University of Virginia Library

SCENE VIII.

Valdemar, Norwegian Officers.
Valdemar.
Vengeance! O traitrous vengeance! thy own throne,
Thy temple was the heart of Valdemar—
There thou wert worship'd with unwearied prayer,
Yet, like a faithless Dæmon as thou art,
Hast thou betray'd him—Curse the frigid souls
Of those Norwegian slaves, who basely fled
Before the smooth-hair'd Dane—Firm as the pine
On their own blasted mountains have they stood
When rapine urg'd their sordid arms—but oh!
When great revenge, when wounded honour call'd,
How shrunk their dastard souls! Now all is lost!
And but one glimpse of vengeance yet remains,
One curs'd dear hope to soothe my stormy soul!
Fly, search, my friends, around these winding shades,
For here by sure intelligence I find
The Queen of Norway's hid—if fortune yield
That fair, that faithless Dane once to my power,
Here, in this grove, whose sacred horror shades
The Gods of Denmark; whose old arms surround
Her Father's palace, and desend the graves
Of all her Ancestors, here shall she fall—
Yet not 'till satiate with delightful insult,
Ingenious vengeance wrings her tortur'd soul
With more than Death's own bitterness; nor then,
'Till flush'd with conquest, insolent with triumph,
Th'unconscious Asmond shall return—By Thor,
By mighty Thor, the thought is worth my kingdom.
Oh! when elate with victory he comes,
Then, at that glorious hour, before his eyes,
Before her father's eyes, then will I plunge
My poynard to her heart; and o'er the body,
Say, with a smile, Asmond, behold thy daughter!

Officer.
My royal Lord—

Valdemar.
Slave! hast thou seen a Dane?
Art thou too a Norwegian? Coward fear
Dwells on thy cheek—

Officer.
I've seen the Queen of Norway—

Valdemar.
And she has made thee tremble—in one moment
Let me behold her—

Officer.
She is—

Valdemar.
In one moment—
[Officer departs and immediately returns with other officers, bringing the dead body of the Queen of Norway.
She faints with fear—Support her—

Officer.
My dread Lord!
Near to the Queen we found this dagger red
With recent stains—More of her death we know not.

Valdemar.
Distraction! death! off execrable slaves!
By Earth, and Heaven and Hell she shall not die—
O fled, fled, fled from my revenge—now fortune,
Now I will curse thee; and thou feeble Odin,
Thou helpless founder of my wretched race,
O for the lightning's swiftest beam to blast thee
On thy dishonour'd throne!