University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

The SCENE is a Temple adorn'd according to the Superstition of the Antient Saxons; in the Middle are plac'd their three principal Idols, Thor, Woden, and Freya.
Musick is heard at a Distance, as of the Priests preparing for the Sacrifice. Then
Enter Aribert.
Ari.
All Night the bloody Priests, a dreadful Band,
Have watch'd intent upon their horrid Rites,
With many a dire and execrable Pray'r,
Calling the Fiends beneath, the sullen Demons
That dwell in Darkness deep, and Foe to Man,
Delight in reeking Steams of human Gore.
Now huddled on a Heap, they murmur'd hoarse,
And hissing whisper'd round their mystick Charms;
And now, as if by sudden Madness struck,
With Screamings shrill they shook the vaulted Roof,
And vex'd the still, the silent, solemn Midnight.
Such sure in everlasting Flames below,
Such are the Groans of poor lamenting Ghosts,
And such the Howlings of the last Despair.
Anon to Sounds of Woe, and magick Strings,
They danc'd in wild fantastick Measures round;
Then all at once they bent their ghastly Visages
On me, and yelling, thrice they cry'd out, Aribert!
I have endur'd their Horrors—And at length
See! the Night wears away, and chearful Morn,
All sweet and fresh, spreads from the rosie East;
Fair Nature seems reviv'd, and ev'n my Heart
Sits light and jocund at the Day's Return,
And fearless waits an End of all its Sufferings.

Enter one of the Guards, he delivers a Letter to Aribert.
Guar.
From Oswald this, on Peril of my Life,
I have engag'd to render to your Hands.

[Exit.
Ari.
reads.]

Seofrid has been just to his Word; he has deliver'd
the fair Ethelinda to my Charge; we have happily
post all the Guards, and hope in two Hours to reach the
Briton's Camp. From your faithful Oswald.

Enter Rodogune with an Officer, he speaks to her entring.
Offic.
Thus Offa to his beauteous Sister sends:
Depend upon a Brother's Love and Care,
To further all you wish.

Rodo.
'Tis well! be near,
[Exit Officer.
And wait my further Order. See! my Heart,
See, there thy dearest Choice, thy fond Desire.
See with how clear a Brow, what chearful Grace,
With all his native Sweetness undisturb'd,
The noble Youth attends his harder Fate.
I came to join my friendly Grief with yours,
[To Aribert.
To curse your Tyrant Brother, and deplore
Your youthful Hopes, thus all untimely blasted:
But you, I see, have learn'd to scorn your Danger;
You wear a Face of Triumph, not of Mourning:
Has Death so little in it?

Ari.
Oh! 'tis nothing,
To Minds that weigh it well: The Vulgar fear it,
And yet they know not why. Since never any
Did from that dark and doubtful Land as yet
Turn back again, to tell us 'tis a Pain.
To me it seems like a long wish'd for Happiness,
Beyond what ev'n our Expectation paints;
'Tis Comfort to the Soul, 'tis Peace, 'tis Rest;
It comes like Slumber to the sick Man's Eyes.
Burning and restless with a Feaver's Rage,
All Night he tosses on his weary Bed;
He tells the tedious Minutes as they pass,
And turns, and turns, and seeks for Ease in vain;
But if, at Morning's Dawn, sweet Sleep falls on him,
Think with what Pleasure he resigns his Senses,
Sinks to his Pillow, and forgets his Pain.

Rodo.
Perhaps it may be such a State of Indolence;
But sure the active Soul should therefore fear it.
The Gods have dealt unjustly with their Creatures,
If barely they bestow a wretched Being,
And scatter not some Pleasures with the Pain,
To make it worth our Keeping. Is there nothing
Could make you wish to live?

Ari.
Oh! yes, there is;
There is a Blessing I could wish to live for,
To live, for Years, for Ages to enjoy it.
But far, alas! divided from my Arms,
It leaves the World a Wilderness before me,
With nothing worth desiring.

