University of Virginia Library

SCENE VIII.

Eltruda, Hermit, and the others.
Alfred passing under the triumphal arches: The sun, at the same time, rising above the horizon.
Eltruda.
He comes! the conqueror comes—

Alfred.
In these lov'd arms
To lose all sorrow, and all bliss to find!

Eltruda.
O from what fears deliver'd for thy life,
And in that life for a whole people's being,
I thus receive thee back! thus fold thee safe!
Love only, love like mine, can feel, not utter!

Alfred.
To Him ascend all praise! whose will inspir'd,
Whose arm sustain'd this action, that restores
My better name—and, O more glorious still,
Of nobler, dearer consequence!—restores
Lost England to her vigor, fame and freedom.

Hermit.
For her, O Alfred, your more arduous task
But now begins: this conquest to secure;
To spread it's influence wide, and, well improv'd
By unremitting vigilance and valor,
Make this one blow decisive of her fate.
But now behold, to animate thy hope,
In mystic shew express'd what late thy fortune
Seem'd to portend; and what the brightening scene
With fairer promise opens.

Four Furies arise, to the sound of instruments in discord, at four different openings from under ground, with torches in their left hands, and bloody swords in their right. They form a confused Pyrrhic dance, shaking and pointing their swords and torches round the king in their centre: till, upon a change of the music into regular harmony, descends the Genius of England, with a crowned sword in one hand, and a lawrel wreathe in the other. On sight of whom the four Furies sink thro the openings they arose from. He presents the crowned sword and lawrel-branch at the feet of the king, and reascends, while the following song is sung.

At last, at last,
Our night is past,
The gloomy night of fear:
And o'er our skies
Fair beams arise
Of peace and joy sincere.
Then let triumph abound!
Let ecstacy reign!
Till these hills all around,—around
Improving each strain,
Our transports resound;—resound
The heart-felt transport that succeeds to pain!

Alfred.
I hail th'auspicious omen—but ah me!
Eltruda, see, where comes th'unhappy king!

Eltruda.
Oh sight of woe!

Alfred.
Retire, my gentle love:
An interview like this were too severe
For thy soft nature.