University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

Ina's Bower.
Ina, watching over her sleeping child; Alice, Blanch, &c.
INA.
Sing me, dear maids, the lullaby I love;
'T will soothe my infant's slumbers, and may speed
The lagging wing of time till Egbert come.

SONG BY ALICE AND BLANCH.

ALICE.
Lull my babe in rosy slumbers,
Whisper sounds that die away,
Utter none but drowsy numbers,
Luring dewy sleep to stay.

BOTH.
Lullaby, lullaby,
Hush my babe with lullaby.

BLANCH.
But if on a brighter morrow
Ope his eyelids laughing gay,
Careless notes of light joy borrow,
Lest his mother's tears betray
He wakens to a world of sorrow.

BOTH.
Merrily, merrily,
Maidens, then, sing merrily.

INA.
Thanks, my good girls:—yet, Alice, Egbert comes not.
It seems an age that I have fix'd my eyes
On that sweet sleeping innocence, thus hoping
To lose the consciousness of each sad moment
That slowly drags its length till he return.

ALICE.
The noble Alwyn went with him, dear mistress;
Thou know'st his prudence well.

INA.
Still Egbert comes not.

ALICE
(after looking at the child).
His sleeping features wear a joyous smile,
And see, he stretches forth his little hands!
Regard it as a happy omen, madam.

INA.
Kind Alice, thanks. Would my sad heart could do so!
Poor helpless slumberer! oh! had I been born
A village maid! a cottager, my Egbert!
The war of elements the only danger
That threaten'd our low roof—thy innocent smile
Had waken'd but a mother's honest joy,
Nor chill'd my heart, as now, with nameless fears.

ALICE.
Alas! the sadden'd fancy gives its colour
To all it rests upon, and often paints
In objects of delight some idle terror.

INA.
Hark! Alice, hark! feel how my poor heart beats!
Some dreadful ill hangs o'er us! It must come,
The hour of vengeance.—Royalty insulted!
A father's love deceived!—Alice! how guilty
Do I appear to my affrighted conscience
Whene'er my Egbert tarries long away;
But when he comes,—and when I hear his voice
And meet his eye,—and feel how I am loved—
And with what full devotion I am his,
It seems not only happiness, but virtue,
Glory, and honour!—all, are mine—and lift
My proud heart—

ALICE.
Now I hear a busy stir!
Sure 'tis the prince!

INA
(hastening to meet him).
My lord, my life, my husband!

[Meets Edelfleda, who enters with Bertha. Edelfleda measures her with her eyes as she totters back to Alice.
EDELFLEDA.
Why do you tremble, madam, and turn pale?
I own that this intrusion can be warranted
By none but its true motive.

INA.
Motive! princess?
What motive prompts the gentle mind to seek
The unhappy,—but some courteous, kindly impulse?
And your eyes speak not such. Some dire mischance
Perhaps—oh! tell me—tell me all—and with one blow—
Alice—support me—

[Sinks into Alice's arms.
EDELFLEDA
(aside to BERTHA).
Is she so beautiful
As to my tortured soul my eyes present her?

BERTHA.
'Tis but the beauty of the menial train.
The royal air is wanting.

EDELFLEDA.
Say'st thou so?
Ah, no! that timid softness wins its way
More surely to the heart.—I, too, were gentle,
If I, like her, were blest.

BERTHA.
Perversely thus
Ingenious jealousy will rack itself
To deck its object.

EDELFLEDA.
Jealousy no longer,
But hate, contempt, and vengeance—

(To Ina, who recovers).
I am sorry
That you anticipate what I would say.
If thus thou swoon while yet in ignorance,
How wilt thou tear with self-destructive passion
Those tresses in their dark luxuriance bound
With skilful negligence around thy brow!
Deface that matchless beauty with thy hands,
Play o'er each practised act of desperation!
When thou art told,—the prince thou hast enthrall'd,
In a vile dungeon, bound with traitor's chains,
Awaits the doom of his disloyalty.
INA.
Have mercy! heavenly powers! imprison'd! chain'd!
But no—it cannot be—thou com'st to prove me.
Thou too hast loved him, lady, and thou could'st not,
Oh no, thou could'st not thus unmoved declare,
That he whom thou hast loved—impossible!
Thy voice had falter'd, and thy tears had flow'd!
Yes, thou hadst pitied me, and kindred sorrow
Had one short moment link'd our adverse souls.

