University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

Cenulph, Oswald, &c.
CENULPH.
And has a king no friend? Would no one tell
What, it seems, all or knew or did suspect?
And have his secret visits been so frequent
To this abandon'd woman? Artful fiend!
Well might she meekly thus retire content,
And shun the public gaze, as I commanded;
When, at her feet, all languishing with love,
Lay Cenulph's son, the heir of Wessex' throne!
Ye all have been in league—are traitors all!

OSWALD.
My liege, you wrong our faith. It is but now
I learn what I have given to your ear.

CENULPH.
By night, say'st thou, he from the camp would steal?

OSWALD.
Ev'n so, my liege. When, in the crimson west,
Mantled in blushing clouds, the sun went down,
Each order given, the prince would mount his steed;
Swift as the winds, and as direct his course,
He topp'd the mountain, skimm'd the valley, plunged
Into the foaming river, stemm'd the current,
And reach'd the bower where Ina waited him;
Then, ere the grey light streak'd the eastern sky,
With course as rapid, he regain'd the camp.

CENULPH.
Perdition seize the sorceress! That the child
Of Sigiswold, my youth's first friend, in age
My counsellor—who in th' extreme of peril
Gave me his life.—Leave me.
[Exit Oswald.
The soldiers, too—
Who hailed him first but as their good king's son—
Sought but to trace in the young eagle's bearing
Some semblance of the sire—

Enter Alwyn.
ALWYN.
Prince Egbert waits.
May I beseech your grace, assail the prince
With gentle speech. Howe'er his spirit rage
Beneath the iron curb of harsh control,
His heart will answer every tender touch
With readiest sympathy.

CENULPH.
He must, he shall,
This very day, espouse fair Edelfleda.

OSWALD.
Nay, my good lord. She too must now be won
To give her hand; but that would cost small pains
To Egbert's self, might he be brought to wish it.
'Tis to this end I would that you urge home
To his warm, generous nature, all the ruin,
Dishonour to your crown—the thousand mischiefs
That hang on his refusal, till his heart
Embrace our cause, forgetful of its own.

CENULPH.
I hear his steps—away! I will suppress
My anger, Oswald, and will touch each string
That readiest vibrates in the generous breast.
Attend the princess hither. She requests
A private audience.
[Exit Oswald.
In Cambria's fastnesses
The Druid seers, with hymns and sounding strings,
To such religious frenzy work the soul,
That mothers dash, before their gods, exulting,
Their sucklings to fierce flames. Hang on my lips
The golden phrase of patriots! so to grace
The cause of public virtue, that my son,
Alike exulting, from his breast may dash
This worthless woman's love!
Enter Egbert.
Egbert, draw near:
Sit thou beside me. I am old, and worn
By a long reign of war—of cruel bloodshed,
It was not mine t' avert. The throne I fill
Will soon be thine, and I would know from thee
Thy thoughts of the high office.

EGBERT.
Oh! my father!
As yet unknowing but of martial rule,
To rouse, direct, or quell the soldier's rage—
Of thee I hope to learn each exercise
Of peaceful government.

CENULPH.
And dost thou think
To learn of me to hold the throne of Wessex,
But as a larger means to do thy pleasure?
To hold the people but as flocks, nor care
How many swell th' account of them that bleed,
If but thy giddy passions be indulged?

EGBERT.
How should I learn of thee these tyrant maxims;
Thou, who hast ever sought thy people's good?

CENULPH.
If such has been the measure of my sway,
How much must wiser Egbert scorn his father!
Egbert, who rather would unbar the gates,
And hail, with impious welcome, the invader,
Than aught control his idlest appetite.

EGBERT.
No, my loved father; I would give my life
To save thy simplest peasantry from ill.
Oh! let me prove it in the field of glory,
And pour forth all my blood!

CENULPH.
Go to, rash boy;
'Tis not thy blood thy country asks of thee:
'Tis not thy blood can make thy father happy:
No, if thou hadst but entertain'd such thoughts
As suit thy royal birth, thou hadst, ere this,
Assured our people's welfare and thine own.
Now, 'tis too late; the sword is drawn that dooms
Thousands to pay the forfeit of thy fault,
While thou wilt, thoughtless, revel in light joys
I blush to think upon!

EGBERT
(much affected.).
My guilty soul!
Each word a deadly weapon! Oh! my father!

CENULPH.
A princess mock'd by nuptials vainly promised!
My name, my crown, branded with foul dishonour!
I shall not long survive this sum of ill;
Thus parricide will heap the monstrous measure
Of thy licentious deeds!—

EGBERT
(terrified).
Most horrible!
Are there no means? Oh, point the way, my father,
To thy unworthy son! Let me alone
Meet the uplifted sword of Ethelbald,
And free thy people from the threat'ning foe;
Nor from a subject's veins one precious drop
Distain the peaceful soil.—

CENULPH.
It is well said.—
Insult a princess,—break her generous heart;-
And murder then her father!—

EGBERT
(clasping his hands.).
Wretch accursed!
Am I so deep in guilt?

