University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

SCENE I.

A gloomy apartment in an old Saxon castle, with small grated windows very high from the ground. Edward is discovered, sitting by a table, and tracing figures with chalk upon it, which he frequently rubs out again; at last, throwing away the chalk, he fixes his eyes upon the ground, and continues for some time in a melancholy musing posture. Enters to him the Keeper, carrying something in his hand.
Edw.
What brings thee now? it surely cannot be
The time of food: my prison hours are wont
To fly more heavily.

Keep.
It is not food: I bring wherewith, my lord,
To stop a rent in these old walls, that oft
Hath griev'd me, when I've thought of you o' nights;
Through it the cold wind visits you.

Edw.
And let it enter! it shall not be stopp'd.
Who visits me besides the winds of heaven?
Who mourns with me but the sad sighing wind?
Who bringeth to mine ear the mimick'd tones
Of voices once belov'd, and sounds long past,
But the light-wing'd and many voiced wind?
Who fans the prisoner's lean and fever'd cheek,
As kindly as the monarch's wreathed brows,
But the free piteous wind?
I will not have it stopp'd.

Keep.
My lord, the winter now creeps on apace:
Hoar frost this morning on our shelter'd fields
Lay thick, and glanced to the up-risen sun,
Which scarce had power to melt it.

Edw.
Glanced to th' up-risen sun! Ay, such fair morns,
When ev'ry bush doth put its glory on,
Like to a gemmed bride! Your rustics, now,
And early hinds, will set their clouted feet
Through silver webs, so bright and finely wrought
As royal dames ne'er fashion'd, yet plod on
Their careless way, unheeding.
Alas, how many glorious things there be
To look upon! Wear not the forests, now,
Their latest coat of richly varied dyes?

Keep.
Yes, good my lord, the cold chill year advances;
Therefore, I pray you, let me close that wall.

Edw.
I tell thee no, man; if the north air bite,
Bring me a cloak.—Where is thy dog to-day?

Keep.
Indeed I wonder that he came not with me
As he is wont.

Edw.
Bring him, I pray thee, when thou com'st again.
He wags his tail and looks up to my face
With the assured kindliness of one
Who has not injur'd me. How goes your sport?

Keep.
Nobly, my lord; and much it pleases me
To see your mind again so sooth'd and calm.

Edw.
I thank thee: knowst thou not that man is form'd
For varied states; to top the throne of power,
Or in a toad's hole squat, shut from the light?
He can bear all things; yet, if thou hast grace,
Lead me for once into the open air
To see the woods, and fields, and country round,
In the fair light of heaven.

Keep.
I must not do it; I am sworn to this;
But all indulgence suited to this state
Of close confinement, gladly will I grant.

Edw.
A faithful servant to a wicked lord,
Whoe'er he be, art thou. Is Oswal dead?
Or does some powerful Thane his power usurp?
[A pause.
Thou wilt not answer me.

[A horn heard without.
Keep.
Ha! who is at the gate that sounds so boldly?
I'll mount this tower and see.
[Exit hastily, and Edward takes his seat again as before. Keep. (without, calling down from the tower).
It is a company of armed men,
Bearing a royal ensign.

Edw.
(starting from his seat).
Then let me rise and brace my spirits up!
They bring me death or freedom! Re-enter Keeper from the tower.

(Eagerly to him.)
What thinkst thou of it?

Keep.
I'll to the gate, and meet them instantly.

[Exit crossing over the stage hastily.
Edw.
(alone).
An it be death they'll do it speedily,
And there's the end of all. Ah, liberty!
An it be thou, enlarger of man's self!—
My heart doth strangely beat as though it were.
I hear their steps already: they come quickly:
Ah! how step they who joyful tidings bear!

Keep.
(calling without to Edw. before they enter).
My lord, my lord! you're a free man again!

Edw.
Am I? great God of heaven, how good
Thou art!

Enter two Thanes, conducted by the Keeper.
Edw.
(accosting them).
Brave men, ye come upon a blessed errand,
And let me bless you.

1st Th.
With joy unto ourselves we bring, my lord,
Your full enlargement from the highest power,
That Mercia now obeys.

