University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

Scene I.

Night. Before Sweno's Window. The Wanderer alone enters cautiously.
SWENO
's voice within.
Bertha!

WANDERER.
His voice! his voice! O tones once dear,
With what dread tremor fall ye on my heart!
O that the space of unrecorded time,
Which has crept slowly, withering hope and life,
Could be annihilate; and days, long sunk
In its devouring gulph, rise fresh and fair!
O Sweno, Sweno, that my soul was chaste
Thy conscience knows; that I was mild and gentle
The cursed triumph of thy fraud bears witness!
That I am hideous now as hell's own inmates,
Blotted from honor's book, disgraced, abandon'd,
That is thy work, thy foul and damning deed.
A stranger sits upon my rightful seat,
The bright throne of my hopes; and here I wander,
Given to the pitying tempests, cast in hate
Forth from my lawful bed, to be the scorn
Of things that howl; while thou, adulterous lord,
Smilest o'er my wreck. The hour of wrath is come,
The plague is o'er thine house. O heavy sleep,
Weigh down the brow of Sweno! seal his lids
In silence, whose next sleep is in the grave!
Sweno, Sweno, I summon thee to death!

[Exit.

Scene II.

Sweno's Chamber.
SWENO. BERTHA.
BERTHA.
The evening is far spent, and drowsy night
Spreads her still mantle o'er the face of nature.
Sweno, thy mind needs rest.

SWENO.
O gentle Bertha,
The limbs may lack refreshment, but the mind
Hath no sweet pause, while shapeless dread hangs o'er it,
E'en in the lap of sleep. That strange wierd woman
Has cast a withering spell upon my soul,
And her last words ring dreadful in mine ear.
O Bertha! I am sick at heart, and cheerless;
The memory of the past preys keen and darkling
On my deep-burthen'd soul. The curse of her,
Who bann'd us, still pursues me.

BERTHA.
What means my lord?
Have not his firm asseverations made
His Bertha certain, that her wondrous form,
Beauteous in madness, was unknown to Sweno?

SWENO.
And be that added to the bitter sum;
Bertha, my speech deceived thee. Not unknown
Her voice, like fate's last summons, smote my soul.
Still when the tempests rave, and sheeted lightning
Sets the pale vision of her form before me,
That sound appalls my fancy; from above
Retributory vengeance frowns on Sweno.

BERTHA.
Be my lord's thought less gloomy! Twenty years
The sun hath smil'd on us, and all things prosper'd,
As if kind fortune's course outsped thy wishes.

SWENO.
Ay, my loved wife: but heaven's deep wrath delay'd
O'erwhelms with tenfold vengeance.

BERTHA.
Nay, good Sweno,
Heaven has still joys in store to cheer the evening
Of thy bright glories: thou unbend thy sorrows,
Disclose the bitter secret of thy thoughts,
And let my love assuage them.

SWENO.
Gentle Bertha!
From my youth up I have been proud and fearless.
Bitter must be the pangs which now can wring
Self-accusation from the mouth of Sweno.
But it shall be. Pride wrought the deed that stains
The fair field of my conscience, which yet knows
No other blot: and that dark pride shall stoop
Even to confession of my inward horrors.
I will be henceforth humble, very humble.

BERTHA.
Speak, and be yet my proud and glorious husband!
The evil now abjured, whate'er it be,
Humiliates not.

SWENO.
Was she not fair?

BERTHA.
O yes;
I well remember, on the raving blast,
When her locks stream'd (her beauteous form between us
And the fire-flashing storm) I could almost
Have bow'd and worshipp'd: but the ban, that flow'd
From her ill-ominous lips in phrensy, spoke her
A maniac or a fiendlike spirit, and say'st thou
Not then unknown?

SWENO.
O Bertha! she was known
Even to the inmost chamber of my heart.
There was a time, if she had ask'd of Sweno
Wealth, fortune, station, character, whate'er
Makes man amongst his fellows vain or glorious,
I had all given and freely; so enshrined
Was her bright image in my soul: e'en now
My fancy views her innocent and lovely,
The temple of pure joys, as first I saw her
Staunching my wounds, while I lay faint and bloodless.

BERTHA.
What wounds? when, where inflicted? say, kind Sweno.

SWENO.
'Twas dusk; alone I journey'd through the forest,
Where the trees leaning from the ruinous steep
Spread their rude canopy o'er a mountain brook,
Then dry and stony. Crossing the ravine,
A bow-shot slew my steed; loud rose the shout
Of rushing men unmerciful. I staid
My back against a rock and kept at bay
The yelling ruffians, when a hand unseen
From the crag's summit smote me, and I fell
Senseless and seeming dead into the hollow.

