University of Virginia Library

SCENE V.

Westmorland enters, and bends on one Knee.
Row.
O! once, indeed,
I had a husband—his all-placid face
Was as a little Heaven, new planeted
With twin bright stars; and beauty from each limb,
As through a summer casement, look'd abroad,
And found no rival.—
Ha! what art thou—
[Seeing Westmorland.
That thus obtrudest thy irreverend step
Upon the sacred vigils of the night?—
Com'st thou in friendship?

[West. kneels.
West.
From that sacred breast,
Heaven's choicest seat, far, far be dread and danger!
In friendship? yes—with awe—with adoration.

Row.
Whence?

West.
Peace be to your gentle heart!—
I bring a token, and from one, who once
Was honour'd with the highest, dearest claim,
That ever did enrich a mortal—one,
Who once did boast Rowena for his blessing—
Her long lost, her life-wedded Westmorland.

Row.
If, O if—
Celestial messenger! thou dost descend,
To tell my hour's at hand—I hail thy summons!
My soul is on the wing to meet my lord,
Where all cares end, and love alone's immortal.

West.
He lives—thy happy husband!—
He lives, he comes!—Already has he past
A length of distant lands—already reach'd
The beach that beetles o'er that envious sea,
Which roll'd between you!—

Row.
Living!—landed!—
Did'st thou say, landed?

West.
Yes, within this hour—
This, this exalted hour, this hour of blessedness!
Prepare to hear, to see, to hold—

[Westmorland rises—the cloak drops,
Row.
Ah, Heaven!
O'erwhelm me not with hopes of happiness,
That mock a mortal's reach!—Am I awake?
In life, or death, that form should be remember'd—
It breaks upon me—O the gracious figure!—
'Tis he, my lord, my husband!—
Shield me, give me room!—
His presence fills the place—but leaves our air—
Too thin for breath—I cannot—oh—

[Faints.
West.
Here end me, nature!—I have lived my length,
[Catches her.
Have climb'd the zenith of my Heaven—and hence
'Tis declination all—Wake, O wake, my love,
Star of sweet influence! Ye silver lids,
That chamber up the morning, open straight,
Open your gates, that I may see my day.

Row.
This crown is hot—it sears me to the brain!
Yon is a brighter, for 'tis gem'd with stars!—
Away—unhand me, ruffian—thou a king!
Have I not sworn it? I will not be wedded.

[Breaks from him.
West.
Alas, she raves—

Row.
Indeed—eyes mock me not!
If it is he, I'll have him!—

[Runs into his arms.
West.
Rowena, dearest!—
Why wilt thou pluck up sorrow by the roots,
With such deep heaves? Why drown me with thy tears?—
This passion quite o'erbears my growth of joys,
Which else had reach'd the stars—Ah, those dove eyes,
How they do speak!—
Wilt thou not know me?

Row.
Art thou not my lord,
My wedded lord, fair Albion's arm of war?
And am not I thy true and humble wife,
Sworn servant of thy will? I think, even so.
But whether so it be, in life or death—
Awake, or over-watch'd—in sooth, I know not.

West.
O, thou fair creature,
Whom nature form'd so exquisitely apt
To fill the deep desirings of my soul,
Made up of love, and peace-born blessedness!
Do I then hold thee?—painful, painful rapture!

Row.
Lord of my life, hast thou alone the power
To pass the bourn of pale mortality,
Whence none return beside? or has the grave,
Cold and insensible till now, relented,
Warm'd by my sighs, and quickening to my wishes—
And given thee back, thus lovely, to the light,
Thus, thus, to my embraces?

[Embrace.
West.
My heart's blessing!—
The season serves not now—we shall have time,
We shall have time for all the wond'rous tale—
To talk, to listen, mingling sweet regards,
And looks, and smiles, and questions, from that tongue,
Tuned, as the harp of David, to expel
All anguish from the soul!

Row.
Delightful intercourse,
Foretaste of Heaven!—But then—

West.
Why that look averted?
Then!—What of then, thou dearest?

Row.
Then, my Westmorland,
How shall I dare to lift a face of shame
To that majestic brow?—And yet, I trust,
'Tis not the transience of external beauty,
A form alone that won thee to my wishes—
No, thou didst wed a more essential wife,
The heart, the immortal soul of thy Rowena,
Still thine, and unpolluted.

West.
Ha!—yes, thou shalt have vengeance!—Say'st thou, dearest?
O, no, thou art all, from violence, from Osbert,
From mortal touch, all pure and unpolluted,
As snow new sifted through a northern sky,
And kist by the cold breeze—thy chaster breath
Would serve to light the vestal fire anew,
And consecrate its flame.

Row.
Our Edwin lives—

West.
For that I bow to Heaven—
There undivided, clasp'd within our offspring,
The fondest wish my soul ere form'd is answer'd.

Enter Ethelwald.
Ethel.
My lord, beware!—Just issuing from the town,
By distant torch-light I discern some troops,
That this way bend their motions.

West.
Then, Rowena,
We part for some few hours—To morrow's sun
Shall light me to my love; and I will lift her
To such a height, so near divinity,
The bending world shall look with wonder upward,
And worship while they gaze!

Row.
O, my life's lord—
Grandeur and I have vow'd a wide divorce—
I can't support the stedfast searching brow,
The world's broad look—I sink to death beneath it!
Ah, might I wooe thee to the kindly vale,
The sweet descents of life!—there Peace keeps home,
Nor ever visits at a lordly mansion;
But with the loves and joys, and downy hours,
Bounds o'er the green, and laughs within the cottage.

West.
Then, be it so—
Soon as one urgent debt is paid to honour,
Adieu the cares, and coils, that worldlings dress
In rainbow robes, and falsify with titles!
Far from the scenes of frenzy, let us fly
To some fair Eden of primeval innocence,
Where my Rowena's presence shall bereave
The fox of fraud, the tyger of his fierceness;
Shall tune all passions of the soul to peace,
The waves, the winds, and war-worn elements,
To their first order—Thou, like sinless Eve,
New from the hand of Heaven, returning bliss
To that fond bosom whence she drew her being;
My vital consort, my far dearer part,
Warm at my side, and panting at my heart!

[Exeunt