Edw.
Not from king Oswal?

2d Th.
No, most noble ethling;
From the Lord Regent Ethelbert we come.

Edw.
Mine uncle, then, is dead.

2d Th.
E'en so, my lord.

Edw.
Ah! good and gentle, and to me most kind!
(Weeps, hiding his face.)
Died he peacefully?

1st Th.
He is at peace.

Edw.
Ye are reserv'd with me.
But ye are wise perhaps; time will declare it.
Give me your hands; ye are my loving friends.
And you, good guardian of this castle, too,
You have not been to me a surly keeper.

[Taking the Thanes warmly by the hand, and afterwards the keeper. [A second horn sounds without very loud.
1st Th.
Ha! at our heels another messenger
So quickly sent!

[Exit keep.
2d Th.
What may this mean?

Edw.
Nay, wait not for him here.
Let us go forth from these inclosing walls,
And meet him in the light and open day.

1st Th.
'Tis one, I hope, sent to confirm our errand:
How came he on so quickly?

Edw.
Thou hopest, Thane? Oh! then thou doubtest too.

[Pauses and looks earnestly in their faces.
Enter Ongar, conducted by the keeper.
1st Th.
(to Ongar).
Thine errand?

Ongar.
That thou shalt know, and the authority
Which warrants it. You here are come, grave Thanes,
Upon the word of a scarce-named regent,
To set this pris'ner free; but I am come
With the sign'd will of Ethwald to forbid it;
And here I do retain him.

(Laying hold of Edw.)
1st Th
Loose thy unhallow'd grasp, thou base deceiver!
Nor face us out with a most wicked tale.
We left the king at his extremity,
And long are this he must have breath'd his last.

Ongar.
Art thou in league with death to know so well
When he perforce must come to sick men's beds?
King Ethwald lives, and will live longer too
Than traitors wish for. Look upon these orders;
Knowest thou not his sign? (Showing his warrant.) (Both Thanes, after reading it.)
'Tis wonderful!

Ongar.
Is it so wonderful
A wounded man, fainting with loss of blood
And rack'd with pain, should seem so near his end,
And yet recover?

2d Th.
Ethwald then lives?

Ongar.
Ay, and long live the king!

Edw.
What words are these?
I am as one who in a misty dream,
Listens to things wild and fantastical,
Which no congruity nor kindred bear
To preconceiv'd impressions.
King Ethwald, said ye? and is Ethwald king?

1st Th.
He did succeed your uncle.

Edw.
And by his orders am I here detain'd?

1st Th.
Even so, my lord.

Edw.
It cannot be. (Turning to 2d Th.)
Thou sayst not so, good Thane?

2d Th.
I do believe it.

Edw.
Nay, nay, ye are deceiv'd.
(Turning to Ongar.)
What sayst thou?
Was I by Ethwald's orders here imprison'd?

Ongar.
Yes, yes; who else had power or will to do it?

Edw.
(holding his clasped hands).
Then hope farewell!
My gleam is dark; my rest is in the dust!
O that an enemy had done this wrong!
But Ethwald, thou, who to my heart wert press'd
As dearest brother never was by him
Who shar'd his mother's breast! Thou in whose fame
I gloried—I who spoke not of my own!—
When shouting crowds proclaim'd thy honour'd name,
I ever join'd with an ungrudging heart:
Yea, such true kindred feeling bore I to him,
E'en at his praise I wept. I pray you, sirs!
(Bursting into tears.)
This hath o'ercome me.
Ongar (to Thanes).
Why do you tarry here?
You've seen my warrant.
Depart with me and leave the prisoner.

1st Th.
What, shall we leave him in this piteous state,
Lone and uncomforted?

Ongar.
It must be so, there is no time to lose.
Come, follow me; my men are at the gate.

[As they are all about to depart, Edward, starting furiously forward to the door, flies upon Ongar, and seizes him by the throat.
Edw.
What! leave me here, fiend! Am I not a man,
Created free to breathe the circling air,
And range the boundless earth as thy base self,
Or thy more treach'rous lord? thou tyrant's slave!

