University of Virginia Library

SCENE IX.

Alfred, Eltruda, Hermit.
Hermit.
I have heard
Thy fond complainings, Alfred.

Alfred.
You have then,
Good father, heard the cause that wrings them from me.

Hermit.
The human race are sons of sorrow born:
And each must have his portion. Vulgar minds
Refuse, or crouch beneath their load: the brave
Bear theirs without repining.

Alfred.
Who can bear
The shaft that wounds him thro an infant's side?
When whom we love, to whom we owe protection,
Implore the hand we cannot reach to save them.

Hermit.
Weep not, Eltruda.—Yet, thou art a king;
All private passions fall before that name.
Thy subjects claim thee whole.

Alfred.
Can public trust,
O reverend sage! destroy the softer ties
That twine around the parent's yearning heart?
This holy passion heaven itself infus'd,
And blended with the stream that feeds our life.
All nature feels it intimate and deep,
And all her sons of instinct and of reason.

Hermit.
Then shew that passion in it's noblest form.
Think what a task it is, to rear those minds,
On whom the fate of millions, general bliss,
Or universal misery, depends.

Alfred.
That task then, difficult alike and noble,
Be thine, O sacred sage; to whose try'd wisdom
I, henceforth, solely trust their tender years.
Let truth and virtue be their earliest teachers.
Keep from their ear the syren-voice of flattery;
Keep from their eye the harlot-form of vice,
Who spread, in every court, their silken snares,
And charm but to betray. Betimes instruct them,
Superior rank demands superior worth;
Pre-eminence of valor, justice, mercy:
But chief, that tho exalted o'er mankind,
They are themselves but men—frail suffering dust;
From no one injury of human lot
Exempt: but fever'd by the same heat, chill'd
By the same cold, torn by the same disease,
That scorches, freezes, racks, and kills the beggar.
Should fairer days, returning, smile again
On England and on me—
Ha! Edwin here?
This way, my friend—speak softly—

Edwin
whispers the king aside.
How!—'tis well!—
Back to thy post: I follow on the instant—
Yet stay—Behold my queen, and infant-sons!
Edwin—thy king's whole wealth is there summ'd up!
Nay, wipe thine eyes: and tell my gallant friends
What thou hast seen. The tale will lend new force
To each man's arm, and with redoubled weight
Urge every well-aim'd blow. Hence! speed thee well.
Eltruda—we must part—

Eltruda.
What do I hear?
My life, my love—

Alfred.
Part for a few sad moments,
That our next meeting may be long and happy.

Eltruda.
What leave me now? O my presaging heart!
Already leave me! 'Tis the dreadful call
Of glory, somewhat perilously great,
And big with urgent haste, that tears thee from me.
Oh Alfred—

Alfred.
No fond weakness now be shewn,
Eltruda, no distrust of virtue's fate.
Thou and thy children are, at present, safe
In this wise Hermit's care. For what remains;
My cause is just, my fortune in His hand
Who reigns supreme, almighty and all-good.
That Power who stills the raging of the main,
The rage of all our foes can render vain.
To his unerring will resign'd sincere,
I fear that God, and know no other fear!