Rodo.
Dull and cold!
Or cold at least to me, dull, dull Indifference.
[Aside.
What if some pitying Pow'r look down from Heav'n,
And kindly visit your afflicted Fortunes?
What if it send some unexpected Aid,
Some generous Heart, and some prevailing Hand,
Willing to save, and mighty to defend,
Who from the gloomy Confines of the Grave
Timely shall snatch, shall bring you back to Life,
And raise you up to Empire and to Love?

Ari.
The Wretched have few Friends, at least on Earth:
Then what have I to hope?

Rodo.
Hope every thing,
Hope all that Merit, such as yours, may claim,
Such as commands the World, exacts their Homage,
And makes ev'n all the Good and Brave your Friends.

Ari.
And can you then vouchsafe to flatter Misery?
T'enrich so fall'n, so lost a thing as I am,
With the sweet Breath of Praise? So pious Virgins
Rob the whole Spring to make their Garlands fine,
Then hang 'em on a senseless Marble Tomb.

Rodo.
A burning Purple flushes o'er my Face,
And Shame forbids my Tongue, or I would say,
That I—Oh Aribert!—I am thy Friend.
Yet wherefore should I blush to own the Thought?
For who!—who would not be the Freind of Aribert?

Ari.
Why is this wondrous Goodness lost upon me?
Why is this Bounty lavish'd on a Bankrupt,
Who has not left another Hour of Life
To pay the mighty Debt?

Rodo.
Oh! let me yet,
Yet add to it, and swell the Sum yet higher;
Nor doubt but Fate shall find the Means to pay it.
Know then that I have pass'd this live-long Night,
Sleepless and anxious with my Cares for thee;
The Gods have sure approv'd the pious Thought,
And crown'd it with Success. Since I have gain'd
Alfred, the chief of mighty Woden's Priests,
To find a certain Way for thy Escape.
One of the sacred Habits is at Hand
Prepar'd for thy Disguise, the holy Man
Attends to guide thee to my Brother's Camp:
My self—Oh! yet lye still, my beating Heart—
[Aside.
Whatever Dangers chance, my self will be
The Partner and the Guardian of thy Flight.

Ari.
Now what Return to make—Oh let me sink,
With all these warring Thoughts together in me,
Blushing to Earth, and hide the vast Confusion.

Rodo.
Ye Gods! he answers not, but hangs his Head
In sullen Silence; see! he turns away,
And bends his gloomy Visage to the Earth.
To what am I betray'd! Oh Shame! Dishonour!
And more than Woman's Weakness! He has seen me,
Seen my fond Heart, and scorns the easie Prize.
Blast me, ye Lightnings, strike me to the Centre,
Drive, drive me down, down to the Depths beneath;
Let me not live, nor think—let me not think,
For I have been despis'd—ten thousand thousand,
And yet ten thousand Curses—Oh my Folly!—

Ari.
Thus let me fall, thus lowly to the Earth,
[Kneeling.
In humble Adoration of your Goodness;
Thus with my lates Accents breathe your Name,
And bless you e'er I die. Oh Rodogune!
Fair Royal Maid! to thee be all thy Wishes,
Content and everlasting Peace dwell with thee,
And every Joy be thine. Nor let one Thought
Of this ungrateful, this unhappy Aribert
Remain behind, to call a sudden Sigh,
Or stain thee with a Tear. Behold I go,
Doom'd by Eternal Fate, to my long Rest;
Then let my Name too die, sink to Oblivion,
And sleep in Silence with me in the Grave.

Rodo.
Dost thou not wish to live?

Ari.
I cannot.

Rodo.
Why?
Behold I give thee Life.

Ari.
And therefore—oh!
Therefore I cannot take it. I dare die,
But dare not be oblig'd. I dare not owe
What I can never render back.

Rodo.
Confusion!
Is then the Blessing, Life, become a Curse,
When offer'd to thee by my baleful Hand?