CENULPH
(taking his hand kindly).
Not yet, my son;
But such the course thou headlong dost pursue.

EGBERT
(eagerly).
Not yet? and is there time? Oh, then thy son
Will act a worthier part.

CENULPH.
Why, this is well.—
I will ascribe to wild unbridled youth
What late hath reach'd my ear. Not wanton smiles,
Soft lisping lips, and braided locks, the toys
One born to rule should sport with—save indeed,
As he would, at the careless banquet, quaff
The luscious mead, each graver care discharged.
But see, my son, fair Edelfleda comes.
Think of her wrongs: you woo'd her, won her love.
She came a stranger to a foreign court,
Abused by hollow promises, and hopes,
That in high souls will sicken to despair
Ere yet the lofty brow betray a pang.

EGBERT.
Much injured princess! Villain that I am!
I know her generous nature: at her feet
I will pour forth my soul—atone my fault—
Oh yes—she will forgive—will pity—

Enter Edelfleda and Bertha.
EDELFLEDA
(aside to BERTHA).
Bertha,
May I believe my senses? have I wrong'd him?

CENULPH
(to EDELFLEDA).
Thou, unawares, hast heard my son declare
What a rude soldier's plain unpractised tongue,
Awed by thy charms, had ill express'd to thee.

EDELFLEDA
(watching EGBERT).
Royal Cenulph! I but claimed your patience
To ask such escort—as becomes—my state,—
Unto my father's capital—in—Mercia:
This was my errand—nor thought I to meet
One—almost—grown a stranger—in this presence.

CENULPH.
Doubtless, fair princess, if it be thy wish
Thy native court to visit, and thy father,
When the new season smiles with happy omen,
Thou shalt have royal escort, as befits us,
And love shall guide thee, Hymen light thy way,—
Meet convoy for the beauteous Edelfleda,
And mine and Mercia's daughter!

EDELFLEDA.
Royal sir,
As Mercia's daughter only must I go.
Nor can as Mercia's daughter brook delay. I claim no other title.

CENAPH.
Thy father pleads in vain: speak thou, my son.
Thou may'st prevail on filial love, perhaps,
(Though much I honour this its pious wish),
Awhile to yield its claim to claims more sweet,
And yet more powerful.

EGBERT
(much embarrassed).
Fair Edelfleda!
Thou know'st our youth, contracted by our fathers;
Ere yet our hearts had spoken, we were doom'd
By Hymen's bonds to ratify the peace
Betwixt two war-worn nations.

EDELFLEDA.
Oh! sad lot
Of royal slaves, who thus are bought and sold!
But no, Prince Egbert—no, not so, our fathers
Barter'd with their children's hearts. Mutual
The affection—mutual—once—the tie—and I
Shall still esteem—thy virtues, Prince—shall still
Bear with me the remembrance of thy worth,—
Though far—far—distant.

[She turns away to hide emotion.
EGBERT.
Say not so—Oh, hear me,
Unworthy as I am: in pity hear me!
It was not thus erewhile you turn'd away.
Reverse this harsh decree, and from remorse,
Or worse destruction, if worse be, save him
Who once found favour in thy sight: nay, turn—
Turn, gracious Edelfleda!

EDELFLEDA.
Might I think
That from thy heart these words of gentler import—
Might I believe—the slighted—Edelfleda—
Indeed—were—I adjure thee, on thy soul,
Trifle not, Egbert, trifle not!—be plain!

EGBERT.
Not though the axe were lifted o'er my head,
Could I one moment longer, by feign'd words,
Abuse thy generous temper. Hence, base art!
Dissimulation, hence! Speak nature! truth!
[Throwing himself at her feet.
See, princess, at thy feet a wretched man,
Bowed to the level of the peasant swain,
Who trembles for the lowly roof that shelters
His wife and little ones!

CENULPH.
What mean thy words?

EGBERT
(with dignity, rising).
I am, like him, a husband and a father!

[Edelfleda sinks into Bertha's arms.
CENULPH.
Darest thou avow it?—Ha! rash youth, beware!
Thou art a subject still, nor could'st thou pledge
Thy faith, unsanctioned by thy king! thy father!
My royal word was given to Ethelbald.

EGBERT.
King! there are ties of nature stronger far
Than even those convention has stampt sacred
'Twixt man and man, by social compact bound.
The rudest savage, howling amid deserts,
That tears his vanquish'd foe, devours his flesh,
And quaffs his smoking blood, does yet defend
His mate, the mother of his babes, with wild
And desperate love; and meekest things that creep,
Or wing the air, in nature's dearest cause
Will brave destruction from the spoiler's rage.
I am a husband, king! I am a father!

CENULPH.
Guards! secure the traitor.

Enter Guards and Alwyn.
ALWYN
(aside).
Who now will shield poor Ina?

