University of Virginia Library

SCENE IX.

Enter an Officer.
Off.
The Foe's at hand.
With gallant Shew your thousand Danes rode forth,
But shall return no more!—I mark'd the Action,
A Band of desp'rate Resolutes rush'd on 'em,
Scarce numb'ring to a Tenth, and in mid Way
They clos'd; the Shock was dreadful, nor your Danes
Cou'd bear the madding Charge; a while they stood,
Then shrunk, and broke, and turn'd—When, lo, behind,
Fast wheeling from the Right and Left there pour'd,
Who intercepted their Return, and caught
Within the Toil they perish'd.

Crist.
'Tis Gustavus!
No Mortal else, not Ammon's boasted Son,
Not Cæsar wou'd have dar'd it. Tell me, say,
What Numbers in the Whole may they amount to?

Off.
About Five Thousand.

Crist.
And no more?

Off.
No more,
That yet appear.

Crist.
We count six times their Sum.—
Haste, Soldier, take a Trumpet, tell Gustavus
We have of Terms to offer, and wou'd treat
Touching his Mother's Ransom; say, her Death,
Suspended by our Grace, but waits his Answer.
[Exit Officer.
Madam, It shou'd well suit with your Authority,
[To Agusta.
To check this Frenzy in your Son—look to it,
Or by the Saints this Hour's your last of Life!

Agu.
Come, my Gustava, come, my little Captive,
We shall be free; our Tyrant is grown kind;
And for these Chains that bind thy pretty Arms,
The golden Cherubim shall lend thee Wings,
And thou shalt mount amid the smiling Choir
Of little Heav'nly Songsters, like thyself,
All robed in Innocence.

Gustava.
Will you go, Mother?

Agu.
So help me, Mercy! Yes, I'll go, my Child;
And I will give thee to thy Father's Fondness,
And to the Arms of all thy royal Race
In Heav'n; who sit on Thrones, with Loves, and Joys,
And Pleasures smiling round.

Crist.
Is this my Answer?
Come forth, ye Ministers of Death, come forth,