University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

A grove.
Enter Osmond solus.
Now I am settled in my forceful sway,
Why then, I'll be luxurious in my love;
Take my full gust, and, setting forms aside,
I'll bid the slave, that fires my blood, obey.

Enter Grimbald, who meets him.
Grim.
Not so fast, master, danger threatens thee:
There's a black cloud ascending from above,
Full of heav'n's venom, bursting o'er thy head.

Osm.
Malicious fiend, thou ly'st: for I am fenc'd
By millions of thy fellows, in my grove:
I bad thee, when I freed thee from the charm,
Run scouting thro' the wood, from tree to tree,
And look if all my devils were on duty:
Hadst thou perform'd thy charge, thou tardy sprite,
Thou wouldst have known no danger threaten'd me.

Grim.
When did a devil fail in diligence?
Poor mortal, thou thyself art overseen;
I have been there, and hence I bring this news.
Thy fatal foe, great Arthur, is at hand:
Merlin has ta'en his time, while thou wert absent,
T'observe thy characters, their force, and nature,
And counterwork thy spells.

Osm.
Perdition seize on Merlin!
I'll cast 'em all a-new, and instantly,
All of another mould; be thou at hand.
Their composition was, before of horror;
Now they shall be of blandishment, and love;
Seducing hopes, soft pity, tender moans:
Art shall meet art: and, when they think to win,
The fools shall find their labours to begin.

[Exeunt Osm. and Grimb.

SCENE II.

A wood, with a large oak in the front.
Enter Arthur, and Merlin on the other side.
Merl.
Thus far it is permitted me to go;
But all beyond this spot is fenc'd with charms;
I may no more, but only with advice.

Arth.
My sword shall do the rest.

Merl.
Remember well, that all is but illusion;
Go on; good stars attend thee.

Arth.
Doubt me not.

Merl.
Yet in prevention
Of what may come, I'll leave my Philidel
To watch thy steps, and with him leave my wand;
The touch of which no earthy fiend can bear,
In whate'er shape transform'd, but must lay down
His borrow'd figure; and confess the devil.
Once more farewell, and prosper.
[Ex. Merlin.

Arth.
[walking.]
No danger yet, I see no walls of fire,
No city of the fiends, with forms obscene,
To grin from far on flaming battlements.
This is indeed the grove I should destroy;
But where's the horror? sure the prophet err'd.
Hark! musick, and the warbling notes of birds;
[Singing of birds, within.
More wonders yet; yet all delightful too.
The Scene opens and discovers a pleasant river, shaded with trees, a golden bridge over it.
A silver current to forbid my passage,
And yet t'invite me, stands a golden bridge:
Perhaps a trap for my unwary feet,
To sink and whelm me underneath the waves;
With fire or water. Let him wage his war,
Or all the elements at once, I'll on.

[As he is going to the bridge, two Syrens arise from the water, and sing.
Arth.
A lazy pleasure trickles thro' my veins;
Here could I stay, and well be cozen'd here.
But Honour calls; is Honour in such haste?
Can it not bait at such a pleasing inn?
No; for the more I look, the more I long:
Farewel, ye fair illusions, I must leave ye,
While I have pow'r to say, that I must leave ye.
Farewel, with half my soul I stagger off;
How dear this flying victory has cost,
When if I stay to struggle, I am lost.

[As he is going forward, nymphs and sylvans come out from behind the trees.
Arth.
And what are these fantastick fairy joys,
To love like mine? False joys, false welcomes all.
Be gone, ye sylvan trippers of the green;
Fly after night, and overtake the moon.
[Singers and Sirens vanish.
This goodly tree seems queen of all the grove.
The ringlets round her trunk declare her guilty
Of many midnight sabbaths revell'd here.
Her will I first attempt.
[Arthur strikes at the tree, and cuts it; blood spouts out of it, a groan follows, then a shriek.
Good heav'n, what monstrous prodigies are these!
Blood follows from my blow; the wounded rind
Spouts on my sword, and sanguine dyes the plain.

[He strikes again: a voice of Emmeline from behind.
Em.
[from behind.]
Forbear, if thou hast pity, ah, forbear!
These groans proceed not from a senseless plant,
No spouts of blood run welling from a tree.