[As he struggles with him, Ongar calls loudly, and immediately the apartment is filled with armed men, who separate them.
Ongar
(to his followers).
Remove that madman to the inner chamber.
Keeper, attend your duty.
(To the Thanes.)
Follow me.

[Exeunt Ongar and Thanes, &c.
Keep.
(to Edw., as some remaining armed men are leading him off by the opposite side).
Alas! alas! my lord, to see you thus,
In closer bondage! Pray! good soldiers, pray!
Let him in this apartment still remain:
He'll be secure; I'll pledge my life—

Edw.
No, no!
Let them enchain me in a pitchy gulph!
'Twere better than this den of weariness,
Which my soul loathes. What care I now for ease?

[Exeunt, Edw. led off by the men.

SCENE II.

An apartment in the royal castle. Enter Ethelbert meeting with Selred, who enters at the same time from a door at the bottom of the stage.
Eth.
How didst thou leave the king?

Sel.
Recovering strength with every passing hour.
His spirits too, that were so weak and gloomy,
From frequent fainting and the loss of blood,
Now buoyant rise, and much assist the cure
Which all regard as wonderful.

Eth.
It has deceiv'd us, yet I've heard of such.

Sel.
Thou lookest sadly on it: how is this?
With little cost of thought I could explain
In any man but thee that cloudy brow;
But well I know thou didst not prize the power
With which thou wert invested.

Eth.
Selred, this hasty gloom will prove too short
To work in Ethwald's mind the change we look'd for.
And yet he promis'd well.

Sel.
Ay, and will well perform; mistrust him not.
I must confess, nature has form'd his mind
Too restless and aspiring: and of late.
Having such mighty objects in his grasp,
He has too reckless been of others' rights.
But, now that all is gain'd, mistrust him not:
He'll prove a noble king; a good one too.

Eth.
Thou art his brother.

Sel.
And thou his friend.

Eth.
I stand reprov'd before thee.
A friend, indeed, should gentler thoughts maintain,
And so I will endeavour.

Sel.
Give me thy valiant hand; full well I know
The heart which it pertains to.

Eth.
I hear him, now, within his chamber stir.

Sel.
Thou'lt move him best alone. God speed thy zeal!
I'll stand by thee the while and mark his eye.

[Eth. remains on the front of the stage whilst Ethwald enters behind him from the door at the bottom of the stage, leaning upon an attendant.
Ethw.
(to Sel. as he goes up to Eth.)
How, Ethelbert, our friend, so deep in thought?
(To the attendant.)
Leave me awhile methinks a brother's arm
Will be a kindlier staff.
[Exit attendant, and he leans upon Sel.
How, Ethelbert, my friend!
What vision from the nether world of sprites
Now rises to thine eyes, thus on the ground
So fix'd and sternly bent?

Eth.
Pardon, my lord! my mind should now be turn'd
To cheerful thoughts, seeing you thus restor'd.
How fares it with you?

Ethw.
E'en as with one, on a rude mountain's side,
Who suddenly in seeming gloom enclos'd
Of drizzly night, athwart the wearing mist
Sees the veil'd sun break forth in heav'n's wide arch,
And showing still a lengthen'd day before him.
As with a trav'ller in a gloomy path,
Whose close o'er-shaded end did scare his fancy
With forms of hidden ill; who, wending on
With fearful steps, before his eyes beholds
On the sudden burst a fair and wide expanse
Of open country, rich in promis'd good.
As one o'erwhelmed in the battle's shock,
Who, all oppress'd and number'd with the slain,
Smother'd and lost, with sudden impulse strengthen'd,
Shakes the foul load of dead men. from his back,
And finds himself again standing erect,
Unmaim'd and vigorous. As one who stood—
But it may tire thee with such ample scope
To tell indeed how it doth fare with me.

Eth.
You truly are from a dark gloom restor'd
To cheerful day; and, if the passing shade
Has well impress'd your mind, there lies before you
A prospect fair indeed. Ay, fairer far
Than that the gloom obscured.

Ethw.
How sayst thou?

Eth.
Did not that seeming cloud of death obscure
To your keen forecast eye tumultuous scenes
Of war and strife, and conquest yet to come,
Bought with your people's blood? but now, my Ethwald,
Your chasten'd mind, so rich in good resolves,
Hath stretch'd before it future prospect fair,
Such as a god might please.

