 | Alfred |  |
SCENE III.
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?
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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?
That holy passion heaven itself infus'd,
And blended with the stream that feeds our life.
Hermit.
You love your children, Prince—
Alfred.
Lives there on earth,
In air, or ocean, creature tame or wild
That has not known this universal love?
All nature feels it intimate and deep,
And all her sons of instinct or of reason.
Hermit.
Then shew that passion in its noblest form.
Season their tender years with every virtue,
Social or self-retir'd; of public greatness,
Or lovely in the hour of private life;
With all that can exalt, or can adorn
Their princely rank.
Alfred.
Alas, their hope must stoop,
Such my unhappy fate, to humbler aims:
Affliction and base want must be their teachers.
Hermit.
Affliction is the wholesome soil of virtue:
Where patience, honor, sweet humanity,
Calm fortitude take root, and strongly flourish.
But prosperous fortune, that allures with pleasure,
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Poisons the soil, and its best product kills.
Should'st thou regain thy throne—
Alfred.
My throne? What glimpse,
What smallest ray of hope—
Hermit.
That day may come—
What do I feel? My labouring breast expands
To give the glorious inspiration room.
And now the cloud that o'er thy future fate,
Like total night, lay heavy and obscure,
Fades into air: and all the brightening scene
Dawns gay before me! A long line of kings,
From thee descending, glorious and renown'd,
In shadowy pomp I see!
What do I feel? My labouring breast expands
To give the glorious inspiration room.
And now the cloud that o'er thy future fate,
Like total night, lay heavy and obscure,
Fades into air: and all the brightening scene
Dawns gay before me! A long line of kings,
From thee descending, glorious and renown'd,
In shadowy pomp I see!
Genius of England! hovering near,
In all thy radiant charms appear.
In all thy radiant charms appear.
O come and summon, from the world unknown,
Those mighty chiefs, those sons of future fame,
Who, ages hence, this island shall renown,
And spread to distant realms her dreaded name.
Slow let the visionary forms arise,
And solemn pass before our wondring eyes.
Those mighty chiefs, those sons of future fame,
Who, ages hence, this island shall renown,
And spread to distant realms her dreaded name.
Slow let the visionary forms arise,
And solemn pass before our wondring eyes.
[Music grand and awful. The Genius descending sings the following
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From those eternal regions bright,
Where suns, that never set in night,
Diffuse the golden day:
Where spring unfading pours around,
O'er all the dew-impearled ground,
Her thousand colors gay:
O whether on the fountain's flowery side,
Whence living waters glide,
Or in the fragrant grove,
Whose shade embosoms peace and love,
New pleasures all your hours employ,
And rapture every sense with every joy!
Great heirs of empire! yet unborn,
Who shall this island late adorn;
A monarch's drooping thought to chear,
Appear! appear! appear!
Spirits of Edward III. Philippa his queen, and the Black Prince his son, arise.
Hermit.
Alfred, look; and say,
What seest thou yonder?
Alfred.
Three majestic shapes:
Two habited like mighty warriors old;
A third in whose bright aspect beauty smiles
More soft and feminine. A lucid veil,
From her fair neck dependent floats around,
Light-hovering in the gale.
Hermit.
O Alfred, man
Belov'd of heaven, behold a King indeed;
Matchless in arms; in arts of peaceful rule,
A sovereign's truest glory, yet more fam'd,
England's third Edward!—At his fear'd approach,
Proud France, even now, thro all her dukedoms quakes.
Her Genius sighs: and from th'eternal shore,
The soul of her great Charles, a recent guest,
Looks back to earth, and mourns the distant woes,
His realms are doom'd to feel from Edward's wrath.
Beneath his standard, Britain shall go forth,
Array'd for conquest, terrible in glory:
And nations shrink before her. O what deaths,
What desolation shall her vengeance spread,
From engines yet unfound; whose lightnings flash,
Whose thunders roar, amazing, o'er the plain:
As if this King had summon'd from on high
Heaven's dread artillery to fight his battle!
