University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

SCENE the Royal Tent.
Enter Cristina and Mariana.
Cristina.
Hark! Mariana, list!—No—All is silent—
It was not Fancy sure—didst thou hear aught?

Mar.
Too plain, the Voice of Terror seiz'd my Ear,
And my Heart sinks within me.

Cristina.
O, I fear
The War is now at Work—As Winds, methought,
Long borne thro' hollow Vaults, the Sound approach'd;
One Sound, yet laden with a thousand Notes
Of fearful Variation; then it swell'd
To distant Shouts, now coming on the Gale;
Again borne backward with a parting Groan,
All sunk to horrid Stillness.

Mar.
Look, my Princess,
Ah, no! withold thy Eyes! the Place grows dark,
A sudden Cloud of Sorrow stains the Day,
And throws its Gloom around.

SCENE II.

Enter four Slaves as bearing the Bodies of Agusta and Gustava on a Bier cover'd—four Women in Chains follow weeping.
Cristina.
Whence are ye, say, you Daughters of Affliction?
Their Speech is in their Tears—Avert, ye Saints!
Avert that Thought! Soft! hold ye! I've a Tear
For ev'ry Mourner—Ah!

[Looks under the Covering.
Mar.
What mean you, Madam?

Cristina.
Reflection come not there! See it not Eyes!
How art thou spilt, thou Blood of Royalty!
Close at the Paleness of its Parent Breast
The Babe lies slaughter'd. Tell me, who did this?
No, hold ye! Say not that my Father did it;
For Duty then turns Rebel—Cruel Father!
O, that some Villager, whose early Toil
Lifts the penurious Morsel to his Mouth,
Had claim'd my Birth! Ambition had not then
Thus step'd 'twixt me and Heav'n.

Mar.
Go, bear it hence—
Turn, turn, my royal Mistress!

Cristina.
Ah, Agusta!
Among thy Foes thou'rt fal'n, thou'rt fal'n in Virtue!
Exalt thyself, O Guilt? For here the Good
Have none who may lament them. Sit we down;
For I grow weary of the World; let Death
Within his vaulty Durance, dark and still,
Receive me too; and where th' Afflicted rest,
There fold me in for ever.—

SCENE III.

Enter Laertes.
Laer.
Arise, Cristina; fly! thou royal Virgin!
This Morn beheld thee Mistress of the North,
Bright Heir of Scandinavia; and this Hour
Has left thee not, throughout thy wide Dominions,
Whereon to rest thy Foot.

Cristina.
Now, Praise to Heav'n!
Say but my Father lives!

Laer.
At your Command
I went; and, from a neighb'ring Summit, view'd
Where either Host stood adverse, sternly wedg'd;
Reflecting on each other's gloomy Front,
Fell Hate and fix'd Defiance—When at once
The Foe mov'd on, attendant to the Steps
Of their Gustavus—He with mournful Pace
Came slow and silent; 'till two hapless Danes
Prick'd forth, and on his Helm discharg'd their Fury:
Then rouz'd the Lion! To my wond'ring Sight
His Stature grew twofold, before his Eye
All Force seem'd wither'd, and his horrid Plume
Shook wild Dismay around; as Heav'n's dread Bolt,
He shot, he pierc'd our Legions; in his Strength
His shouting Squadron gloried, rushing on
Where e'er he led their Battle—full five Times,
Hem'd by our mightier Host, the Foe seem'd lost,
And swallow'd from my Sight; five Times again
Like Flame they issued to the Light—And thrice,
These Eyes beheld him, they beheld Gustavus
Unhors'd, and by a Host girt singly in;
And thrice he broke thro' all.

Cristina.
My Blood runs chill.

Laer.
With such a strenuous, such a labour'd Conflict,
Sure never Field was fought! until Gustavus
Aloud cry'd, Victory! and on his Spear
High rear'd th' imperial Diadem of Denmark.
Then slack'd the Battle; then recoil'd our Host;
His, echo'd, Victory! And now would know
No Bounds; Rout follow'd, and the Face of Fight—
—She heeds me not.

Cristina.
O, ill starr'd Royalty!
My Father! Cruel, dear, unhappy Father!
Summon'd so sudden! fearful, fearful Thought!
Step in, sweet Mercy! For thy Time was—Ha!

SCENE IV.

Enter Cristiern flying without his Helmet, in Disorder, his Sword broke, and his Garments bloody; he throws away his Sword, and speaks.
Crist.
Give us new Arms of Proof—fresh Horses—quick!
A Watch without there—Set a Standard up
To guide our scatter'd Powers! Haste, my Friends, haste!
We must be gone—O for some cooling Stream
To slake a Monarch's Thirst!

