 | Alfred |  |
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SCENE VIII.
Alfred, Corin, supporting the lady.Alfred.
This way, brave shepherd, from these closer shades—
Here the free air and breezy glade will rouse
Her fainting spirits—So—Who may she be?
Perhaps, some worthy heart at this sad moment
Akes for her safety.
Eltruda.
Save me, save me, heaven!
Alfred.
Ye powers! what do I hear?—Yes—yes—'tis she!
My wife, my queen! the treasure of my soul!
Eltruda.
My Alfred!
Alfred.
My Eltruda!
Eltruda.
Can it be?
Or is it all th'illusion of my fear?
O no: 'tis he—my lord! my life! my husband!
My guardian angel Alfred.
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My Eltruda!
Black horror chills me while I view the brink,
The dreadful precipice, on which we stood—
And was it thee I rescu'd from these ruffians—
O Providence amazing!—thee, Eltruda!
Eltruda.
I tremble still!—from worse than death deliver'd!
And am I then secure in Alfred's arms?
Alfred.
There let me hold thee; lull thy fears to rest:
There hush thy soul with everlasting fondness.
The panting bird so flutters, just escap'd
The fowler's snare.
Eltruda.
My heart, my heart is full—
And must o'erflow in tears. A thousand thoughts
Are busy here—That ever we should meet
In such a dire extremity!—Ah me!
That ever Alfred's family and children
Should need the shelter of his single arm!
Alfred.
My children!—where, where are they?
Eltruda.
Turn thine eyes
To yonder cottage: there conceal'd—
Alfred.
My Corin,
Fly, bring them to my arms. But say, my love,
Why didst thou leave the convent, where I plac'd thee?
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A barbarous land, where violence inhabits?
Our hospitable England is no more.
Eltruda.
Alas! my Alfred, even the peaceful cells,
Where safe beneath religion's holy veil
Her cloister'd votaries dwelt, from impious Danes
No reverence claim. The villages around,
Dispers'd and flying wild before their arms,
Inform'd us, a near party, on whose course
Destruction waits, were marching full to us.
Instant I fled. Two faithful servants bore
Our children off: and heaven has sav'd us all!
Alfred.
O welcome to my soul!—O happy Alfred!
Thus to have rescu'd what the feeling heart
Most dear and precious holds, from men who war
With earth and heaven.
Eltruda.
Tho terrible at first,
Blest be the tempest that has driven me hither,
Into this safe, this sacred harbor!
Alfred.
Come,
O come, and here repose thee from the storm,
Within these sheltering arms.
Eltruda,
holding him off.
Yet—let me view thee—
My king and husband—do I find thee thus?
[falling into his arms.
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To soothe thy woes, to watch thy broken slumbers,
With every fonder service, pious love
Best knows to pay!—There is in love a power,
There is a soft divinity that draws,
Even from distress, those transports that delight
The breast they pain, and it's best powers exalt
Above all taste of joys from vulgar life!
Alfred.
O 'tis too much—thou all that makes life glorious!
Nay look not on me with this sweet dejection;
Thro tears that pierce the soul—
My children too!
My little ones! Come to your fire's embrace:
'Tis all he can bestow—In them behold
What human grandeur is—The peasant's offspring
Have some retreat, some safe, tho lowly home:
But you, my babes, you have no habitation!
With pain and peril wandering thro a land,
A ruin'd country you were born to rule!
The thought unmans my reason.
| Alfred | |