 | Arminius |  |
SCENE X.
To him Veleda.Veleda.
Oh! 'tis too much—this agony of mind,
It is too much;—it pierces to the quick;
It rends each tremb'ling nerve about the heart.
Gothmund.
Veleda, why this violence of sorrow?
Veleda.
Oh! Gothmund, the adventures of this night—
Gothmund.
Do they afflict you? The dun shades of night
Shelter'd the foe; we sounded a retreat,
But at the dawn Arminius will revenge it.
His plan is form'd already.
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Well I know
Arminius has resources in his vast,
His warlike genius. But with all his valour
Can he assuage my sorrows? I have lost
More than the treasury of words can tell;
More than imagination can conceive.
My brother Segimund! He's lost for ever.
Gothmund.
For him our men are overwhelm'd with sorrow.
We all lament his fate.
Veleda.
I know all must;
But bitter anguish is for me alone.
I found him in the moment of his victory,
Gash'd, mangled, bleeding, gasping on the ground,
Like a fair flow'r, in all its blushing honours,
Shorn by the scythe, and with'ring in its bloom.
Gothmund.
It was his own rash act: he knew no guilt.
Veleda.
It was his father's crime: his father fell
In arms against his country. Segimund,
Unconscious, struck the blow for justice.
But the affections of a heart like his
Pierc'd to his soul, and drove him to despair.
Dear youth, he's lost: and with him ev'ry virtue,
Heroic ardour, honour, truth, and love,
And ev'ry grace that could adorn his youth,
To full perfection rising: all is vanish'd;
All, all is lost, for ever, ever lost.
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Arminius still remains; his tender care
Will minister relief, and heal your woes.
Veleda.
Arminius is the idol I adore;
But busy memory will know no rest.
A much lov'd brother will be ever present;
His lovely image still will glide before me,
But these sad eyes must never more behold him.
I've wash'd his wounds, and bath'd him with my tears;
Over his clay cold corse I've thrown my mantle;
Close to his side I've laid his warlike javelin;
And, as he order'd, stretch'd his father by him.
In his cold grave he rests: but worth like his
Will ever live, and with his fame enrich
The annals of his country.
[A deep Groan is heard from a distance.
Hark! that sudden groan—
Gothmund.
Be not alarm'd: you soon shall know the cause.
[Exit.
Veleda.
Almighty Gods! if from your stores of wrath
Your awful will prepares some new affliction,
Suspend your purpose; spare a wretch like me.
Gothmund, you look aghast.
Enter Gothmund.
Gothmund.
I scarce can speak;
My blood recoils; my tongue denies its office.
Veleda.
Ha! what disaster? speak, relieve my fears.
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On his tribunal as Arminius stood,
In act to animate the list'ning soldiers,
While torches cast their vivid blaze around him,
A barbed arrow from some ambush'd villain
Flew to its destin'd mark, and pierc'd his heart.
Veleda.
Let me this moment fly to his relief.
[Exit Veleda.
Gothmund.
Relief I fear is vain: speak, Egbert, say,
How fares Arminius?
Enter Egbert.
Egbert.
All who boast their skill
In medicinal lore, exert their art
To draw the arrow from his bleeding wound.
Enter Veleda.
Veleda.
Oh! what a spectacle of woe and horror!
This way they lead him; what a sight is there?
Pale, pale, and wan! ye gods protect his life.
| Arminius | |