University of Virginia Library

ACT THE FOURTH.

SCENE.—The Archers mounted on the walls, expecting the word of command.
Enter Sir Alexander, Juliana, Donaldson.
Sir ALEXANDER
, to Donaldson.
To your command do I entrust those archers;
I'll thro' the subterraneous passage with
A chosen number issue on the plain!
My bosom burns to meet the tyrant, and
Provoke him to a single combat. How
Is he distinguish'd?

DONALDSON.
A bright scarlet mantle
Floats around his armour.

Sir ALEXANDER.
The impulse of an
Injur'd Father will add vigor to this arm,
But Ethelberta is not yet return'd.

DONALDSON.
Her visit to the camp surprizes me.

Sir ALEXANDER.
It moves not my surprize, for when th' affections
Of her soul are rous'd, no fear, no danger—

JULIANA.
She comes—mark how her tortur'd mind speaks thro'
Th' expressive eye.

Enter Ethelberta and Anselm.
ETHELBERTA.
I've spoke in vain.

Sir ALEXANDER.
I do
Not yet believe he will proceed to such
Extreme barbarity.

ETHELBERTA.
I saw the pillars,
I saw the men with chains and instruments
Prepar'd. Ere now your sons are bound to the
Lofty pillars with their bosoms bare, to catch
The arrows which these men are now in act
To shoot, and only wait your terrible
Command.

Sir ALEXANDER.
Ah! leave me then to my dread duty,
Retire, Retire!—The truce is just expiring.
The trembling sands have almost
Run their hour.

ETHELBERTA
, kneeling.
See at your feet the Mother of your children,
Who thro' th' unvaried course of long attachment
Has shewn she's not unworthy of your choice.
Oh! how I glory'd in that day, when first
You call'd me yours! and do I live to curse
That day?

Sir ALEXANDER.
Rise, Ethelberta, cease entreating—
Awake each virtue that surrounds your heart!
Elevate your mind, and dare to meet the
Approaching trial; think that now you stand
As in a solemn temple, and forbear
With vain complaining accents to disturb
The awful service that is now beginning.

ETHELBERTA.
These proud exalted sentiments suit well
The breast that 's fed with glory's turgid vapour:
My simple heart feels nothing but affection.

Sir ALEXANDER.
Would'st have me be a traitor to my country?

ETHELBERTA.
Dar'st thou assume the sacred name of Father,
And can'st thou unappall'd behold that scene?

Sir ALEXANDER.
The voice that dares dissuade me from my duty
Is to my careless ear an empty sound.
Mark me, Ethelberta! I'll not disgrace
The school of war in which I have been train'd:
My parting soul shall fly unsullied
Into the bosom of my ancestry,
And at my death my honour be convey'd
Immaculate, into the ashes of
My grave!

DONALDSON
(taking up the hour-glass.)
The last remaining sands are hast'ning fast
Away.

Sir ALEXANDER.
Now bid the archers draw their
Bows.

ETHELBERTA.
One moment yet delay, one moment.

Sir ALEXANDER.
Ring out th' alarm-bell.

(Ethelberta faints, and is carried out by Juliana and Anselm.
The besiegers scale the walls, and are repulsed, and pursued; the scene then changes to the place where the pillars are erected, where Sir Alexander meets the General.
Sir ALEXANDER.
Well met! my childrens' blood cries out revenge!
New youthful vigor gushes on my breast,
And vengeance, like th' exterminating angel,
Rides on this sword.
(they fight, the General falls)
Enter Ethelberta.
Your sons are now aveng'd:
See, Ethelberta, where the monster lies!

ETHELBERTA.
'Tis nobly done, now thou'rt indeed a Father:
But gaudy exultation ill becomes us,
The dreaded pillars we have not survey'd,
I'll hasten to the spot, and dare th' event.
(they go to the pillars.)
No children meet these fond enquiring eyes.

Sir ALEXANDER.
It seems as he relented of his purpose.

ETHELBERTA.
My heart presageful scorns the flatt'ring hope:
Mark how the pillars are o'erspread with arrows,
And some that strew the ground are stain'd with blood.
(Takes up one, and advances towards the stage.)
This dread informer tells a horrid tale.
(Shouts at a distance.)
Whence that tumultuous noise?

Sir ALEXANDER.
Haply my valiant
Men are now returning from their victory.

ETHELBERTA.
What's victory to me without my sons?
(Nearer shouts; then the troops enter, with Archibald and Valentine.)
Transporting sight! I'm well repaid for all
The heart-pangs of this agonizing day.

Sir ALEXANDER.
How did ye escape the flight of arrows
That wing'd from yonder lofty battlements?

ARCHIBALD.
Chain'd to the pillars, to our doom resign'd,
We saw the angry weapons fly around.

VALENTINE.
Yet then, beneath the spreading canopy
Of danger, still did we remain untouch'd.

ETHELBERTA.
Some hov'ring angel, with benignant hand,
A verted from your breast the crowding darts.
Yet tell me all! Oh! say, by what bless'd means
Am I become the happiest of mothers?

VALENTINE.
As the enemy retreated from the walls,
Orders were issued (shou'd we be alive)
To drag us back again in chains as captives;
But our bold troops, with hasty step advancing,
By the resistless effort of Donaldson
We are restor'd to safety and to you.

ETHELBERTA
to Donaldson.
Take, take a mother's thanks: this gallant deed
Of thine, brave youth, yes, it is here engrav'd
Deep in the last recesses of my heart.

Sir ALEXANDER.
Thanks to my sons, my matchless sons, who on
This memorable day have pour'd fresh lustre
On our name and on our country. Dear boys,
Oblivion's gulph shall ne'er entomb your story,
While history, to time's remotest bound,
Her stream majestic shall thro' ages roll:
Like kindred flowers that on one stem arise,
You on her margin shall for ever glow.

[Exeunt.