University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

Enter Hubba.
Hub.
I have traced and found thee, Westmorland!—O friend,
Does this beseem the general of our armies—
Thus to forsake his camp, alone, unguarded;
And cast his valued person on the edge
Of danger, and of darkness?

West.
O, my Hubba,
There is, there is a cause!—

Hub.
Wherefore that sigh,
When fame, when friendship, and when Denmark wait,
But till the morrow's sun shall light the world,
To give Northumbria's scepter to your hand,
And crown your arms with conquest?

West.
O friend, friend!
My steps have long been strangers to ambition—
I seek not fame, nor royalty.

Hub.
How, Westmorland!
What else is worthy of a warrior's notice?

West.
Vengeance.

Hub.
Vengeance?

West.
Vengeance, my royal friend!—O, generous Hubba,
Oft was I on the point to tell thee all,
To pour my anguish in thy friendly bosom—
But shame withheld the tale.

Hub.
Long have I mark'd
The labours of thy soul, the big emotion;
But fear'd to ask, although I wish'd to ease thee.

West.
The hour is come that must reveal my wrongs,
Loud as their cry for justice—List, my friend,
It is a grievous tale—I once was held,
Fair, brave, and young, the hope of my loved country,
Her first in arms, and honour'd as her king.
Upon a time, I saw a noble maid,
Daughter and heiress to the earl of Devon;
I saw, I loved, and woo'd, and won her to me—
But, O, to say how blest—new-budding youth
Would run to age, in numbering o'er her beauties,
And never feel decay!—
Where'er she moved, the gladsome east went with her,
And rose in morning-comfort on my sight.
At length, this angel, placed on earth, brought forth
A son, a little cherub to the world,
Cloath'd in the brightness of his mother's beauty.
So, all was full, rhe social, the humane,
And every cordial amity!—Two years
Pass'd blissful on, and smiled.—But then!—

Hub.
What then?

West.
Ay, then arrived that hour, that fatal hour,
Which hell caught out, and mark'd for my undoing—
When, in a visit, as from friend to friend,
King Osbert sought my castle, I was absent—
But my too charming bride!—dark envy saw,
And sigh'd—his crown seem'd poor—high passions rose,
That swept faith, friendship, Heaven, and earth before 'em.
To sue, was vain—he knew it vain—what else?
Force, guilty, ruffian force—and I was ruin'd!—

Hub.
O, honour, virtue!—what, Northumbria's Osbert?

West.
Even he—the scepter'd ravisher, the robber—
The lustful, lawless ruler!—Go, my friend,
We have a business here of private claim,
But dear import—return thou to the camp,
Prepare our destined embassy to York,
And challenge forth whoe'er, in single fight,
Shall stand his country's hope—he shall be met,
And these the high conditions—if we conquer,
Then, Osbert cedes, and fair Northumbria's crown
Is left at our dispose; but, if we fall,
We swear to abdicate his throne for ever,
And leave the land in peace.

Hub.
It shall be done.

West.
Osbert, I think, will not confide his crown
To any second arm: for he is bold;
Though guilty, warlike as the sons of earth,
Ere nature knew decline—my vengeance then,
With sudden transport shall spring forth, confess'd,
And gripe its quarry.

Hub.
'Tis most likely—O,
May all the powers that war on perfidy
Succeed your hope!—Adieu.
[Exit Hubba.

West.
My Ethelwald,
Are we not near the place that holds my treasure—
The blest abode, where my Rowena dwells,
And consecrates the shrine?—

Ethel.
We are, my lord—
Yon pile, yon happy pile, contains the saint,
And lifts our earth to Heaven.

West.
Your arm, my Ethelwald,
For I am sudden faint with doubt and joy,
And trembling expectation—
Now walls, kind walls, be faithful to your trust;
Give but these eyes to see her once again,
And I will case your spires with beaten gold!—
Lend me thy cloak—Attend a-while without—
Yon gate invites my entrance—

[Exeunt.