Ethw.
How so, good Ethelbert?

Eth.
And dost thou not perceive? O see before thee
Thy native land, freed from the ills of war,
And hard oppressive power, a land of peace!
Where yellow fields unspoil'd, and pastures green,
Mottled with herds and flocks, who crop secure
Their native herbage, nor have ever known
A stranger's stall, smile gladly.
See through its tufted alleys to heav'n's roof
The curling smoke of quiet dwellings rise:
Whose humble masters, with forgotten spear
Hung on the webbed wall, and cheerful face
In harvest fields embrown'd, do gaily talk
Over their ev'ning meal, and bless king Ethwald,
The valiant yet the peaceful, whose wise rule,
Firm and rever'd, has brought them better days,
Than e'er their fathers knew.

Ethw.
A scene, indeed, fair and desirable;
But, ah, how much confin'd! Were it not work
A god befitting, with exerted strength,
By one great effort to enlarge its bounds,
And spread the blessing wide?

Eth.
(starting back from him).
Ha! there it is! that serpent bites thee still!
O spurn it, strangle it! let it rise no more!

Sel.
(laying his hand affectionately on Ethwald 's breast).
My dearest brother, let not such wild thoughts
Again possess your mind!

Ethw.
Go to! go to! (To Sel.)

But, Ethelbert, thou'rt mad.

(Turning angrily to Eth.)
Eth.
Not mad, my royal friend, but something griev'd
To see your restless mind still bent on that,
Which will to you no real glory bring,
And to your hapless people many woes.

Ethw.
Thou greatly errest from my meaning, friend.
As truly as thyself I do regard
My people's weal, and will employ the power
Heav'n trusts me with, for that important end.
But were it not ignoble to confine
In narrow bounds the blessed power of blessing,
Lest, for a little space, the face of war
Should frown upon us? He who will not give
Some portion of his ease, his blood, his wealth,
For others' good, is a poor frozen churl.

Eth.
Well, then again a simple warrior be,
And thine own ease, and blood, and treasure give:
But whilst thou art a king, and wouldst bestow
On people not thine own the blessed gift
Of gentle rule, earn'd by the public force
Of thine own subjects, thou dost give away
That over which thou hast no right. Frown not:
I will assert it, crown'd and royal lord,
Though to your ears full rude the sound may be.

Ethw.
Chaf'd Thane, be more restrain'd. Thou knowest well,
That, as a warlike chieftain, never yet
The meanest of my soldiers grasp'd his spear
To follow me constrain'd; and as a king,
Thinkst thou I'll be less noble?

Sel.
Indeed, good Ethelbert, thou art too warm;
Thou dealest hardly with him.

Eth.
I know, though peace dilates the heart of man
And makes his stores increase, his count'nance smile,
He is by nature form'd, like savage beasts,
To take delight in war.
'Tis a strong passion in his bosom lodg'd,
For ends most wise, curb'd and restrain'd to be;
And they who for their own designs do take
Advantage of his nature, act, in truth,
Like cruel hinds who spirit the poor cock
To rend and tear his fellow.
O thou! whom I so often in my arms,
A bold and gen'rous boy have fondly press'd,
And now do proudly call my sov'reign lord,
Be not a cruel master! O be gentle!
Spare Mercian blood! Goodness and power make
Most meet companions. The great Lord of all,
Before whose awful presence, short while since,
Thou didst expect to stand, almighty is,
Also most merciful:
And the bless'd Being He to earth did send
To teach our soften'd hearts to call him Father,
Most meekly did confine His heavenly power
Unto the task assign'd Him. Think of this.
O! dost thou listen to me?

Ethw.
(moved and softened).
Yes, good Ethelbert.
Be thou more calm: we will consider of it.
We should desire our people's good, and peace
Makes them to flourish. We confess all this;
But circumstance oft takes away the power
Of acting on it. Still our Western neighbours
Are turbulent and bold; and, for the time,
Though somewhat humbled, they again may rise
And force us to the field.

