 | Percy |  |
35
ACT III.
SCENE, A Garden at Raby Castle, with a Bower.Enter Percy and Sir Hubert.
Sir Hubert.
That Percy lives, and is return'd in safety,
More joys my soul, than all the mighty conquests
That sun beheld, which rose on Syria's ruin.
Percy.
I've told thee, good Sir Hubert, by what wonder
I was preserv'd, tho' number'd with the slain.
Sir Hubert.
'Twas strange indeed!
Percy.
'Twas heav'ns immediate work!
But let me now indulge a dearer joy,
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A gift so precious to my doating heart,
That life preserv'd is but a second blessing.
O Hubert, let my soul indulge its softness!
The hour, the spot is sacred to Elwina.
This was her fav'rite walk; I well remember,
(For who forgets that loves as I have lov'd?)
'Twas in that very bower she gave this scarf,
Wrought by the hand of love; she bound it on,
And, smiling, cried, Whate'er befal us, Percy,
Be this the sacred pledge of faith between us.
I knelt, and swore, call'd every pow'r to witness,
No time, nor circumstance, shou'd force it from me!
But I wou'd lose my life and that together.
Here I repeat my vow.
Sir Hubert.
Is this the man
Beneath whose single arm an host was crush'd?
He, at whose name the Saracen turn'd pale?
And when he fell, victorious armies wept,
And mourn'd a conquest they had bought so dear?
How has he chang'd the trumpet's martial note,
And all the stirring clangor of the war,
For the soft melting of the lover's lute!
Why are thine eyes still bent upon the bower?
Percy.
O Hubert, Hubert, to a soul enamour'd,
There is a sort of local sympathy,
Which, when we view the scenes of early passion,
Paints the bright image of the object lov'd,
In stronger colours, than remoter scenes
Cou'd ever paint it, realizes shade,
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Talks to it nearer, frames its answers kinder,
Gives form to fancy, and embodies thought.
Sir Hubert.
I should not be believ'd in Percy's camp,
If I shou'd tell them that their gallant leader,
The thunder of the war, the bold Northumberland,
Renouncing Mars, dissolv'd in amorous wishes,
Loiter'd in shades, and pin'd in rosy bowers,
To catch a transient glance of two bright eyes.
Percy.
Enough of conquest, and enough of war!
Ambition's cloy'd—the heart resumes its rights.
When England's king, and England's good requir'd,
This arm not idly the keen falchion brandish'd:
Enough—for vaunting misbecomes a soldier.
I live, I am return'd—am near Elwina!
See'st thou those turrets? Yes, that castle holds her.
But wherefore tell thee this? for thou hast seen her.
How look'd, what said she? Did she hear the tale
Of my imagin'd death without emotion?
Sir Hubert.
Percy, thou hast seen the musk-rose newly blown,
Disclose its bashful beauties to the sun,
Till an unfriendly, chilling storm descended,
Crush'd all its blushing glories in their prime,
Bow'd its fair head, and blasted all its sweetness.
So droop'd the maid, beneath the cruel weight
Of my sad tale.
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So tender, and so true!
Sir Hubert.
I left her fainting in her father's arms,
The dying flower yet hanging on the tree.
Ev'n Raby melted at the news I brought,
And envy'd thee thy glory.
Percy.
Then I am blest!
His hate subdued, I've nothing more to fear.
Sir Hubert.
My embassy dispatch'd, I left the castle,
Nor spoke to any of Lord Raby's household,
For fear the king shou'd chide the tardiness
Of my return. My joy to find you living,
You have already heard.
Percy.
But where is Harcourt?
E'er this he shou'd have seen her, told her all,
How I surviv'd, return'd, and how I love!
I tremble at the near approach of bliss,
And scarcely can sustain the joy which waits me.
Sir Hubert.
Grant heaven the fair-one prove but half so true!
Percy.
O she is truth itself!
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She may be chang'd,
Spite of her tears, her fainting, and alarms.
I know the sex, know them as nature made 'em,
Not such as lovers wish, and poets feign.
Percy.
To doubt her virtue were suspecting heaven,
'Twere little less than infidelity!
And yet I tremble. Why does terror shake
These firm-strung nerves? But 'twill be ever thus,
When fate prepares us more than mortal bliss,
And gives us only human strength to bear it.
Sir Hubert.
What beam of brightness breaks thro' yonder gloom?
Percy.
Hubert—she comes! By all my hopes she comes!
'Tis she—the blissful vision is Elwina!
But ah! what mean those tears?—She weeps for me!
O transport!—go.—I'll listen unobserv'd,—
And for a moment taste the precious joy,
The banquet of a tear which falls for love.
[Exit Sir Hubert.
[Percy goes into the Bower.
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Elwina.
Shall I not weep, and have I then no cause?
If I cou'd break th'eternal bands of death,
And wrench the sceptre from his iron grasp;
If I cou'd bid the yawning sepulchre
Restore to life its long committed dust;
If I could teach the slaught'ring hand of war,
To give me back my dear, my murder'd Percy,
Then I indeed might once more cease to weep.
