University of Virginia Library

Scene in a Prison.

Edith alone.
Edith.
Morn once again! Morn in the lone dim cell,
The cavern of the prisoner's fever dream,
And morn on all the green rejoicing hills,
And the bright waters round the prisoner's home,
Far, far away! Now wakes the early bird
That in the lime's transparent foliage sings,
Close to my cottage lattice—he awakes,
To stir the young leaves with his gushing soul,
And to call forth rich answers of delight
From voices buried in a thousand trees,
Through the dim starry hours. Now doth the lake
Darken and flash in rapid interchange
Unto the matin breeze; and the blue mist
Rolls, like a furling banner, from the brows
Of the forth-gleaming hills and woods that rise
As if new-born. Bright world! and I am here!
And thou, O thou! the awakening thought of whom
Was more than dayspring, dearer than the sun,
Herbert! the very glance of whose clear eye
Made my soul melt away to one pure fount
Of living, bounding gladness!—where art thou?
My friend! my only and my blessed love!
Herbert, my soul's companion!

[Gomez, a Spanish Priest enters.
Gom.
Daughter, hail!
I bring thee tidings.

Ed.
Heaven will aid my soul
Calmly to meet whate'er thy lips announce.

Gom.
Nay, lift a song of thanksgiving to Heaven,
And bow thy knee down for deliverance won!
Hast thou not pray'd for life? and would'st thou not
Once more be free?

Ed.
Have I not pray'd for life?
I, that am so beloved! that love again
With such a heart of tendrils? Heaven! thou know'st
The gushings of my prayer! And would I not
Once more be free? I that have been a child
Of breezy hills, a playmate of the fawn
In ancient woodlands from mine infancy!
A watcher of the clouds and of the stars,
Beneath the adoring silence of the night;
And a glad wanderer with the happy streams,
Whose laughter fills the mountains! Oh! to hear
Their blessed sounds again!

Gom.
Rejoice, rejoice!
Our Queen hath pity, maiden, on thy youth;
She wills not thou should'st perish.—I am come
To loose thy bonds.

Ed.
And shall I see his face,
And shall I listen to his voice again,
And lay my head upon his faithful breast,
Weeping there in my gladness? Will this be?—
Blessings upon thee, father! my quick heart
Hath deem'd thee stern—say, wilt thou not forgive
The wayward child, too long in sunshine rear'd—
Too long unused to chastening? Wilt thou not?
But Herbert, Herbert! Oh, my soul hath rush'd
On a swift gust of sudden joy away,
Forgetting all beside! Speak, father, speak!
Herbert—is he too free?

Gom.
His freedom lies
In his own choice—a boon like thine.

Ed.
Thy words
Fall changed and cold upon my boding heart.
Leave not this dim suspense o'ershadowing me.
Let all be told.

Gom.
The monarchs of the earth
Shower not their mighty gifts without a claim
Unto some token of true vassalage,
Some mark of homage.

Ed.
Oh! unlike to Him,
Who freely pours the joy of sunshine forth,
And the bright quickening rain, on those who serve
And those who heed him not!

Gom.
(laying a paper before her.)
Is it so much
That thine own hand should set the crowning seal
To thy deliverance? Look, thy task is here!
Sign but these words for liberty and life.

Ed.
(examining and then throwing it from her.)
Sign but these words! and wherefore saidst thou not,
“Be but a traitor to God's light within?”—
Cruel, oh, cruel! thy dark sport hath been
With a young bosom's hope! Farewell, glad life!
Bright opening path to love and home farewell!
And thou—now leave me with my God alone!

Gom.
Dost thou reject Heaven's mercy?

Ed.
Heaven's! doth Heaven
Woo the free spirit for dishonour'd breath
To sell its birthright? doth Heaven set a price
On the clear jewel of unsullied faith,
And the bright calm of conscience? Priest, away!
God hath been with me 'midst the holiness
Of England's mountains. Not in sport alone
I trod their heath-flowers; but high thoughts rose up
From the broad shadow of the enduring rocks,
And wander'd with me into solemn glens,
Where my soul felt the beauty of his word.
I have heard voices of immortal truth,
Blent with the everlasting torrent-sounds
That make the deep hills tremble.—Shall I quail?—
Shall England's daughter sink?—No! He who there
Spoke to my heart in silence and in storm,
Will not forsake his child!

Gom.
(turning from her.)
Then perish! lost
In thine own blindness!

Ed.
(suddenly throwing herself at his feet.)
Father! hear me yet!
Oh! if the kindly touch of human love
Hath ever warm'd thy breast—

Gom.
Away—away!
I know not love.

Ed.
Yet hear! if thou hast known
The tender sweetness of a mother's voice—
If the true vigil of affection's eye
Hath watch'd thy childhood—if fond tears have e'er
Been shower'd upon thy head—if parting words
E'er pierced thy spirit with their tenderness—
Let me but look upon his face once more,
Let me but say—farewell, my soul's beloved!
And I will bless thee still!

Gom.
(aside.)

Ed.
Oh! stormy hour of agony and joy!
But I shall see him—I shall hear his voice!

[They go out.