University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE I.

—A PRISON.
GWENDYLEN, and a SOLDIER.
SOLDIER.
Fair prisoner, thou art free.

GWENDYLEN.
Transporting sounds!
Our princely advocate has then prevailed;
And Gwendylen, restored to all the sweets
Of dear domestic duty, shall in peace
Cherish the parent, whom her love preserved.
My honest friend! for these thy blissful tidings
And all thy pity past, may every saint,
Who smiles upon the merciful, protect
Thee, and thy children! Why dost thou receive
My benediction with an air of sadness?

SOLDIER.
To think thy virtuous joy must turn to anguish,
When thou art told, as soon, alas! thou must be,
Thou only art released, because thy father
Is fallen again into captivity.

GWENDYLEN.
O! do not say so! rather let me hear
Eternal bondage is ordained my portion,
So he may 'scape with freedom! art thou sure?
My foolish heart, that vainly would attempt
To disbelieve thy tidings, now receives
The fatal full conviction.

SCENE II.

GWENDYLEN, LLANDORVIN, brought in by GUARDS.
GWENDYLEN.
My dear father!
To meet thee, never was a grief till now:
What cruel chance, or what base treachery—

LLANDORVIN.
'Tis rigid destiny, my child, that thwarts
Thy pious aim. Thus far I have indulged
Thy fond entreaty, by an abject care
To lengthen worthless life: now, since the Heavens
Frown on thy filial wish, I charge thee try
To reconcile thy mind to my dark fate!
It must be now my only thought to die,
As the dear brothers of my art have died,
Smiling contempt on proud iniquity.

GWENDYLEN.
We are not yet so lost, nor shall thy daughter
E'er quit a virtuous purpose of her heart,
For that the sudden bolt of accident
Shakes her imperfect work. No! to the last
My soul shall labour with increasing ardour,
To prove its fondness, and preserve my father.

LLANDORVIN.
Dear child! no more delude thyself with hopes,
That are but raised to fall; and in their ruin
O'erwhelm thy tender heart with tenfold anguish.

GWENDYLEN.
Heaven yet inspires, and gives me blest occasion
To act in thy dear service: our oppressor,
Mixing some mildness with barbarity,
Now terminates my bondage: and my freedom,
That I should hate, if not employed for thee,
May work thy preservation. I will now
With Clyfford supplicate the Queen to make
Thy life, once rescued by thy daughter's love,
Th'immediate care of her angelic mind.

LLANDORVIN.
'Twere better my sweet child, renouncing hope,
To strengthen thy fond spirit, by embracing
The tranquil resolution of despair.

GWENDYLEN.
No, best of fathers! our disastrous lot
Has changed the cast, and colour of our duties.
Mild suff'rance now, that woman's part is thine,
And to thy daughter, Heaven itself enjoins
Every exertion anxious love can prompt.
Should I still fail, thou yet shalt see, my father,
Thy undegenerate child possesses courage
To suffer, and to share thy darkest fate.

(Exit.

SCENE III.

LLANDORVIN, and the SOLDIER.
LLANDORVIN.
Great giver, and supporter of our being!
Howe'er thy deep, inscrutable decree
Dispose of my poor residue of life,
Be bounteous to my child! when she has lost me,
As soon she must, by violence, or nature,
Let not her youth in desolation want
Objects of care, that may endear existence!
Still may she find in life friendship and love,
Sweet as her charms, and perfect as her virtue.

SOLDIER.
Forgive me, brave old man! but 'tis my order
To bear thee hence to more secure confinement,
Within the castle, where the King resides.

LLANDORVIN.
Good friend! 'tis I should pardon ask of thee,
That I am slow to thank thee, as I ought,
For a most signal act of generous pity
And kindness to my child: Give me thy hand!
Humanity, that shines in rigor's office,
Has double grace, and wins redoubled love.
Come! teach me how to shew thee I am grateful!
If fate allows me nothing more to give,
My dying benediction rest upon thee!

(Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

—THE CASTLE.
QUEEN, CLYFFORD.
CLYFFORD.
My royal patroness, in whose indulgence
My youth has found, what destiny denied me,
A mother, and a sister's soothing kindness!
By all the purer glory thou hast won
In deeds of love, and mercy to thy people,
Who bless thy gentle sway, and worship thee
As sent to them by Heaven; ordained to temper
Thy lord's austerity! assist a daughter,
Who merits not to lose the bliss of saving
An honored sire from ignominious death.

QUEEN.
Clyfford! thou knowst, how gladly I would soften
The anger of the King: but here I doubt
My influence can profit thee but little;
For never have I seen his indignation
So vehement against this land. I pray thee,
Be cautious not to wake his dread displeasure,
By seeming partial to his enemies!
Perhaps thy young, and artless mind is blinded
By perilous passion, to thyself unknown;
A daughter's charms may varnish to thy sight
Th'offences of her sire, do not mistake
Ill-omened love for honorable pity.

CLYFFORD.
Kindest of beings! my ingenuous spirit
Has not a trouble, it would hide from thee.
The charms of Gwendylen, I own, have sunk
So deeply in my bosom, death alone,
Or frenzy could efface them from my heart.
But shame on him, who could allow his mind
To rove at love's suggestion, while the cries
Of suffering humanity demand
His better thoughts! altho' the damsel's beauty
Enchants me, and is dearer to my sight
Than wealth to avarice, or fame to valor,
I would pass life in exile from her charms,
If that alone could end her filial fears,
And ratify the safety of her father.

QUEEN.
Fond youth! I know, and love the generous ardor
Of all thy strong attachments: yet I tremble
Sometimes in thinking to what keen excess
Thy sensibility is apt to feel.
Thy nature, Clyfford! has in it the seeds
Of loftiest virtue, or most daring guilt.
Heaven keep thy spirit in blest ignorance
Of warring passions, and discordant duties!
If I can serve the object of thy pity,
By intercession with the King, I will:
And if, from dire necessities of state,
This death-devoted sire must die, I yet
Will take this hapless orphan to my care.

CLYFFORD.
Blest be the voice, that to my lightened heart
Utters so dear a promise! but conducted
By innocence and gratitude, she comes
To pay her instant homage to your goodness.

SCENE V.

QUEEN, CLYFFORD, GWENDYLEN.
CLYFFORD.
Rejoice, sweet paragon of anxious duty!
That Heaven has raised thee an angelic friend,
Worthy to be its delegate, in shielding
Virtue like thine from undeserved distress!
Our bounteous Queen anticipates thy prayer,
And with the fond alacrity of pity,
Alarmed for innocence, will lend her aid
To save thy honored father.

GWENDYLEN.
My full heart
Would thank thee, gracious lady! as it ought;
But finds that gratitude, in souls made tender
By wrongs, is far more powerful than fear,
And drowns that voice, which terror could not stifle.

QUEEN.
Fair stranger! there's attraction in thy youth,
Thy artless charms, and filial piety,
That binds thee to my bosom: and I feel
An anxious impulse, with maternal care,
To guard thy opening life from all that's evil.
Allow me then a parent's privilege
To be thy monitor!

GWENDYLEN.
Thou gentle sovereign!
Our foes, no doubt, who long have injured us
Beyond endurance, tell thee we are savage;
It is not so: the children of wild nature
Have hearts like a rich soil, where kind affections
Rise to the noblest height, and lavishly
Reward the liberal care, that bids them flourish.

QUEEN.
Unguarded warmth, pure virtue's quick companion,
Is oft her secret foe: I would inform you
How you incensed, and how you best may soften
The offended King. But he approaches: go!
Leave me my friends, that I without restraint
May plead your cause, and win him to forgiveness!

(Exeunt Clyfford and Gwendylen.

SCENE VI.