[Percy comes out of the Bower.]
Percy.
Then cease, for Percy lives.
Elwina.
Protect me heav'n!
Percy.
O joy unspeakable! My life, my love!
End of my toils, and crown of all my cares!
Kind as consenting peace, as conquest bright,
Dearer than arms, and lovelier than renown!
Elwina.
It is his voice—it is, it is my Percy!
And dost thou live?
Percy.
I never liv'd till now.
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And did my sighs, and did my sorrows reach thee?
And art thou come at last to dry my tears?
How didst thou 'scape the fury of the foe?
Percy.
Thy guardian genius hover'd o'er the field,
And turn'd the hostile spear from Percy's breast,
Lest thy fair image shou'd be wounded there.
But Harcourt should have told thee all my fate,
How I surviv'd—
Elwina.
Alas! I have not seen him.
Oh! I have suffer'd much.
Percy.
Of that no more;
For every minute of our future lives,
Shall be so bless'd, that we will learn to wonder,
How we cou'd ever think we were unhappy.
Elwina.
Percy—I cannot speak.
Percy.
Those tears how eloquent!
I would not change this motionless, mute joy
For the sweet strains of angels: I look down,
With pity on the rest of human kind,
However great may be their fame of happiness,
And think their niggard fate has giv'n them nothing,
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Denies them my capacity to feel it.
Elwina.
Alas! what mean you?
Percy.
Can I speak my meaning?
'Tis of such magnitude that words wou'd wrong it;
But surely my Elwina's faithful bosom,
Shou'd beat in kind responses of delight,
And feel, but never question what I mean.
Elwina.
Hold, hold, my heart, thou hast much more to suffer!
Percy.
Let the slow form, and tedious ceremony
Wait on the splendid victims of ambition.
Love stays for none of these. Thy father's soften'd,
He will forget the fatal Cheviot Chace;
Raby is brave, and I have serv'd my country;
I wou'd not boast, it was for thee I conquer'd.
Then come, my love.
Elwina.
O never, never, never.
Percy.
Am I awake? Is that Elwina's voice?
Elwina.
Percy, thou most ador'd—and most deceiv'd!
If ever fortitude sustain'd thy soul,
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Let thy imperial spirit now support thee.—
If thou canst be so wondrous merciful,
Do not, O do not curse me!—but thou wilt,
Thou must—for I have done a fearful deed,
A deed of wild despair, a deed of horror.
I am, I am—
Percy.
Speak, say, what art thou?
Elwina.
Married.
Percy.
Oh!
Elwina.
Percy, I think I begg'd thee not to curse me;
But now I do revoke the fond petition.
Speak! ease thy bursting soul; reproach, upbraid,
O'erwhelm me with thy wrongs—I'll bear it all.
Percy.
Open, thou earth, and hide me from her sight!
Didst thou not bid me curse thee?
Elwina.
Mercy! mercy!
Percy.
And have I 'scap'd the Saracen's fell sword,
Only to perish by Elwina's guilt?
I wou'd have bar'd my bosom to the foe,
I wou'd have died, had I but known you wish'd it.
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Percy, I lov'd thee most when most I wrong'd thee:
Yes, by these tears I did.
Percy.
Married! just heav'n!
Married? to whom? Yet wherefore should I know?
It cannot add fresh horrors to thy crime,
Or my destruction.
Elwina.
Oh 'twill add to both.
How shall I tell? Prepare for something dreadful.
Hast thou not heard of—Douglas?
Percy.
Why 'tis well!
Thou awful power why waste thy wrath on me?
Why arm omnipotence to crush a worm?
I cou'd have fall'n without this waste of ruin.
Married to Douglas! By my wrongs I like it;
'Tis perfidy compleat, 'tis finish'd falsehood,
'Tis adding fresh perdition to the sin,
And filling up the measure of offence!
Elwina.
Oh! 'twas my father's deed! he made his child
An instrument of vengeance on thy head.
He wept and threaten'd, sooth'd me, and commanded.
Percy.
And you complied, most duteously complied!
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I cou'd withstand his fury; but his tears,
Ah, they undid me! Percy, dost thou know
The cruel tyranny of tenderness?
Hast thou e'er felt a father's warm embrace?
Hast thou e'er seen a father's flowing tears,
And known that thou cou'dst wipe those tears away?
If thou hast felt, and hast resisted these,
Then thou may'st curse my weakness; but if not,
Thou canst not pity, for thou canst not judge.
Percy.
Let me not hear the music of thy voice,
Or I shall love thee still; I shall forget
Thy fatal marriage, and my savage wrongs.
Elwina.
Dost thou not hate me, Percy?
Percy.
Hate thee? Yes,
As dying martyrs hate the righteous cause
Of that bless'd Power for whom they bleed—I hate thee.
(They look at each other in silent agony.
