University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

SCENE I.

—A thick wood—distant view of a fortress—groupes of armed men, as after a battle;—sound of distant tumult—martial music. Prince Irman insensible, supported on a back by a man in armour, while others are attempting to free him from his harness.
1st Guard.
(Advancing)
Stand to your ground!
(To others who approach.)
Away!—and man the pass.

2d Guard.
Silence!—look there!—the wood is full of men.

1st Gua.
(Looking anxiously)
But they are all white plumes—
(Advancing to his companion, who is supporting the Prince.)
It was a heavy blow—

3d Gua.
(Reaching the cleft Helmet of the Prince to his comrade.)
It was indeed.

Both.
No blood!—not wounded!

3d Gua.
—No!—he's only stunned—
(throwing down the Helmet)
And we are gloriously revenged for that!
(To others, who approach—as a distant shout is heard)
Back to your posts!—

2d Gua.
Away! and scour the woods—

3d Gua.
—Soft—soft—he breathes—

(Prince Irman faintly attempts to rise—staggers—and sinks down again.)
3d Gua.
My Prince!—

(The Prince looks around disturbed, as struggling to recollect himself, in silence.)
(Enter Friar.)
Friar.
(Stopping suddenly as he sees the Prince's armour lying about.)
Merciful Powers!—it was a dreadful shock!

1st Gua.
Aye Father— (reaching the cloven Helmet)

What a blade!—

Friar.
(In amasement)
And yet he has escaped!

(laying his hand upon the Prince's brow.)
1st Gua.
Unharmed,—and only stunned—but—

3d Gua.
Shall we not bear him to the Castle, Father?

2d Gua.
Aye, father, 'twould be best,—he's not safe here—
The woods are all alive with Otho's men—

1st Gua.
(Angrily)
With Otho's devils—Jesu! how they fought!

3d Gua.
To the Castle then!

(approaching the Prince, eagerly.)
Friar.
Stay—Stay—
Let him but breathe the pure, fresh air,
And he'll not want our aid to reach his halls;
And there he'll meet his Princess, as he's wont,
When he has been in blood—
(Martial flourish heard, passing, in the wood.)
Silence that horn!—

(Trumpet—the Prince starts suddenly from the bank, utters some incoherent sounds, and attempts to unsheath his sword—Friar and guard struggle with him.)
Prince.
(Vehemently)
To horse!—Away!—Away!

Fr.
Nay—nay my Lord—

1st Gua.
(Again preventing the Prince from unsheathing his sword.)
My Prince!

Pri.
(Starting, and looking earnestly at him)
—Selim!

1st Gua.
Not Selim—no, my Prince—

Fr.
—Speed to the hall;
Tell Selim to return.—

(Several start at once with great eagerness.)
Pri.
(Bursting from their arms and unsheating his Sword)
Charge, charge!—they fly!—there, cleave him to the earth!
Away! Away!

(Rushes furiously out, followed by all his guards, the Friar last.)
Fr.
The sword! the sword!
(following, with violent gestures)
Aye, wrench it from his grasp—

(Exit Friar.)
(Enter Achmet, cautiously, from the wood.)
Achmet.
They're gone at last!— (listening)

Curse on the straggling cowards! we are foiled—
(Two other Figures seen, stealing upon him from the wood.)
Have lost our chief:—would I had fallen there!
Who of us all will dare to lift an eye,
Hereafter,—to that dark encountering look?
(The ruffians approach with their daggers drawn)
How shall I quail before that mute reproach!
So terrible!—so still—
(sees them)
—Who are ye?—Stand!
Come ye as friends, or foes?—
(they approach)
—Another step!—
And I shall hold ye foes—
(Looks earnestly—approaches—drops the point of his sword, and turns away in scorn)
Cowards!—I know ye both—
Away!—I hold no fellowship with you—
(going—pauses)
Ye sold your chief—abandoned him in death—

1st Ruf.
'Tis false—he sold himself—

2d Ruf.
—Aye, so he did!
Think ye they'd ever taken him alive,
But with his own consent?—

1st Ruf.
I saw him break his blade—and bow his head—
And yield himself a prisoner to the foe.—

Ach.
True—True, you did. His mighty heart gave up
When ye abandoned him,—or he had fought,
Till not a man survived to tell the tale.
But we!—no, you—I did my duty there:
And yet, I shall not dare to meet his eye—
For I have marched with cowards to the war.
How then will ye encounter his reproach?
That withering look!—that eyes—when ye shall see
Your chief to-morrow, going to his death.

