 | Ethwald |  |
ACT II.
SCENE I.
A forest: the view of an abbey with its spires in the background. Enter the King, attended by Seagurth and several Thanes and followers, some of them wounded, and their wounds bound up, as after a battle. A flourish of trumpets: the King stretches out his arm in the action of command; the trumpets cease, and they all halt.King.
Companions of this rough and bloody day,
Beneath the kindly shelter of this wood
Awhile repose, until our eager youth
Shall, from the widely spread pursuit return'd,
Rejoin our standards.
Brave seneschal, thou'rt weak with loss of blood;
Forbear attendance. Ay, and thou, good Baldrick;
And thou (to another),
and all of you.
Sen.
No, gracious king;
The sight of you, unhurt, doth make the blood
That in our veins is left so kindly glow,
We cannot faint.
King.
Thanks, noble chiefs! dear is the gain I earn,
Purchas'd with blood so precious. Who are those
Who hitherward in long procession move?
Sen.
It is the pious brethren, as I guess,
Come forth to meet you from yon neighb'ring abbey,
And at their head the holy Hexulf comes.
Enter Hexulf and monks.
Hex.
Accept our humble greetings, royal sire!
Victorious be your arms! and in the dust
Low be your foes, as in this glorious day!
Favour'd of heav'n, and of St. Alban, hail!
King.
I thank your kindly zeal, my rev'rend father;
And from these holy brethren do accept
With thanks this token of good will, not doubting
That much I am beholden to your prayers.
Hex.
In truth, most gracious king, your armed host
Has not more surely in your cause prevail'd
Than hath our joint petition, offered up
With holy fervour, most importunate.
Soon as the heav'n-rais'd voices sweetly reach'd
The echoing arches of yon sacred roofs,
Saint Alban heard, and to your favour'd side
Courage and strength, the soul of battle, sent;
Fear and distraction to th' opposing foe.
King.
Ah, then, good father, and ye pious monks,
Would that ye had begun your prayers the sooner!
For long in doubtful scales the battle hung;
And of the men who, with this morning's sun,
Buckled their harness on to follow me,
Full many a valiant warrior, on his back
Lies stiff'ning to the wind.
Hex.
The wicked sprite in ev'ry armed host
Will find his friends; who doubtless for a time
May counterpoise the prayers of holy men.
There are among your troops, I question not,
Many who do our sacred rites contemn:
Many who have blasphem'd—Ay, good my lord;
And many holding baleful heresies.
Fought Ethelbert, of Sexford, in your host?
King.
He did, my rev'rend father, bravely fought:
To him and valiant Selred, Mollo's son,
Belong the second honours of the day.
[Hexulf looks abashed and is silent.
Enter Edward attended, who, after making his obeisance to the King, runs up eagerly to Seagurth.
Edw.
You are not wounded, father?
Sea.
No, my boy.
Edw.
Thanks to preserving goodness! Noble Thanes,
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War wears a horrid, yet alluring face. (To King.)
Your friends, my lord, have done me great despite.
Had they not long detain'd me on the way,
I should have been with you before the battle.
King.
Complain not, youth; they had, in this, commands
Too high to be disputed. And 'tis well,
For we have had a rough and bloody day.
Edw.
Ha! is it so? But you have been victorious.
How went the field?
Sea.
Loud rose our battle's sound, and for a while
The Mercians bravely fought; when all at once,
From some unlook'd-for cause, as yet unknown,
A powerful panic seiz'd our better wing,
Which, back recoiling, turn'd and basely fled.
Touch'd quickly with a seeming sympathy,
Our centre-force began, in relax'd strength,
To yield contended space.—So stood the field;
When on a sudden, like those warrior spirits,
Whose scatter'd locks the streamy light'ning is,
Whose spear the bolt of heaven; such as the seer
In 'tranced gaze beholds midst hurtling storms;
Rush'd forth a youth unknown, and in a pass,
Narrow and steep, took his determin'd stand.
His beck'ning hand and loud commanding voice
Constrain'd our flying soldiers from behind,
And the sharp point of his opposing spear
Met the pale rout before.