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Matchless in arms; in arts of peaceful rule,
A sovereign's truest glory, yet more fam'd,
England's third Edward!—At his fear'd approach,
Proud France, even now, thro all her dukedoms quakes.
Her Genius sighs: and from th'eternal shore,
The soul of her great Charles, a recent guest,
Looks back to earth, and mourns the distant woes,
His realms are doom'd to feel from Edward's wrath.
Beneath his standard, Britain shall go forth,
Array'd for conquest, terrible in glory:
And nations shrink before her. O what deaths,
What desolation shall her vengeance spread,
From engines yet unfound; whose lightnings flash,
Whose thunders roar, amazing, o'er the plain:
As if this King had summon'd from on high
Heaven's dread artillery to fight his battle!
Nor is renown in war his sole ambition:
A nobler passion labours in his breast—
Alfred attend—to make his people blest!
The sacred rights that Reason loudly claims
For free-born men—these, Alfred, are his care:
Oft to confirm, and fix them on the base
Of equal laws.—O father of mankind!
Successive praises from a grateful land
Shall saint thy name for ever!
A nobler passion labours in his breast—
Alfred attend—to make his people blest!
The sacred rights that Reason loudly claims
For free-born men—these, Alfred, are his care:
Oft to confirm, and fix them on the base
Of equal laws.—O father of mankind!
Successive praises from a grateful land
Shall saint thy name for ever!
Alfred.
Holy sage,
Whom angels thus enlighten and inspire,
My bosom kindles at thy heaven-born flame.
Great Edward! Be thy conquests and their praise
Unrival'd to thy self. But O thy fame
For care paternal of the public weal;
For England blest at home—my rapt heart pants
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Hermit.
Know farther, Alfred;
A sovereign's great example forms a people.
The public breast is noble, or is vile,
As he inspires it. In this Edward's time,
Warm'd by his courage, by his honor rais'd,
High flames the British spirit, like the sun,
To shine o'er half the globe: and where it shines,
The cherish'd world to brighten and enrich.
A sovereign's great example forms a people.
The public breast is noble, or is vile,
As he inspires it. In this Edward's time,
Warm'd by his courage, by his honor rais'd,
High flames the British spirit, like the sun,
To shine o'er half the globe: and where it shines,
The cherish'd world to brighten and enrich.
Last see this monarch in his hour of leisure;
Even social on a throne, and tasting joys
To solitary greatness seldom known:
As friend, as husband, and as father blest.
That god-like Youth remark, his eldest hope,
Who gives new lustre to the name he bears;
A hero ere a man.—I see him now
On Cressy's glorious plain! The father's heart,
With anxious love and wonder at his daring,
Beats high in mingled transport. Great himself,
Great above jealousy, the guilty mark
That brands all meaner minds, see, he applauds
The filial excellence, and gives him scope
To blaze in his full brightness!—Lo again,
He sends him dreadful to a nobler field:
The danger and the glory all his own!
A captive King, the rival of his arms,
I see adorn his triumph! Heaven! what grace
What splendor from his gracious temper mild
That triumph draws! As gentle Mercy kind,
He chears the hostile prince whose fall he weeps!
Even social on a throne, and tasting joys
To solitary greatness seldom known:
As friend, as husband, and as father blest.
That god-like Youth remark, his eldest hope,
Who gives new lustre to the name he bears;
A hero ere a man.—I see him now
On Cressy's glorious plain! The father's heart,
With anxious love and wonder at his daring,
Beats high in mingled transport. Great himself,
Great above jealousy, the guilty mark
That brands all meaner minds, see, he applauds
The filial excellence, and gives him scope
To blaze in his full brightness!—Lo again,
He sends him dreadful to a nobler field:
The danger and the glory all his own!
