University of Virginia Library

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!