The dark returning battle thicken'd round him.
His mighty arm deeds of amazement wrought;
Rapid, resistless, terrible.
High rose each warlike bosom at the sight,
And Mercia, like a broad increasing wave,
Up swell'd into a hugely billow'd height,
O'erwhelming in its might all lesser things,
Upon the foe return'd. Selred and Ethelbert
Fell on their weaken'd flank. Confusion, then,
And rout and horrid slaughter fill'd the field:
Wide spread the keen pursuit; the day is ours;
Yet many a noble Mercian strews the plain.
Edw.
(eagerly).
But the young hero fell not?
Sea.
No, my son.
Edw.
Then bless'd be heaven! there beats no noble heart
Which shall not henceforth love him as a brother.
Would he were come unhurt from the pursuit!
O that I had beheld him in his might,
When the dark battle turn'd!
Sea.
Your wish is soon fulfill'd, my eager boy;
For here, in truth, the youthful warrior comes,
And, captive by his side, the British Prince.
Enter Ethwald with the British Prince prisoner, accompanied by Selred and Ethelbert, and presents his prisoner to the King.
King
(to Prince).
Prince of the Britons, clear thy cloudy brow;
The varied fate of war the bravest prove.
And though I might complain that thy aggressions
Have burnt my towns, and filled my land with blood,
Thy state forbids it. Here, good seneschal,
Receive your charge, and let him know no change
Unsuited to a prince. (To Ethwald.)
And thou, brave warrior, whose youthful arm
Has brought unto thy king so high a gift,
Say what proud man may lift his honour'd head,
And boast he is thy father.
Ethw.
A Thane, my lord, forgotten and retired;
I am the youngest son of aged Mollo,
And Ethwald is my name.
King.
Youngest in years, though not in honour, youth,
E'en though the valiant Selred is thy brother. (Turning to Selred.)
And now be thou the first and noble root,
From which a noble race shall take its growth,
Wearing thy honours proudly!
Of Mairnieth's earldom be henceforth the lord!
For well I know the council of the states
Will not refuse to ratify my grant.
And thou, brave Ethelbert, and Selred, too,
Ye well have earn'd a noble recompense,
And shall not be forgot. Come hither, Edward;
Take thou this hero's hand; and, noble Ethwald,
Thus let the kingdom's ethling join with me
In honouring thy worth.
Edw.
(who has gazed at some distance upon Ethwald, springing forward eagerly).
Give him my hand, my lord! have you not said
That I should fold him to my burning heart? (Embraces Ethw.)
Most valiant Ethwald,
Fain would I speak the thoughts I bear to thee,
But they do choke and flutter in my throat,
And make me like a child.
(Passing his hand across his eyes.)
Ethw.
(kissing Edward's hand).
I am repaid beyond a kingdom's worth.
Edw.
(to Sea. bounding joyfully).
Father, have you embraced him?
Ethwald, my father is a valiant man.
(Sea. embraces Ethw., but not so eagerly as Edw.)
King.
(to Ethw.)
Brave youth, with you, and with your noble friends,
I shall, ere long, have further conference.
(Retires to the bottom of the stage with Hexulf.)
[Edward, after gazing with admiration upon Ethw., puts his hand upon his head, as if to measure his height; then upon both his shoulders, as if he were considering the breadth of his chest; then steps some paces back and gazes at him again.
Edw.
How tall and strong thou art! broad is thy chest:
Stretch forth, I pray, that arm of mighty deeds.
Ethw. smiles and stretches out his arm; Edw. looks at it, and then at his own.
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It is of weight to suit no vulgar arm. (Returning it.)
There, hero; graceful is the sword of war
In its bold master's grasp.
Ethw.
Nay, good my lord, if you will honour me,
It does become too well your noble hand
To be return'd to mine.
Edw.
Ha! sayst thou so? Yes, I will keep thy pledge.
Perhaps my arm—Ah, no! it will not be!
But what returning token can I give?
