University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

Scene I.

THE WANDERER,
(alone.)
That thou dost love the maid suits well my purpose;
It is the helm which guides thee to that port
Where vengeance calls; but think not thou shalt take
That viper to thy bed, the child of Sweno!
Lost as I am, and stamp'd by nature's curse,
Thou art my son; and sooner would I wring
The life blood from this heart, than see thee batten
On that abhorred couch. Once have I stood
Between thee and that leap, when fate seem'd fixt,
And thou already in thine ardent hopes
Forejoyd'st her charms. Once more I will arrest thee,
Ere Agnes be thy wife; or, if thou wedd'st,
Thou shalt embrace a corse.—This is fate's seal,
(producing a phial.)
Love's antidote. This philtre from thine hand
Shall lull her maidish fears in that sound sleep
Which knows no waking.

[Enter UBALD.]
UBALD.
Woman, still thou meet'st me
At each turn like my evil destiny.
What wilt thou?

WANDERER.
Aid thee.

UBALD.
I would be alone.
The blood is stirr'd within me, and thy sight
Offends my thoughts.

WANDERER.
Hast thou seen Agnes?

UBALD.
Seen her!
In the broad face of day I have required her,
My prize, my right. Great gods! I have been scorn'd,
Trampled by Sweno's pride.

WANDERER.
'Tis well.—The curse
Will soon o'ertake him. Thou seek Agnes' chamber;
The shades of evening thicken, and the sounds
Of clamorous revelry are sunk in silence;
It is the hour of love.

UBALD.
Speak not of love;
I feel a strange and preternatural awe
Thrill through me in thy presence. Leave me, woman.

WANDERER.
Yet will I aid thee, Ubald. Take this phial,
A potent philtre, brew'd with secret spells
When the moon's face was full: in man 'twould breed
Aversion, fear, or death; but, given to woman,
Its powerful charm will so enthrall her will
Led by its strong invisible influence,
That she must bend to him who ministers.
Give this, and she is won.

UBALD,
(taking it).
I have e'en heard
That such things are, and of portentous might.
Thou rosy draught, in which the loves sit smiling,
No sea-tost mariner ere hail'd the land
With its fresh dawn of verdure, no sick mourner
The beam of health, with such heart-stirring joy
As the scorn'd lover, vex'd with hopeless wishes,
Would bless thy perfidy! O most subtle thief,
Canst thou with witching and seductive skill
From the closed issues of the pitiless mind
Draw sweet accordance, moulding the stern thoughts
Even to the form and quality of fondness?

WANDERER.
The virtue is in the proof. Present that philtre,
And thou shalt find the gently kindled heart
Turn quick and tremulously to thy bidding,
As doth the magnet to its proper pole.

UBALD.
These toys are for the humble;—such as crawl
Content to owe their summer-growth of fortune
To paltry plotting and mean artifice.
Woman, I scorn thy gifts.
(He dashes it on the ground.)
When Ubald takes
The kiss of love, or unbought wreath of honor
By a wizzard's trick, fall from him, gracious Heaven!
To others thy curst wares! my hopes need no
Unhallow'd aid.

WANDERER.
Mad boy, thou art undone!
The fruit, when thou hast press'd its precious savor,
Shall turn to bane: the venomous rind cling to thee
Loathsome, destroying life. Still take my counsel,
Ere fate shall close her adamantine gate
Thro' which there is no return.

UBALD.
I will not, sorceress.
Thine indirect and artful policy
Suits not my bearing.—Come, thou holy parent,
First source of love, with unadulterate speech
Inform my tongue, and show the guileless spell
Of thine own eloquence, resistless Nature!—
Bid thy priest wait me under Helen's porch.
Thus far I use thee.

[Exit.
THE WANDERER,
(alone.)
O fell Destiny,
With what prevailing and tremendous power
Thou goad'st me to the goal! Thy tread is like
The rush of many waters, indistinct
But dreadful, coming louder on the ear
And big with ruin. I am borne on by fate
And that relentless never-ceasing voice
Which swells within me to the utterance,
My mother's cry. It is here, here, here, rising
(She touches her forehead)
As the low murmur from the hollow earth
Which bodes the hurricane.—See there! See there!
She stands; she beckons—See! she glares upon me,
As in the frantic moments of her death.
There was none near her in that agony,
But the lost wretch who drew perdition on her.
Away, away, this is no time for thought.