Laer.
A Post, my Liege,
A second Post from Denmark says—

Crist.
All's lost.
Is it not so? Be gone! Perdition choak thee—
Give me a Moment's Solitude—Thought, Thought,
Where wou'dst thou lead?

Cristina.
He sees me not—Alas, alas, my Father!
O, what a War there lives within his Eye!
Where Greatness struggles to survive itself.
I tremble to approach him; yet I fain
Wou'd bring Peace to him—Don't you know me, Sir?
My Father, look upon me, look, my Father!
Why strains your Lip, and why that doubtful Eye
Thro' Fury melting o'er me? Turn, ah, turn!
I cannot bear its Softness—How? nay, then,
There is a falling Dagger in that Tear,
To kill thy Child, to murder thy Cristina.

Crist.
Then thou'rt Cristina?

Cristina,
Yes.

Crist.
My Child!

Cristina.
I am.

Crist.
Curse me! then, curse me! Join with Heav'n and Earth
And Hell to curse!

Cristina.
Alas! on me, my Father,
Thy Curses be on me, but on thy Head
Fall Blessings from that Heav'n which has this Day
Preserv'd thy Life in Battle.

Crist.
What have I
To do with Heav'n? Damnation! What am I?
All frail and transient as my laps'd Dominions!
E'en now the solid Earth prepares to slide
From underneath me. Nature's Pow'r cries out,
Leave him thou Universe!—No—Hold me Heav'n!
Hold me thou Heav'n! whom I've forsaken—hold
Thy Creature, tho' accurs'd!

Cristina.
Patience and Peace
Possess thy Mind! Not all thy Pride of Empire
E'er gave such bless'd Sensation, as one Hour
Of Penitence, tho' painful—Let us hence—
Far from the Blood and Bustle of Ambition.
Be it my Task to watch thy rising Wish,
To smooth thy Brow, find Comfort for thy Cares,
And for thy Will, Obedience; still to cheer
The Day with Smiles, and lay the nightly Down
Beneath thy Slumbers.

Crist.
O thou all that's left me!
Ev'n in the Riot, in the Rage of Fight,
Thy guardian Virtues watch'd around my Head,
When else no Arm could aid—for thro' my Ranks,
My circling Troops, the fell Gustavus rush'd;
Vengeance! He cry'd, and with one eager Hand
Grip'd fast my Diadem—his other Arm,
High rear'd the deathful Steel—suspended yet;
For in his Eye, and thro' his varying Face,
Conflicting Passions fought—he look'd—he stood
In Wrath reluctant—Then, with gentler Voice;
Cristina thou hast conquer'd! Go, he cry'd,
I yield thee to her Virtues.

SCENE V.

Enter Trollio and Guards, Swords drawn.
Troll.
Haste, O King!
The Foe has hem'd us round; O haste to save
Thyself and us!

Crist.
Thy Sword.

[Takes a Sword from one of the Guards.
Troll.
What means my—

Crist.
Villain!
Well thought, by Hell! Ha! Yes,—thou art our Minister,
The rev'rend Monitor of Vice—the Soil,
Baneful and rank with ev'ry Principle,
Whence grow the Crimes of Kings. First perish thou!
[Stabs him.
Who taught the Throne of Pow'r to fix on Fear,
And raise its Safety, from the publick Ruin;
Fall thou into the Gulph thyself hast fix'd
Between the Prince and People; cutting off
Communion from the Ear of Royalty,
And Mercy from Complaint—away, away,
Thy Death, old Man, be on thy Monarch's Head;
On thine, the Blood of all thy Countrymen,
Who fell beneath thy Counsels.

[Exeunt.
Trollio attempts to rise and then speaks.
Troll.
Thou bloody Tyrant! late, too late I find,
Nor Faith, nor Gratitude, nor friendly Trust,
No Force of Obligations can subsist
Between the Guilty—O, let none aspire
To be a King's Convenience! Has he Virtues,
Those are his own; his Vices are his Minister's.
Who dares to step 'twixt Envy and the Throne,
Alike to feel the Caprice of his Prince,
As publick Detestation.—Ha! I'm going
But whither? No one near! to feel! to catch!
The World but for an Instant! for one Ray
To guide my Soul! Her Way grows wond'rous dark,
And down, down, down!

[Dies.

SCENE VI.

Enter Gustavus, Anderson, Arnoldus, Sivard, &c. in Triumph. Gustavus advances, and the rest range themselves on each side of the Stage.
Gust.
That we have conquer'd, first we bend to Heav'n!