I have bright spears and shields and shining blades
But nought ennobled by the owner's use.
[Takes a bracelet from his arm and fastens it round Ethwald's.
King
(advancing from the bottom of the stage).
My worthy chiefs and Thanes, the night wears on,
The rev'rend bishop, and these pious men,
Beneath their fane give hospitality,
And woo us to accept it for the night.
Sea.
I thought, my lord, you meant to pass the night
With your brave soldiers in the open field:
Already they have learnt the pleasing tale.
Shall I unsay it?
King.
Nay, that were unfit.
I pray you pardon me, my rev'rend father!
I cannot house with you; it were unfit.
Hex.
Should not your greatness spend the night with those
To whom, in truth, you owe the victory?
We chant at midnight to St. Alban's praise:
Surely my lord regards those sacred things.
[Whispers the King.
King.
Brave Seagurth, there are reasons of good weight
Why I should lay aside my first intent.
Let all these wounded chieftains follow me!
The rest who list may keep the open field. (To Edw.)
Nephew, thou must not prove a soldier's hardships,
Ere thou hast earn'd a soldier's name. Nay, nay,
It must be so.
[Exeunt King, wounded chiefs, Hexulf, and monks, followed by Edward very unwillingly.
Sea.
Who loves a soldier's pillow, follow me.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
The outside of Mollo's castle. Bertha, Sigurtha, and others discovered on the walls, and several servants and retainers standing by the gate below.Berth.
O, will they ne'er appear? I'll look no more;
Mine eager gazing but retards their coming.
[Retires, and immediately returns again.
Holla, good Murdoch! (To a servant below.)
Thou putst thy hand above thy sunned eyes.
Dost thou descry them?
1st serv.
Mercy, gentle lady,
If you descry them not from that high perch,
How should I from my level station here?
Sig.
(to Berth.)
Go in, my child, thou art worn out with watching.
[Berth. retires, and 2d servant goes at some distance from the walls and looks out another way.
2d serv.
Here comes the noble Selred. (All call out.)
Noble Selred!
Berth.
(returning upon the wall).
What, Ethwald, say ye?
Sig.
No, it is Selred.
Enter Selred, with followers, and looks up to the walls, where Sigurtha waves her hand.
Sig.
Welcome, brave Selred! welcome all thy band!
How far are they behind for whom we watch?
Sel.
Two little miles or less. Methinks ere this
Their van should be in sight. My messenger
Inform'd you?
Sig.
Oh, he did!
Sel.
Where is my father?
Sig.
He rests within, spent with a fearful joy,
And silent tears steal down his furrow'd cheeks.
Sel.
I must confer with him. The king intends
To stop and do him honour on his march,
But enters not our walls.
[Exeunt into the castle.
SCENE III.
A chamber in the castle. Enter Sigurtha and Bertha, speaking as they enter.Berth.
Nay, mother, say not so: was he not wont,
If but returning from the daily chase,
To send an upward glance unto that tower?
There well he knew, or late or cold the hour,
His eye should find me.
Sig.
My gentle Bertha, be not thus disturb'd.
Such busy scenes, such new unlook'd-for things
Ruffle the flowing stream of habit; men
Will then forgetful seem, though not unkind.
Berth.
Thinkst thou? (shaking her head.)
I saw him by his sovereign stand,
And O, how graceful! every eye to him
Was turn'd, and every face smil'd honours on him!
Yet his proud station quickly did he leave
To greet his humbler friends who stood aloof.
The meanest follower of these walls, already,
Some mark of kind acknowledgment hath had—
He look'd not up—I am alone forgotten!
Sig.
Be patient, child: he will not long delay
To seek thee in thy modest privacy;
Approving more to see thee here retired,
Than, boldly to the army's eye exposed,
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Intrusted am with orders from the Thane.
Which must not be neglected.
[Exit.
Berth.
(after walking up and down, agitated, and frequently stopping to listen).
Ah, no! deceiv'd again! I need not listen!
No bounding steps approach.
[She sits down despondingly. Enter Ethwald behind, and steals softly up to her.
