 | The Siege of Berwick |  |
39
ACT THE THIRD.
Enter Ethelberta and Juliana.ETHELBERTA.
Fled to the camp! Both fled! Impossible!
JULIANA.
Pure honour breathing on their bosom—
ETHELBERTA.
Fled,
Without one parting word!
JULIANA.
The great trial
They are call'd to claims their whole attention.
ETHELBERTA.
Has then the phantom glory steel'd my children
Into savages?—Not one endearing
Word to soothe their fond afflicted Mother?
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The rigorous duty of their situation—
ETHELBERTA.
What duty is more pressing or more sacred
Than that a Mother claims? It rises out
Of Nature's bosom, summon'd by the voice
Of Heaven!
JULIANA.
Their better judgment held them from
Your presence; well, full well they knew the sight
Of two sons hast'ning to untimely death
Wou'd rend your heart.
ETHELBERTA.
It must be so, it was,
It was their love that urg'd them to avoid me!
The cloud of dark surmise that here was gathering
Begins to melt in air! and my full heart
Expands to all its wonted warm affection.
JULIANA.
To this affection join a confidence
That all may yet be well.
ETHELBERTA.
I dare not cast
A meeting glance upon th' approaching hour.—
Cou'd I but raise my sinking mind to the
Faint hope, that the arrows haply might not
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Relent of his fell purpose! Vain endeavour!—
Each way I look I meet despair.—Yet now—
A thought possesses me—Indulge my weakness—
Ah! pity the disease that flies to such
A remedy—I've heard a skilful sorceress
Does in this town reside, whose magic power
Unfolds the future to her trembling visitant—
JULIANA.
It is as you report, and many a hapless
Virgin, many a distressful mother,
Have consulted her.
ETHELBERTA.
'Tis said she rivals
The weird sisterhood of ancient days,
While o'er her mind pale prophecy hangs fluttering,
The dread vaunt-courier of futurity—
Perchance this deeply-skill'd magician may
Transport my ignorant fears beyond th' event.
JULIANA.
Yet say, was she by her exploring art
To raise your ignorant fears to horrid certainties—
ETHELBERTA.
Better to know the worse, than thus to live
In apprehension, unrelenting agony!—
Can'st thou inform me where the sorceress dwells?
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Her lonely cell is seen not far from hence,
Amidst the ruins of an ancient cloister,
Upon the burial ground! There on a seat
Of ebony, o'erspread with human skulls,
She exerciseth her tremendous function.
ETHELBERTA.
Whence does the hag derive her daring mission?
Is 't from on high, or from the caves of hell?
Does she not lift her impious hand to rend
The sanctuary-veil that hangs 'tween men and angels?
And on the breast of heaven she sends a glance
Profane!
JULIANA.
This deep reflection will avert
Your anxious mind from its new-form'd purpose.
ETHELBERTA.
Let me be wretched, let me not be impious:
Never will I tread the path that leads to
Her unhallow'd cell.—Another thought occurs,
Which meets my heart's consent—Come, come what may,
I'll go in person to the hostile camp,
There, rushing on the rude barbarian,
I will demand my children.
JULIANA.
Vain, vain project!
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He'll hear my plaintive voice, he'll see these eyes
In tears.
JULIANA.
Th' unfeeling wretch will mock those tears.
ETHELBERTA.
Affection will endue my speech with eloquence;
The monster self will soften at warm nature
Pleading for her darling sons.
JULIANA.
Consider
What dangers you'll encounter, to what insults
You there may be expos'd: 'tis likely you
May be detain'd a captive, and immur'd
Within the precincts of a lonesome dungeon.
ETHELBERTA.
Talk not to me of dangers, I despise them.
Say, hast thou not beheld the bold sea-eagle,
When her dear young one from the rock hath fall'n,
Descend undaunted to the roaring main,
Dash with her throbbing breast the waves asunder,
To snatch the nestling from the ravenous shark!
And would'st thou have me pause and hesitate
To act the mother's part? Let us retire,
And seek for Anselm to attend
And guide my footsteps to the tyrant's tent.
[Exeunt.
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Sir ALEXANDER.
Yes, Anselm, I confess I glory in
These children—their abrupt departure wakes
At once my wonder and delight! Say, has
It not a relish of the antique manners,
Some proud resemblance of the Roman mind?
ANSELM.
This mutual dedication of themselves
To certain death will ornament our annals.
Sir ALEXANDER.
As torrents feed the river, so my sons
Swell the strong current of my country's fame.
ANSELM.
You also share your part in this sublime
Transaction.
Sir ALEXANDER.
The renown is their's, and mine
Is the distress.—My scene in this deep drama
Is to bid my archers shoot their arrows
Where my defenceless sons will be expos'd
To their full rage.—Alas! I fear, good father,
I have not virtue equal to the task.
ANSELM.
Virtue is ever found superior to
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Ascends still higher than the swelling flood.
Sir ALEXANDER.
