University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

SCENE, a Fortress belonging to Morcar.
Edwin alone (in chains.)
Edwin.
It is the will of heav'n, and must be done
The hard-fought field is lost, and here I am
A pris'ner in my brother's camp: alas!
That fortune thus shou'd guide me to a foe
Whom most I wish'd to shun! We little thought
The troops by Morcar led, had this way bent
Their ill-directed course: but providence
Hath so ordain'd, perhaps, to heal the wounds
Of civil discord. O! unhappy Edwin,
For what art thou reserv'd? No matter what.
Since fate depriv'd me of my dear Matilda,
Whom I for three long years have sought in vain;
Life hath been irksome to me: this, perchance,
May end it—For, who knows if nature yet
May live within the conqu'ror's breast, to plead
A brother's pardon? Yet he knows me not,
But soon he must—Ha! who comes here? Earl Siward!—
The second in command, to whom, o'erpower'd
By circling foes, and fainting with my wounds,
I yielded up my sword. If fame say true,
He bears a mind too great to look with scorn
On the oppress'd, or triumph o'er misfortune.

Enter Siward.
Siward.
Stranger, whoe'er thou art, be comforted;
Thy fate hath thrown thee into noble hands,
Who know thy merit. May I ask thy name?

Edwin.
I am a poor abandon'd wretch, the sport
Of fortune; one whose least affliction is
To be a captive, and from ev'ry eye
Wou'd wish to hide the story of my fate:
Too soon my name and sorrows will be known.

Siward.
Respect is ever due to misery:
I will not urge thee further; all I hope,
That gen'rous pity could afford to sooth
Calamity like thine, by my command,
Hath been extended to thee. Here awhile
You must remain a pris'ner, but e'er long
I hope to greet thee by a fairer name,
And rank thee as our friend.

Edwin.
Your genr'ous orders
Have been obey'd, and I acknowledge it
With grateful heart. May I not ask the fate
Of him who fought so nobly by my side,
That brave old man.

Siward.
The gallant Ranulph—

Edwin.
Yes;
My fellow captive.

Siward.
He is safe and free.

Edwin.
Ha! free! Thank heav'n!

Siward.
The gen'rous Morcar, urg'd
By my entreaties, pardon'd and releas'd him,
Tho' much our soldiers murmur'd, and demanded
His life and your's; a sacrifice, they said,
Due to the manes of their slaughter'd friends;
But mercy has prevail'd.

Edwin.
What e'er becomes
Of an unhappy wanderer, like me,
For your kind treatment of the aged Ranulph,
Accept my thanks; it was a precious boon;
Morcar may find me not unworthy of it.
To day I am his captive, but to-morrow
May see me his deliverer: for know
My royal master, the victorious William,
With eagle swiftness, soon will follow me
With twenty times your force. As this shall prove
Or true, or false, so deal with me; remember
I warn'd you of it.

Siward.
And remember thou
That I with joy receive the welcome news:
Welcome to me, for I am William's friend.

Edwin.
Thou can'st not then be mine, or England's foe:
With such a heart as thine, so nobly form'd
To feel for the afflicted, satisfy'd,
For thou seem'st, of William's royal right,
What cou'd engage thee in this foul revolt,
This base rebellion?

Siward.
What but the great bond
Of kindred souls, inviolable friendship!
The only solid bliss on this side heav'n,
That doubles all the joys of human life,
And, by dividing, lessens ev'ry woe.

Edwin.
Who knows but this day's sad event may prove
The happy means to heal a nation's wounds,
And sooth our jarring factions into peace?

Siward.
Had Morcar thought with me, lond since that end
Had been obtain'd; but Morcar is—

Edwin.
Inexorable,
So I have heard, and therefore little hope
To change his nature. O! cou'd he be wrought
To sweet oblivion of his wrongs; to bury
His deep resentment: Mine shou'd be the task,
A task, heav'n knows, I wou'd with joy perform,
To reconcile offended majesty:
To soften all his errors, plead his pardon,
And give my sov'reign one brave soldier more.

Siward.
When next we meet I trust it shall be so:
Mean time, let me prepare him for the change;
Retire a while—e'er long we'll send for thee,
For ev'ry moment I expect him here:
Thy freedom and thy happiness shall be
My first concern, for thou hast well deserv'd it.

