University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE I.

The Council Chamber.
Osbert, Osric, Edwin, and Lords, rising from Table.
Osbert.
The dawn has almost stolen upon our councils.
Here break we up; and let a short repose
Fit us for weightier toils.
[Exeunt all but Osbert and Osric.
No ray of hope, thou sayest—
No glimpse, however distant, that may serve
To light me to my wishes?

Osric.
None, my lord.
Cold as a marble emblem of the dead,
By some chill vault incircled from the world,
Rowena's every sense is shut, alike,
To love as to ambition—Yet the turns,
The strange events that lodge within the womb
Of wide futurity, alike forbid
Despondence, as presumption.

Osbert.
There I cast
One little grain, where hope may yet take root
In possibility—For, O my friend,
My father! who hast given me, by thy councils,
My better birth—a birth, wherein alone
Existence can have worth, my birth in virtue!—
Already does my soul attempt for freedom;
And, from the fetters and the gloom of guilt,
Gets all aloft, and soars within my bosom.
I feel new being, joyous, calm, humane,
The kindly offices of man to man,
How sweet the intercourse!—of kings to all,
Thrice blest prerogative!

Osric.
True, my loved liege—
When monarchs stoop to act, and feel like men,
They rise a flight o'er angels.

Osbert.
Yes, my Osric,
The foe who meets the ardour of to-morrow,
I think was born when luckless planets ruled.
I pant for day—I pant, to shew my people,
What deeds their king shall dare in their defence,
The first in danger, as the first in office.
But I detain thy age from needful rest;
Thy couch expects thee—this one warm embrace
Shall yield thee till the morning.

Osric.
First of kings,
Thrice valiant Osbert,—may thy future reign
Rise, like the coming sun, upon the world,
Chearful to man, dispensing light and life!
And after a long course of wide beneficence,
Retire, when late, to Heaven, and set in glory!
[Exit Osric.

Enter an Officer.
Officer.
My liege, as westward we held on our rounds
Near the York Minster, we espied a man,
Of port majestic, and of shining arms,
Dazzling the night. He would have pass'd our guard;
And Anulf, Ethelbald, and valiant Oswald,
Fell by his arm—At length, by numbers quell'd,
He waits your pleasure—

Osbert.
Give him entrance. Ha!—

SCENE II.

Enter Westmorland in Chains.
A majesty indeed!—though some lorn cloud
Appears to have informed his manly brow
With well acquainted sorrow!—Say, brave stranger,
Who, and whence art thou? Silent!—then, perhaps,
Some dear and sacred grief sits heavy on thee,
That should not be prophaned by vulgar ears.
Leave us together.
[Exeunt Guards.
Now, declare thyself—
And if thou bearest up but to thy seeming,
Noble and virtuous, though thou should'st be found
My foe profess'd, know Osbert for thy friend.

West.
Thy foe profess'd!—

Osbert.
Of Denmark, art thou?

West.
Yes.

Osbert.
What—of the powers now banded against Britain?

West.
A leader.

Osbert.
Speak thy purpose.

West.
Thus says the Dane; and what my tongue declares,
His scepter ratifies—Not lust of fame,
Or empire, bears us to Albion's shore;
But justice on a single head—Grant that,
And Denmark is your friend.

Osbert.
Have ye, for this, o'erspread our seas with fleets,
Our land with arms?

West.
We have.

Osbert.
Name the offender.

West.
Nay more—
We ask, but what by law of arms we warrant—
The guilty and the injured, man to man!—
The rest let fate decide.

Osbert.
'Tis granted, chearfully.

West.
And surely—is it?

Osbert.
Yes, if there's truth or honour in the land;
In Heaven, or earth, aught binding.

West.
You will not shrink—

Osbert.
No—though ourself should answer thy bold summons.
Thou hast our faith—I swear it, by my head.

West.
'Tis there our vengeance levels!

Osbert.
Insolent!—
And who is he, that dares impeach a monarch?
And more presumptuous still, that singly dares,
In equal field, to meet the arm of Osbert?

West.
He stands before you—

Osbert.
Ha!—thy name?

West.
'Tis Westmorland!—
A long pause.
Now do you know me?

Osbert.
Westmorland!—
Had yawning hell
Cast all his fiends upon me—neither depth,
Nor height—the universe could not afford
A spectre, like thyself, to shake the nerve,
And blanch the cheek of Osbert!

West.
O thou fell tyger, hungry as the grave,
Gorged with the lives of innocence and honour!—
What can'st thou answer, thou imperial spoiler,
To me, thy subject?—now thy slave—in chains—
Alone—unarm'd—yet, by thy proper guilt,
Exalted as thy judge—an awful judge,
To sink thee to perdition!