EDELFLEDA.
Who tells thee, insolent! I love the prince?
Or ever loved the base degenerate Egbert?
'Tis true that policy had doom'd our hands
To a forced union once—and therefore was he
Sacred to such as thou!—treason the thought
In any subject's breast to match with him.

INA.
If it be treason, I alone am guilty.
Treason regards but the aspiring subject;
Nor can the same be charged on yielding greatness.
Then plead for me in this, howe'er thou hate me.
Plead for me, royal Edelfleda! Claim
For me the chains he wears (if it be so
That he indeed does wear them); set him free:
[Kneeling.
I, I alone have sinn'd against the laws!
The king, and him, and thee!

EDELFLEDA.
All! all! thou fiend!
And think'st thou it can aught atone my wrongs,
Though low I see thee, grov'ling at my feet?
Off, shameless woman! Shameless Egbert's choice!

INA
(rising, and with dignity).
The woman honour'd by Prince Egbert's choice,
Founds on that choice her claim to more respect.
As Egbert's wife, I must withdraw from one
Unmindful what to Egbert's wife is due.
[Turning to Alice.
Raise gently, Alice, my sweet infant boy,
Lest he affrighted wake; then follow me.

EDELFLEDA
(stopping ALICE, and gazing passionately on the child).
Oh Heaven! Is this his child?

INA.
Madam, it is.
You startle him. I pray you speak more softly.
Ungentle tones ne'er wounded yet his ear.

EDELFLEDA.
Nay, take it hence. I know not why I look'd on't.
[Ina, &c. going.
I had forgot the purpose of my visit;
Will you not stay and hear it?
[Ina returns. Edelfleda softens her tone.
Ina, say—
Would'st thou Prince Egbert, whom thou call'st thy husband,
Were freed from prison, and from shameful death?
I come to tell thee how to compass this.

INA.
Oh! pardon, gracious princess! that my ignorance
Misjudged your generous purpose. Yet goodness, sure,
Ne'er wore before such haughty looks and tones
As you ev'n now did lend her. Name the means!
Weak as I am, my courage will not shrink
In such a cause, from any fearful task.

EDELFLEDA.
There needs to save him, but that thou forego
The idle title thou erewhile didst boast;
For, as thou know'st, it is of youth's gay coinage;
Unsanction'd thus—an empty appellation—
Offensive as 'tis empty. Claim it not.

INA.
Princess! I understand you. I am ready,
By death, to cancel my pure marriage vow,
That he may live, but by no other means;
Nor is it fit I longer parley hold
With one who counsels thus Prince Egbert's wife.

[Exit.
EDELFLEDA
(after watching her in a tumult of passion).
Thus scornful to withdraw!—
(Striking her bosom).
Hell! hell is here!
(Turning eagerly to Bertha).
Didst mark the infant? Had it not his brow?
Methought I could have snatch'd it to my bosom
With transport such as mothers scarce have felt,
And instant came a horror—such a horror!
That I had dash'd the tender form to atoms,
Had I but held it in my shuddering grasp!

BERTHA.
Oh! let us quickly leave this fatal scene!
Too much it racks thy bosom.

EDELFLEDA.
How I hate her!
I envy her her very dangers, Bertha.
She claim his chains! 't were mine the right to share them.
Or rather I had brought all Mercia's power
T'avenge his wrongs! Nor had I proved my love
By tears and prayers, low grov'ling on the earth,
But by such gifts as kingdoms! sceptres! thrones!
Adoring nations kneeling at his feet!

BERTHA.
It yet will be so. This presumptuous woman
Will meet the death she merits, and her image,
Her worthless image, fade from the remembrance
Of him who should be yours!