BERTHA.
Ah me! and none to help?

SWENO.
Yes, there was one,
A shape like heaven's pure spirits, to whom I owe
Life rescued from that deep and bloody trance.

BERTHA.
How came she in that glen?

SWENO.
A cottage, mantled
With flowery sweets, on the lone forest's border,
Gave birth and nurture to her loveliness.
Widow'd, forlorn, though sprung of gentle blood,
Her mother had no joy, no hope, but her;
Yet in that rich indeed. Passing the glen
At earliest dawn to seek their scanty herd,
She found me thus.

BERTHA.
And saved thee! That poor maniac,
Sweno, thy life's preserver! Is it thus?

SWENO.
I tell thee, Bertha, if the slave, that fell'd me,
Had thrust his weapon to the seat of life,
I had died then reproachless, nor thus stoop'd
To strew the ashes of too late repentance
O'er my devoted head. From that long trance
I woke, as by an angel's touch redeem'd.
I had seen nothing on this goodly earth
Like her who stood beside me. Her bright hue,
Her shape, her charms, were in the spring of youth,
With every full-form'd loveliness new-blown;
Of such superior and exalted grace
As woo'd the sense to worship: her dark eyes
Shone with no earthly lustre, proud, yet bashful;
And their glance seem'd to say, “Love me, for I
“Am worth the loving, and can well repay
“With the best bliss of life.”

BERTHA.
But thy keen wounds,
How were they staunch'd?

SWENO.
There, where I carried phrensy,
Disgrace, and death! By beauty nursed I wax'd
In health and vigor, while the mind's deadlier fever
Waked hot within. But Elfrid's soul was haughty,
And, when to lawless passion I gave voice,
The flush of indignation crimson'd o'er
Those beauteous cheeks, where love sate still supreme;
And those dark eyes, which seem'd his throne and altar,
Became a killing plague. Stung with desire,
Maddening, I swore, if she would bless my love,
That she should share my name, rank, wealth and honors.
My oaths prevail'd. O Bertha! I did call
The living God to witness with such strong
And terrible denouncement, that my soul
Shrinks now from the remembrance. I invoked
A curse on me and mine to everlasting,
If I should fail.

BERTHA.
Immortal justice, spare us!

SWENO.
Heaven bears record, how I adored and wrong'd her;
How in brief space those vows, joy-seal'd, were broken.
Health strung my limbs; the prize from thy fair hand
'Mid Christendom's best knights in tourney won
Waked loftier thoughts. Pride scorn'd the lowly gem
Which it had robb'd of lustre. Yet once more
I saw her, mournful, and presaging death,
In her lone bower. I spoke not what I purposed,
But her pale features an expression wore
So sad, and yet so steadfast, that her look
Pierced to my inmost soul, which shrunk beneath it.
Her words were few; but from a harp, o'er which
Oft I had hung in rapture, her white hand
Waked a most wild and dissonant harmony;
And then a song broke forth, which on my soul
Has sear'd its words in fire; ne'er heard since then,
Till from my Agnes the ill-omen'd notes
Stole on my nerves, like the cold ague's fit.

BERTHA.
Nor seen again? until our nuptial hour,
When the flood whelm'd her.

SWENO.
Never.—That direful music
Was her last parting; nor did I hear reproach,
Save on the morning of her piteous fate
That ominous threat which burst over our bridal:
But here indelible her image dwells,
And shapeless fears appall me.

BERTHA.
Let the balm
Of Bertha's tried affection soothe thy thoughts.

SWENO.
Go, Bertha, to thy couch: myself will follow,
Short space to penitent devotion given.

BERTHA.
Tarry not, my loved lord.
[Exit Bertha.

SWENO,
alone. (He sits down.)
I know not why,
Or what vain terrors undefined oppress me.
There is no living thing can daunt my strength;
But visions of the past rise thick before me,
And his own secret thoughts quell Sweno's pride.
O sleep, sweet sleep, when will thy balmy wing
Lap me in still forgetfulness, without
Thy fearful train of soul-appalling fancies?
Steal, gentle soother, o'er my troubled spirits!

[After a pause, the door opens slowly, and The Wanderer enters cautiously.]
WANDERER.
Sweno, awake! Hie thee to Agnes' chamber!
Search the maid's bower! The dainty bird is gone,
The virgin honors of thy house are blasted.
Sweno, arise! or sit thou unrevenged,
Till foul dishonor stare thee in the face
Plain as the sun! Ubald has stolen thine Agnes.
The vaulted chamber under Helen's chapel
Is witness to their loves. There seek, there find them!
Up, Sweno, rise! 'tis Elfrid bids thee wake!