Edwin.
Farewel. Be quick in your resolves; the time
Requires it; and be wise e'er 'tis too late.
[Exit Edwin.

Siward
. (alone)
I hope we shall. This well-tim'd victory,
If rightly us'd, may smooth our way to peace.
Now, Morcar, all thy happiness depends
Upon thyself alone. Now, friendship, raise
Thy pow'rful voice, and force him to be happy.
He will, he must—he comes—

Enter Morcar.
Siward.
My conqu'ror, welcome!

Morcar.
Thrice welcome to my arms, my noble Siward;
At length we meet in joy, the day is ours;
Thanks to thy friendly aid.

Siward.
We must not boast;
'Twas hardly purchas'd, and has cost us dear:
You follow'd 'em too close.

Morcar.
I own 'twas rash;
My youthful ardor urg'd the keen pusuit
Too far; and but for thee I had been lost.
In war, thy arm protects me, and in peace,
Thy councils guide. O! how shall I return
Thy goodness? Thou wer't born to save thy friend.

Siward.
Away. I'll not be thank'd. I've done my duty,
And if thou think'st thyself indebted for it,
Repay me not with flatt'ry, but with love.
E'er since my soul with thine, congenial met
In social bands, and mark'd thee for her own,
Thy int'rest and thy happiness have been
My first ambition; and when thou art blest
With all thy soul can wish for, Siward then,
And then alone, will have his full reward.

Morcar.
O, unexampled faithfulness and truth!
But say, my Siward, is our loss so great?

Siward.
The flow'r of half our troops. But 'tis not now
A time to weep, for I have glorious tidings,
That much import thy happiness.

Morcar.
Ha! what?

Siward.
Know that amongst our captives I have ta'en
A noble prize, will make us full amends
For ev'ry loss—the gallant Ranulph.

Morcar.
Ha!
Matilda's father! then I'm satisfy'd.
The wily chief! by heav'n he shall repay me
For her unkindness: Give him to my rage,
To my resentment, to my injur'd love.
Where is he, Siward?

Siward.
I have set him free.

Morcar.
Ha! free! Thy ill-tim'd mercy hath betray'd
Our cause. The tyrant wou'd have ransom'd him
With half his kingdom.

Siward.
Still thy rapid passions
O'erpow'r thy reason. What if it shou'd serve
A better purpose; smooth thy paths to bliss,
And gain Matilda for thee!

Morcar.
O, my friend!
My Siward, do not flatter me: By heav'n,
Her kind consent wou'd give my ravish'd soul
More true and heart-felt happiness than cou'd
A thousand vict'ries o'er the proud usurper.

Siward.
Know then, I gave him liberty and life
On these conditions—That he shou'd with-draw
His pow'rs from William's aid, and never more
Assist his cause; the time wou'd come, I told him,
That he shou'd know to whom he ow'd the boon,
And how he might repay it.

Morcar.
That was kind,
Indeed, my Siward, that was like a friend.
O! thou reviv'st my drooping heart; but tell me
Did my Matilda, let me call her mine,
Did she acknowledge, did she thank thee for it?

Siward.
O! I assum'd no merit; but to thee,
And to thy gen'rous, unexampled love
Did I attribute all. She sigh'd, and wept,
Pour'd forth a thousand blessings on thy head—

Morcar.
And do'st thou think, my Siward, that one ray
Of hope remains?

Siward.
The clouds already vanish,
The prospect brightens round thee; haste and seize
The lucky moment. When the gen'rous mind
Is sooth'd by obligation, soon it opens
To the mild dictates of humanity,
And softens into sympathy and love.

Morcar.
O, Siward! cou'd'st thou teach me but to win
That lovely maid—

Siward.
The task is half perform'd
Already, and my friend shall soon be bless'd.
One thing, and one alone, remains to fix
Her doubtful heart, if yet a doubt remains.

Morcar.
O! name it, Siward; if 'tis in the pow'r
Of wealth to purchase, or of victory
In the fair field of glory to acquire,
It shall not long be wanting.