EDELFLEDA.
Yes, mine by right!
By solemn compact mine! Attested mine
By witness nations! And thinks she I will yield him?
But, ah! he loves me not! What were his hand,
His cold reluctant hand, without his heart?—
Shall I not find some solace in revenge?—
Yet will that sweeten life like what ev'n now
These eyes have seen?

Enter Egbert.
EGBERT.
Oh, Heaven! whom find I here?

EDELFLEDA.
I came to see this miracle of beauty,
She for whose fatal charms two realms must lie
In ruin, and for whom Prince Egbert
Remorseless dooms his people to the sword;
And I have seen her.

[Going, he stops her.
EGBERT.
Hast thou seen my wife?
Ha! Edelfleda!—How didst thou address her?

EDELFLEDA
(contemptuously).
As is her due.

EGBERT.
Then as Heaven's fairest work!
As Virtue's brightest gem! as Nature's pride,
Didst thou address her!—and—as Wessex' princess!

EDELFLEDA.
Say, rather, as a subject too aspiring,
Presumptuous, and vain; who gave her ear
To idle flatteries from royal lips,
And swerved from honour's path. I would have saved her,
But she scorn'd my counsel.

EGBERT
(eagerly).
Save her from what?—
Say, princess! is aught practised against Ina?

EDELFLEDA
(going).
Nay, it imports not me.—I would depart.

EGBERT
(stopping her).
Oh, Edelfleda! I have held thee noble,
Have ever honour'd thee.

EDELFLEDA.
Ye powers supreme!
Oh hear his words! mark his unblushing brow!
Thou! thou hast honour'd me?—hast held me noble?
And didst thou honour me in Cenulph's presence,
When late—oh! grant me patience, Heaven! an hour,
A little hour has scarce elapsed,—since mock'd,
Insulted—scorn'd.

EGBERT.
This keen reproach were due
Had I thy royal nobleness mistrusted;
'Twas from thy generous nature that I hoped
For help and stay in this my utmost need.
Canst thou forget when in our earliest youth,
Ere yet the fatal torch of discord blazed,
Severing our houses,—of thy mother 'reft,
Mine proved our common parent? happy days!

EDELFLEDA
(with emotion).
And were they happy days to thee too, Egbert?

EGBERT.
Yes, they were days of thoughtless, unmix'd joy.—
Hadst thou, sore press'd with sorrow, said to me,
“Friend of my youth! thy help!”—Oh, Edelfleda!
What had I not encounter'd in thy service?
But thou desertest me—art my worst foe!—

EDELFLEDA.
I! I, thy foe?—I, who for thy sake live
In torments, fiercer than e'er yet consumed
The guiltiest wretch.—I, who but err'd in this,
That yielding to our parents true obedience,
I gave my heart where they had given my hand.

EGBERT
(distressed).
Princess!—my heart—my hand—no longer mine,—
How often with the secret on my lips,
Sought I, ere this, to throw me at thy feet:
But thy averted looks,—thy cold disdain—
The sudden anger flashing on thy cheek—

EDELFLEDA.
Were the last struggles of expiring pride!
And hast thou loved? nor know'st love's various language?
Tremble, yes tremble, at the bound I've pass'd.
Nothing remain'd to wretched Edelfleda
But pride of soul, and that lies prostrate now.
And dost thou think I will recede? No, Egbert!
Triumph or death be mine!

EGBERT.
Triumph! o'er whom?

EDELFLEDA.
O'er her! the source of all my ill! o'er her!—
Who, as the sweeping pestilence, unseen
Stole o'er the tender germ, and blasted it,
That, growing with our growth, unfolding fair,
Had ripen'd into love, and made me blest!

EGBERT.
Hold, woman! would'st thou be a vengeful fury?
And will my deadliest hate?—my soul's deep curse—

EDELFLEDA.
Thy hatred? yes—thy curse were far less bitter
Than thus to see ye blest.

EGBERT.
Nay, Edelfleda,
Be thyself again!—thou, once so generous!
I, who have wrong'd thee, throw me on thy mercy!
By the new faith that teaches sweet forgiveness!
By my contrition for the outrage done
To thy best feelings! By our early days
Of childish fondness! By our common mother
(For thou didst give her that endearing name!)
And by her dying blessing o'er us breathed,
As we together knelt and mingled tears!
Oh! be thou great, as not to mortal frailty
Has yet been given!—Princess, protect my wife!