Both Ruf.
His death!—his death!

Ach.
Aye, all alone, his head upon a block—
(The ruffians appear disturbed—hesitate—then suddenly brandish their daggers, as if unconsciously)
Aye stretched upon the wheel—

(keeping his eye upon them)
1st Ruf.
(to his fellow)
By Heaven, I will!—

(The other seizes his hand—as understanding his exclamation)
Ach.
(Going)
Gods! ye had better die ten thousand deaths,
In strife for him, than once deserve that glance;—
That lightning!—'twill reward ye for your faith—
O! may ye see him die!—

Both.
Die!—He die!

1st Ruf.
No, no, we'll save him yet,—

2d Ruf.
—or die ourselves.

Ach.
Ye save him, cowards!—he would rather die.
No, never!—never—ye that broke his heart!
Ye never can restore him to himself.—
Ye were the men that he had nursed in blood
His chosen ones!—his strength!
(pause—emotion)
—And ye deserted him!
No, he will die.—And ye shall are see your chief
Hooted and pelted by a peasant rabble—

1st Ruf.
By Heaven! they dare not.

2d Ruf.
We will all be there—

Ach.
Ye! O cowards! cowards!
Think ye that he would trust to you again!
Go seek your caverns, hide yourselves—and live.
For me—I will attend him to the block;
(emotion)
He yet shall look on me as he was wont,
When I had been a man,—and then—I'll die.
But ye!—O, may ye meet his eye once more!

1st Ruf.
Achmet, lead on—

2d Ruf.
—Aye, lead us where thou wilt!
We'll follow thee to death.

Ach.
Ye follow me to death! O, were ye men,
We had been masters of the citadel;
The Prince had been our prisoner!—and his guards
Had fed the vulture and the wolf this night.
Aye,—even now—had ye been men indeed,
We might have taken such a hostage here—
(Ruffians appear violently agitated)
But now, the Prince was here!
(stamping)
—Upon this spot!

1st Ruf.
We saw him too.

2d Ruf.
His guards were all about—the wood was full,
And what could we have done!

Ach.
What could we have done!
Why, borne him off, amid a thousand guards!
Had we been Otho's men.

1st Ruf.
Then we may do it now!

2d Ruf.
Aye, let us! let us!—Achmet, lead us forth.

Ach.
(Triumphantly)
Would ye redeem your souls?
Away! and I will trust ye yet.

(Rushes out as after the Prince,—followed by the Ruffians.)

SCENE II.

—A Gothick hall. View of Battlements from an open window. Banners and armour hung around. The Prince is discovered on a couch. Friar.
Fr.
Yes my Lord—and broke his sword—and

(The recollection of the Prince alternately comes and goes through this scene, until its conclusion, when he is entirely restored.)
Pri.
(Impatiently)
And then was taken: Yes, I know it all.

(relapses into inattention)
Fr.
(Eagerly)
The Princess comes—

Pri.
(Disturbed)
Ah!—

Fr.
I hear her voice, my lord—

Pri.
The Princess—?—Ha!

Fr.
The Lady Ala—

Pri.
Ala! (passionately)
—is that her voice?

Fr.
Yes, yes, my Prince.

Pri.
— (struggling)
—Then let me be composed!
Ala,—my lovely one—bear up my heart—
That angel smile—
(wandering)
Father, that Otho—
(laying his hand on his brow)
I am much disturbed.