A captive King, the rival of his arms,
I see adorn his triumph! Heaven! what grace
What splendor from his gracious temper mild
That triumph draws! As gentle Mercy kind,
He chears the hostile prince whose fall he weeps!
Alfred.
A son so rich in virtues, and so grac'd
With all that gives those virtues fair to shine,
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Should claim the foremost place.
Hermit.
Remember then,
What to thy infant sons from thee is due,
As parent and as prince.
Eltruda.
Forgive me, Hermit,
Forgive a queen and wife her anxious fondness.
Yon beauteous shade, that, as I gaze her o'er,
My wonder draws, escapes your graver thought.
Hermit.
O bright Eltruda! thou whose blooming youth,
Whose amiable sweetness promise blessings
To Alfred and to England! see, and mark,
In yonder pleasing form, the best of wives,
The happiest too, repaid with all the faith,
With all the friendship, love and duty claim.
She, powerful o'er the heart her charms enslave—
O virtue rarely practis'd!—uses nobly
That happy influence; to prompt each purpose
Fair honor kindles in her Edward's breast.
Amid the pomps, the pleasures of a court,
Humble of heart, severely good: the friend
Of modest worth, the parent of the poor.
Eltruda! O transmit these noblest charms
To that fair daughter, that unfolding rose,
With which, as on this day, heaven crown'd your loves.
The spirit of Elizabeth arises.
Alfred.
Say, who is she, in whom the noble graces,
Th'engaging manner, dignity and ease,
Are join'd with manly sense and resolution?
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The great Eliza. She, amid a world
That threatning swells in high commotion round her;
Each dangerous state her unrelenting foe,
And chief a proud enormous empire stretch'd
O'er half mankind; with not one friendly power,
But what her kind creating hand shall raise
From out the marshes of the branching Rhine;
And min'd, at home, her ever-tottering throne
By restless bigots, who, beneath the mask
Of mild religion, are to every crime
Set loose, the faithless sons of barbarous zeal:
Yet she shall crown this happy isle with peace,
With arts, with riches, grandeur and renown;
And dash, by turns, the madness of her foes.
As when the winds, from different quarters, urge
The tempest on our shore: secure, the cliffs
Repel its idle rage, and pour it back,
In broken billows, foaming to the main.
Alfred.
How shall she, Hermit, gain these glorious ends?
Hermit.
By silent wisdom, whose informing power
Works unperceiv'd: that seems in council slow;
But, when resolv'd and ripe for execution,
That parts like lightning from the secret gloom.
By ever seizing the right point of view,
Her truest interest; which she firm pursues,
With steady patience, thro the maze of state,
The storm of opposition, the mixt views,
And thwarting manag'd passions of mankind.
By healing the divisions of her people,
And sowing that fell pest among her foes.
By saving, from the vermin of a court,
Her treasure; which, when fair occasion calls,
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In guarding nations, and in nursing states.
By calling up to power, and public life,
Each virtue, each ability: yet she,
Amid the various worthies glowing round her,
Still shines the first; the central sun that wakes,
That rules their every motion: not the slave,
And passive property of her own creatures.
But the great soul that animates her reign,
That lights it to perfection, is the love,
The confidence unbounded, which her wisdom,
Her probity and justice, shall inspire
Into the public breast. Hence cordial faith,
Which nought can shake; hence unexhausted treasure:
And hence, above all mercenary force,
The hand that by the freeborn heart is rais'd,
And guards the blended weal of prince and people.
She too shall rouse Britannia's naval soul;
Shall greatly ravish, from insulting Spain,
The world-commanding scepter of the deep.
Eltruda.
O matchless queen! O glory of her sex!
The great idea, father, fills my soul,
And bids it glow beyond a woman's passions.
Spirit of William III. arises.
Hermit.
Once more, O Alfred, raise thine eyes, and mark,
Who next adorns the scene, yon laurel'd shade.
Ere yet the age that clos'd this female reign
Hath led around its train of circling years,
Shall Britain on the verge of ruin stand.