Enter Ina.
INA.
I hear his voice! 'tis he! my lord! my Egbert!
[They embrace.
Why kneel to her? why claim of her protection?
And canst not thou protect me? thou, my husband!

EGBERT.
Alas! my love, I must on the instant hence;
The army claims me, and the king commands.
I can but fold thee to my faithful bosom.
[They embrace in speechless emotion.
My Ina!—oh! I would be firm.—I pray thee
Tremble not thus.—Nay, smile—though forced the smile,
It were a pious fraud, and my poor heart
Will half deceive itself.

INA
(in great distress).
My lord! my love!

EDELFLEDA
(aside).
And must I witness the soft melting eye!
Hear the endearing name! mark all their fondness!
And thus learn each sweet several joy I lose!
And is't of me he claims for her protection?
Let justice take its course. He knows I love,
And therefore must be mine: and for she knows it,
My pride cannot consent that she should live.

[Exit with Bertha.
EGBERT.
Alas! my love, to part with thee is hard;
Never so hard before. Yet, my kind father,
As if repentant of the angry haste
With which he fasten'd ('twas but for a moment)
Chains on thy Egbert, has even now dismiss'd me
With gracious signs of sweet returning love—
With fullest confidence—with ample powers.—
Was it not generous? And think'st thou, Ina,
I will not justify the noble trust?

INA.
Oh, yes! thou wilt a thousand, thousand fold.
Heaven guard thee while this thought impels thy valour
(As well I know it will) beyond all bounds
Of prudence! Oh! when desperate, thou seek'st
To pluck fair wreaths from danger's hideous brow,
Think of thy Ina! of thy child! and check
Thy daring rashness!

EGBERT.
Nay, it is that valour
Thy love would chide, will best protect thy Egbert,
Restore him worthy of thy tenderness!

INA.
And must I stay so near a treacherous court,
And that fierce woman's hate, now all is known?

EGBERT.
My father will protect thee.

INA.
Can he, Egbert?
Thou know'st the artful sway of cruel Baldred.
Nay, let me go with thee!—See, Alwyn comes. Enter Alwyn.

Plead for me, Alwyn, that I follow him.

ALWYN.
She must not stay, my friend—Thou art deceived,
Thy father was too gentle. 'Tis not so,
Howe'er the parent may relent—that kings
Can wipe away all trace of injury.
Go, then, my prince, as was appointed, wearing
That open brow—a stranger to mistrust.
When night shall close the eye of vigilance,
And with her friendly mantle shroud our steps,
I will steal forth with Ina, both conceal'd
In such rude weeds as wrap the villager.

INA.
Thou art our guardian angel!—and my child?

ALWYN.
We will not leave him. On his mother's breast
He shall be cradled. On the gentle steed
Thou lov'st so well, for that he brought thy Egbert
So often to thy arms, ye shall be placed,
And I beside you will conduct your steps.

EGBERT.
How for a moment shall I leave thee, love,
Now that a doubt—Oh, no! a doubt would wrong
My father—yet—a fear—Love's idle fear—

INA
(with joy and eagerness).
I have nor doubt, nor fear. I follow thee,
My lord! my husband! thee, my all of bliss!
And bear our mutual treasure in my arms!
Rear'd softly, I ne'er knew life's rougher hour;
Yet shalt thou find me as the rudest peasant,
Hardy, and firm of nerve. If night should wrap
Her brow in clouds, I'll bless the kinder shade
Favouring our flight; or, if her lamp shine forth,
I'll think it is to light me on my way.
The howling wolf shall seem but as a friend,
Scaring who may pursue me (for true love
Never knew fear!) The blust'ring winds that meet me,
I'll hail as eager messengers from thee;
And, if they scatter from their ruffled wings
The driving hail-storm on my houseless head,
I will but lap our infant's mantle close,
And say it is plain nature's ruder welcome.

[Exeunt severally.