(Enter Ala, followed by her ladies.)
Ala.
Welcome my Prince!
(Stops in alarm at the expression of his countenance.)
Father, what tale have ye amused me with?
(Bends over the Prince and takes his hand in great agitation.)
My Prince look up!
(he lifts his eyes wildly)
—In mercy!—look not thus.
(Reproachfully.)
Father!—Father—

(weeps)
Fr.
Sweet lady, these are dangerous tears:
The Prince but wants repose—

(Ala wares to her attendants to withdraw—seats herself by the Prince, and supports his head.)
Ala.
Father, (in a low voice)
I pray the Duke may not arrive.
This is a mournful presage, and my heart
Bows sadly to its touch.
(The Prince with a sudden and faint cry of terror draws her nearer to him.)
My Prince! (startled.)
Indeed, his eye looks wild—

Pri.
(Straining her to his heart convulsively)
Ala—O, Ala!—
(Pause—appears to recollect her.)
My Ala!—here!
And art thou here, my love?—Is this thy hand?
Why even thou art pale—
(relapsing)
Yes, yes it was a fearful dream indeed.
(Ala averts her head and weeps)
Nay, do not leave me Ala. I would feel.
Thy hand in mine. My heart still knows the touch
Of one it loves—
(Trembles—struggles—and suddenly extends his hands, as to prevent something from approaching her— then drops them faintly as she covers her face.)
—O, would'st thou leave me then!
Well,—go!—I've nothing left to cling to here.
(Ala is overcome by her feelings. Irman rises proudly, advances with a firm step to the middle of the hall —attempts to address Ala—and suddenly stops—as conscious of his situation.)
Forgive me! I am weak.— (pause)
that flash!—
(Catches her hand and appears completely restored)
Ala,—why, how is this? So sad upon this night;
Our wedding night—
(His eye falls on his armour: as he sees his cleft helmet, he, involuntarily, passes his hand to his brow)
My plumes are soiled—their lights are dimmed— (pause.)

Ah, now I feel it all!
— (passionately)
And art thou safe!
Well, thanks to Heaven!—but indeed my love,
I never heard the trumpet pealing yet;
Or saw my banners blazing for the strife,
And felt my pulse so feeble, as this day.
That desperate man! He is a gallant foe,
And tho' I stooped to his encountering arm,
My heart does not reproach me for the fail.
He wields a dreadful blade.
(Pause—lays his hand on the Friar's arm, as striving to recall his thoughts, while Ala expresses her delight at his recovery, in silence.)
But Father—surely, we were victors there;
I saw them fly before I fell—

Fr.
'Tis true my lord. The dreadful man is here;
A prisoner—with his bloody band.

Irman.
A prisoner! Otho!—and alive!

Fr.
And alive—'tis true my Prince.

Pri.
(To Ala)
That Otho here!
He would have torn thee from the altar, love—

Ala.
Ah!

(terrour)
Pri.
Yes! from my arms—or from the bridal couch!

Ala.
Merciful Heaven!
(shuddering—then advancing, seizes his hand.)
Art thou indeed restored!

Fr.
Now, lady, did I tell thee true?

Ala.
Father, forgive me, 'twas my fear that spoke:
Know you, my Prince, how, wildly you have talked?

Fr.
Indeed, your lovely guardian was alarmed.

Pri.
I raved?

Ala.
O, yes! and held my hand, as if you strove
To save me from pollution—

Pri.
(With tenderness)
Did I indeed!
(pause)
(Solemnity)
Yes—yes—I know I did—
The chill of superstition is upon me:
Nay, do not smile—my brain is quite restored,
But this delirium is in my heart.
The blow that fell had not unmanned me thus,
Had not my heart and scul been wandering first—
But now—this evening—something threatens me,
I yet shall realize my dreadful dream:
My fall—the trumpet—and the foe—

Ala.
A dream!

Pri.
Indeed! I have not told thee? well, 'twas this.
I dreamt that thou wast gone, (horrour—gradually increasing to vehemence.)
And that I clasped
Before the multitude, assembled there
To see us plight our faith for earth and heaven,—
Instead of thee, my love, with sunny eye,—
A man in armour! whose relentless grasp
Was locked in desperation round my frame.
So unexpected too! (pause)
and what is strange,
I dreamt that thou did'st leave me willingly—

Ala.
(Tenderly)
Willingly!

