University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

Ina's Bower.
Egbert and Ina.
EGBERT.
Oh, yes! I was indeed to blame, my love.
Too much I yielded to the timid counsel
Of cautious Alwyn.

INA.
Thou wast not to blame.
Thy mother's fondness, and her sov'reign sway
O'er thy kind father's heart;—her care for me,
The orphan daughter of her earliest friend—

EGBERT.
And thy brave father, too, whose loyal breast
Received the dagger aim'd at Cenulph's life—

INA.
And at his feet expired!

EGBERT.
Oh! these were hopes
And claims, that sanction'd well the confidence
With which I snatch'd thee to my beating bosom,
Call'd thee my wife! my dear, my honour'd wife!
And swore that thou should'st be ere long acknowledg'd
By Cenulph, his throne's heiress, and his daughter.

INA.
Thou could'st not then foresee that cruel death
Would rob us of the queen, and our best hopes.

EGBERT.
But that I did respect my father's sorrow,
I then had at his feet confess'd my fault—
Ha! said I fault to love such excellence?

INA
(starting).
Methought I heard approaching steps; each sound
Appals me, since I live a sad recluse,
With thoughts—tho' not of guilt—that shun the light.

EGBERT.
This is my worst reproach!—That virtue's self
Should be by me condemn'd to own the fears
Which only guilt should know.

Enter Alwyn.
INA.
It is kind Alwyn:
Welcome, my friend. Oh! soothe his troubled mind,
That dwells with too much pain on our lost hopes.

ALWYN.
Alas! I am the bearer of worse pain.
Ye have heard that Ethelbald has taken arms—
The offended princess past all hope estranged.—
The king, awaken'd by th' indignant lords,
And by the people's murmurs, which have reach'd
At length his careless ear, in angry mood,
Has sent me to command you to his presence,
To press,—I fear—with Edelfleda—

EGBERT.
Peace!
'Twere sacrilege to utter such a thought
As now hangs on thy lip.—

INA.
My much-lov'd lord!
Oh! hear good Alwyn: hear him patiently.—
Too long we fondly from our thoughts have driven
The frightful future in our present bliss.

EGBERT.
And would'st thou I should hear him bid me wed
With Edelfleda?—Cast thee from me?—thee!
By every holy tie my wedded wife!

ALWYN.
But by the laws, alas! and king, not sanction'd!

EGBERT.
Can human laws o'ermaster the divine?
Tear from a mother's breast her infant joy,
And bid a father's heart not own his child?
Can a king's breath annul the thing that is?

INA.
Be calm, my Egbert! oh! it is not thus
By eager words of fruitless controversy
We can avert the ill, or find the means
To reconcile our duty and our love.
I will retire, and leave thee with our friend:
Yes, my loved lord! true friendship has more skill
To work our good than our self-blinded judgment.
It knows not passion—for it takes the soul
Out of the earthy mould where passion lurks,
To watch,—a guardian spirit,—o'er the weal
Of its true object: as the sun it shines
For others' good!—still giving, without thought
Of like return! so high! so pure! so bounteous!
Oh! I do think kind angels lend to friendship
Some touch of their divinity, to raise
Th' aspiring thought to heavenly harmony!

[Exit.
EGBERT
(gazing after her).
She is herself that heaven of harmony!
Oh! Alwyn! blest in Ina's love, thy friend
Is lost to life's low cares.

ALWYN.
Too true, my prince;
In voluntary blindness thou hast pass'd
Thy thoughtless days of visionary bliss;
But I must rudely rouse thee from thy trance,
And bid thee look, with eye firm fix'd, e'en now
On all the fearful truth.

EGBERT.
Speak on.—I am calm.

ALWYN.
The king expects thee. He will press thy marriage
With Edelfleda.

EGBERT.
Alwyn, were I not
To Ina bound by ties so dear, so sacred—
Oh! no—I could not think of Edelfleda
But as a sister. Once to Mercia's court
I went a stripling, ere the feud arose
That sever'd us, and plunged the states in war.
In th' op'ning splendour of her awful beauty
I honoured her with boyish reverence.

ALWYN.
And woo'd the Mercian princess—yes, you woo'd her:
Whisper'd gay flatteries in her willing ear
At banquets, tournaments, and courtly revels.

EGBERT.
Well, grant I did so—'twas a stripling's homage
At beauty's shrine: she was of riper years.

ALWYN.
Two summers more had but matured her charms,
And not impair'd. You woo'd her, in good sooth.

EGBERT.
Nay, why insist? I had not then seen Ina.
Who shall resist his fate?

ALWYN.
Resist his will,
More aptly had express'd your thought.

EGBERT.
My friend,
Thou wert not wont thus keenly to retort.

ALWYN.
Nor would I now, were not the ruin imminent,
And no redress save one. I crave your patience:
You have abused the princess, much abused.

EGBERT.
How shall I soothe her but at honour's price?
How speak, and not redouble my offence,
Disclosing all the truth?

ALWYN.
Thou'rt new to love,
If thou know'st not how lightly we believe
What we too fondly wish! The heart forlorn
Will snatch e'en from a word, a look, a nothing,
A fearful hope of sweet returning kindness.
Avert her anger, you avert the sword
Upheaved by Ethelbald t' avenge his daughter.

EGBERT.
But said'st thou not, the king would urge the nuptials?

ALWYN.
Uncertain of thy love, the haughty princess
Will spurn the hand but offer'd as the pledge
Of union 'twixt the states.

EGBERT.
Oh! let me rather
Shun the wrong'd princess' presence, or declare
My wedded faith: I know not to dissemble.

ALWYN.
Yes; shut your eyes, and let the ruin come!
Nay, nay, my prince, hear me! The veteran bands,
Not yet dismiss'd by peace to their far homes,
On the fresh news that Ethelbald has arm'd,
Demand thee as their leader. I but ask,
That thou dissemble till the trumpet summon
To arms the late disbanded men of Wessex.

EGBERT.
And wherefore, friend?

ALWYN.
The chief who sways as thou
His soldier's hearts, may, with best vantage, treat
With angry Mercia, or repel his rage;
Best may avert, or over-awe the vengeance
At Ina aim'd. 'Tis for thy wife, thyself,
I plead, no less than for the state; and ask
But that thou play awhile the cautious part.
Be rul'd by me—conceal thy marriage still
A little space.

EGBERT.
I will: and bend my spirit
To cold occasion. Yes, for Ina's love
I will defile that singleness she prized.
Alwyn, I had mark'd the crooked ways of courts,
And in the arrogant dreams of boyhood, shaped
To myself a course of future glory
So proudly honest! but I find that he
Who would hold on the broad and open way,
Not once may swerve aside, howe'er allured.

ALWYN.
Your father waits—Come on, my friend.

EGBERT.
I come.

[Exeunt.