A monarch, lost to greatness, to renown,
The slave of dreaming monks, shall fill her throne.
Weak and aspiring; fond of lawless rule,
The lawless rule his mean ambition covets
Unequal to acquire. Yon prince thou saw'st,
To glory tutor'd by the hand severe
Of sharp Adversity, shall heaven upraise,
And injur'd nations with joint call invoke,
Their last, their only refuge. Lo! he comes:
Wide o'er the billows of the boundless deep
His navy rides triumphant: and the shores
Of shouting Albion echo with his name.
Immortal William! from before his face,
Flies Superstition, flies oppressive Power,
With vile Servility that crouch'd and kiss'd
The whip he trembled at. From this great hour
Shall Britain date her rights and laws restor'd:
And one high purpose rule her sovereign's heart;
To scourge the pride of France, that foe profess'd
To England and to freedom. Yet I see,
From distant climes in peaceful triumph borne,
Another King arise! His early youth
With living laurel crown'd, for deeds of arms
That Reason's voice approves; for courage, rais'd
Beyond all aid from passion, greatly calm!
Intrepidly serene!—In days of peace,
Around his throne the human virtues wait,
And fair adorn him with their mildest beams;
Good without show, above ambition great;
Wise, equal, merciful, the friend of man!
Who next adorns the scene, yon laurel'd shade.
Ere yet the age that clos'd this female reign
Hath led around its train of circling years,
Shall Britain on the verge of ruin stand.
A monarch, lost to greatness, to renown,
The slave of dreaming monks, shall fill her throne.
Weak and aspiring; fond of lawless rule,
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Unequal to acquire. Yon prince thou saw'st,
To glory tutor'd by the hand severe
Of sharp Adversity, shall heaven upraise,
And injur'd nations with joint call invoke,
Their last, their only refuge. Lo! he comes:
Wide o'er the billows of the boundless deep
His navy rides triumphant: and the shores
Of shouting Albion echo with his name.
Immortal William! from before his face,
Flies Superstition, flies oppressive Power,
With vile Servility that crouch'd and kiss'd
The whip he trembled at. From this great hour
Shall Britain date her rights and laws restor'd:
And one high purpose rule her sovereign's heart;
To scourge the pride of France, that foe profess'd
To England and to freedom. Yet I see,
From distant climes in peaceful triumph borne,
Another King arise! His early youth
With living laurel crown'd, for deeds of arms
That Reason's voice approves; for courage, rais'd
Beyond all aid from passion, greatly calm!
Intrepidly serene!—In days of peace,
Around his throne the human virtues wait,
And fair adorn him with their mildest beams;
Good without show, above ambition great;
Wise, equal, merciful, the friend of man!
O Alfred! should thy fate, long ages hence,
In meaning scenes recall'd, exalt the joy
Of some glad festal day, before a prince
Sprung from that king belov'd—Hear, gracious heaven!
Thy soft humanity, thy patriot heart,
Thy manly virtue, steddy, great, resolv'd,
Be his supreme ambition! and with these,
The happiness, the glory, that await
Thy better days—be shower'd upon his head!
In meaning scenes recall'd, exalt the joy
Of some glad festal day, before a prince
Sprung from that king belov'd—Hear, gracious heaven!
Thy soft humanity, thy patriot heart,
Thy manly virtue, steddy, great, resolv'd,
Be his supreme ambition! and with these,
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Thy better days—be shower'd upon his head!
Alfred.
O Hermit! thou hast rais'd me to new life!
New hopes, new triumphs swell my bounding heart—
Hermit.
It comes! it comes!—The promis'd scene discloses!
Already the great work of fate begins!
The mighty wheels are turning, whence will spread,
Beyond the limits of our narrow world,
The fair dominions, Alfred, of thy sons.
Behold the warrior bright with Danish spoils!—
The raven droops his wings—and hark! the trumpet,
Exulting, speaks the rest.
| Alfred | |