KING EDWARD, QUEEN, OFFICERS, &c.
KING EDWARD,
(speaking to an Officer as he enters.)
Tell our unwary guards, that if their prisoner
Now ordered to this castle's safer keep,
Escape a second time, 'twill be their doom
To perish in his place.
(Exit Officer.
O Eleanor!
My weary soul, sick of its fruitless toil,
To tranquillise this stubborn, stormy nation,
Turns with delight to thee, in whom well pleased
I ever find the tenderness of duty,
And ready, sweet, intelligent obedience.

QUEEN.
Reflect, my generous lord, in praising me,
To whom thy praise is transport; O! reflect,
Why I possess the qualities, that please thee!
'Tis thy kind favor makes me, what I am:
Submissive gratitude's the smiling child
Of bountiful protection. Gracious Edward!
Be but as mild a guardian to this land,
As thou hast been to me, and its glad people
Will bless, as I do, thy indulgent sway.

KING EDWARD.
No! my good Eleanor, thou little knowst
What iron rule this savage realm requires.

QUEEN.
Your pardon! I have recently been speaking
To a young Cambrian. Dear, considerate Edward!
So kindly sensible of weakest merit
In thy obedient wife! wilt thou not feel
The higher claims of an heroic daughter!
And grant to Gwendylen her father's life?
I know thou wilt: I ask it on my knees.

KING EDWARD.
Arise, thou dearest of petitioners!
I mean to have a speedy conference
With this retaken fugitive, and if
His conduct merits mercy, he shall find it—
(To one of the Guard.)
Haste to the captive minstrel, and conduct him
Strait to our presence?—Haste!

(Exit one of the Guard.
QUEEN.
Believe me, Edward!
I have a woman's heart, fondly ambitious,
And proud to triumph in a husband's glory!
But sated with thy military fame,
I long to see the enterprising warrior
Nobly eclipsed by the pacific king.
Effulgent valour well becomes thy crown;
But gems of milder radiance, peace and mercy,
Will give thy diadem its dearest charm.

KING EDWARD.
Pure minds, untutored by calamity,
Can rightly judge of peace; not so the savage:
They with harsh lessons from instructive rigor
Must toil, thro' pain and blood, to know her value.
There is a hot intemperance of spirit
In these wild mountaineers, that almost foils
The soundest discipline.—Authority,
And benefits, alike have failed to bend
The stubbornness of these tumultuous tribes,
Rude as their mountains, where rebellion sits,
Like a maimed vulture, waiting only time
To heal her wings, that ache with eagerness
To spurn confinement, and renew her ravage.

QUEEN.
No! happy Victor, thy resistless arms
Have made this country thine: and soon, I hope
To hear thee in the best of triumphs own,
The bliss to humanise, surpasses far
The joy of conquering: but thy captive comes:
I will not with solicitude too curious
Intrude upon your converse: yet remember,
Thy Eleanor commends him to thy mercy!

(Exit.

SCENE VII.

KING EDWARD, LLANDORVIN, GUARDS.
KING EDWARD.
Stranger! the fondness of thy daughter saved
Thy forfeit life; and still inspires our Queen,
Whose mildness is affliction's sanctuary,
With wishes for thy freedom: this we grant thee,
If thy discretion merits her regard.

LLANDORVIN.
That the rare virtues of my child endear her
To minds so qualified to judge of virtue
As far-famed Eleanor, still to my heart,
Chilled as it is with age, and patriot anguish,
Gives the quick ardour of parental pride:
For had I not, in all their fond excess,
The feelings of a father, trust me, Edward!
I could not now endure the life, thou offer'st:
To languish, as I must, in dark existence:
My spirit troubled with distressful visions
Of noblest friends, calamitously lost!
Or worse, the slavery of my native land!

KING EDWARD.
Thou shalt forget this land, in wisely passing
To happier scenes, my bounty shall provide thee
An English settlement.

LLANDORVIN.
I know thou'rt mighty:
The fav'rite of prosperity, and power!
But trust me, Edward! 'tis beyond thy empire
To mould anew the habits of the heart;
And thro' the breast of injured age diffuse
The native energy of young attachment.
If 'tis thy purpose to befriend two beings,
Who in domestic tenderness alone
May find a balm, to soothe their public sorrow,
Leave us in peace upon the rocks, that reared us!