Arth.
Speak what thou art; I charge thee speak thy being:
Thou hast made my curdled blood run back,
My heart heave up, my hair to rise in bristles,
And scarcely left a voice to ask thy name.

[Emmel. breaks out of the tree, shewing her arm bloody.
Em.
Whom thou hast hurt, unkind and cruel, see;
Look on this blood, 'tis fatal, still, to me,
To bear thy wounds, my heart has felt 'em first.

Arth.
'Tis she: amazement roots me to the ground!

Em.
By cruel charms, dragg'd from my peaceful bower,
Fierce Osmond clos'd me in this bleeding bark;
And bid me stand expos'd to the bleak winds,
And winter storms, and heav'ns inclemency,
Bound to the fate of this hell-haunted grove;
So that whatever sword, or sounding axe,
Shall violate this plant, must pierce my flesh,
And, when that falls I die.—

Arth.
If this be true,
O never, never to be ended charm,
At least by me! Yet all may be illusion.
Break up, ye thick'ning fogs, and filmy mists,
All that bely my sight, and cheat my sense;
For reason still pronounces, 'tis not she,
And thus resolv'd—

[Lifts up his sword, as going to strike.
Em.
Do, strike, barbarian, strike;
And strew my mangled limbs, with every stroke.
Wound me, and doubly kill me, with unkindness,
That, by thy hand I fell.

Arth.
What shall I do, ye powers?

Em.
Lay down thy vengeful sword; 'tis fatal here:
What need of arms, where no defence is made?
A love-sick virgin, panting with desire,
No conscious eye t'intrude on our delights;
For this thou hast the Siren's songs despis'd;
For this, thy faithful passion I reward;
Haste then, to take me longing to thy arms.

Arth.
O love! O Merlin! whom should I believe?

Em.
Believe thy self, thy youth, thy love, and me;
They only, they, who please themselves, are wise:
Disarm thy hand, that mine may meet it bare.

Arth.
By thy leave, reason, here I throw thee off,
Thou load of life: if thou wert made for souls,
Then souls should have been made without their bodies.
If, falling for the first created fair
Was Adam's fault, great grandsire, I forgive thee;
Eden was lost, as all thy sons would lose it.

[Going toward Emmeline, and pulling off his gauntlet.
Enter Philidel running.
Phil.
Hold, poor deluded mortal, hold thy hand;
Which, if thou giv'st, is plighted to a fiend.
For proof, behold the virtue of this wand;
Th'infernal paint shall vanish from her face,
And hell shall stand reveal'd.
[Strikes Emmeline with a wand, who straight descends: Grimbald appears in her place.
Now see to whose embraces thou wert falling.
Behold the maiden modesty of Grimbald!
The grossest, earthiest, ugliest fiend in hell.

Arth.
Horror seizes me,
To think what headlong ruin I have tempted.

Phil.
Haste to thy work; a noble stroke or two
Ends all the charms, and disenchants the grove.
I'll hold thy mistress bound.

[Chains Grimbald.
Arth.
Then here's for earnest;
[Strikes twice or trice, the tree sinks amidst thunder and lightning, and the bridge breaks down.
'Tis finish'd, and the dusk, that yet remains,
Is but the native horror of the wood.
But I must lose no time; the pass is free;
Th'unroosted fiends have quitted this abode;
On yon proud towers, before this day be done,
My glittering banners shall be wav'd against the setting sun.
[Exit Arthur.

Phil.
Come on, my surly slave; come stalk along,
And stamp a mad-man's pace, and drag thy chain.

Grim.
I'll champ and foam upon't, till the blue venom
Work upwards to thy hands, and loose their hold.

Phil.
Know'st thou this pow'erful wand? 'tis lifted up;
A second stroke wou'd send thee to the centre,
Benumb'd and dead, as far as souls can die.

Grim.
I wou'd thou woud'st, to rid me of my sense:
I shall be whoop'd thro' hell, at my return
Inglorious from the mischief I design'd.

Phil.

CHORUS.
Victory! victory!