Ethw.
Bertha!
Berth.
(starting up).
My Ethwald!
[He holds out his arms to her joyfully, and she bursts into tears.
Ethw.
Thou dost not grieve that I am safe return'd?
Berth.
O no! I do not grieve, yet I must weep.
Hast thou in truth been kind? I will not chide:
I cannot do it now.
Ethw.
O, fie upon thee! like a wayward child:
To look upon me thus! cheer up, my love.
[He smiles upon her joyfully, and her countenance brightens. She then puts her hand upon his arm, and, stepping back a little space, surveys him with delight.
Berth.
Thou man of mighty deeds!
Thou, whom the brave shall love and princes honour!
Dost thou, in truth, return to me again,
Mine own, my very Ethwald?
Ethw.
No, that were paltry; I return to thee
A thousandfold the lover thou hast known me.
I have of late been careless of thee, Bertha.
The hopeless calm of dull obscurity,
Like the thick vapours of a stagnant pool,
Oppress'd my heart and smother'd kind affections;
But now th' enlivening breeze of fortune wakes
My torpid soul—When did I ever fold thee
To such a warm and bounding heart as this?
[Embraces her.
The king has given to me Mairnieth's earldom—
Nay, smile, my Bertha!
Berth.
So I do, my Ethwald.
Ethw.
The noble ethling greatly honours me
With precious tokens; nay, the very soldiers
Do rear their pointed weapons as I pass;
As though it were to say, “there goes the man
That we would cheerly follow.”
Unto what end these fair beginnings point
I know not—but of this I am assured,
There is a course of honour lies before me,
Be it with dangers, toil, or pain beset,
Which I will boldly tread. Smiles not my love?
Berth.
I should, in truth; but how is this? methinks
Thou ever lookst upon the things to come,
I on the past. A great and honour'd man
I know thou'lt be: but O, bethink thee, then,
How once thou wert, within these happy walls,
A little cheerful boy, with curly pate,
Who led the infant Bertha by the hand,
Storing her lap with ev'ry gaudy flower;
With speckled eggs stolen from the hedgeling's nest,
And berries from the tree; ay, think on this,
And then I know thou'lt love me!
[Trumpet sounds. Catching hold of him eagerly.
Hearst thou that sound? The blessed saints preserve thee!
Must thou depart so soon?
Ethw.
Yes, of necessity: reasons of weight
Constrain the king, and I, new in his service,
Must seem to follow him with willing steps.
But go thou with me to the castle gate.
We will not part until the latest moment.
Berth.
Yet stop, I pray, thou must receive my pledge.
Seest thou this woven band of many dyes,
Like to a mottled snake? its shiny woof
Was whiten'd in the pearly dew of eve,
Beneath the silver moon; its varied warp
Was dyed with potent herbs, at midnight cull'd.
It hath a wond'rous charm: the breast that wears it
No change of soft affection ever knows.
Eth.
(receiving it with a smile).
I'll wear it, Bertha.
[Trumpet sounds.
Hark! it calls me hence.
Berth.
O go not yet! here is another gift,
This ring, enrich'd with stone of basilisk,
Whenever press'd by the kind wearer's hand,
Presents the giver's image to his mind.
Wilt thou not wear it?
Ethw.
(receiving it).
Yes, and press it too.
Berth.
And in this purse—
[Taking out a purse
Ethw.
What! still another charm?
[Laughing.
Thou simple maid!
Dost thou believe that witched gear like this
Hath power a lover faithful to retain,
More than thy gentle self?
Berth.
Nay, laugh, but wear them.
Ethw.
I will, my love, since thou wilt have it so. (Putting them in his breast.)
Here are they lodged, and cursed be the hand
That plucks them forth! And now receive my pledge.
It is a jewel of no vulgar worth: (Ties it on her arm.)
Wear it and think of me. But yet, belike,
It must be steeped in some wizard's pot,
Or have some mystic rhyming mutter'd o'er it,
Ere it will serve the turn.
Berth.
(pressing the jewel on her arm).
