University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

SCENE I.

A dungeon, and Guthrom fettered.
Guthrom.
Alone! with crimes and conscience left alone!
And those Berserkir demons of remorse
Hunting me like a pack of famished wolves,—
And Death upon the threshold,—watching there
Cold and deliberate with his serpent eyes,—
Not as when in the glorious battle shock
Exultingly I've dared him to the face,
And on the torrent of my boiling blood
Whirl'd him aside with scorn,—but waiting here
Gaunt, grisly, dreadful:—and then, after death,
What said that harper, Judgment?—endless woe
For evil?—I am evil.
[a long pause, while he paces about despairingly, and then clasps on high his fettered hands,
O Great Judge,
Unknown, and angered by the thousand crimes
Memory sees, a crowd of haunting ghosts,
Fearful, inevitable,—O Great Judge
Forgive, if yet Thou canst, forgive, forgive!
[the rough Dane burst into a paroxysm of tears.
What, tears!—Can Guthrom, this bloodthirsty Viking
The scourge of nations, be a child again?
Ah me! for once he was a little child
Innocent, happy,—but the guilty man
Hath never wept till now these thirty years:
O to be like that little child again!
[he paces about despairingly.
Would I could have yon maiden's martyr-faith!
Not all the heroes of our whole Valhalla
Had half the courage of that noble girl:
She feared not death, sure of some better life,
Nor shrunk from pain,—the speechless pain of fire—
Because her wondrous god would quench the flame
With rivers of supernal joy and peace.
O faith, O light,—when can ye come to me?

[he sits down, and covers his face with his hands.
Enter the Gaoler.
Gaoler.
Prisoner, I'm come to knock your fetters off.

Guthrom
(resolutely).
'Tis well: unmanacled I march to death.

Gaoler.
The King is close at hand, and cometh hither,
And none but traitors may be chained before him.

[he knocks them off.
Guthrom
(musingly).
And this is noble too: this generous Alfred,
This type—(I do repent)—of generous England,
Spared me, even me the ruthless brigand-chief,
Spared, when he might have killed me in my sleep,
And, now that I must die by law and right,
Comes like a man for equal speech with me.
I'll meet him like a king—whom I have wronged.

[Alfred in royal costume comes in alone,—the gaoler going away at a sign: Guthrom falls at his feet,
Guthrom.
I do not kneel to ask my life of thee,
Great, injured, noble Alfred! let me die
At once, and cruelly, as I deserve:
But I am bold to ask a higher boon,—
Before I die, O King,—to be forgiven!
[suddenly enter Bertha, the gaoler preceding, and guards following. Guthrom exclaims in astonishment,
The maid! the martyr-maid!—Wast thou the harper?

Alfred.
Yes, Guthrom: and we come to thank thee here,
For that thy noble nature, under Heaven,
Saved us so bravely in our utmost need;
Viking, I give thee life, and set thee free,—
Rise, Guthrom!

Guthrom
(quite overcome).
Let me kneel! Thy glorious creed
That makes a man and woman more than gods
O teach me, teach me! It were life indeed
To live, and be like Alfred!

Alfred
(raising him kindly).
Come with us,—
For we will do thee good.
Set forward, guards.

[they all go out: and the scene changes.

SCENE II.

A narrow strip of a wood.
Enter slowly and ruefully Wulf and Egga.
Wulf.
Why, I'm all over weals and bruises, old 'ooman.

Egga.

Well, an't that better than hanging? I'm sure I never
thought they'd ha' let us off so lightly. Ugh,—but
they've battered me too, and it's worse to bear than the
rheumatics. Howsomdever, it's a comfort to think one
isn't hung.

Wulf.

Ha,—there's a twinge,—bide a bit, won't ye?—I can't
budge quicker than this: wheew! but how my back
aches: and I don't know which foot to put before the
other! O, how those heavy little whips did cut round,
to be sure: why, I'm ringed and spotted all over my
body like a snake: Ha,—that we'd never meddled with
that archer,—Ugh—

Egga.

But it's a comfort too, to think they didn't hang us,
and so, goodman,—

[they slowly creep out. The scene changes.

SCENE III.

The terrace-slip of a garden with flowers. Enter the Princess Bertha, gathering a nosegay and conversing with Guthrom, who is splendidly apparelled, but not as hitherto in his war costume.
Guthrom.
And thou hast given me life, as from the dead,
For hope is life,—this wonderful new hope
That even I, Heaven's bitterest enemy,
The fierce destroyer of this beautiful world,
The very curse of men—can be forgiven!
What thanks, what thanks to pay thee?—

[he kneels.
Bertha
(raising him).
Not to me,—
Rise, gentle brother, (for thy new-born faith
Giveth thee that new name,) kneel not to me,
But worship only Him whose name is Love,
Whose nature Mercy.