[Exit.
SWENO.
Are my thoughts crazed, or stood that form before me?
Art thou a phantom from the oozy deep,
Breaking night's stillness with unhallow'd voice,
Or shape of flesh and blood, that warn'st me thus?

The WANDERER, alias ELFRID,
without, singing.
The fiend has set his mark
On their heads, dark, dark,
And the spirit of vengeance is near his door.

SWENO.
The voice, the voice, the very tones of Elfrid!
Dread judgment, hang'st thou o'er my fated house?
Not on my child, great God of mercies, not
On my poor Agnes!—Bertha, Bertha, sleeps she
In the sweet rest of innocence unharm'd?
My child, my Agnes, hear me! Bertha! Bertha!

[Exit.

Scene III.

Moonlight. Before the door of the Cavern under Helen's Chapel, which is seen above, and a projecting point of rock still higher. The River on one side appearing to wind close behind the projecting rock. The Monk is seen descending a rocky staircase from the Chapel, followed by Ubald and Agnes. The Monk unlocks the door of the Cavern.
MONK.
Fear nothing, lady, though the bridal couch
Seem lonesome. Evil spirits have no power
Over the chaste. Dread no worse warlock here,
Than him whose mastering spell subdues thy beauty
E'en to his wish and will. Sweet dreams of love
And waking joys attend ye!

[Exit.
AGNES.
O, loved Ubald,
What have we done! where has thy passion led me!
My maiden couch untenanted; my mother,
My sire renounced! Will not the curse of heaven
Burst on the rash and disobedient child?

UBALD.
Think not so gloomily! This night was cull'd
From the pure calendar of hallow'd hours
To be our bliss.

AGNES.
Ubald, a solemn blessing
Upon my virgin forehead has just stamp'd
The name of wife. It was my only wish,
And this fond heart, though timid, should be joyous.
Why does fear chill my thoughts? Why hangs a mist
Of vague and shapeless terrors on my soul?
Are they of guilty disobedience born,
Or omens of deep warning? Cheer me, love,
For my strength fails.

UBALD.
No breath of harm shall near thee;
Bid thine eyes beam with joy! Come, gentle Agnes!

AGNES.
Nay, Ubald, stay, and breathe this pleasant air.
See, how the moon rides glorious in yon sky!
From infant years I loved that silver light,
And the unvaried music of the waters,
That glimmer with its beam. Pleasant and calm
Under this rock falls sweetly on the ear
The murmur of the river. Sit we here;
That cave is terrible.

UBALD.
Light of my being,
It grieves thine Ubald's tongue to say thee nay.
Thy flight may be perceived, and hasty wrath
Pour its arm'd scouts around. In that retirement
Secure we rest; and vague pursuit may fret
And spend its breathless speed, but never reach us.

AGNES,
(unwillingly yielding.)
That cloister's vault is dismal as a tomb.

[Exeunt.
(The door closes after them grating heavily. After a short pause, enters The Wanderer Elfrid, cautiously.)
ELFRID.
Ye beetling rocks, and thou, lone chapel, once
Witness of Elfrid's wrongs, behold her triumph!
Haste, Sweno, to thy doom! The chapel closed—
All hush'd—all silent—save this heart, which throbs
As it would burst the impediments of life.
O dreadful!—O my son! Thy reckless passion
Has overleap'd my speed and marr'd thee. Ubald,
Where art thou? Pray this earth to cover thee,
Ere thy rash guilt be blazon'd to the sun!
[A shriek is heard within the cavern.
Hark to that shriek of fear! O vengeful phantoms,
One moment yet be still!—Come, Sweno, Sweno!
I am belated; in my own toils caught,
And wrapp'd in terrors. Sweno! dullard, haste!

(She ascends the stairs, and passes behind the Chapel. After a pause, enter from the cell hastily Agnes, Ubald.)
AGNES.
Night is terrific in that hideous cavern.

UBALD.
Nay, gentle Agnes. These are vain illusions,
The coy fears of a maiden. Hath not Ubald
Power, strength, and will, to shield thee from all danger?

AGNES.
Bear with me, Ubald; 'tis not lack of love,
That scares me from thy couch. The icy hand
Of horror is upon me. I dare not rest
In that tremendous gloom.

UBALD.
Wayward enchantress,
Night hath no darkness where my Agnes is!
Thyself art light, and joy, and loveliness.
Cheer thee, sweet trembler; on thy coral lips
The breath of love is stirring. Thy chaste bosom
Is the dear shrine of bliss. Appease thy fears.

