 | Earl Goodwin |  |
SCENE near Lambeth, London.
Enter Goodwin, Harold, Girth, Tostie, Swaine, Leofwine, and Soldiers; Drums, &c.
Goodwin.
Strike up the sounds of war, till they awake
The drowsy spirit of the land! Arise,
Great genius of our isle! breathe thy fierce fires
Strongly into our bosoms!—Warm'd by thee,
My sons and fellow-soldiers shall despise
Each hour of vulgar circumstance, their hearts
Pant quick for action, only dar'd by those
Who stretch the thought thro' endless time. Despair
Bends down our sons of industry, pale want
Robs the young cheek of ruddy hue; while craft,
In venerable trimming, chains our king
To tyrant superstition. Then befriend,
Thou great unknown, our arms, if just; if rage,
Or private grief, malice, or cruel pride,
Be our incentives to this war, O wrest
Each sword from its fast hold, or turn the point
On ev'ry guilty breast.
Harold.
Hear, gracious Heav'n,
And aid our gen'rous cause. What is the word?
Goodwin.
Redress for England—Trumpets sound! strike loud,
Ye soul-reviving drums! till Edward feels
His frozen pow'rs dissolve, and boldly meets
Our army like a king.
[Drums beat, Soldiers shout, “Redress for England!” As they prepare to march, Trumpets are heard at a distance.]
Goodwin.
Hark! Edward's pow'r is near—Now, now, my sons,
May glory lift your souls beyond the stars,
Till you forget mortality! may life
Be deem'd no more than a rich spark, that glows
With brightness and must out. I'll lead you on
Amid their thickest troops: but—if I drop,
O do not pause, or pay the filial tear,
Till you have time to weep!—Fall on, and strike
For England's wrongs—for Emma! Think not then
On Goodwin's lost Editha.
Harold.
We'll forget,
At that great moment, nature's soft'ning plea,
Nor list to aught but justice.
All going, enter an Officer from the King's Army.
Officer.
I am sent
As th'ambassador of peace.
Tostie.
Thy errand
Is now ill tim'd—On!—on—
Officer.
Our gen'ral claims
A parley with Earl Goodwin.
Goodwin.
Be it so.
Tostie.
Nay, let it not be so, my noble Lord—
Lead on to vengeance.
[Goodwin confers with the Officer apart.
Harold.
Tostie, thou art fierce
As the untutor'd Arab—Shall we tear
The father from his child, the blooming youth
From his lamenting mother, forcing them
To bare their bosoms to our swords, if peace
May be obtain'd with honour?
Tostie.
Coward!—
Harold.
How!
Dar'st thou defend that word? if so—but hold—
The hour may come, when thou wilt not condemn
A father thou should'st much revere.
Tostie.
By heav'n!
I will condemn a father if he shake.
But for a dastard brother, who can sit
On the warm lap of time, mouthing event
With poor grimace, then shrink, and mercy beg.
Why, Harold, know, such tremblers ask me nothing,
Such fathers, such loud brothers, throw away
Tostie's affections for his lasting scorn.
Harold
(enraged).
Arrogant vaunter! try—
Goodwin
(coming up to them.)
What answer, Harold,
To Leofricke?
Harold
(aside to Goodwin).
How my heart swells!—We'll hear him—
Our troops may here be cautiously arrang'd
O'er Lambeth fields, our choicest men drawn out;
Meanwhile the fleet of Tostie shall not move.
Tostie
(aside).
Am I thus curb'd?—shall I obey the rein,
Like a reluctant steed that beats the dust,
While kept but in the view of enterprise?
Goodwin
(to the Officer).
Thus much to your right valiant gen'ral say,
That hostages on either side be given,
And we will meet him with our force in part
Near Westminster; conditions shall be signed
By England's king, or he must meet the war.
Officer.
My lord, this message shall in full be given.
[Exit Officer.
Goodwin.
This slumb'ring monarch is so dead to glory,
So chill'd by pennance and abstemious rule,
That his weak spirit dares not look abroad,
Or soar thro' wide creation. Could he burst
Beyond those useless forms, shake off the chain
With which these crafty priests have bound his soul,
Like us he'd fear but one immediate cause,
Nor deem a pope more welcome than himself
To bright Omnipotence;—but Edward bends
A people's blessings to his private good,
Scorning the heav'nly attribute of mercy.