Sel.
No, fear it not! they are inclin'd to peace;
Tidings I've learnt, sent by a trusty messenger,
Who from Caernarvon is with wondrous speed
But just arriv'd: their valiant prince is dead.
A sudden death has snatch'd him in his prime;
And a weak infant, under tutorage
Of three contending chiefs of little weight,
Now rules the state, who, thou mayst well perceive,
Can give thee no disturbance.

Ethw.
(eagerly, with his eyes lightening up, and his whole frame agitated).
A trusty messenger has told thee this?
O send him to me quickly! still fair fortune
Offers her favours freely. Send him quickly!
Ere yet aware of my returning health,
Five thousand men might without risk be led
E'en to their castle walls.

Eth.
What, meanst thou this?
Uprous'd again unto this dev'lish pitch?
Oh, it is horrid!

Ethw.
(in great heat).
Be restrained, Thane.

Eth.
Be thou restrained, king. See how thou art,
Thus feebly tott'ring on those wasted limbs?
And wouldst thou spoil the weak?

(Observing Ethw. who staggers from being agitated beyond his strength.)
Ethw.
(pushing away Selred, who supports him).
I do not want thine aid: I'm well and vig'rous:
My heart beats strongly, and my blood is warm;
Though there are those who spy my weakness out
To shackle me withal. Ho, thou without!
[Enter his attendant, and Ethw., taking hold of him, walks across the stage; then turning about to Sel. and Eth.
Brother, send quickly for your trusty messenger;
And so, good day. Good morning, Thane of Sexford.

(Looking sternly to Ethelbert.)
Eth.
Good morning, Mercia's king.

[Exeunt by opposite sides, frowningly.

SCENE III.

A grand apartment, with a chair of state. Enter Hexulf and Alwy, engaged in close conversation.
Alwy
(continuing to speak).
Distrust it not;
The very honours and high exaltation
Of Ethelbert, that did your zealous ire
So much provoke, are now the very tools
With which we'll work his ruin.

Hex.
But still proceed with caution; gain the queen;
For she, from ev'ry hue of circumstance,
Must be his enemy.

Alwy.
I have done that already,
By counterfeiting Ethwald's signature
Whilst in that still and deathlike state he lay,
To hinder Ethelbert's rash treach'rous haste
From setting Edward free, I have done that
For which, though Ethwald thanks me, I must needs,
On bended knee, for courtly pardon sue.
The queen I have address'd with humble suit
My cause to plead with her great lord, and she
Will her magnificent and high protection
Give to our party, e'en if on her mind
No other motive press'd.

Hex.
I doubt it not, and yet I fear her spirit,
Proud and aspiring, will desire to rule
More than befits our purpose.

Alwy.
Fear it not.
It is the show and worship of high state
That she delights in, more than real power:
She has more joy in stretching forth her hand
And saying, “I command,” than, in good truth,
Seeing her will obey'd.

Enter Queen, with Dwina and Attendants.
Hex.
Saint Alban bless you, high and royal dame!
We are not here, in an intruding spirit,
Before your royal presence.

Queen.
I thank you, good lord bishop, with your friend.
And nothing doubt of your respect and duty.

Alwy.
Thanks, gracious queen! This good and holy man
Thus far supports me in your royal favour,
Which is the only rock that I would cling to,
Willing to give me friendly countenance.

Queen.
You have done well, good Alwy, and have need
Of thanks more than of pardon; nevertheless,
If any trouble light on thee for this,
A royal hand shall be stretch'd forth to save you,
Whom none in Mercia, whosoe'er they be,
Will venture to oppose. I will protect thee,
And have already much inclin'd the king
To favour thee.

Alwy
(kneeling and kissing her hand).
Receive my humble thanks, most honour'd queen.
My conscience tells me I have merited,
Of you and of the king, no stern rebuke;
But that dark cunning Thane has many wiles
To warp men's minds e'en from their proper good.
He has attempted, or report speaks falsely,
To lure King Ethwald to resign his crown.
What may he not attempt! it makes me shrink!
He trusts his treasons to no mortal men:
Fiends meet him in his hall at dead of night,
And are his counsellors.

Queen
(holding up her hands).
Protect us, heaven!