Ari.
Oh no! for you are all that's good and gracious,
Nature, that makes your Sex the Joy of ours,
Made you the Pride of both; she gave you Sweetness,
So mix'd with Strength, with Majesty so rais'd,
To make the willing World confess your Empire,
And love, while they obey. Nor stay'd she there,
But to the Body fitted so the Mind,
As each were fashion'd singly to excel,
As if so fair a Form disdain'd to harbour
A Soul less great, and that great Soul could find
Nothing so like the Heav'n from whence it came,
As that fair Form to dwell in.

Rodo.
Soothing Sounds!
Delightful Flattery from him we love;
[Aside.
But what are these to my impatient Hopes!

Ari.
Yet wherefore should this mighty Mass of Wealth
Be vainly plac'd before my wondring Eyes,
Since I must ne'er possess it, since my Heart,
Once giv'n, can ne'er return, can know no Name
But Ethelinda, only Ethelinda?
Fix'd to its Choice, and obstinately constant,
It listens not to any other Call.
So rigid Hermits, that forsake the World,
Are deaf to Glory, Greatness, Pomps and Pleasures;
Severe in Zeal, and insolently pious,
They let attending Princes vainly wait,
Knock at their Cells, and lure 'em forth in vain.

Rodo.
How is she form'd? with what superior Grace,
This Rival of my Love? What envious God,
In scorn of Nature's wretched Works below,
Improv'd and made her more than half Divine?
How has he taught her Lips to breathe Ambrosia?
How dy'd her Blushes with the Morning's Red,
And cloath'd her with the fairest Beams of Light,
To make her shine beyond me?

Ari.
Spare the Theme.

Rodo.
But then her Mind! Ye Gods, which of you all
Could make that great, and fit to rival mine?
What more than heav'nly Fire informs the Mass?
Has she a Soul can dare beyond our Sex,
Beyond ev'n Man himself, can dare like mine?
Can she resolve to bear the secret Stings
Of Shame and conscious Pride, distracting Rage,
And all the deadly Pangs of Love despis'd?
Oh no! she cannot, Nature cannot bear it;
[Weeping.
It sinks ev'n me, the Torrent drives me down,
The native Greatness of my Spirit fails,
Thus melts, and thus runs gushing thro' my Eyes,
The Floods of Sorrow drown my dying Voice,
And I can only call thee—Cruel Aribert!

Ari.
Oh thou, just Heav'n, if Mortal Man may dare
To look into thy great Decrees, thy Fate,
Were it not better I had never been,
Than thus to bring Affliction and Misfortune,
Thus curse what thou hadst made so good and fair?

Rodo.
But see! the King and cruel Priests appear,
Nor can I save thee now. Thou hast thy Wish;
[To Aribert.
But what remains for me? My Heart beats fast,
And swells, impatient at the Tyrant's Sight.
My Blood, e'erwhile at Ebb, now flows again,
And with new Rage I burn. Since Love is lost,
Come thou Revenge, succeed thou to ray Bosom,
And reign in all my Soul. Yes, I will find her,
This fatal She, for whom I am despis'd.
Look that she be your Master-Piece, ye Gods;
Let each celestial Hand some Grace impart,
To this rare Pattern of your forming Art;
Such may she be, my jealous Rage to move,
Such as you never made 'till now, to prove
A Victim worthy my offended Love.
[Exit Rodogune.

Enter at the other Door, the King, Priests, Guards, and other Attendants.
King.
Hast thou bethought thee yet, perfidious Boy!
Wo't thou yet render back thy Theft? Consider,
The Precipice is just beneath thy Feet,
'Tis but a Moment, and I push thee off,
To plunge for ever in Eternal Darkness.
Somewhat like Nature has been busie here,
And made a Struggle for thee in my Soul;
Restore my Love, and be again my Brother.