O no! right well I feel there is no need.
Ethw.
Come, let us go: we do not part, thou knowst,
But at the castle gate. Cheer up, my Bertha!
I'll soon return, and oft return again.
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV.
An apartment in a royal castle. Enter Ethwald and Alwy, speaking as they enter.Ethw.
What, peace! peace, sayst thou, with these glorious arms,
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And smiling victory, with beck'ning hand,
Pointing to future fields of nobler strife,
With richer honours crown'd? What, on the face
Of such fair prospects draw the veil of peace!
Cold blasting peace! The blackest fiend of hell
Hath not a thought more dev'lish!
Alwy.
It is indeed a flat unpleasant tale
For a young warrior's ear: but well hast thou
Improv'd the little term of bold occasion;
Short while thou wert but Mollo's younger son,
Now art thou Mairnieth's lord.
Ethw.
And what is Mairnieth's lordship! I will own
That, to my distant view, such state appear'd
A point of fair and noble eminence;
But now—what is it now? O! it is sunk
Into a petty knoll! I am as one
Who doth attempt some lofty mountain's height,
And having gain'd what to the upcast eye
The summit's point appear'd, astonish'd sees
Its cloudy top, majestic and enlarged,
Towering aloft, as distant as before.
Alwy.
Patience, brave Ethwald; ere thy locks be grey,
Thy helmed head shall yet in battle tower,
And fair occasion shape thee fair reward.
Ethw.
Ere that my locks be grey! the world ere now
Hath crouch'd beneath a beardless youth. But I—
I am as one who mounts to th' azure sky
On the rude billow's back, soon sunk again:
Like the loud thunder of th' upbreaking cloud,
The terror of a moment. Fate perverse!
'Till now, war's frowning spirit, rous'd, was wont
To urge with whirling lash his sable steeds,
Nor slack his furious speed till the wide land
From bound to bound beneath his axle shook.
But soon as in my hand the virgin spear
Had flesh'd its ruddy point, then is he turn'd
Like a tired braggart to his caves of sloth. (Stamping on the ground.)
Peace! cursed peace! Who will again unchain
The grizly dog of war?
Alwy.
Meanst thou the British prince?
Ethw.
(eagerly).
What sayst thou, Alwy?
Alwy.
I said not aught.
Ethw.
Nay, marry! but thou didst!
And it has rais'd a thought within my mind.
The British prince releas'd, would he not prove
A dog of war, whose yell would soon be follow'd?
Alwy.
They do indeed full hard advantage take
Of his captivity, and put upon him
Conditions suited to his hapless state,
More than his princely will.
Ethw.
'Tis basely done: would that some friendly hand
His prison would unbar and free the thrall!
But no, no, no! I to the king resign'd him;
'Twere an unworthy deed.
Alwy.
It were most difficult;
For now they keep him in a closer hold,
And bind his hands with iron.
Ethw.
Have they done this? I'm glad on't! O I'm glad on't!
They promised nought unworthy of a prince
To put upon him—Now my hands are free!
And, were it made of living adamant,
I will unbar his door. Difficult, sayst thou?
No, this hath made it easy.
Alwy.
Well softly then; we may devise a way
By which the seneschal himself will seem
The secret culprit in this act.
Ethw.
No, no!
I like it not; though I must work i' the dark,
I'll not in cunningly devised light
Put on my neighbour's cloak to cause his ruin.
But let's to work apace! the storm shall rise!
My sound shall yet be heard!
Alwy.
Fear not, thou shalt ere long be heard again,
A dark'ning storm which shall not soon be lay'd.
Ethw.
Ah, thou hast touch'd where my life's life is cell'd!
Is there a voice of prophecy within thee?
[Catching hold of his arm eagerly.
I will believe there is! my stirring soul
Leapt at thy words. Such things ere now have been:
Men oft have spok'n, unweeting, of themselves;
Yea, the wild winds of night have utter'd words,
That have unto the list'ning ear of hope
Of future greatness told, ere yet the thoughts
On any certain point had fix'd their hold.