And.
And next to thee!

All.
To thee, to thee, Gustavus!

Gust.
No matchless Men! my Brothers of the War!
Be it my greatest Glory to have mix'd
My Arms with yours, and to have fought for once
Like to a Dalecarlian; like to you,
The Sires of Honour, of a new-born Fame,
To be transmitted, from your great Memorial,
To Climes unknown, to Age succeeding Age,
Till Time shall verge upon Eternity,
And Patriots be no more—

Arn.
Behold, my Lord,
The Danish Pris'ners, and the Traytor Peterson,
Attend their Fate.

Gust.
Send home the Danes with Honour,
And let them better learn, from our Example,
To treat whom next they conquer, with Humanity.

And.
But then for Peterson!

Gust.
His Crimes are great:
A single Death were a Reward for Treason:
Let him still languish—Let him be exil'd.
No more to see the Land of Liberty,
The Hills of Sweden, nor the native Fields
Of known, endear'd Idea.

And.
Royal Sir,
This is to pardon, to encourage Villains;
And hourly to expose that sacred Life,
Where all our Safety centers.

Gust.
Fear them not.
The Fence of Virtue is a Chief's best Caution;
And the firm Surety of my People's Hearts
Is all the Guard that e'er shall wait Gustavus.
I am a Soldier from my Youth; yet Anderson,
These Wars, where Man must wound himself in Man,
Have somewhat shocking in them: trust me, Friend,
Except in such a Cause as this Day's Quarrel,
I wou'd not shed a single Wretch's Blood
For the World's Empire!

Arn.
O exalted Sweden!
Bless'd People! Heav'n! wherein have we deserv'd
A Man like this to rule us?

SCENE VII.

Enter Arvida leading in Cristina. He runs to Gustavus.
Gust.
My Arvida!

Arv.
My King! O hail! Thus let me pay my Homage.

[Kneels.
Gust.
Rise, rise, nor shame our Friendship.

Arv.
See, Gustavus! Behold, nor longer wonder at my Frailty.

Gust.
Be faithful Eyes! Ha! Yes, it must be so.
'Tis she—For Heav'n would chuse no other Form
Wherein to treasure ev'ry mental Virtue.

Cristina.
Renown'd Gustavus! mightiest among Men!
If such a Wretch, the Captive of thy Arms,
Trembling and aw'd in thy superior Presence,
May find the Grace that ev'ry other finds,
For thou art said to be of wond'rous Goodness!
Then hear, and O excuse a Foe's Presumption!
While low, thus low you see a suppliant Child,
Now pleading for a Father, for a dear,
Much lov'd; if cruel, yet unhappy Father.
O, let him 'scape; who ne'er can wrong thee more!
If he with circling Nations could not stand
Against thee single; singly, what can he,
When thou art fenc'd with Nations?

Gust.
Ha! that Posture!
O rise—surpriz'd, my Eye perceiv'd it not.
Cristina! thou all form'd for Excellence!
I've much to say, but that my Tongue, my Thoughts
Are troubled; warr'd on by unusual Passions.
'Twas hence thou had'st it in thy Power to ask,
'Ere I could offer—Come, my Friend, assist,
Instruct me to be grateful. O Cristina!
I fought for Freedom, not for Crowns, thou fair one,
They shall sit brighter on that beauteous Head,
Whose Eye might awe the Monarchs of the Earth,
And light the World to Virtue—My Arvida!

Arv.
O great and good, and glorious to the last!
I read thy Soul, I see the gen'rous Conflict,
And come to fix, not trouble thy Repose.
Cou'd you but know with what an eager Haste
I sprung to execute thy late Commands;
To shield this lovely Object of thy Cares,
And give her thus, all beauteous to thy Eyes!
For I've no Bliss but thine, have lost the Form
Of ev'ry Wish that's foreign to thy Happiness.
But, O, my King! my Conq'rer! my Gustavus!
It grieves me much that thou must shortly mourn,
Ev'n on the Day in which thy Country's freed,
That crowns thy Arms with Conquest and Cristina.

Gust.
Alas! your Cheek is pale—You bleed, my Brother!

Arv.
I do indeed—to Death.

Gust.
You have undone me:
Rash, headstrong Man! O was this well, Arvida?

[turns from him.
Arv.
Pardon, Gustavus! mine's the common Lot,
The Fate of Thousands fall'n this Day in Battle.
I had resolv'd on Life, to see you bless'd;
To see my King and his Cristina happy.
Turn, thou beloved, thou honour'd next to Heav'n!
And to thy Arms receive a Penitent,
Who never more shall wrong thee.

