the power who made it,
I shew my tortured heart, and all its feelings.
That I have loved the king, as much as child
E'er loved a parent, my past life has proved;
But while he thus oppresses virtuous age,
With unrelenting, useless—

QUEEN.
Clyfford! Clyfford!
Beware of this blind passion, which deludes thee!
It is not ours to judge the king's decree.

CLYFFORD.
Fair excellence! forgive me, if I say
The blindness is your own: but it becomes you.
In your soft sex 'tis virtue, 'tis perfection
Not to behold the failings of a lord,
In wedded love so peerless as your Edward.
I am of rougher mold: unyielding man:
Man, the proud owner of imperial reason!
Were I the king's true son, as I have been
The child of his protection; I should then,
Feel that his cruelty, on my just heart
Implanted hate, eradicating nature.
Yet hating his barbarity,—believe me,
I love his virtues with such gratitude,
Nothing in life could so delight my soul
As to die nobly on some bright occasion,
Where my brave service might promote his glory,
And to each royal heart endear my name.

QUEEN.
Clyfford, thou feelst too keenly; but thy truth,
And thy frank nature have endeared thee to us;
Haste, I entreat thee, with unclouded duty
Arm, and attend thy sovereign! As I trust
He will return triumphant without conflict;
In that best season for my mild entreaties,
I yet may gently lead his generous nature
Freely to grant, what force could not extort.
Yet may I save our venerable prisoner,
Whom in thy absence I will kindly visit.

CLYFFORD.
Angel of life! thou giv'st me new existence
In that blest promise. Monarchs of the world!
Learn from this model of imperial goodness,
That pure beneficence alone possesses
Perfect dominion! Learn of Eleanor
To rule enlightened minds, nor fear to lose
An empire founded upon fond esteem!

(Exeunt.

SCENE III.

—A DUNGEON.
The sound of a Harp is heard from a concealed recess in the prison.
GWENDYLEN,
(entering.)
What sounds of melancholy charm arrest me?
It is my father: let me not intrude
On this most hallowed harmony! for thus
Enraptured he prepares his soul for Heaven,
By this most solemn spirit-soothing air,
Which, in his dying hour, an ancient bard
Gave to his wondering audience, death-inspired!
Again it sounds.—Here let me fondly pause
In reverential silence, till his hand
Relinquish the loved harp, that may so soon
Lose, and confirm his loss in mute dejection!

(Here a celebrated Air is played on the Harp behind the Scenes, from Jones's relicks of the Welch Bards.—page 59.)

SCENE IV.

GWENDYLEN, LLANDORVIN.
LLANDORVIN.
What! my sweet child! art thou within my prison,
And couldst thou suffer me to rest unconscious
Of thy dear presence?

GWENDYLEN.
Pardon me! I felt
My step suspended, and my soul absorbed
In those pathetic tones, that spoke of death.
Yet, my dear father, I am now elated
With the blest hope of your approaching freedom:
Freedom, not clouded with a base alloy,
As the precarious gift of lawless power,
But the bright present of endearing courage,
To fate superior in the cause of friendship!

LLANDORVIN.
What visionary hope has fond affection
Raised in thy sanguine fancy?

GWENDYLEN.
'Tis no vision:
But a momentous mystery; and now
Just whispered to me; yet by such a voice,
As gives a sanction to credulity.
O justly honored by thy grateful country!
There are brave Cambrians busy now, my father,
In nobly planning for that signal spot,
Which cruelty has fixt to close thy life,
A glorious scene of rescue, and of triumph.

LLANDORVIN.
Generous, but fruitless, and intemperate valour!
Haste! I conjure thee, my dear child, prevent
Their fatal purpose! fatal it must be,
If but suspected: haste! give them to know
It is my fervent wish, they would preserve
Their valued lives for hours of happier prospect;
And not embitter death to me, by making
My settled fate a prelude to their own!

GWENDYLEN.
Yes! I will haste, where haply I may learn
Yet more of this bold project: not prevent it;
Then only be thou disobeyed, my father,
When thou enjoinest, what our hearts abjure,
A fearful shrinking from thy dearest service!
Know, should our firm compatriots fail, thy wrongs
Would yet inspire a generous English hand
To pierce the tyrant's heart, ere his false breath
Could terminate thy being! O I pray thee,
Banish thy cruel thoughts of calm despair,
And in the friendship of the brave confide.