KING EDWARD.
But wilt thou rest in peace? should I assign thee
A portion of this land, thy darling seat!
Wouldst thou engage, never to sound again
Notes of sedition, on thy daring harp?
But in a wiser strain, instruct the people
To look up to our salutary sway
With tranquil reverence?

LLANDORVIN.
No! not for half
Thy richer kingdom, added to this realm,
Would I debase a voice, that long has uttered
The purest dictates of impassioned freedom.
Imagination, under virtue's guidance,
I deem the rarest, richest gift of heaven,
And shall I stain the little I possess
By teaching injured slaves to bless their bondage,
And worship their oppressor?

KING EDWARD.
Dost thou brave me,
Audacious Rhapsodist?—now, in beholding
Rebellious fire illuminate thy visage,
My memory claims acquaintance with thy features.
Where have I seen thee?

LLANDORVIN.
Spare, insulting tyrant!
Spare to thyself a bitter recollection!
Yes! thou hast seen me, in my happier life,
Ere age and sorrow made it weak, and worthless;
When by Llewellyn's side, our patriot prince!
I fought for liberty: when thou, then young,
And tho' thy father's delegate, a novice
In the curst art to weaken and oppress,
Wert glad to make percipitate retreat
Before us, and the lightning of our swords
Flashed on the flying—

KING EDWARD.
Insolent enthusiast!

LLANDORVIN.
I knew the scene, thou bad'st me recollect,
Would gall thee, Edward! 'twas the early source
Of all thy ruthless rancor to my country.
Thou never couldst forgive the brave Llewellyn
For that bright triumph: hence thy enmity,
Disgracing manhood, kept his lovely bride
For years thy captive; lured by abject arts
A brother to desert him; and at last,
By the mean vantage of unequal power,
Spoiled him of life.

KING EDWARD.
He was a faithless vassal;
And justly suffered for repeated failures
Of his allegiance.

LLANDORVIN.
O belie him not!
Tho' thou hast stript him of his crown and life!
Fate cannot blast his fame: he was a prince
Munificent as nature, just as Heaven!
Fall'n as he is, his unsuspected praise
Shall live for ever in our grateful songs.

KING EDWARD.
It shall not live in thine, presumptuous minstrel!
Away with him to death!

LLANDORVIN.
Thou fierce destroyer!
Death is the only gift from thee, that I
Would willingly embrace; and for that gift,
Take thou this lesson from my parting spirit!
Thou saw'st, in Palestine, a curious Arab
Imprison water, in an orb of gold,
Till, by compression urged, the forceful fluid
Amazed thine eye in starting thro' the metal.
So genius, prest by tyranny, exerts
An energy, beyond the common laws
Of quiet nature. Here thou wouldst extinguish
Freedom and poetry: they mock thy wishes;
For they are woven in our frame of being;
And cannot perish but with human life.
My frail existence is thy easy victim;
But dying I shall triumph—e'en in thy kingdom,
Where thou art worshipped now by fear and int'rest,
A day shall rise, when the enlightened people
Shall hail the art, which thou wouldst crush for ever,
As the bright guardian of immortal virtue:
When kindred genius, in a lyric strain
Of rapturous excellence, shall teach the world
To mourn my fall, and execrate thy crimes.

KING EDWARD.
Away! vain prophet, to thy speedy death!
No! it shall be suspended: but till time
Allows us to bestow on thy presumption
Pre-eminence of punishment. Thy fate
Shall be no common spectacle; but, high
On Snowdon's rocks, in death thou shalt exhibit
An awful lesson to rebellious pride.

LLANDORVIN.
I am prepared to die:—o'er ruling Heaven
Is righteous still; since it assigns us now
The different lot, our different souls deserve;
For know, proud monarch! by your own award
You haste to infamy, and I to glory.