Osbert.
I had made—
I hoped, I trusted, I had made—my peace
On earth, in Heaven!—but, like a baneful blast,
A sudden pest, thou art come to wither up
All the wide harvest of my ripen'd hopes—
Thou plague, thou hell of Osbert!

West.
Yes—
Beyond this life—while there's a place for being—
War, hateful, deadly, and determined war,
Must be the lot of Westmorland and Osbert!
Heaven can't contain us; nor the suffering earth,
And keep her elements at peace—
The seat of memory is curs'd that holds thee—
O I would chase thee to the verge of thought,
There push thee off, and blot thee from creation—
Though I leapt after!

Osbert.
Rebel, I thank thee—thou dost well expunge
My single fault by thy superior wickedness!
To thousands—to thy country false, thou traitor—
Who never wrong'd thee!—

West.
Ha!—yes—it may—it may be so—
Devil!—'tis thou hast damn'd me then—Yet, wherefore?
The very wren would rouze at such a wrong;
Would guard his little nest from violation,
And plume himself against the princely eagle!
In such a cause, all ways, all means, are lawful—
Truth does avouch it—vengeance! it is my food,
My thirst—High Heaven, who gave a world to man,
Gave it in common—trash not worth contention!—
But chastly paled the bridal bed around,
With sanctities and honours, whose offence
Is deeper than damnation!

Osbert.
O, thou hast,
Thou hast, indeed, been injured—past repeal,
Or the world's recompence!—What's to be done?

West.
The duty of a king—
One act of justice—let it mark thy reign—
Let not a nation sink for thy transgression!—
For once give answer to the call of honour;
And as thou hast been ever bold in ill,
Be bold for once in honesty!

Osbert.
O! no—
Yes—any other arm but thine—or thine,
Though doubled, so thou drop thy dread ally
That combats for thee HERE!—O no, I cannot—
I will not fight thee!—

West.
Then, perish Britain,
Or cast the tyrant out!—War, pass thy bounds!
Range vengeance, wide as air! crush, crush the world,
So thou but wrap him in the general ruin!—
Art thou, art thou a man—a king—a warrior—
A champion, chosen to breast thee to the breach?—
And dost thou quail, and skulk behind thy people?
Dost thrust the sucking babe, and fear-frozen mother,
Betwixt thyself and danger?

Osbert.
Oh!—

West.
Thy oath is past, thou must abide the venture.
Take arms of vantage, case thee round in steel
Of proof impenetrable—give me, but,
Naked, defenceless, but to have one stroke,
One grapple for the bleeding cause of honour,
And I acquit thee—from the first of time,
Through all eternity, I seal thy pardon!

Osbert.
Well—when?—it shall be done!—Thou hast me short,
A little short of recollection now—
Time soon shall serve—I swear it—arm to arm,
Great, injured man!—thou shalt be satisfied.

West.
Wilt thou?—And I will thank thee in the grave.

Osbert.
I will—

West.
Well—hold thee to thy pledge—thy faith—thy manhood—
I may expect thee, then—

Osbert.
Yes—else, may Heaven
Stand in thy place for vengeance!

An Officer enters.
Officer.
My liege, the foe approaches, and is now
In sight of York—

Osbert.
Most noble stranger!—for an hour or two,
You must consort with patience—Guards, conduct him;
And see that he be treated with attention,
Becoming princely dignity and honour.

[Exeunt Westmorland and Guards.

SCENE III.

Enter Osric and Edwin, with Citizens.
Osric.
My lord, they come apace, the storm bends this way!
Mine be the walls, mine and the citizens—
But haste with Edwin, haste to horse, my liege!
Array your soldiers in the square, and hold them
Ready to sally on the first advantage.
Haste, valiant Osbert!

[Exeunt severally.

SCENE IV.

The Fields before York.
A Danish March and Music.
Ivar, Hubba, and Soldiers, enter with the Great Raven-Standard of Denmark.
Hub.
How fair to sight, how chearing to the sense,
These fields throw fragrance to the vernal breeze,
And greet our soldiers with a sweet salute!

Ivar.
It is a tempting invitation, Hubba—
This favourite isle, this daughter of the gods,
Retires with conscious beauty from the world;
Like sea-born Venus, rises from the waves,
And chastly courts the soldier's arm to clasp her.

Hub.
Ivar, thus far, the voice of honour calls;
And friendship answers to the glorious summons,
To pluck oppression from the seat of power,
And substitute the injured: 'tis an office,
Worthy the delegates of Heaven.