Fr.
It was a dream, my Prince.

Pri.
(Disturbed)
But mark the strange concurrence of this day.
The very man I've heard so often cursed,
(to Ala)
When I have told thee of his bloody deeds;
This very Otho! was the ruffian shape,
That—mailed from head to foot—in sable plumes—
Stepped forth, amid a troop of gallant Lords,
And clasped me while I slept!
To night he comes—and blows a sudden trump!
And sabres flash! and martial hands are met—
In battle—that had come for dance!

Ala.
And didst thou see him in thy dream? (smiling)


Pri.
Yes—smile my love—
He frightens others in their soundest sleep.
And idle as the fear might seem, to one,
Less near the object of idolatry;
Yet still—on me—I wonder while I speak—
And then—
(Enter Selim, who falls at his feet with a look of the greatest reverence and affection.)
(To Selim)
Has my father come?

Selim.
Not yet, my Prince. He will be here to-night,
A courier has arrived—

Pri.
(continuing with earnestness)
The unexpected bursting of that trump!
Within the very temple of our hopes!
The boldness of the band—thy strange escape—
For, had we been embracing to receive
Thy benediction, father—and my knights
Had been unarmed, as knights should be, who meet
For nuptial revelry, and dance,—Oh, then,
Most surely had I lost thee, love!

Ala.
(In deep thought)
Indeed—but this as strange, night after night
Have I had visions too. (to the Prince.)
And much like this.
Thrice have I dreamt that I was snatched from death.
That, from the Altar, I was borne away,
(faltering)
By that dark fearful being—
(Shuddering and looking round in terrour—Selim is seen to participate—and, involuntarily, raises his hands, as he stands listening intensely)
—That my heart
Once met in solitude—arrayed in blood!
A bloody mantle! And a bloody plume!
(increasing horrour)
And suddenly he came—as from the grave!
But—
(recovering, and struggling to assume a cheerful tone)
—This is idle—

Pri.
Yes, my love—
And I can well account for dreams like mine.
This savage Otho is so full of wiles;
And strikes such sudden blows in day and night—
And I, so near the object of my prayers:
(more cheerfully)
These fearful visions of my troubled sleep,
But make me feel thy value when I wake.
Our Heaven is never certain, 'till possessed;
Our dreams are tinctured by our waking fears,
Till—what was but uncertain bliss in day,
Becomes consuming agony at night.
But Ala—to thy maidens, love—such hours
Should not be spent in fears—and doubts—and dreams.

Ala.
Nay, nay, My Prince.
(faintly)
The Duke has not arrived.
And thou art not recovered from the strife;
We should be more composed—

Pri.
(Passionately)
Ala, I cannot suffer thus;
I cannot thus be frozen with delays—
Nay, Ala, look not thus! I've stood too long
Upon this dizzying height—and must descend.
Ala! I've loved thee long—
How I have loved thee, thou canst never know!
I should go mad if I were baffled now!
Away with all these doubts! Away with tears!
Be worthy of thyself! My Ala, let us wed!
And then the trumpet will not peal in vain;
Yea, should it startle me from sleep, this night,
Upon my bridal couch, my heart will beat
Ten thousand times more worthy of its prize,
Than now, while I am shaken thus. To-night!
Farewell, my love—to-night!
(Exit Ala)
(To Selim)
Are the prisoners safe?

Selim.
All safe—
(acclamations heard—bugle, Selim runs to the window)
There they go!

Pri.
The prisoners, there! Why are those clamorous shouts?
Can that be insult to the conquered men?
Begone, and silence them—unmanly triumph!

Selim.
(Eagerly—without looking round)
'Tis done! 'tis done! my Prince. The Soldier's there.
How mute they are!

Pri.
The Soldier! my preserver? bring him here.
Yes, I must see that man—
(Suddenly)
But Selim, look—is Otho with his men
To hear these vile rejoicings?