[Exit.

Scene II.

The Garden before the Door of Agnes' Chamber. Dusk.
UBALD.
Once more, loved shades, I tread your fragrant lawn,
Scene of my earliest joys! not, as before,
Elate and joyous; but, like night's marauder,
I steal unto the plunder of those joys
Day will not yield me. I am ill used to deeds
That shun the light; my firm nerve quakes and trembles,
Which never blench'd before. Strange thoughts assail me.
With what a plain and level course till now
My barque has steer'd through this world's stormy ocean,
Breasting its turbulent wave as if in triumph!
Now is my course obscured, and tempest-tost
I roam amid the billows. In thee, Agnes,
Life's only sunshine dwells: joy, fame, and glory,
Are but the rays of one revolving circle,
In which thy cherish'd form is fixt and center'd.—
No voice.—The sounds of mirth have ceased within,
And no lights flit along those arched casements.
Now to love's work! Be still, thou murky air,
And shroud with thy soft veil the theft I purpose!
(Holding out the key and unlocking the door.)
O thou quaint minister to daring love,
Do thy kind secret office, and unlock
This shrine of chastity!—Hush!—Agnes! Agnes!
'Tis Ubald's voice that steals upon thy slumber.

AGNES,
(coming out fearfully.)
What means my Ubald? At this hour! alone!
How couldst thou break the privacy of my chamber?
I dare not speak with thee.

UBALD.
Nay, nay, Agnes,
Time yields no season now for doubt or scruples.
I would not trench, no not by one small atom,
Upon that reverence my love should yield thee;
But, while we speak, e'en now wing'd moments fly,
To wrest thee from mine arms for ever. Agnes,
I have not built my love upon the sand?
Thy faith will not fall from me?

AGNES.
Sooner, Ubald,
This timid heart would brave the oppressor's sword,
Than fall from thee; but steal not like a thief
Upon the night; I dare not greet thee freely,
My life, my lord.

UBALD.
If Ubald is thy life,
Thou must be his, and this night, lovely trembler.

AGNES.
O Ubald, thou art wild to say to-night.

UBALD.
I am not wild: and yet I am wild, Agnes,
To think that life's whole joy is on the cast
Of this swift hour.

AGNES.
This hour!

UBALD.
Thou darest not bide
Till the morn break, and with insulting joy
Reynald shall come to tear thee to the altar!

AGNES.
O never, Ubald! by our loves I swear
Sooner to die, than wrong thee!

UBALD.
Oaths are vain.
Hands even now are plying, chaplets woven,
To deck thee for to-morrow's sacrifice;
Sweno has vow'd it. Agnes, thou art mine
This night, or blood must stream upon thy bridal.

AGNES.
Merciful heaven! what dost thou meditate?
O Ubald, smite not in thy wrath!

UBALD.
'Tis thou,
Thy cold delay, which goads me to such phrensy.
Say, dearest, thou wilt be my bride to-night.
The priest awaits; thy Ubald kneels to thee.

AGNES.
Ubald, thou wrong'st the chaster thoughts of duty,
Which dare not yield what the weak heart would grant.
I must not hear thee; but the trembling soul
Bleeds to say nay. I may not fly my father.

UBALD.
Then bide, O false one, and be Reynald's victim!—
And yet thou darest not wed him!—Agnes, Agnes,
Thou couldst not yield this hand, thine Ubald's treasure,
And look upon the sun, that lit thy treason.

AGNES.
Indeed I durst not.

UBALD.
Agnes, this hand is pledged
To me and to my fortunes; it was given
In the fair prime and sunshine of our loves,
Which must abide through every change of season,
Not worn as summer garments, to be cast
When ruder hours assail us. Here I hold it
Before the face of heaven, and those pure orbs
Which heard the pledge. I will not loose this hand,
Till at the altar vows assure thee mine,
Though it were parricide to hold it, Agnes.
Thy sire will come! Despair hath wrought me mad.
(Kneeling, and clasping her hand passionately.)
Say thou wilt be my bride! Have mercy, Agnes!
Blood will be spilt ere morn, if thou deniest me.

AGNES.
O Ubald, I am riven by love and duty.
Would that I durst!