AGNES.
O Ubald! as I near'd that frightful couch,
Lifting its veil with slow and timid hand,
I saw, though in thick darkness, plain and lit
By its own ghastliness, a grinning fiend,
And, shrieking, back I fell. Methought I lay
Wrapt in my shroud and coffin, while around
Glared thousand hideous phantoms as in triumph,
The least too horrible for human gaze.
I tremble, Ubald, and am thrill'd with dread;
For love's dear sake forbear me.

SWENO,
(without.)
Ubald! ho!

AGNES.
My father! Shield me, Ubald, from his wrath!

[Enters Sweno with his sword drawn. Agnes shrinks back towards the rock.]
SWENO.
Traitor, my daughter!—O my Agnes here!
(To Ubald.)
Glorious requital of parental cares!
Heap, heap dishonor on the house that rear'd thee,
But hope not, caitif, to escape the sword
Of an avenging father. Die, ungrateful!
Perish, base-born seducer!

UBALD,
(parrying his blows without returning them.)
Peace, peace, Sweno!
Put up thy sword; Ubald would not offend
One hair of thine for all the wealth of worlds.
Sire of my Agnes, Ubald kneels to thee.

[He drops on one knee.
SWENO.
Kneel not for life! Die, coward, faithless Ubald!

UBALD,
(rising.)
Thy fury is unmanly. O beware,
Stir not the fiend, which lurking in my heart
Cries vengeance on thine head!—Hold! hold!

ELFRID,
(on the rock above.)
Thine oath!
Thine oath! Slay him who made thee fatherless!

UBALD.
Tempt me no further, Sweno, on thy life!
I know not if that wizard tongue speaks true,
Which cries that Sweno made me fatherless.
My thoughts grow perilous; there is that within me
Which swells to think that I have lost a father,
And lost by thee. Stand off, or bid good angels guard thee!

SWENO.
Die, traitor, die! This for my ravish'd daughter,
This for foul breach of hospitable faith.

(UBALD parries his blows.)
AGNES.
O father, hold!

BERTHA,
(without.)
This way, this way! the din
Of swords is loud.

AGNES.
Hold, husband, father, hold!

ELFRID,
(above.)
Thine oath, thine oath! Think, Ubald, on thy sire!

UBALD.
The spirit of my parent calls for vengeance;
Perish, fond thoughts!

(UBALD at last fights with SWENO. Enter BERTHA, REYNALD, Knights, and Attendants with torches. AGNES at the same moment rushes forward to part UBALD and SWENO, and receives the point of SWENO'S sword in her breast. She shrinks back and hangs with both hands on UBALD'S shoulder; at the same time UBALD'S sword strikes down SWENO.)
AGNES.
O I am sorely hurt!

(UBALD supports AGNES. BERTHA kneels by SWENO, and is engrossed with attendance on him.)
UBALD.
Lean on me; thus!—Ah me, 'tis thy blood, Agnes.

BERTHA.
O Sweno, Sweno, thy life's fount is gushing.
Thy blood wells fast away; I cannot staunch it.

ELFRID,
(above.)
Sweno, look up! It is thy son, thy son!
Elfrid's accursed issue sends thy soul
Burning to Hell! It is thy son has made
That hateful offspring of thy faithless nuptials
As lost, as sunk in infamy, as curst,
As she whose tongue upbraids thee! Agnes, Agnes,
Despair and perish!—Ubald is thy brother!

UBALD.
O horrible, horrible! Witch, fury, demon!
There is a lying spirit in thy mouth;
Thou durst not thus have outraged nature's mercies.

ELFRID.
Mercy for who shows mercy! Blood for blood!
Ubald, yon fate-struck caitif was thy sire,
Who cast thee fatherless on this wide world;
Who murder'd Elfrid's fame, and peace, and reason,
And made me what I am, Hell's slave and victim.
My mother's frantic spirit stands beside him,
Smiling in agony, and calls me hence!
Am I not avenged? Now, now laugh out,
Fiends of dismay! Mix earth, and air, and sea!
Unbind the angels, which have power to slay
When the sixth trump has sounded! Hell is loose,
And nothing can the fiends of vengeance brew
Feller than this!—O for a whirlwind's blast,
To cover with unfathomable night
The deeds which I have wrought!—My brain is fire.
Welcome, despair, and death, and phrensy, welcome!
Eternal ruin yawns! I come! I come!

(She springs from the rock into the torrent beneath.)
REYNALD.
Tremendous wreck of reason! O most dreadful!