Gust.
O Arvida!
Friend! Friend!

[turns and embraces him.
Arv.
Thy Heart beats Comfort to me! in this Breast,
Let thy Arvida, let thy Friend survive.
O, strip his once lov'd Image of its Frailties,
And strip it too of ev'ry fonder Thought,
That may give thee Affliction—Do, Gustavus;
It is my last Request; for Heav'n and thou
Art all the Care, and Business—of Arvida.

[Dies.
Gust.
Friend! Brother! speak—He's gone—and here is all
That's left of him who was my Life's best Treasure.
How art thou fall'n, thou greatly valiant Man!
In Ruin graceful, like the Warrior Spear
Tho shiver'd in the Dust—so fall Gustavus—
But thou art sped, hast reach'd the Gole before me;
And one light Lapse throughout thy Course in Virtue
Shews only thou wer't Man, ordain'd to strive,
But not attain Perfection.—
Dost thou too weep? transcendent, loveliest Maid!
Pardon a Heart o'ercharg'd with swelling Grief,
That in thy Presence will not be exil'd,
Tho' ev'ry Joy dwells round thee.

Crist.
O Gustavus!
A Bosom pure like thine must soon regain
The Heart-felt Happiness that dwells with Virtue;
And Heav'n on all exterior Circumstance
Shall pour the Balm of Peace, shall pay thee back
The Bliss of Nations, breathing on thy Head
The Sweets that live within the Pray'rs of Foes
Subdued unto thy Merits—fare, farewell!

Gust.
Thou shalt not part, Christina.

Cristina.
O—I must—

Gust.
No, thou art all that's left to sweeten Life,
And reconcile the wearied to the World.

Cristina.
It will not be—I dare not hear—

Gust.
You must.
I am thy Suppliant in my Turn—but O
My Suit is more, much more than Life or Empire,
Than Man can merit, or Worlds give without thee.

Cristina.
Now aid me, aid me all ye chaster Pow'rs
That guard a Woman's Weakness!—'tis resolv'd—
Thy own Example charms thy Suit to Silence.
Nor think alone to bear the Palm of Virtue,
Thou, who hast taught the World, when Duty calls;
To throw the Bar of ev'ry Wish behind them.
Exalted in that Thought, like thee I rise,
While ev'ry less'ning Passion sinks beneath me.
Adieu, adieu, most honour'd, first of Men,
I go, I part, I fly, but to deserve thee.

Gust.
Yet stay—a Moment—till my utt'ring Heart
Pour forth in Love, in Wonder pour before thee,
Thou cruel Excellence—Woud'st thou too leave me?
Not if the Heart the Arms of thy Gustavus
Have Force to hold thee.

Cristina.
O delightful Notes!
That I do love thee, yes, tis true, my Lord.
The Bond of Virtue, Friendship's sacred Tie,
The Lover's Pains, and all the Sisters Fondness,
Mine has the Flame of ev'ry Love within it.
But I have a Father, guilty if he be,
Yet is he old; if cruel, yet a Father.
Abandon'd now by ev'ry supple Wretch
That fed his Years with Flattery. I am all
That's left to calm, to sooth his troubled Soul,
To Penitence, to Virtue; and perhaps
Restore the better Empire o'er his Mind,
True Seat of all Dominion—Yet Gustavus
Yet there are mightier Reasons—O farewell!
Had I ne'er lov'd I might have stay'd with Honour.

[Exit.
Gustavus looks after Cristina, then turns and looks on Arvida—Anderson, Arnoldus, &c. advance.
And.
Behold my Lord, behold the Sons of War,
Of Triumph, turn'd to Tears; while from that Eye
All Sweden takes her Fate; and smiles around,
Or weeps with her Gustavus.

Arn.
Wilt thou not cheer them, say thou great Deliv'rer?

Siv.
O General!

1st Dale.
King!

2d Dale.
Brother!

3d Dale.
Father!

All.
Friend!

Gust.
Come, come, my Brothers all! Yes I will strive
To be the Sum of ev'ry Title to ye,
And you shall be my Sire, my Friend reviv'd,
My Sister, Mother, all that's kind and dear,
For so Gustavus holds ye—O I will
Of private Passions all my Soul divest,
And take my dearer Country to my Breast.
To publick Good transfer each fond Desire,
And clasp my Sweden with a Lover's Fire.
Well pleas'd, the Weight of all her Burdens bear;
Dispense all Pleasure, but engross all Care.
Still quick to find, to feel my People's Woes,
And wake that Millions may enjoy Repose.