Selim.
(Springing from the window.)
O, no! we'd hear no shouts if he were there.

Pri.
Ah!
(pause—looking at Selim.)
—He is no common man.
And had they shouted o'er his fallen strength,
He might forgive it, but I never would,
(Indignantly)
I never would have pardoned them on earth!
How bears the murderer his approaching fate!

Selim.
Murderer!

Pri.
Aye! Didst thou not know it boy?

Selim.
No, no, my Prince; he has a warriour's eye;
But not a murderer's—

Pri.
Boy, boy! How bears he this reverse?

Selim.
In bitter resignation—silent—stern—

Pri.
(Enthusiasm)
What stormy greatness is abandoned there!
O, that I might be merciful, and just!
He's so magnificent!
(Pause—working of passion—Selim falls at his feet in supplication—the Prince subdues his feelings—and adds in a determined tone)
No, no—that man must die.

Selim.
O, spare his life! he might have taken thine?

Pri.
Selim! he must die.
Where went my barb? Has he gone wild again?

Selim.
I fear he has—

(Friar advances from the window—eagerly)
Fr.
My Prince, they say he galloped towards the hills!
(Enthusiasm)
And shook his bloody mane—
And plunged along,
Yet reeking with his wound—as if he heard,
A trumpet in the skies! as if he felt
His native mountain air brace all his limbs again!

Pri.
(Looking at him with astonishment)
Father! thou hast been a warriour once.

Fr.
Aye that I have! and in the blessed sun
Have seen a steed, caparisoned for war!
Aye, that I have! and in the stillest night,
Have heard—a battle in the Heavens!
For I was young. (faltering)
In other days my son—
I've seen the flashing mane and rolling eye;
But now (raising the Cross)
I shake at blood.

Pri.
(Bowing reverently to the symbol of peace)
He is a gallant steed—
(Exit Friar)
I never strode a barb that moved so proud:
How he leapt forth to meet the glittering spears!
Did'st see him, Selim? plunging to the blast:
I felt the trumpet in his shaking chest:
But I forget my gratitude—away!
Summon the soldier.
(Selim is going)
Dost thou know his name?

Selim.
That is his only name: he lives unknown.
The Soldier, he is called, by all the troops;
And he is poor—and brave—

Pri.
Aye that he is—but this is his reward.
The Soldier!
It is a glorious name! O, give me but a band
Of such old men as that, I'd shake the world.

Selim.
(To a guard)
Summon the Soldier!

(The word is heard passing along the battlements from Sentry to Sentry.)
Pri.
Stay—lead me to his tent. I'll meet him there;
Such men are always proud—
And he will thank me if I spare that pride.

(Exit, followed by Selim)

SCENE III.

—Foot of the Battlements—Moonlight—Sentries Marching—Line of Barracks stretching to a distance. Platform in front.
(Enter Prince, followed by Selim.)
Pri.
Which are his quarters, Selim?

Selim.
(Looking about)
Indeed, I do not know—but—

Pri.
Inquire—

Selim.
(Observing one apartment not lighted)
Ah yes! 'tis there (pointing)
'tis there the Soldier sleeps.

Pri.
Art thou sure?

Selim.
O, yes, he never burns a light.

Pri.
Knock!

(Selim taps gently)
Soldier.
(within, in a sullen voice)
Who goes there?

Selim.
A Friend!

Sol.
Who e'er ye are, away! Disturb me not!

Pri.
Open the door, Selim.

(Selim crowds against it)
Sol.
(Furiously)
Who dares disturb my solitude,
When he has heard my voice? Begone!
(Rushes out, and pursues Selim with a drawn sword)
I told you I was not to be disturbed.
(pauses, as Selim retreats to a light)
A boy! ah well, go home.
(Sees the Prince, who has advanced to protect Selim)
—So! ye are two.
Well then, I'll teach ye to assault me thus!

(Strikes at the Prince, Selim throws himself before him)
Selim.
Madman! 'tis the Prince!