Siward.
It requires
No price, but such as Morcar well can pay;
No vict'ry, but the vict'ry o'er thyself,
And thy own passions—Give up thy resentment,
Make peace with William, and Matilda's thine.

Morcar.
Matilda mine! and must I purchase her
At the dear price of honour? with the loss
Of all my soul holds dear, my country's welfare?
My word—

Siward.
Away! whilst prudence warranted
Our honest zeal, I was the first to aid
Thy just revenge; but valour ill-advis'd,
And ill-exerted in a hopeless cause,
Degen'rate into rashness. You mistake
The pride of honour, for the pride of virtue.

Morcar.
And wou'd'st thou have me bend beneath the yoke
Of ignominious slav'ry, quit the cause
Of heav'n-born freedom, and betray my friends?

Siward.
I'd have thee just and happy—We have been
Successful, let us now be generous,
Whilst we have something to bestow; nor wait
'Till fickle fortune from our brows shall tear
The blasted wreath, and leave us nought to give.
Too long already have we sacrific'd
At proud ambition's altar, to revenge;
Now let us offer at the shrine of peace,
And sacrifice—

Morcar.
To love, and to Matilda;
It shall be so—the struggle's past—away,
My Siward, haste, and tell her, I obey;
Her laws, her king, her master shall be mine;
I have no will but her's, and in her eyes
Will read my duty—Yet a moment stay,
What will my brave companions of the war,
My fellow soldiers say? Will they approve
This unexpected change?

Siward.
I know them firm
In their obedience, and resolv'd to act
As you command—But I will see 'em strait,
And urge such pow'rful reasons as may best
Secure them to our purpose. Fare thee well.

Morcar.
Siward, thy kind anticipating care
Prevents my ev'ry wish—But say, my friend,
Where is the gallant chief whom we subdu'd,
Who fought so hardly, and so nobly fell?

Siward.
In yonder tent, a wretched pris'ner still,
He counts the tedious hours; a heavy gloom
Sits on his brow, as if some deep-felt sorrow
Oppress'd his noble mind—We must release him.

Morcar.
Thou know'st, my Siward, thrice we had o'erpow'r'd
His troops, and thrice his single valour turn'd
The fortune of the day: Since first I trod
The paths of glory, ne'er did I behold
Such deeds of valour wrought by mortal hand;
I almost envy'd, tho' I conquer'd him.
He wore his beaver up, nor cou'd I trace
His features, but he bears a noble form:
Know'st thou his quality or name?

Siward.
Not yet;
He seems industrious to conceal them both
From ev'ry eye.

Morcar.
Some deity protects him,
As its peculiar care, for as I rais'd
My sword against him, whether the soft passion
That triumphs o'er me, had unmann'd my soul,
I know not; but, bereft of all its pow'r,
My nerveless arm dropp'd ineffectual down,
And let him 'scape me.

Siward.
'Tis most true, I saw
And wonder'd at it. When you left the field,
With desp'rate rage he rush'd intrepid on,
And seem'd to court his fate, till circling foes
Compell'd him to resign, and yield his sword.

Morcar.
Away. I burn with ardor to forgive,
To free, and to embrace him: fly, my Siward.
Let him approach, he cou'd not wish to meet
In happier hour, the master of his fate,
For now, methinks, I cou'd be reconcil'd
To ev'ry foe. Away, my Siward, haste
And send him to me.

Siward.
Treat him like a friend,
He may be useful. Such distinguish'd merit
Must have its influence, he commands, no doubt,
The royal ear, and may procure such terms
As William may with honour yield, and we
Without a blush accept.
[Exit Siward.

Morcar
. (alone)
(Guards unchain him.

Edwin
. (aside.)
O, pow'rful nature, how thou work'st within me!

Morcar.
Still silent! still conceal'd! perchance thou fear'st,
Knowing thy rank and name, I might recal
My promis'd pardon; but be confident,
For by that sacred honour, which I hold
Dearer than life, I promise here to free,
And to protect thee; did'st thou hide from me
My deadliest foe: Shou'd William's self appear
Before me, he who hath so deeply wrong'd me,
So long oppos'd: Nay, shou'd I hear the voice
Of that advent'rous, rash, misguided youth,
Whom yet I cannot hate—my cruel brother,
I cou'd forgive him.