Ari.
Rage, and the Violence of lawless Passion,
Have blinded your clear Reason; wherefore else
This frantick wild Demand? What! should I yield,
Give up my Love, my Wife, my Ethelinda,
To an Incestuous Brother's dire Embrace?
Oh Horror!—But, to bar the impious Thought,
Know!—Heav'n and brave Ambrosius are her Guard:
E'er this, her Flight has reach'd the Britons Camp,
And found her Safety there.

King.
Fled to the Britons!
Oh most accursed Traitor! Let her fly,
Far as the early Day-spring in the East,
Or to the utmost Ocean, where the Sun
Descends to other Skies and Worlds unknown;
Ev'n thither shall my Love take Wing and follow,
To seize the flying Fair. The Britons!—Gods!
Shall they with-hold her!—First, my Arms shall shake
Their Island to the Center. But for thee,
Think'st thou to awe me with that Fantome, Incest?
Such empty Names may fright thy Coward Soul;
But know that mine disdains 'em. Bind him strait.
[To the Priests.
I wo'not loose another Thought about thee.
[To Aribert.
Begin the Rites, and dye the hallow'd Steel
Deep in his Christian Blood. The Gods demand him.

Ari.
Why then, no more. But if we meet again,
As, when the Day of great Account shall come,
Perhaps we may, may'st thou find Mercy there,
More than thou shew'st thy Brother here. Farewel.

King.
Farewel. To Death with him, and end the Dreamer.

[The Priests bind Aribert, and lead him to the Altar. While the solemn Musick is playing.
Enter Seofrid.
Seof.
Haste, and break off your unauspicious Rites;
The instant Dangers summon you away;
Destruction threatens in our frighted Streets,
And the Gods call to Arms.

King.
What means the Fear
That trembles in thy pale, thy haggard Visage?
Speak out, and ease this Labour of thy Soul.

Seof.
Oh fly, my Lord; the Torrent grows upon us,
And while I speak we're lost. Fierce Offa comes;
From ev'ry Part his crowding Ensigns enter,
And this way waving bend. With idle Arms
Your Soldier careless stands, and bids 'em pass;
Some join, but all refuse to arm against 'em;
They call 'em Friends, Companions, and their Countrymen.
A chosen Band, led by the haughty Princess,
Imperious Rodogune, move swiftly hither
To intercept your Passage to the Palace.
That only Strength is left, then fly to reach it.

King.
Curst Chance! But haste, dispatch that Traitor strait;
They sha' not bar my Vengeance.

Seof.
Sacred Sir,
Think only on your Safety. For the Prince,
Your Crown, but more your Love, a thousand Reasons,
All urge you to defer his Fate; Time presses,
Or I could speak 'em plain.

King.
Then hear me, Priest,
I give him to thy Charge.

Seof.
They come, my Lord.

[Shout.
King.
Look to him well; for, by yon dreadful Altars,
Thy Life shall pay for his, if he escape:
First kill him, plunge thy Poniard in his Bosom,
And see thy King reveng'd.

[Exit King, Seofrid, Guards and Attendants.
Priest.
Be chear'd, my Lord,
Nor keep one doubt of me; I am your Slave.
The King is fled, and with him all your Dangers.
Fate has reserv'd you for some glorious Purpose;
And see, your Guardian Goddess comes to save you,
To break your Bonds, and make you ever happy.

Enter Rodogune, Soldiers, and other Attendants.
Rodo.
Well have our Arms prevail'd: Behold, he lives,
Ungrateful as he is, by me he lives.
Do I not come with too officious Haste,
[To Aribert.
Once more to press the burden Life upon you?
To offer, with an Ideot's Importunity,
The nauseous Benefit you scorn'd before?

Ari.
If I refus'd the Blessing from your Hands,
Think it not rudely done with sullen Pride;
Since Life and you are two of Heav'n's best Gifts,
Yet both should be receiv'd, both kept with Honour.