Enter Harcourt.
Harcourt.
Forgive, my lord, your faithful knight—
Percy.
Come, Harcourt,
Come and behold the wretch who once was Percy.
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With grief I've learn'd the whole unhappy tale.
Earl Douglas, whose suspicion never sleeps—
Percy.
What, is the tyrant jealous?
Elwina.
Hear him, Percy.
Percy.
I will command my rage—Go on.
Harcourt.
Earl Douglas
Knew by my arms, and my accoutrements,
That I belong'd to you; he question'd much,
And much he menac'd me, but both alike
In vain, he then arrested and confin'd me.
Percy.
Arrest my knight? The Scot shall answer it.
Elwina.
How came you now releas'd?
Harcourt.
Your noble father
Obtain'd my freedom, having learn'd from Hubert
The news of Percy's death. The good old Lord,
Hearing the king's return, has left the Castle
To do him homage.
To Percy.
Sir, you had best retire;
Your safety is endanger'd by your stay.
I fear shou'd Douglas know—
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Shou'd Douglas know?
Why what new magic's in the name of Douglas,
That it shou'd strike Northumberland with fear?
Go, seek the haughty Scot, and tell him—no—
Conduct me to his presence.
Elwina.
Percy, hold;
Think not 'tis Douglas—'tis—
Percy.
I know it well,
Thou mean'st to tell me 'tis Elwina's husband;
But that inflames me to superior madness.
This happy husband, this triumphant Douglas,
Shall not insult my misery with his bliss.
I'll blast the golden promise of his joys.
Conduct me to him—nay, I will have way—
Come, let us seek this husband.
Elwina.
Percy, hear me.
When I was robb'd of all my peace of mind,
My cruel fortune left me still one blessing,
One solitary blessing, to console me;
It was my fame.—'Tis a rich jewel, Percy,
And I must keep it spotless, and unsoil'd:
But thou wou'dst plunder what e'en Douglas spar'd,
And rob this single gem of all its brightness.
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Go—thou wast born to rule the fate of Percy.
Thou art my conqueror still.
Elwina.
What noise is that?
(Harcourt goes to the side of the Stage.
Percy.
Why art thou thus alarm'd?
Elwina.
Alas! I feel
The cowardice and terrors of the wicked,
Without their sense of guilt.
Harcourt.
My lord, 'tis Douglas.
Elwina.
Fly, Percy, and for ever?
Percy.
Fly from Douglas?
Elwina.
Then stay, barbarian, and at once destroy
My life and fame.
Percy.
That thought is death. I go.
My honour to thy dearer honour yields.
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Yet, yet thou art not gone!
Percy.
Farewel, farewel!
(Exit Percy.
Elwina.
I dare not meet the searching eye of Douglas.
I must conceal my terrors.
Douglas at the Side with his sword drawn, Edrit holds him
Douglas.
Give me way.
Edric.
Thou shalt not enter.
Douglas
(struggling with Edric.
If there were no hell,
It wou'd defraud my vengeance of its edge,
And he shou'd live.
(Breaks from Edric and comes forward.)
Curs'd chance! he is not here.
Elwina.
Let us retire, my friend, the storm is up,
dare not meet its fury.
Douglas.
See she flies
With ev'ry mark of guilt.—Go, search the Bow'r,
(Aside to Edric.
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(Aloud.
Now honest Douglas learn of her to feign.
(Aside.
Alone, Elwina? who just parted hence?
(With affected composure.
Elwina.
My lord, 'twas Harcourt; sure you must have met him.
Douglas.
O exquisite dissembler! No one else?
Elwina.
My lord!
Douglas.
How I enjoy her criminal confusion!
You tremble, Madam.
Elwina.
Wherefore shou'd I tremble?
By your permission Harcourt was admitted;
'Twas no mysterious, secret introduction.
Douglas.
And yet you seem alarm'd. If Harcourt's presence
Thus agitates each nerve, makes ev'ry pulse
Thus wildly throb, and the warm tides of blood,
Mount in quick rushing tumults to your cheek;
If friendship can excite such strong emotions,
What tremors had a lover's presence caus'd?
Elwina.
Ungenerous man!
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I feast upon her terrors.
(Aside.
The story of his death was well contriv'd,
(to her.
But it affects not me; I have a wife,
Compar'd with whom cold Dian was unchaste.
(Takes her hand.
But mark me well—tho' it concerns not you—
If there's a sin more deeply black than others,
Distinguish'd from the list of common crimes,
A legion in itself, and doubly dear
To the dark prince of hell, it is—hypocrisy.
(Throws her from him and Exit.
Elwina.
Yes, I will bear his fearful indignation!
Thou melting heart be firm as adamant;
Ye shatter'd nerves be strung with manly force,
That I may conquer all my sex's weakness,
Nor let this bleeding bosom lodge one thought,
Cherish one wish, or harbour one desire,
That angels may not hear, and Douglas know.
End of the Third Act.
| Percy | |