Was ever father so severely tried?
ANSELM.
Image to yourself that you are acting
In sight of angels and immortal spirits,
And thro' the scenery that darkens round
Look up, as to the sun that breaks the cloud,
Look up unto th' approving smile of Heav'n!
Sir ALEXANDER.
I sometimes think the tyrant will relent.
ANSELM.
He 's not of English birth.
Sir ALEXANDER.
Of that you may be certain:
Humanity adorns the English soldier;
It is the wholesome gale that ventilates
Their heart, from the low subaltern up to
The royal youth who now in Gallia leads
His valiant band—
ANSELM.
From Norway is he not,
This wretch who outrages a parent's feelings?
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Ev'n so.—A pirate on the northern seas,
His skill and matchless courage lifted him
To fame: and being my distress of weather
Driv'n on the English coast, the warlike Edward,
Dazzled by his enterprizing spirit,
Gave him to command the troops that now invest us.
ANSELM.
But tell me, has your sons' abrupt departure
Yet reach'd the ear of hapless Ethelberta?
Sir ALEXANDER.
I know not that.—I must not now approach
Her presence; her unbounded sorrow would
Ill suit the frame of mind that I must now
Acquire!—Go, holy father, and dispense
The balm of comfort to her bleeding soul—
I must confer with Donaldson.
[Exit Anselm.
Enter Donaldson.
DONALDSON.
Your commands have been attended to, and
Now the town is disencumber'd of its
Numbers—The wide northern gate recoiling,
Pour'd forth a length'ning train.—The aged warriors
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Which mark'd their inutility, appear'd
To humble and degrade them.
Sir ALEXANDER.
'Tis a cruel
But necessary order on my part—
Yet then these aged and once active men
May haply in a few short days return,
And then resume their wonted occupations,
Habits and customs, which they now forego—
But never shall I meet with comfort more—
My sons! my sons!
DONALDSON.
Next in long order mov'd
A female band, while many a pensive wife
Threw back a frequent glance of fond regard.
Sir ALEXANDER.
'Tis well.—Your diligence demands my thanks,
The truce will in two hours expire.—I must
Prepare me for the sad, the solemn task
Imperious duty has impos'd upon me.—
'Tis time the men ascend th' embattled walls,
In act to hurl the arrowy war below.
DONALDSON.
I left the men assembling in the square.
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Oh! wou'd that, with the safety of this town,
Which to my latest moment I'll defend,
I might include the safety of my children.
[Exit.
Scene, the Enemy's Camp.
Enter Ethelberta and Anselm.
SENTINEL
to Ethelberta.
Arrest your daring footsteps!
ETHELBERTA.
Your uplifted
Weapon frights not her, to whose misfortunes
Death were welcome.—I am Ethelberta.
(The Sentinel returns the sabre into the scabbard.)
Haply in some far distant hamlet sits
Your mother brooding o'er your absence, all
In tears: Oh! think of her, and lead me to
My sons.
SENTINEL.
Beneath yon tent the captive youths
Abide.
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Inform your General, that the wretched
Ethelberta humbly begs an audience.
[Exit Sentinel.
(As Ethelberta and Anselm approach the tent Archibald and Valentine rush out.)
ETHELBERTA.
Marvel not at my appearance, my bleeding
Bosom demanded this sad interview.
ARCHIBALD.
We're ever bound to you for this new proof
Of your affection.
VALENTINE.
Have you seen the General?
ETHELBERTA.
I've ask'd a conference—I wait the answer.
VALENTINE.
Be sure you let him know that we did not
Urge or prompt you to demand an audience.
ETHELBERTA.
Is it then criminal in me to own
A Mother's feelings?
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It is beneath the dignity
Of Ethelberta to confer with him.
ETHELBERTA.
Say, what dignity belongs to a wretch
Like me?
VALENTINE.
His ear is steel'd against compassion,
Nor do we wish to live.
ETHELBERTA.
Why, Valentine,
This contempt of life? would you not live to
Save me from distraction?—Is the cruelty
That breathes within the General's tent
Contagious? are my children grown insensible
To their afflicted mother?
VALENTINE
(Embracing her knees.)
Think not so
Unjustly of us.
ETHELBERTA.
Oh! I think you both
Love me, or I shou'd wish to be the dust
Beneath your feet.
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OFFICER.
The General now in council
Waits your attendance.
[Exeunt Ethelberta, Anselm, and Officer.
VALENTINE.
Sooner would the sea-cliff
Stoop to the sinking mariner, than will
The tyrant bend to her imploring voice;
I mean his mercy will not reach us both.
What if Ethelberta shou'd return, and
Bring with her commands for your releasement?
ARCHIBALD.
I wou'd reject the despicable mercy.
Has not our mutual vow to Heav'n ascended?
Yes, brother, both must be releas'd, or both
Consign'd to death!
Enter Officer.
OFFICER.
The General bids me lead
You to the fatal spot, with orders that
You should immediately be fasten'd to
The summit of the pillars.