Rodo.
However Live—yes, I will bid thee Live,
No matter what ensues. Fly far away,
Forget me, blot my Name from thy Remembrance,
And think thou ow'st me nothing.—What! in Bonds!
Well was the Task reserv'd for me. But thus
I break thy Chain—Would I could break my own.

[Aside.
Enter an Officer.
Officer.
A Party of our Horse, that late went forth
To mark the Order of the Britons Camp,
Met in their course some Servants of the King;
For so they call'd themselves. Ours judg'd 'em Traitors,
And would have seiz'd, as flying to the Foe.
After a sharp Resistance some escap'd,
The rest, for so your Princely Brother wills,
Without attend your Order.

Rodo.
Let 'em enter,
A Woman!—

Enter Ethelinda, and two Attendants, guarded.
Ethel.
Is there then an End of Sorrows!
[Running to Aribert.
Has then that cruel Chance that long pursu'd me,
That vext me with her various Malice long,
Been kind at last, and blest me to my Wish,
Lodg'd me once more within thy faithful Arms!

Ari.
Oh my foreboding Heart! Oh fatal Meeting!

Ethel.
Why droops my Love, my Lord, my Aribert?
Why dost thou sigh and press me? and oh! wherefore,
Wherefore these Tears that stain thy manly Visage?
They told me Heav'n had strove for thy Deliverance,
Had rais'd thee up some kind, some great Preserver,
To save thee from thy cruel Brother's Hand.
Why therefore do'st thou mourn, when thou art blest?
Or does some new Affliction wound thee? Say:
Perhaps I am the Cause.

Rodo.
By all the Tortures,
The Pangs that rend my groaning Breast, 'tis she,
My curst, my happy Rival. See the Syren,
See how with eager Eyes he drinks her Charms,
Mark how he listens to her sweet Allurements;
She winds her self about his easie Heart,
And melts him with her soft enchanting Tongue.

Ethel.
Wo't thou not answer yet?

Ari.
Oh Ethelinda!
Why art thou here? Is this the Britons Camp?
Is Lucius here? Hast thou a Brother here,
To guard thy helpless Innocence from Wrong?

Ethel.
Have I not thee?

Ari.
Me!—what can I do for thee?
For we are wretched both.

Rodo.
I'll doubt no more.
My jealous Heart confesses her its Foe,
And beats and rises, eager to oppose her;
Nor shall the Triumph o'er me. No, ye Gods!
If I am doom'd by you to be a Wretch,
She too shall suffer with me. Prince, you seem
[To Aribert.
To know this Pris'ner, whom the Saxon Chiefs
Accuse of flying to our Foes, the Britons.
However, I will think more nobly of you,
Than to believe you conscious of the Treason;
Nor can you greive, if Justice dooms her to
That Fate she has deserv'd. Bear her to Death.

[To the Guards.
Ethel.
Alas! to Death!—What mean you? say, by what
Unknown, unwilling Crime have I offended?
To you, fair Princess, since 'tis you that judge me,
Tho' now this Moment to my Eyes first known,
To you I bend, to you I will appeal,
[Kneeling.
And learn my Crime from you.

Ari.
Learn it from me;
I am thy Crime, 'tis Aribert destroys thee.

Ethel.
If thou art my Offence I've sinn'd indeed,
Ev'n to a vast and numberless Account;
For from the Time when I beheld thee first,
[To Aribert.
My Soul has not one Moment been without thee;
Still thou hast been my Wish, my constant Thought,
Like Light, the daily Blessing of my Eyes,
And the dear Dream of all my sweetest Slumbers.

Rodo.
Oh the distracting Thought!

Ethel.
Nor will you think it
[To Rodogune.
A Crime to love, for that I love is true.
In your fair Eyes I read your native Goodness.
Hap'ly some noble Youth shall in your Breast
Kindle the pure, the gentle Flame, and prove
As dear to you, as Aribert to me.
Would it be just that you should die for loving?
Think but on that, and I shall find your Pity;
For Pity sure and Mercy dwell with Love.

