University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

Daybreak. A hovel covered by trees—under the walls of Brecon.
Mahel and Barnabas fastening their horses to the rack.
MAHEL.
The fog-encumbered valley slumbers yet:
But higher along the mountain sides, from cots
And sheep-folds, where the misty light dawns earlier,
The wolf-dog rages, and the neat-herd's call
Yells eagerly.

BARNABAS.
The upland is astir.
Through lack of spurs we almost lost the race!
A little longer had been just too late.
Daylight and Geoffrey Newmark come together.

MAHEL.
An hour will bring them both. Art resolute?
The taches of our purpose hold they fast?
Or have these rough roads, travelled in such haste,
Shook memory till they gape?

BARNABAS.
If memory lodged
Next neighbour to the saddle, she had fared
No better than her tenement has done;
But dwelling higher, she 'scapes.

MAHEL.
Then mount again:
Ride to the city gate and through the streets,
Like one whose horse's heels are chased by death.
Fill all the way with cries—awake the castle
With blasts so eager on the warder's horn
They shake his battlements.

BARNABAS.
Go to—what else?

MAHEL.
Watch while the giddy hearers arm themselves;
Then whisper Stephen that I need him here,
And, with him, his spare amice, belt, and cowl.
There will be running both ways—out and in—
Knights, billmen, bowmen, pilgrims, pardoners, friars—
The country round must send its fugitives;
And some, whose home is on the safer side,
Will venture forth in search of friends endangered:
So shall I pass unmarked.

BARNABAS.
Well—now to breakfast.

[Exit.
MAHEL.
Again at home! I scarce asked this of Heaven,
Which grants me so much more than this. I bring
An offering to the offended Spirit within;
It may be health and safety—if not these,
No shameful death at least. May God forgive
My sloth and laggard hopelessness! I seemed
A fugitive beyond the eyes of Heaven,
And thought that He too left me. O, coward in heart!
O thou of little faith, and base indeed
Beyond the imputed infamy! So soon
Apostate from his love who tries so gently!
Remember yesterday, when hope turned back,
And carried patience with her!—Millions live,
Eating in thankfulness from day to day
The bread He gives who careth for their need;
I never lacked but once. Why, yesterday—
No longer back than yesterday—I looked
On mine own shade as if it dodged to mock me,
And every step seemed one pace more from peace.
The dawn to-day beholds me here again,
A reed sore bruised, yet not unfit for use.
To-morrow, perhaps—but this is arrogance!
Best quit the thoughts of it! If shame still live,
I may not live to hear it—if it perish,
There will be some that say “We judged amiss—
He was not what we thought of him.” They wake!
Bells, horns, and trumpets—now for father Stephen!

[Exit.