 | Athelstan |  |
SCENE II.
To him, Thyra, Edwina.Thyra.
My Lord! my Egbert!
Do I once more behold thee! Oh, my Lord!
Unutterable Woe!—
[She bursts into Tears.
Egbert.
[Embracing her.
Thou Sum of all my Wishes!
My Soul's far dearer Part!—Yes, I will mix
My Tears with Thine: Thy Wrongs demand them all!
Thyra.
Undone! undone!—Oh Egbert!—
Egbert.
Dearest Thyra!
Egbert wou'd die, to save thee!
Thyra.
I know, thou woud'st.
Is there no means of Rescue?
Egbert.
None, my Love.
This Grove is hemm'd round by a Guard of Danes,
Who own no Law, save cruel Gothmund's Will;
Whose Bosom, sacred Pity never touch'd
With soft Compunction; nor for other's Woe
Call'd forth the generous Tear.
Thyra.
Oh, I am lost!
67
If ye do waft the Pray'rs of Innocence
Up to the Throne of Mercy, hear me now!
Oh, from your Mansions of unclouded Bliss,
Let Heav'n send down your Sister-Angel, Pity;
And melt his Heart's fell Purpose!
Egbert.
Hope not Pity!
In vain thy Father (for I have heard thy Story)
With Tears and Grief's Intreaty strove to melt him.
He spurn'd him with Disdain.—But when I tell
The Tale of Shame, that heaves my throbbing Breast!—
Oh Thyra! hide my Blush!
Thyra.
What mean thy Words?
Can Fate yet swell the Number of our Woes?
Egbert.
Think'st thou that Egbert, for a Life of Shame,
Wou'd sell thee to Dishonour?
Thyra.
Heav'n forbid!
Egbert.
On that infernal Errand am I come.
So Gothmund wills.—Why dost thou turn thee from me?
Thyra.
Am I betray'd by Egbert?—Gracious Heav'n,
Be thou my Help! If Egbert hath prov'd false,
All human Faith is vain!
Egbert.
Thou Heav'n of Love!
Thy Virtue charms me!—On this Task of Shame
Gothmund indeed hath sent me.—Virtuous Thyra,
Far distant is my Purpose. Think not Egbert
Wou'd vilely purchase Life.—But oh, my Love,
Thy fatal Hour comes on! Ev'n now, the Ruffian,
With lustful Rage and fierce Impatience flown,
Prepares him for thy Tent!
68
Is there not Hope,
That England's Pow'r, beneath the Veil of Night,
May storm this guilty Camp, and give us Freedom?
Egbert.
Heav'n speed their Valour! But, alas!—that Hope
Too late shall visit Thee!—Ev'n now he comes,
To rob this sacred Temple, where pure Chastity
And Honour long have dwelt!
Thyra.
Oh fatal Tidings!
Wilt thou not stay, to save me?
Egbert.
Dearest Thyra!
The unrelenting Guard that brought me hither,
Ev'n now expects, and soon shall tear me from thee!
Thyra.
Oh Horror!
Egbert.
Now, my Thyra, arm thy Heart
With manly Strength: drive all the Woman thence.
Seest thou this deadly Steel?
[He draws a dagger.
Thyra.
Oh welcome, welcome!
Thy Looks are dreadful, and I read thy Purpose.
If 'tis the Messenger of honest Death,
Behold my Breast! I'll bless the friendly Stroke;
And bless Thee for this last, most generous Proof
Of Faith and Love sincere!
Egbert.
Yes! I have read
Of a stern Father, who, severely kind,
And deaf to struggling Nature's loud Appeal,
Shed his dear Daughter's innocent Blood, to save her
From an Invader's Lust:—A juster Purpose
Glows in my Breast—Why shou'd the Brave and Good
Fall self-devoted?—Let the guilty Heart
69
And when the Robber comes, with dauntless Arm
Plunge it into his Heart.
Thyra.
Alas, my Lord!
Egbert.
What? does the treacherous Blood forsake thy Cheek?
Thou who, unmov'd, coud'st dare it's deadly Point,
Not dare inflict the Blow! Thou lovely Weakness!
Courage with Softness join'd!—O sweet Perfection!
Yet must thou strike!—Oh think, how future Times,
Ages unborn, shall bless thy friendly Hand!
How the chaste Praise of Matron-Tongues shall saint thee,
And wondring Babes, rescu'd from Slav'ry's Woe
By this brave Deed, shall lisp my Thyra's Name!
Thyra.
What, stain my Hand with Murder! Heav'n forbid!
Egbert.
Blaspheme not Justice.—What! when thou'rt pursu'd
Ev'n to Perdition's Brink; shalt thou not turn,
And slay the fell Destroyer?
Thyra.
Oh, my Heart!
Alas, my Arm is weak! I am unpractis'd
In Deeds of Blood! 'Tis terrible to think!
What then, to do!—When I shou'd strike, the Dagger
Wou'd faulter in my Hand!
Egbert.
Let Danger rowze thee;
Fear make thee bold.—Ev'n now the Spoiler comes!
Thyra.
[catching him.
Oh save me, Egbert!
Egbert.
Hark! the Guard requires me!
I must be gone.—
Thyra.
No, we will never part.
70
We must! we must!—Hark! Goodwin calls again.
Another Moment brings Destruction on thee.
Speed thy Resolves—Farewel!—
[Going.
Thyra.
Oh horrible!
Give me the Dagger!
[She takes the Dagger.
Egbert.
Angels strengthen thee!
Now, prove thee worthy of a Briton's Love.
By one brave Blow, redeem thyself from Shame;
Thy Egbert from the Depth of poison'd Dungeons;
Thy groaning Country from the Scourge of Denmark!
Retire: he'll seek thee in the inner Tent;
And when he comes;—Oh Heaven direct her Hand!
[Exit Egbert.
Thyra.
Farewel, my honour'd Lord!—Here am I left,
With not a Friend to aid, but this dire Weapon!
Now, pitying Heav'n, protect me!—Hark! what Noise!—
In ev'ry Sound I hear the Ravisher!—
How dreadful Silence, at the Dead of Night!
Pregnant with Horrors!—Oh, thou fatal Weapon,
Dark Minister of Death! Oft hast thou arm'd
Th' Assassin's Hand with Fate! This once befriend
Despairing Innocence.—
Come, Matron-Courage! Thou who didst inspire
The brave Bethulian; and with dauntless Step,
Didst lead her to the proud Assyrian's Tent!
Now aid my trembling Hand! Teach me, like her,
Fearless to strike where Justice points the Blow!
That when he comes, This may revenge our Wrongs,
And set my Country free.—
[She puts up the Dagger.
Edwina.
Hark!—didst not hear
The Tread of Feet, as rustling thro' the Grove?—
| Athelstan | |