UBALD.
O yield thee to my faith!
To say me nay, is to say nay for ever.
Agnes, to-night or never we must wed.

AGNES.
O Ubald, do not tempt me to a deed,
Which shall embitter all our after-joys.
Heaven will not smile on disobedient vows.
My sire will curse us. Spare me, beloved Ubald!
I have not strength to strive against thy wrath.

UBALD.
The priest attends us, love. The solemn rites,
That make thee mine, shall steep thy thoughts in peace.

AGNES.
Dear Ubald, peace can never crown the guilty.
I am too weak, too deeply pledged in love,
To hold that proud demeanor, which I owe
To my own name and to my noble father.
But do not cozen me with empty hopes!
Guilt may have some brief pleasures, great though anxious;
But peace dwells only in the path of duty.
Make me not, Ubald, what thyself will scorn,
An outcast child!

UBALD.
Would Ubald cause thee sorrow?
In infant years, whene'er thy heart was sad,
And I had been but one day absent, thou
Wouldst rush into mine arms and there pour forth
Thy gentle sorrows, and they straight would vanish.
And wouldst thou place a bottomless gulph between us?
Thou wilt not tear thee from me? Night is waning,
Come, best beloved!

AGNES,
(yielding.)
I am too weak.
(Stopping again.)
Hark, Ubald!
There is an angry whisper of the air,
The shivering trees do rustle with each other.
O tempt me not to ruin, loved, loved Ubald!
Let me once see my sire, and press his knees
With burning tears, that he may spare his child!

UBALD.
Agnes, the word of knighthood duly given
Is law to Sweno. There is now no hope
Save in our instant union. Footsteps move
Through yon dark corridor. Come friend or foe,
Ubald will not resign thee but in death.
Yield, love; despair and death are in delay.

AGNES.
(She leans upon him with a burst of tears.)
Ubald, I yield me; but my bosom shrinks
With ominous terrors.

UBALD.
Fear not! Come, dear bride.

[Exeunt.

Scene III.

Before the Porch of Helen's Chapel. Night.
THE WANDERER,
(alone.)
Stay, moon, thy rising! When thy conscious eye
Shall pierce the curtain'd east, fate's bolt must fall,
Blurring thy beams with blood. O I am faint,
And gladly would I lay this fever'd head
On the cold ground, and lull my thoughts in death.
The memories of years rise ghastly round me,
And the soul sickens with the sad review
Of all my wanderings. At such an hour
(I mind it now, although the mist hangs often
O'er my benighted mind) those treacherous joys,
That trembled in it like a beam from heaven,
Stole to my heart, foreshowing bliss and rapture;
But, tasted, turn'd heaven to hell, and made this earth
A howling wilderness. O lost delight!
Time was, that I was fair, and blithe, and lovely:
My heart expanded to the God of nature,
And every morning, in my humble bower
Of woodbine and wild sweets, I pour'd my strain,
Sweet orisons of praise, to him who bless'd me.
Visions of innocence, where are ye fled?
My brain is like a furnace, and the fiend
Goads me to ruin:—yet I dare not waver
Now, on the dizzy gulph of that toss'd ocean
Upon whose brink I stand. But this my cup
Of vengeance will I drink, and then, lost mother,
Thy spirit shall have peace! Blind chaos, come!
O Ubald, O my son! thou art the shaft
Twenty long winters in fate's quiver stored,
And whetted by revenge. I must be brief;
I have upheld thee once; again the pit
Yawns close beneath thy feet, and I have digg'd it.
The hour draws nigh. Yet have I one strong spell
To ward thy ruin, and thou perforce shalt venge me.

[Exit.
(Enter UBALD and AGNES.)
AGNES.
Stay, best beloved! I heard a voice, dear Ubald;
This place is awful. Let me yet return.

UBALD.
Mine Agnes, cheer thy heart: this loneliness
Is fitting tender thoughts.

AGNES.
Too strongly loved!
My father's curse will blast me. I shall hang
Even as a wither'd wreath upon thy neck,
And thy quick temper will upbraid my sadness.
Perchance thy love, my only prop, will leave me.
Wilt thou not hate my tears?

UBALD.
In mirth or sorrow,
Ever my own! I will make tears my drink,
Ambrosial sighs my food. The very gods
Shall envy me.—Our harbinger of bliss
Peers through her misty shroud. (The moon rises.)