EGBERT.
Her Egbert will!
(To the guards.)
Off, sirs! first take my life!

[The guards fall back.
ALWYN.
Oh! yield, dear prince!
Yield, if the life of Ina yet be precious!

EGBERT.
My Ina! for thy sake—
[Gives his sword to the guards.
Sirs! take my sword!
And now my chains!

[The guards approach fearfully and reluctantly to chain him.
CENULPH.
Why tremble ye? Obey!

EDELFLEDA
(recovering).
Monarch! grown hoary in deceit and fraud!
Leagued with thy worthless son to insult me thus!
Ye shall for this feel Ethelbald's dread arm:
Hurl'd from your throne, and prostrate at his feet,
Shall sue in vain for mercy, while your cries,
The cries of Ina—e'en her infant's cries—
Shall fall as sweetest music on my ear.
Ev'n now great Ethelbald is on your borders;
'T was I unsheath'd his sword! 'T is I who guide it!
And none but I can turn its edge aside!

[Exit with Bertha.
CENULPH
(to EGBERT).
Thus, wretch accursed! is this devoted land,
Her wounds scarce closed, and scarce renew'd her strength,
By thee to war's fell demons given again;
Nor though th' abandon'd, the perfidious Ina,
Were doom'd to pay the forfeit of her crime,
By deep disgrace, by death in lingering torments—

EGBERT.
Ha! torments? lingering torments, said'st thou, tyrant?
But Heaven's own angels watch o'er innocence!
Nor can there be conceal'd in human shape
The fiend could touch her with a hand of harm!
The most remorseless villain, bred to blood,
Fierce creature of thy fiercer will, would shrink
At sight of Ina, in the majesty
Of virtue, beauty, youth, distress!

CENULPH.
Away!
Guards! drag him hence. Ha! Osric in such haste!

Enter Osric.
OSRIC.
My liege, with rapid march the King of Mercia
Advances on thy frontier. Deadly his rage!
His powers, the breathless messengers declare,
Rush as a torrent with impetuous course
On the devoted land. No order taken,
Confusion and dark mutiny prevail
Among our troops. The surly soldiers, murmuring,
Demand Prince Egbert at their head.

CENULPH.
Prince Egbert?
What? to a traitor shall I trust my cause?

OSRIC.
Such confidence in him each soldier feels,
Such love, such loyalty: I know it well,
They will fall off, or coldly meet the foe,
If any other leader—

CENULPH.
Is it so?
Then is it time I yield my forfeit sceptre,
Lest he with impious hand should wrest it from me!
[He throws down his sceptre, crown, or any emblem of royalty.
Guards, free the man who henceforth is your king,
And do with me as does the graceless churl,
Who lays the axe, remorseless, to the oak,
That stretch'd its sheltering arms o'er his forefathers,
When wintry winds have stript its leafy pride.

EGBERT
(rushing to him with passionate tenderness).
See me, my honour'd father, at thy feet!
Oh speak not words that cut my heart asunder!
Resume thy honours—
[Giving him the sceptre.
See thy humblest subject!
Oh show some signs of pardon and of comfort,
That I may say thy son—thy penitent son.
Yes, trust thy cause to me—to thee I trust
All that my sould holds dear—my wife! my child!
[After a pause, taking his hand with great emotion.
If I should fall, they will be dear to thee.

CENULPH.
Oh Egbert! Egbert! thou go'st near to break
Thy father's heart. Thou wast a duteous son.
Once more I trust thee, nor admit the thought
Thou yet hast practised aught disloyal. Leave me.
Alwyn, thy arm.
[Egbert offers his assistance, and Cenulph puts him away.
Nay, I would be alone.

[Exit Cenulph with Alwyn.
EGBERT
(alone).
'Tis Alwyn's arm supports him—not his son's!
Alas! this keen rebuke is just, my father:
Yet dost thou trust me; and thy confidence,
So precious, shall be justified by service
Thou look'st not for at my unworthy hands.

Re-enter Alwyn.
ALWYN.
My royal friend—I tremble but to think
Of thy imprudence.—How avert the ills—

EGBERT.
Alwyn, no ill awaits the upright course!
This dark concealment! 'twas the only stain
My bosom knew.—Oh! could'st thou guess the load
It has thrown off! how buoyant all is here!
Avert what ill? for, grant I lose a crown,
(An awful charge, not merely a gay circlet
To grace the brow) integrity remains!
Were I not happier? ay, and worthier too—
A sturdy peasant, with undaunted front,
Grappling with stern adversity, than wielding
Sceptres by wrong obtained, or violence
To inbred honesty:—my friend, I have led
My countrymen to battle: each bosom owned
As brave a heart, and in his country's cause
As warm as mine—and haply each, like me,
Had his heart's partner too at home, who trembled,
And wept for him, as Ina for her Egbert.
There is a brotherhood in tented fields,
Where all with equal venture play for lives,
That wakes a consciousness we are but men,
And men alike, till worth has made distinction.

[Exeunt.