Ivar.
True, brother.
Nor do I grudge Northumbria to her Westmorland,
Our brave, unhappy friend—But then, my Hubba,
In Britain's heavenly sphere, there are more stars
Than gem the crown that Westmorland must wear;
Nor can we want a cause, while great ambition,
That made a god of Grecian Philip's son,
Inspires with equal ardour.

Hub.
O, beware!—
If these your counsels, let your breast conceal them,
Nor trust them to the ear of Westmorland.
I know how dear he holds his country's health;
Nor would I wish his valour for our foe.
Think how his arm might sway the scale of Britain!
A name is light, yet his outweighs a legion.
There's not a Dane throughout your numerous hosts,
But looks to him, as to the god of battles;
And wears some favour, letter'd with his name,
To charm misfortune from them.

Soldier enters in haste.
Ivar.
How now? thy looks speak haste—
What tidings, soldier?

Sold.
O, my sovereign lord!
'Tis rumour'd, that our leader, in the night,
Adventuring near the city, was beset,
And, all unseconded, is either slain,
Or captive now in York.

Ivar.
The sword of Denmark
Shall richly pay his ransom—
Now loose the war, impetuous as a flood,
And thou hot sun be quench'd, and set in blood.

(Sound Trumpets)
[Exeunt.

SCENE V.

The Inside of the Abbey.
Rowena and Nuns.
Row.
Pass but a little time, and all shall be,
To every purpose of this present world,
As though they had never been!—Build on, projection!
Pile, avarice! ambition, scale the clouds!—
It is but as a dream of varying fancy;
A breath—and all is vanished!
Hear me, my children!—List, ye hallow'd virgins,
O list, and take my last instructions with ye!—
Ha!—did ye mark that groan?

1st Nun.
No one is near—

Row.
Methought it came attended by a voice,
That echoed—“Take her last instructions with ye.”

1st Nun.
Hark—hark!

[Charge, drums and trumpets at a distance.
Row.
Defend us, Heaven!—the noise of battle!—
[They look out.
The form of coming war, how dreadful is it!—
Wide on the right, no opening spot can shew
What ground they tread.—Alas, alas, for York!
She cannot stand the shock—her ancient towers
Already seem to shake at their approach,
And bow to her foundations.

[Sound, beat, and clash.
1st Nun.
Look!—O look!—

Row.
Ha!—Yes—the town too issues to the battle—
On either part, the kings ride foremost—Now,
Now they have mark'd each other for destruction—
He's down—the Dane is down!—
Now Osbert is unhorsed—
O bravely rescued!—
And such a fair deliverer!
Ha!—'tis my Edwin!—Turn, thou infant warrior,
Nor tempt the random blow—
Ah, rash, rash boy!—
See how he throws himself amid the battle,
And makes a mock of danger—
O, save him, save him, Heaven!—They gird him in—
A child against an army!—
He's down, he's down, and I will look no more—
What dreadful sounds are these?—
[An approaching tumult.
See, Edith, see.

[A Nun goes out, and instantly returns.
2d Nun.
They come—they are at our doors,
A band of ruffians!—Save us, madam, save us!

Row.
Quick, to the gate, fly some one!—make it sure,
But for a few short moments—For myself,
Blow tempest!—nature, wreck!—it matters not—
'Tis finish'd—I am secure—But, O for these,
Thine own devoted—O, or never, now
Inspire, thou Living Strength! a wondrous deed,
A courage not their own—Say, my sisters,
What would ye do, from lust and violation,
What dare, from such a lost estate to escape?

1st Nun.
Put us to proof.

2d Nun.
We dare the last extremes.

3d Nun.
Tortures, or death, or worse.

Row.
One dear embrace—
For now we part no more!—and thus, and thus—
[Embrace.
We bind us to each other, in a knot,
More firm than that which winds the world together,
For ours is tied in virtue.
O, if they yet survive—my child, my husband!
In whom my soul lives, feelingly transferr'd
Through all their faculties—protect them, Heaven!
Quit, quit all care of me, and take the dear ones
To your peculiar guardianship!
Hark!—for now
[The noise approaches nearer.
Our trial is at hand—Are ye prepared?

[Draws a knife.
Nuns.
We follow you to death!

[The Nuns do the same.
Row.
And such a death,
As should preserve the very life of virtue,
[A shout at the door.
Were scarce a sin—They come!—Sisters, away!—
'Tis triumph all above, when Virtue wins the day.

[Exeunt.