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We obey.
[Exeunt.
SCENE.—The place where pillars are erected; men with ropes, &c.
First MAN.
I relish not this barb'rous employment;
It pains me to behold these ligaments,
With which we soon must bind the valiant youths.
Second MAN.
'Tis said the Mother now is with the General,
Imploring for her sons.
First MAN.
I fear in vain!
Behold, they now approach.
Enter Archibald, Valentine, Officer and Soldiers.
With great reluctance
Do I perform this office.
ARCHIBALD.
My good friend,
Discharge your duty: leave the rest to Heaven! ETHELBERTA, behind the scenes.
Lead, lead me to those dear unfortunate sons.
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ETHELBERTA.
Inhuman wretches! check your dreadful office,
This sight appals me.
ARCHIBALD.
Still, oh still be comforted!
We suffer more for your sake than our own.
ETHELBERTA.
Was it for this I rear'd you with such care?
Was it for this I watch'd your waking virtues,
And kindled at the dawn of your celestial mind?
VALENTINE.
We were born to die.
ETHELBERTA.
Had gradual illness
Stol'n on you as ye faded in my arms,
Or had ye fall'n in battle, then I shou'd,
Like many, many more unfortunate mothers,
Have mournfully submitted; but this outrage,
This indignity—
VALENTINE.
Affects me not, I am
Proud to fall in such a cause.
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, to Anselm.
Did I not
Fall at the tyrant's feet; did I not bathe
Them with my tears? Like the unheeding rock
He stood unmov'd. The stranger Pity knew not
The dark avenue to his heart.
ANSELM.
The king of terrors,
Death, comes like a friendly angel
In a noble cause.
ARCHIBALD.
'Tis as the holy
Father says. The cause for which we die brightens
The darken'd hour: it is the cause that dignifies
Those ignominious instruments; that turns
These fatal pillars into pyramids
Proclaiming our eternal fame.
ETHELBERTA.
Who would
Not glory in such children? Yes, ye are
My boast, my honour, my delight. I first led
Your infant footsteps to the path of virtue:
Indulge the fond idea, haply this
Sublime enthusiasm flows from me.
VALENTINE.
Speak ever thus, and be the Heroine
Of this conflicting hour.
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Methought! as thus
You spoke, a current of new ardour gush'd
Upon my throbbing heart.
ETHELBERTA.
Be not deceiv'd,
The momentary gleam of triumph 's past;
To glory's touch succeeds tormenting fear,
And Nature gives me up to grief again.
Enter Officer.
OFFICER.
The General bids me urge you to retire.
ETHELBERTA.
Does he prohibit this short interview?
This last dear horror of a fad farewell?
(Leans overpower'd upon Anselm.)
OFFICER.
The General also says, that one of these
Youths may return, and that the choice remains
With you.
ETHELBERTA.
(suddenly raising up her head.)
Ah! were I to absolve the life
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The other to the fate that threatens him?
OFFICER.
Reflect, that by these means you will prevent
Th' entire extinction of your name.
ETHELBERTA.
Your reasoning
Touches not a mother's breast.—While I behold
My sons as now they stand before me, and
Recal their virtues, their invariable
Affection tow'rds their mother, and the concord
Of their congenial minds, the interweaving
Harmony of colouring, that composes
The texture of their mutual life, my heart
Blends, and unites the two, and my fond eyes
Behold but one dear son!
(Archibald and Valentine throw themselves at her feet, while Ethelberta hangs over them.)
ARCHIBALD
(rising.)
Kind, pitying father,
We intrust her to your care: Oh comfort her!
ANSELM.
Mark this hallow'd symbol of our dread belief:
(Holding up the cross that hangs at his side.)
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To her relief, and wait upon her sorrow,
And shed upon the fest'ring wound of grief
That Gilead balm, Religion only can
Supply: from thence alone can comfort flow.
ETHELBERTA.
Who talks of comfort? Say, will not these pillars
Rise to my mind in every place, to frighten
Comfort from me? In such a state, comfort
Wou'd be impiety, leave, leave me with
Despair. Oh! would to Heav'n that in this conflict
Of life and sorrow, sorrow might prevail,
That I might fall death-smitten on this spot,
And in one grave be buried with my sons!
OFFICER.
The time expires, the truce will shortly end,
The war will be renew'd, and from yon town
The arrows then will fly.
ETHELBERTA.
To pierce my children—
Tort'ring madness harbours in the thought.
OFFICER.
That devious path-way leads not to the town.
ETHELBERTA.
Forgive, I was a moment scarce myself,
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Where are my sons?
(they go up to her.)
Forbear, forbear to weep,
I see my presence but enfeebles them:
Tis cruelty to linger, then resolv'd
I tear myself away. Oh! God of mercy,
Spread o'er my children thy protecting shield!
[Exit with Anselm.
End of the THIRD ACT.
| The Siege of Berwick | |