Hex.
Saint Alban will protect you, gracious queen.
Trust me, his love for pious Oswal's daughter
Will guard you in the hour of danger. Hark!
The king approaches.

[Flourish of trumpets.
Queen.
Yes, at this hour he will receive in state
The bold address of those seditious Thanes,
Clam'ring for peace, when fair occasion smiles,
And beckons him to arm and follow her.

Hex.
We know it well; of whom Thane Ethelbert,
In secret is the chief, although young Hereulf
By him is tutor'd in the spokesman's office.

Enter Ethwald, attended by many Thanes and Officers of the Court, &c.
Queen
(presenting Alwy to Ethw.).
My lord, a humble culprit at your feet,
Supported by my favour, craves forgiveness.

[Alwy kneels, and Ethw. raises him graciously.
Ethw.
I grant his suit, supported by the favour
Of that warm sense I wear within my breast Of his well-meaning zeal.
(Looking contemptuously at the Queen, who turns haughtily away.)
But wherefore, Alwy,
Didst thou not boldly come to me at first
And tell thy fault? Might not thy former services
Out-balance well a greater crime than this?

Alwy.
I so, indeed, had done, but a shrewd Thane,
Of mind revengeful, and most penetrating,
Teaches us caution in whate'er regards
His dealings with the state. I fear the man.

Ethw.
And wherefore dost thou fear him?

Alwy
(mysteriously).
He has a cloudy brow, a stubborn gait;
His dark soul is shut up from mortal man,
And deeply broods upon its own conceits
Of right and wrong.

Hex.
He has a soul black with foul atheism
And heresies abominable. Nay,
He has a tongue of such persuasive art,
That all men listen to him.

Queen
(eagerly).
More than men:
Dark spirits meet him at the midnight hour,
And horrid converse hold.

Ethw.
No, more I pray you! Ethelbert I know.

Queen.
Indeed, indeed, my lord, you know him not!

Ethw.
Be silent, wife!
(Turning to Hex. and Al.)
My tried and faithful Alwy,
And pious Hexulf, in my private closet
We further will discourse on things of moment,
At more convenient time.
The leagued Thanes advance. Retire, Elburga:
Thou hast my leave. I gave thee no command
To join thy presence to this stern solemnity.
Soft female grace adorns the festive hall,
And sheds a brighter lustre on high days
Of pageant state; but in an hour like this,
Destin'd for gravest audience, 'tis unmeet.

Queen.
What, is the queen an empty bauble, then,
To gild thy state withal?

Ethw.
The queens of Mercia, first of Mercian dames,
Still fair example give of meek obedience
To their good lords. This is their privilege.
[Seeing that she delays to go.
It is my will. A good day to your highness.

Queen
(aside as she goes off).
Be silent, wife! this Mollo's son doth say
Unto the royal offspring of a king.

[Exit Queen, frowning angrily, and followed by Dwina and attendants. The Thanes, who entered with Ethwald, and during his conversation with Alwy, &c. had retired to the bottom of the stage, now come forward.
Ethw.
Now wait we for those grave and sluggish chiefs,
Who would this kingdom, fam'd for warlike Thanes,
Change into mere provision-land to feed
A dull unwarlike race.

Alwy.
Ay, and our castles,
Whose lofty walls are darken'd with the spoils
Of glorious war, to barns and pinning folds,
Where our brave hands, instead of sword and spear,
The pruning knife and shepherd's staff must grasp.

Hex.
True; sinking you, in such base toils unskill'd,
Beneath the wiser carl. This is their wish,
But heav'n and our good saint will bring to nought
Their wicked machinations.

Enter an Officer of the castle.
Off.
Th' assembled Thanes, my lord, attend without.

Ethw.
Well, let them enter.
Our seat beneath us will not shake, I trust,
[Exit off.
Being so fenced round.

(Taking his seat, and bowing courteously with a smiling countenance to the Chiefs, &c. who range themselves near him.)
Enter several Thanes, with Hereulf at their head, and presently after followed by Ethelbert.
Her.
(stretching out his hand with respectful dignity).
Our king and sire, in true and humble duty
We come before you, earnestly entreating
Your royal ear to our united voice.