(The Soldier throws down his sword, folds his arms and stands in an attitude of martial dignity)
Pri.
(To Selim)
Command the guards to leave the gate awhile.

Sol.
Stay boy! thou wilt not be obeyed.

(Wares his hand, guard approaches with an expression of awe: the Soldier nods in silence, and the platform is instantly cleared.)
Pri.
(Contemplating the whole with earnest attention)
Soldier! thy hand fell heavily to-day;
But unexpected battle finds thee, still,
With heaven closed, bright harness, and a lance
Forever couch'd to guard thy Prince's life;
There is a purse of gold—
(The soldier turns slowly towards him with a look of disturbed majesty)
—'Twas bravely won;
And many a gallant drop hath paid its price:
I could have checked my barb in his career,
And left my helm unshielded from the foe—
Why say I that I could? I did do this—
To see thee wrench the banner from his hand.
Dread Otho feared thy might; he shunn'd thine eye
Here, take this purse!

(Hands it to Selim. Selim reaches it to the Soldier, who puts it back calmly and haughtily.)
Sol.
(Firmly)
No!

Selim.
(Repeating the offer)
Nay, take it, take it, Soldier,

Sol.
(Fiercely)
No! boy, I say.

(Selim retreats in terrour)
Pri.
So then (suppressing his indignation)
my boon is scorned.

Sol.
My Prince, I do not sell my blood for gold.

Pri.
But thou did'st save my life—

Sol.
(Snatching the purse; then, after a struggle, bowing with an air of bitter sarcasm.)
—I saved his life!
Its value then, is this—one purse of gold!
One purse of gold! The man, whose life I've saved,
Would not play fair if this reward were less.
But he's a Prince! Princes have generous hearts;
They never pay the market price of blood,
And—therefore—

Pri.
(In amazement)
Soldier!

Sol.
(Tossing it up and catching it, with an air of supreme contempt.)
And therefore—but enough! I've saved his life.
This, this! is my reward. A Soldier's blood
Shed for a Prince's life, was shed—for gold!
(Prince agitated)
Boy! (Selim advances fearfully)

—Here, take this purse;
(Selim refuses)
—Nay, take it, it is thine.
Thou'st never saved my life, yet there is gold!
Thou'st never torn the banner from the hand
Of conquering murderers, in their sudden fight!
Grappled with murderers! to protect a prince!
(The Prince unsheaths his sword and advances furiously. The Soldier stands unmoved.)
To shield his bride! (The Prince falters and returns his sword to the sheath)
Yet there is gold!

Pri.
(Violent emotion)
Soldier! thou art too bold;—too bold! but brave!
And I am pressed to earth with gratitude;
And may not lift my hand—Oh!
(pause)
Why, what has waked this sudden spirit in thee?
For thou art old—and poor,—hast often fought
My father's battles, and his son's—and yet
Hast ever, to this hour—been paid with gold.

Sol.
Not paid my Prince—but fed.

Pri.
Well! fed. But these are dangerous looks and tones;
Yet, thou art old and brave, hast saved my life.
And I must bless thee for the heavy load!
(Emotion)
The mighty debt!
(pause, trembling)
Nay, nay, I'm wrong—I bless thee, from my soul!
It gave me Ala—
But else,—I do assure thee, for thy words,
Thus spoken with that martial irony,
I would forget my rank—and draw my blade,
And meet thee—foot to foot!—for my reply.
And this, thou knowest, Soldier. But, enough,
I would not touch thy heart, brave man, indeed,
With aught of insult or indignity:
(Soldier appears moved)
For thou art old and poor;—and thy white hairs;
And arm still sinewed with the strength of youth,
Assure me thou art guarded by high Heaven!
Old man! I do assure thee, from my soul,
I feel a filial reverence for those hairs!