Rodo.
Be dumb for ever, let the Hand of Death
Close thy bewitching Eyes, and seal thy Lips,
That thou may'st look and talk no more Delusion.
For oh! thy ev'ry Glance, each Sound shoots thro' me,
And kills my very Heart. Hence, bear her hence.
My Peace is lost for ever—but she dies.—

Ari.
Oh hold! for—

Rodo.
Wherefore do'st thou catch my Garment?
Thou that hast set me on the Rack; com'st thou
To double all my Pains, and with new Terrors,
Dreadful, to shake my agonizing Soul?

Ari.
What shall I say to move thee?

Rodo.
Talk for ever,
Winds shall be still, and Seas forget to roar,
The Din of babling Crowds, and peopled Cities,
All shall be hush'd as Death, while thou art speaking,
For there is Musick in thy Voice.

Ari.
Then hear me;
With gentlest Patience, with Compassion hear me,
Thus while I fall before thee, grasp thee thus,
Thus, with a bleeding Heart, and streaming Eyes,
Implore thee for my Ethelinda's Life.

Rodo.
Tho' thou wert dearer to my doating Eyes
Than all they knew besides, tho' I could hear thee
While Ages past away; yet, by the Gods,
If such there are, who rule o'er Love and Jealousie,
And swell our heaving Breasts with mortal Passions,
I swear she dies, my hated Rival dies.

Ari.
Then I have only one Request to make,
Which sha'not be deny'd; to share one Fate,
And die with her I love.

Rodo.
Ungrateful Wretch!
Yet I would make thy Life my Care—

Ari.
No more:
Now I scorn Life indeed. Tho' you had Beauty,
More than the great Creator's bounteous Hand
Bestow'd on all his various Works together,
Tho' all Ambition asks, the kindly Purple,
Glory, and Wealth, and Pow'r, were yours to give,
Tho' length of Days, and Health were in your Hand,
And all were to be mine; yet I would chuse
To turn the Gift with Indignation back,
And rather fold my Ethelinda thus,
And sleep for ever with her in the Grave.

Rodo.
Then take thy Wish, and let both die together.
Yes, I will tear thee out from my Remembrance,
And be at Ease for ever.

Ethel.
Oh my Love!
What can I pay thee back for all this Truth?
What? but, like thee, to triumph in my Fate,
And think it more than Life to die with thee.
Haste then, ye Virgins, break the tender Turf,
And let your chaster Hands prepare the Bed,
Where my dear Lord and I must rest together:
There let the Mirtle and the Rose be strow'd,
For 'tis my second better Bridal Day.
On my cold Bosom let his Head be laid,
And look that none disturb us;
'Till the last Trumpet's Sound break our long Sleep,
And call us up to everlasting Bliss.

Rodo.
Hence with 'em, take 'em, drive 'em from my Sight,
The fatal Pair.—
[Exeunt Aribert and Ethelinda guarded.
That Look shall my last.
I feel my Soul impatient of its Bondage,
Disdaining this unworthy, idle Passion,
And strugling to be free. Now, now it shoots,
It tow'rs upon the Wing to Crowns and Empire;
While Love and Aribert, those meaner Names,
Are left far, far behind, and lost for ever.
So if by chance the Eagle's noble Off-spring,
Ta'en in the Nest, becomes some Peasant's Prize,
Compell'd a while he bears his Cage and Chains,
And like a Pris'ner with the Clown remains;
But when his Plumes shoot forth, and Pinions swell,
He quits the Rustick, and his homely Cell,
Breaks from his Bonds, and in the face of Day,
Full in the Sun's bright Beams he soars away;
Delights thro' Heav'n's wide pathless Ways to go,
Plays with Joue's Shafts, and grasps his dreadful Bow,
Dwells with immortal Gods, and scorns the World below.

[Exeunt Rodogune and Attendants.