Guthrom
(earnestly).
Yet will I thank thee too,—
And, if I may not worship, let me wonder
Whether an angel can be good as thou
Or half so loveable!

Bertha.
O noble sir,
I am myself but a young Christian maid,
And cannot teach thee as another might,
Arguing doubts, disputing controversies,
There be some holy men, our learned bishops—

Guthrom.
Save me from holy men, and learned bishops!
Save me from doubts, disputes, and controversy!
I am all faith! what could another give me
Thou hast not giv'n? my heart is lit at thine,
My spirit is in bliss when thou art nigh,
Thou only be my teacher!—thou alone
Art unto me the beauty of holiness,
Thou art the better angel of my life,
And from thy blessed lips—
Forgive me, Princess!
[suddenly checking himself.
My traitorous tongue hath overta'en my heart,
I spake but as a little child might speak
In all the artless utterance of affection,
I am not what I was,—forgive me, Princess!

[she gives him a flower, smiles on him and walks away, he following admiringly.
Guthrom.
Ah,—might I dare to love thee?—sweet, sweet rose.

[he kisses the flower: and goes off—Scene changes.

SCENE IV.

A narrow passage scene: these scenes serving to give time and space for the splendid elaboration of the last: a number of the English and Danish commonalty and soldiers pass along and talk together: among them Sidroc and the First and Second Soldier of Scene 2, in Act IV.
First Soldier
(addressing Sidroc).

I suppose we are all bound alike toward Glastonbury,
stranger?

Sidroc
(gloomily and surlily).

Ay, ay—I take it we be; though it's pity and shame to
some of us. When Regnar Lodbrok hears o' this at
Asgard, how 'twill ruffle the old seaking's spirit! A Viking
of Daneland to cast off his country's gods!

Second Soldier.

I should n't like it any better than yourself, good wayfarer,
—if they were gods at all,—and if in casting off his
old skin, Guthrom didn't find a better under it. He's as
changed a man, folks tell me,—as a butterfly might be
from a caterpillar: quite tame and kindly like, in lieu of
the bloody pirate.

Sidroc.

None o' your hard names, stranger: however, I'm dumb,
for all you've got the mastery again, and it's no good
arguefying. Let's on to Glastonbury together, and see the
show.

First Soldier.

It's like to be a rare one. The Princess Bertha, with
our good King Alfred himself, they say, will answer for
the Viking at the font, and he's to drop his ugly Danish
name for a better.

Sidroc
(gruffly).
None of your hard—

Second Soldier.
It 'll be a rare show any how: come along.

[the scene changes.

LAST SCENE.

The interior of Glastonbury Abbey, very splendid: just after Guthrom has been baptized by the name of Athelstan. A magnificent spectacle, with Alfred, Elswitha, and all the court on one side, several being pardoned English lords and Danish Jarls; and on the other Guthrom habited in white and silver, with Bertha near him and others grouped about the Archbishop. Crowds of Danes and English, as in amicable union of the two nations, their flags and emblems mixed. After a pause, Alfred in royal robes speaks from the throne.
Alfred.
This blessed chrism, brother Athelstan,
(For thy new nature claimeth a new name
That Guthrom may forget his former self,)
Hath made the consecrate henceforth to Heaven,
A worshipper of Him who made the worlds:
Live as will best become that holy state.
And, for I know how well she loves her convert
Even as thou rejoicest in her teaching,
That our dear sister Bertha still may teach thee,
We give her to thee, Athelstan, to wife.

[he joins their hands, the Archbishop blessing.
Guthrom-Athelstan
(with astonished delight.)
Gift beyond price! O bright and blessed day!
Thou wondrous harper, that hast thrilled my heart,
Touch'd with rare skill its every trembling string,
Tuned all its discords to melodious love,
And made me all athrob with ecstasy,—
And thou, so beauteous,—yet more good than beauteous,
More loved than either,—my high noon of bliss,
O Princess, O great King,—what shall I say?
My evil is so overcome of good
And all my happiest hope more than fulfill'd
I scarce can think it other than a dream,—
All new and strange, yet all so gladly true!
Praises to God,—and to his servant Alfred,
And sweetest thanks to thee, most dear, most noble,—
My martyr!—I will be confessor now
And stand the witness for thy God, and thee!

[he takes her hand, she smiling on him.
Alfred.

[as the royal procession goes out, the curtain falls slowly to the National Anthem.