Sol.
(Faltering)
My Prince! Forgive me—
—I have served thee long,
(voice becomes more firm)
Have served thy father in his bloodiest march;
Will serve thee, too—forever! 'till my death.
For thou art young—impetuous—and as fierce
As that young Lion that I nursed for war!
O, were he living, what a matchless pair!
But no! No, no:—and I must cleave to thee—
(suffocating emotion)
My Prince—I ask no pay. But let me see
Thy sabre flash! and tall plumes blaze in battle!
As I have seen that boy's! and then—I'll die.
(Hesitating—a sudden thought illuminates his face— approaches the Prince—speaks in a hurried voice, increasing to passionate vehemence.)
Yes! I will be repaid! O, give me rank!
Enable me to meet dark Ola once,
And smite him in his pride!

Pri.
Ola! Lord Ola? that mysterious man!

Sol.
Yes, yes my Prince! to meet the Savage once!
To rend the mystery that enwraps his heart—
On equal terms! When gallant Lords and Knights
May judge our strife like men! Oh, give me this!
My smother'd prayer! for days—and nights—and years!
That till this hour I've breathed but to my God!

Pri.
(Catching his enthusiasm)
Soldier!

Sol.
(Falling at his feet.)
O, give me this! my Prince;
For one short hour—then lay me in my grave!
(Rising in an agony of supplication)
Or, let me still be trampled in the dust—
By all that nerves the Soldier's arm for war!
His self respect—and confidence in Heaven—
Abandoned!—and forever!
—O, give me this!
Then let the neigh of steeds be heard again!
Place thy young bride where I may see her eye!
Then let the murderers come! And they shall see
The resurrection of a Warriour's soul!
Bursting, in tempest, from its self contempt!
O, give me this, my Prince! And I will worship thee.

Pri.
(Shaking with emotion. Soldier has fallen at his feet)
—Old man!
Thy prayer is heard.
(Unsheathes his sword—stretches it over the prostrate soldier—waves it—flourish of trumpets heard.)
—Henceforth, be thou a Knight!
Knight Aufred rise! (Soldier rises fiercely; unsheathes his sword, and stands gazing at it.)

The lightnings of thine aged eye
Would shame the fiercest of our youthful Knights.
(Unbuckles his Scymetar and reaches it to the Soldier.)
Accept this Sword—

Sol.
(Compares their edges and weight—and then returns the Prince's.)
No, no, my Prince. This is my oldest friend.
I've worn it long. It is a trusty blade.
(The eye of the Prince rests on the hill)
A humble hilt—but strong: a keen-edged blade
That shall go with me to my bloody grave.
It is the first I buckled on my thigh;
Has served me well in many a trying hour;
And, had I worn it when dishonour smote me,
It would have burst its scabbard! Ola! Ola!
This shall redeem me if we meet on earth,
And then—we'll go together to our tomb!

Pri.
(Awe-struck)
Why, what a deadly hate is this of thine!
So many years of peace, and battles fought
Together—side by side—: so many deeds
Achieved in soldier rivalry—in blood!
So many years of smothered flame in thee!
For sure, I know the waking of thy wrath,
And yet, thou seekest his life.
—That hand, was raised
In other days to stretch him on the earth;
And yet, he pardoned thee!

Sol.
He pardoned me! Why, what had he to pardon?
I would have dealt him but a Soldier's blow:
Would but have stabbed him with a Soldier's blade?
Nor this, 'till he had scorned my suppliant prayer;
Nor this, 'till I had fallen on my face
Upon the naked earth—and begged for death.
'Till he refused me vengeance—and was safe.
O, Ola! Ola! withered be thy heart,
To smite a warriour thus!
One who had moved in blood, and used his sword—
Curse on his heart! it chokes me—with a lash!
O, we were both unarmed or I had died!
I could have shouted, and unwrapped my heart
To meet the midnight dagger—but, a scourge!
No, no, I never will forgive him, never!
So help me Heaven, in my utmost need!
The brand of everlasting slavery,
The badge of infamy is on my brain!
O, he shall feel what 'tis, to touch a man
With other than the weapon of a man.

(Enter Messenger.)
Messenger.
The Duke's arrived.

Pri.
We'll meet him in the hall.

(Soldier waves his sword. Music. An escort suddenly appears and attend the Prince in silence.)