[Exeunt.
Enter Goodwin, Harold, Girth, Tostie, Swaine, Leofwine, and Soldiers; Drums, &c.
Goodwin.
Strike up the sounds of war, till they awake
The drowsy spirit of the land! Arise,
Great genius of our isle! breathe thy fierce fires
Strongly into our bosoms!—Warm'd by thee,
My sons and fellow-soldiers shall despise
Each hour of vulgar circumstance, their hearts
Pant quick for action, only dar'd by those
Who stretch the thought thro' endless time. Despair
Bends down our sons of industry, pale want
Robs the young cheek of ruddy hue; while craft,
In venerable trimming, chains our king
To tyrant superstition. Then befriend,
Thou great unknown, our arms, if just; if rage,
Or private grief, malice, or cruel pride,
Be our incentives to this war, O wrest
Each sword from its fast hold, or turn the point
On ev'ry guilty breast.
36
Hear, gracious Heav'n,
And aid our gen'rous cause. What is the word?
Goodwin.
Redress for England—Trumpets sound! strike loud,
Ye soul-reviving drums! till Edward feels
His frozen pow'rs dissolve, and boldly meets
Our army like a king.
[Drums beat, Soldiers shout, “Redress for England!” As they prepare to march, Trumpets are heard at a distance.]
Goodwin.
Hark! Edward's pow'r is near—Now, now, my sons,
May glory lift your souls beyond the stars,
Till you forget mortality! may life
Be deem'd no more than a rich spark, that glows
With brightness and must out. I'll lead you on
Amid their thickest troops: but—if I drop,
O do not pause, or pay the filial tear,
Till you have time to weep!—Fall on, and strike
For England's wrongs—for Emma! Think not then
On Goodwin's lost Editha.
Harold.
We'll forget,
At that great moment, nature's soft'ning plea,
Nor list to aught but justice.
All going, enter an Officer from the King's Army.
Officer.
I am sent
As th'ambassador of peace.
Tostie.
Thy errand
Is now ill tim'd—On!—on—
37
Our gen'ral claims
A parley with Earl Goodwin.
Goodwin.
Be it so.
Tostie.
Nay, let it not be so, my noble Lord—
Lead on to vengeance.
[Goodwin confers with the Officer apart.
Harold.
Tostie, thou art fierce
As the untutor'd Arab—Shall we tear
The father from his child, the blooming youth
From his lamenting mother, forcing them
To bare their bosoms to our swords, if peace
May be obtain'd with honour?
Tostie.
Coward!—
Harold.
How!
Dar'st thou defend that word? if so—but hold—
The hour may come, when thou wilt not condemn
A father thou should'st much revere.
Tostie.
By heav'n!
I will condemn a father if he shake.
But for a dastard brother, who can sit
On the warm lap of time, mouthing event
With poor grimace, then shrink, and mercy beg.
Why, Harold, know, such tremblers ask me nothing,
Such fathers, such loud brothers, throw away
Tostie's affections for his lasting scorn.
Harold
(enraged).
Arrogant vaunter! try—
38
(coming up to them.)
What answer, Harold,
To Leofricke?
Harold
(aside to Goodwin).
How my heart swells!—We'll hear him—
Our troops may here be cautiously arrang'd
O'er Lambeth fields, our choicest men drawn out;
Meanwhile the fleet of Tostie shall not move.
Tostie
(aside).
Am I thus curb'd?—shall I obey the rein,
Like a reluctant steed that beats the dust,
While kept but in the view of enterprise?
Goodwin
(to the Officer).
Thus much to your right valiant gen'ral say,
That hostages on either side be given,
And we will meet him with our force in part
Near Westminster; conditions shall be signed
By England's king, or he must meet the war.
Officer.
My lord, this message shall in full be given.
[Exit Officer.
Goodwin.
This slumb'ring monarch is so dead to glory,
So chill'd by pennance and abstemious rule,
That his weak spirit dares not look abroad,
Or soar thro' wide creation. Could he burst
Beyond those useless forms, shake off the chain
With which these crafty priests have bound his soul,
Like us he'd fear but one immediate cause,
Nor deem a pope more welcome than himself
To bright Omnipotence;—but Edward bends
A people's blessings to his private good,
Scorning the heav'nly attribute of mercy.
[Exeunt.
| Earl Goodwin | |