(Exit.

SCENE V.

LLANDORVIN,
(alone.)
This sudden spring-tide of returning hope
Amazes me: and more her dark suggestion:
“A generous English hand,” she points to Clyfford:
The horrible surmise, with dread conviction,
Wakes my worst fears: such horrors must not be.
But how may I, in bondage, yet restrain
The fervent spirit of precipitate youth,
Hurried to guilt by virtuous indignation?
Could I converse a moment with the Queen!
She is intelligent, and has a soul
That may be trusted for so pure a purpose
With dire imaginings.—What ho! attend me
Kind guardian of my prison!

SCENE VI.

LLANDORVIN, and the SOLDIER.
LLANDORVIN.
Canst thou, friend,
Convey a prayer to thy angelic Queen?
Haste and inform her, that an aged captive,
Not basely anxious for his worthless life,
But wishing to impart to her alone
Things of high moment to her heart, implores
A minute's audience.

SOLDIER.
Her attentive goodness
Anticipates your wish—behold the Queen!

SCENE VII.

LLANDORVIN, QUEEN.
QUEEN.
Brave, aged stranger! thy engaging daughter
Has taught my heart to take deep interest
In what concerns thee; and I come, with hopes
To lead thy manly mind to such mild conduct,
As may appease the king.

LLANDORVIN.
O sovereign lady!
To whose acknowledged virtue my proud spirit
Pays willing homage, 'twas my ardent wish
To hold with thee important conference;
Not from a mean solicitude to save
The slighted remnant of my days; a care
Of keener influence absorbs my thoughts,
And tortures me with unexampled terror,
That I could utter to no ear but thine.

QUEEN.
Speak all thy fears, for I am much thy friend!

LLANDORVIN.
Did I not think thee, gracious Queen, endowed
With all the rarest qualities, that render
Friendship of high, and sacred estimation,
I could not to thy gentle bosom trust
What I would say: it will require from thee
Steady exertion of what purest friendship
Inspires, indulgence, courage, secrecy.

QUEEN.
Thy words amaze me, and this preparation
Fills me with all the dread of blind conjecture.

LLANDORVIN.
I trespass on thy gentleness; perchance
My apprehension is a vague surmise:
A gloomy vision of distempered age!
Should it have more foundation, still thou mayst
By the mild influence of guardian virtue
Annihilate the apprehended evil.

QUEEN.
Trust me, thy daughter—

LLANDORVIN.
No! my present fear
Points to an object that demands from thee
Much higher care.

QUEEN.
O Heaven! thou art apprised
Of some dark peril menacing the King;
Yet if—I am bewildered; for alas!
His life endangered might to thee suggest
Matter of hope, and joy, but not of terror.

LLANDORVIN.
I scorn hypocrisy; and thou fair Queen,
Thou knowst, I must deem the death of Edward
A blessing to my country, yet believe me
I from his cruelty would undergo
An age of torture, rather than permit
A virtuous youth, long fostered by his bounty,
In a dark moment of distracted love,
With murderous frenzy—

QUEEN.
Ah! my boding heart!
Thou speak'st of Clyfford: tell me, I conjure thee,
How far the passions of this fiery youth
Have lead him to forget—

LLANDORVIN.
Be comforted!
His quick, and ardent mind, though strongly troubled,
Is not as yet estranged from filial duty,
That binds him to you both: thou gentle sovereign,
Watch I conjure thee all his starts of passion!
And with thy speedy salutary counsel,
With the fond privacy, which mothers use,
To screen the errors of a darling son,
Fix his bright soul within the sphere of truth,
Lest wand'ring now, like an eccentric star,
Its bursting fury scatter hideous death!

QUEEN.
Noblest of foes! I read thy heart aright;
And gratefully revere thee for thy caution:
This generous effort—

LLANDORVIN.
O! it merits not
Your heart-affecting praise: I but obey
The native impulse of humanity.
When genuine nature guides the feeling soul,
'Tis the prime pleasure of experienced age
To watch o'er ardent youth, and fondly snatch it
From those attractive gulfs of splendid guilt,
Where a bright syren, under virtue's mask,
Lures the brave mind to unperceived dishonor.

QUEEN.
Farewell! kind stranger! thy exalted conduct
Endears thee to my soul: Heaven grant me powers,
Soon with glad steps revisiting thy dungeon,
To bring thee life, and liberty, and honor!