So radiant love,
Smiling through tears, shall light mine Agnes' brow.

AGNES,
(clinging close to UBALD.)
Ubald, who comes?

[Enter Monk.]
UBALD.
A friend! our trustiest friend,
Whose blessing, gentle maid, shall seal our union.
Welcome, kind father! These still rocks are lonely;
No eye shall break upon our privacy,
Save yon pure orb, our hymeneal lamp,
That smiles upon us. Though our modest bridal
Must shun the glare of pompous blazonry,
We make thee almoner of this our largesse.
'Tis fit that gifts should crown the church's rites,
And charity draw down a blessing on them.

(Giving him a purse.)
MONK.
'Tis fitting, noble youth: and Father Francis
Hath a right trusty hand, and knows full well
Where to apply this cordial; what souls need
The cheering comfort of thine alms, and where
'Twere cast away, like jewels unto swine.
(aside.)
By our mass, a goodly gift, and well bestow'd!

UBALD.
We are the debtors to your kindness, Father,
And shall not stint our gifts. Bear'st thou the key
Of this lone chapel, through whose color'd pane
The moonlight gleams on the neglected altar,
And chides us for delay?

MONK.
When doth the woodman
Forget his ax, or the true knight his falchion?
And think'st thou Father Francis doth not bear
The weapons of his ministry? This key
Unfolds the portal of that massive arch
Into the shrine; this, at love's witching mandate,
Shall ope the cell beneath it, where is strewn
The bridal couch.

AGNES.
Ubald, I am dismay'd;
The very rocks and chapel frown on us:
The shrine of God looks awful in this gloom,
And my heart's pulse is chill'd. Thou wilt not guide me
Into the bowels of that ruinous den,
Where fiends perchance abide?

MONK.
In truth, fair lady,
Rife is the rumor that these cells are held
By restless spirits, far from human tread;
But trust me, they are jovial souls that haunt them.
I have known somewhat of their pranks myself.
But fear not, lady; spectres come not nigh
This glen to-night, for I have exorcised it.
Nor flesh, nor spirit walks within these doors
Without my leave. Come, lady, to the chapel.

UBALD.
Lean on me, loveliest burthen! Let this arm
Be now, as ever, the sole prop of Agnes.
Thou wilt not fear while Ubald is beside thee.

AGNES.
Forgive me, Ubald, that each breath appalls me:
My fluttering heart beats quick with guilty terror;
I dread this very darkness which befriends us,
The fitful breathing air, and these lone walls,
Lest the mute stones should find a voice to curse me
[The Monk, who has unlocked the chapel door, pushes it open, after some delay and exertion, with a hoarse grating noise.]
AGNES shrieks, and draws back.
O Ubald, let us turn! Nature forewarns us;
As cautiously we cross'd the forest glen,
Beneath each rustling leaf a tongue seem'd lurking;
And now from out these walls, this ruin'd shrine,
Night's ominous bird will scream and flap his wing
Over our bridal. Turn we, dearest Ubald!
My father will relent.

UBALD.
Gods! am I mock'd?
Shall Ubald be the jest of every slave?
E'en at the altar's groundsill yield my right,
And see insulting Reynald swoop my bride
In his curst talons? Sooner Chaos come!
By heaven, it is not well, it is not well,
To stir my blood thus, Agnes!

AGNES.
Be not angry!
Let not thy wrath destroy me quite with anguish!
What prop, what hope hath Agnes, but thy kindness?
Beloved, forgive my weakness: I am thine;
But, O! what harbor hath the guilty child,
If thou too chide her?

UBALD.
It is tempting fate
To dally thus with time. Pursuit may reach us.
By all the honors I have earn'd and proudly,
I turn not living hence, till thou art mine!

MONK.
I like not this mine office. If the maiden
Decline the church's rite, I take my leave.

UBALD,
(stepping before him.)
Not so, Sir Priest; stay yet! it were not safe
To rouse the wrath of Ubald. Agnes, Agnes,
Assure this Father of thy free consent!
The sacred gate stands open.
(Taking her hand: she leans upon him.)
Thus, beloved!
Lean thus upon my neck, O thus for ever!

AGNES.
I have not strength to tell my Ubald nay.

[She enters the Chapel, supported by Ubald, and followed by the Monk.]