Edwin
. (discovering himself.)
Then—behold him here.

Morcar.
Edwin! Amazement! By what wond'rous means,
Mysterious providence, do'st thou unfold
Thy secret purposes? I little thought
When last we met, what heav'n-protected victim
Escap'd my sword.

Edwin.
With horror I recal
The dreadful circumstance. Throughout the battle
I knew, and carefully avoided thee.

Morcar.
O, Edwin! how, on this propitious day,
Have vict'ry, fame and friendship, fortune, love
And nature, all conspir'd to make me blest!
We have been foes too long—Of that no more.
My Edwin, welcome! Once more to thy arms
Receive a brother.

Edwin.
Yet a moment stay:
By nature touch'd the same accordant string
That vibrates on thy heart now beats on mine;
But honour, and the duty which I owe
The best of kings, restrains the fond embrace
I wish to share, and bids me ask, if yet
In Morcar I behold my sov'reign's foe.
If it be so, take back thy proffer'd freedom,
Take back my forfeit life: I wou'd not wish
To be indebted for it to—a traitor.

Morcar.
Perhaps I may deserve a better name;
Perhaps I may be chang'd.

Edwin.
I hope thou art;
For this I came, for this I yielded to thee,
To tell thee William's strength is ev'ry hour
Increasing: if thou mean'st to make thy peace,
Now is the crisis—

Morcar.
Edwin stop, nor urge
Such mean unworthy motives as alone
Cou'd thwart my purpose. Morcar cannot fear,
But Morcar can be gen'rous: for know,
Before I saw thee here I had resolv'd
To sheath my sword and be the conqu'ror's friend;
For O! there is a cause—

Edwin.
Whate'er the cause,
Th'effect is glorious. Now thou art again
My brother. Here, let us once more unite
The long-dissever'd cord.

(They embrace.
Morcar.
And never more
May blind resentment, faction, party, rage,
Envy, or jealous fear, dissolve the tye!
And now, my Edwin, blushing, I confess,
Not to thy tender care for Morcar's safety,
To friendship's council, or to reason's voice,
Owe we this wish'd for change. A female hand
Directs and wills it.

Edwin.
Ha! a woman!

Morcar.
Yes,
If such I ought to call that form divine,
Which triumphs here, who rules my ev'ry thought,
My ev'ry action guides. In yonder tent
A beauteous captive dwells, who hath enslav'd
Her conqu'ror: She demands the sacrifice;
She wou'd not give her hand to William's foe,
And therefore, only, Morcar is his friend.

Edwin.
I cou'd have wish'd that this important change
Were to the hero, not the lover, due.

Morcar.
I am above deceit, and own my weakness;
But thou shalt see her—Yes, my Edwin, thou
Shalt bear the welcome tidings to my love.
Thy presence will bear witness to the change;
Thy freedom, and the joyful news thou bring'st
Of our blest union will confirm it to her.
Wilt thou, my Edwin—

Edwin.
Do not ask me what
I must refuse. I wou'd do much to serve
A friend and brother; but a task of joy
Ill suits a soul oppress'd with griefs like mine.
O! I cou'd tell thee—but 'twou'd be unkind,
When thou art ent'ring on the paths of bliss,
To stop thee with my melancholy tale.

Morcar.
What e'er thy griefs, I pity, and hereafter
May find the means to lessen, or remove them;
Mean time this tender office may divert
Thy sorrows; nay, if thou deny'st me, Edwin,
I shall not think our union is sincere.

Edwin.
Then be it so.

Morcar.
I'll send a trusty slave
That shall conduct thee to her. Soon I mean
To follow thee—away—begone and prosper.
But, O, my brother! if thou hast a heart
That is not steel'd with stoic apathy
Against the magic of all-conqu'ring love,
Beware of beauty's pow'r; for she has charms
Wou'd melt the frozen breast of hoary age,
Or draw the lonely hermit from his cell
To gaze upon her.

Edwin.
Know, thy fears are vain;
For long, long since, by honor's sacred tyes,
United to the lovliest of her sex,
Edwin, like Morcar, is to one alone
Devoted, and my heart is fix'd as thine,

Morcar.