AGNES,
(in a low voice to UBALD.)
Cast me not from thee! I am gone, and quickly,
Where they nor wed, nor are in marriage given.
Dying I yet may clasp thine hand. Kind Ubald,
One parting kiss, but pure as angel's greeting!
O hold me up, fast, fast! I swim! I sink!
'Tis sweet to die upon thy bosom, Ubald.

(She dies.)
UBALD,
(in a low voice.)
Speak! gentle Agnes, say thou art not gone!
O still, still, breathless, silent as the grave!

SWENO,
(whose eyes had continued riveted on the spot where ELFRID stood, and unconscious of what was passing round him.)
Eternal justice, upon me alone,
Not on mine issue, let thy terrors fall!
My life is ebbing fast. Thine hand, loved Bertha!
O Agnes, O my child, my child, where art thou?
Thy voice was ever music to my soul;
Say he is not thy husband! lift the weight
Of that deep anguish, which appalls me dying!

(BERTHA, who had been kneeling by SWENO without attending to AGNES, shrieks suddenly on perceiving that she is dead.)
BERTHA.
Ah me! she is gone for ever! Sweno, Sweno,
She rush'd between thee and hot Ubald's sword,
To stay the hasty temper of such wrath,
And thine own hand has slain her.

SWENO.
O my child,
If thou wert wedded to that bed of incest,
Thy death is the sweet sleep of innocence,
And life had been a curse! My gentle Agnes,
Fatally hast thou rued one perilous act
Of disobedience to thy guilty sire;
And thou art gone before me!—I am sick
With terrors keener than the pang of death.
Beloved, ill-fated Bertha, thou hast found
In me, who should have been thy stay and glory,
The rock whereon thy hopes have all made wreck.
Ubald, I charge thee, live! though scathed and blasted
By heaven's dread bolt.

UBALD,
(starting from his silent contemplation of the dead AGNES.)
Who bids that wretch, that once
Was Ubald, live? His fount of life is dried!
My Agnes was the life, the light of Ubald.
(After a convulsive agony of grief, and a pause.)
They say she was my sister, and thou father;
And both are slain—my father by my sword;
And that wierd demon was indeed my mother!
O world, what art thou, but a hell of horrors?
And who bids Ubald live?

(The Knights lay hands upon UBALD to prevent his injuring himself.)
UBALD,
(casting them with violence from him.)
Unhand me, sirs;
My wrath is dangerous.
(After a pause, he throws down his sword.)
Yes, I will live.
Ubald will never shrink from fate.— (He kneels.)
O father.
Curse me not dying! At the tomb of Christ
Through blood of infidels my sword shall hew
Its way to pardon; the bare stone my couch,
The spring my drink, and the hair-shirt my clothing.
No joy, or pride, or hope shall come near Ubald;
But strict achievement of dire penance cleanse
My desolate soul of parricidal guilt,
And for my bones win peace.

SWENO.
I curse thee not.
Thou art my heir—A solemn contract. . . . I
Destroyed it—I ... I ... Farewell—Ubald—Bertha.

(He dies.)
BERTHA.
O bitter fate! O cheerless! in one day
Stript of all joy, more lonesome than the dead!
(To UBALD.)
Monster, this curse shall cling to thee; thy guilt,
Redder than scarlet, shall incarnadine
The banners of the just, and bar them from
The temple of their Savior; and the tomb,
Whose indiscriminate yearning swallows all,
Shall cast thy marrowless unquiet bones
Forth from its maw: no mass or requiem
Shall win for thy gaunt skeleton a place
In the still church's bosom, till the lapse
Of hundred winters shall have hush'd the wail
Of thy remorseful spirit, and earn'd for thee
That rest which death denies the parricide!
(Rising.)
Yet one word, ere we part for ever, Ubald!
Sleeps that fair victim undefiled in death?

UBALD.
The dew of blushing morn has never bathed
A bud of innocence more pure and stainless.

BERTHA.
Swear it! by all the wreck which thou hast wrought,
By all thy hopes of mercy, Ubald, swear it!

UBALD.
God's lightning rive this head already blasted,
If ought my love has dared, which should have call'd
One blush to the pure cheek of virgin meekness!

BERTHA.
Heaven's mercies hover o'er thy head, mine Agnes!
(throwing herself down with her cheek on AGNES.)
Here let me lie, and breathe my last beside thee!

REYNALD.
Ubald, we have been foes, but in this ruin,
As all our hopes, so be our angers buried.
Here let us close as friends. Unto Christ's banner
With thee I vow my strength. Thou, stately offspring
Of the most noble house, soar eagle-like
Aloft, and let the gale, which rived thine eyrie,
But waft thee nearer to thy native heaven.