Ethw.
Mine ear is ever open'd to the words
Of faithful duty.

Her.
We are all men, who in th' embattled field
Have by your side the front of danger braved,
With greater lack of prudence than of daring;
And have opposed our rough and scarred breasts
To the fell push of war, with liberality
Not yielding to the bravest of your Thanes,
The sons of warlike sires. But we are men,
Who in our cheerful halls have also been
Lords of the daily feast; where, round our boards,
The hoary headed warrior, from the toil
Of arms releas'd, with the cheer'd stranger smiled:
Who in the humble dwellings of our hinds
Have seen a numerous and hardy race,
Eating the bread of labour cheerfully,
Dealt to them with no hard nor churlish hand.
We, therefore, stand with graceful boldness forth
The advocates of those who wish for peace.
Worn with our rude and long continued wars,
Our native land wears now the alter'd face
Of an uncultur'd wild. To her fair fields,
With weeds and thriftless docks now shagged o'er,
The aged grandsire, bent and past his toil,
Who in the sunny nook had plac'd his seat,
And thought to toil no more, leads joyless forth
His widow'd daughters and their orphan train,
The master of a silent, cheerless band.
The half-grown stripling, urged before his time
To manhood's labour, steps, with feeble limbs
And sallow cheek, around his unroof'd cot.
The mother on her last remaining son
With fearful bodings looks. The cheerful sound
Of whistling ploughmen, and the reaper's song,
And the flail's lusty stroke is heard no more.
The youth and manhood of our land are laid
In the cold earth, and shall we think of war?
O, valiant Ethwald! listen to the calls
Of gentle pity, in the brave most graceful,
Nor, for the lust of more extended sway,
Shed the last blood of Mercia. War is honourable
In those who do their native rights maintain;
In those whose swords an iron barrier are
Between the lawless spoiler and the weak:
But is in those who draw th' offensive blade
For added power or gain, sordid and despicable,
As meanest office of the worldly churl.

Ethw.
Chiefs and assembled Thanes, I much commend
The love you bear unto your native land.
Shame to the son nurs'd on her gen'rous breast
Who loves her not! and be assured that I,
Her reared child, her soldier, and her king,
In true and warm affection yield to none
Of all who have upon her turfy lap
Their infant gambols held. To you her weal
Is gain and pleasure; glory 'tis to me.
To you her misery is loss and sorrow;
To me disgrace and shame. Of this be satisfied;
I feel her sacred claims, which these high ensigns
Have fastened on me, and I will fulfil them:
But for the course and manner of performance,
Be that unto the royal wisdom left,
Strengthen'd by those appointed by the state
To aid and counsel it. Ye have our leave,
With all respect and favour to retire.

Her.
We will retire, King Ethwald, as becomes
Free, independent Thanes, who do of right
Approach or quit at will the royal presence,
And lacking no permission.

Alwy.
What, all so valiant in this princely hall,
Ye who would shrink from the fair field of war,
Where soldiers should be bold?

Her.
(laying his hand on his sword).
Thou liest, mean boastful hireling of thy lord,
And shalt be punish'd for it.

1st Th.
(of Ethwald 's side).
And dar'st thou threaten, mouth of bold sedition?
We will maintain his words.

[Draws his sword, and all the Thanes on the King's side do the same. Hereulf and the Thanes of his side also draw their swords.
1st Th.
(of Hereulf 's side).
Come on, base dealers in your country's blood.

1st Th.
(of Ethwald 's side).
Have at ye, rebel cowards!

Ethw.
(rising from his seat, and standing between the two parties in a commanding posture).
I do command you: peace and silence, chiefs!
He who with word or threat'ning gesture dares
The presence of his king again to outrage,
I put without the covert of the law,
And on the instant punish.

[They all put up their swords, and Ethwald, after looking round him for some moments with commanding sternness, walks off majestically, followed by his Thanes.
Eth.
(casting up his eyes to heaven as he turns to follow Hereulf and his party).
Ah, Mercia,
Mercia! on red fields of carnage
Bleed thy remaining sons, and carrion birds
Tear the cold limbs that should have turn'd thy soil.

[Exeunt the two different parties by opposite sides.