Alwy.
Thou mayst believe it: I myself, methinks,
Feel secret earnest of thy future fortune;
And please myself to think my friendly hand
May humbly serve, perhaps, to build thy greatness.
Ethw.
Come to my heart, my friend! though new in friendship,
Thou, and thou only, bearst true sympathy
With my aspiring soul. I can with thee
Unbar my mind—Methinks thou shiv'rest, Alwy.
Alwy.
'Tis very cold.
Ethw.
Is it? I feel it not:
But in my chamber burns the crackling oak,
There let us go.
Alwy.
If you are so inclin'd.
[As they are going, Ethw. stops short, and catches hold of Alwy eagerly.
Ethw.
A sudden fancy strikes me: Woggarwolfe,
That restless ruffian, might with little art
Be rous'd on Wessex to commit aggression:
Its royal chief, now leaguing with our king,
Will take the field again.
Alwy.
We might attempt him instantly: but move,
In faith I'm cold!
[Exeunt.
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SCENE V.
A dark apartment in the same castle. Woggarwolfe is discovered asleep upon a couch of rushes, and covered with a mat. Enter Alwy and a follower, with a lad bearing a torch before them. Alwy signs with his hand, and the torch-bearer retires to a distance.Alwy.
Softly, ere we proceed; a sudden thought,
Now crossing o'er my mind, disturbs me much.
He who to-night commands the farther watch,
Canst thou depend upon him?
Fol.
Most perfectly; and, free of hostile bounds,
The British prince ere this pursues his way.
Alwy.
I'm satisfied: now to our present purpose.
[As they advance towards the couch, Woggarwolfe is heard speaking in his sleep.
Ha! speaks he in his sleep? some dream disturbs him:
His quiv'ring limbs beneath the cov'ring move.
He speaks again.
Wog.
(in his sleep).
Swift, in your package stow those dead men's gear,
And loose their noble coursers from the stall.
Alwy.
Ay, plund'ring in his sleep.
Wog.
Wipe thou that blade:
Those bloody throats have drench'd it to the hilt.
Alwy.
O, hear the night-thoughts of that bloody hound!
I must awake him. Ho, brave Woggarwolfe!
Wog.
Hear how those women scream! we'll still them shortly.
Alwy.
Ho, Woggarwolfe!
Wog.
Who calls me now? cannot you master it?
[Alwy knocks upon the ground with his stick.
What, batt'ring on it still? Will it not yield?
Then fire the gate.
Alwy
(shaking him).
Ho, Woggarwolfe, I say!
Wog.
(starting up half awake).
Is not the castle taken?
Alwy.
Yes, it is taken.
Wog.
(rubbing his eyes).
Pooh! it is but a dream.
Alwy.
But dreams full oft are found of real events
The forms and shadows.
There is in very deed a castle taken,
In which your Wessex foes have left behind
Nor stuff, nor store, nor make of living thing.
Bind on thy sword and call thy men to arms!
Thy boiling blood will bubble in thy veins,
When thou hast heard it is the tower of Boruth.
Wog.
My place of strength?
Fol.
Yes, chief; I spoke with one new from the West,
Who saw the ruinous broil.
Wog.
By the black fiends of hell! therein is stored
The chiefest of my wealth. Upon its walls
The armour of a hundred fallen chiefs
Did rattle to the wind.
Alwy.
Now will it sound elsewhere.
Wog.
(in despair).
My noble steeds, and all my stalled kine!
O, the fell hounds! no mark of living thing?
Fol.
No mark of living thing.
Wog.
Ah! and my little arrow-bearing boy!
He whom I spared amidst a slaughter'd heap,
Smiling all weetless of th' uplifted stroke
Hung o'er his harmless head!
Like a tamed cub I rear'd him at my feet:
He could tell biting jests, bold ditties sing,
And quaff his foaming bumper at the board,
With all the the mock'ry of a little man.
By heav'n I'll leave alive within their walls
Nor maid, nor youth, nor infant at the breast,
If they have slain that child! blood-thirsty ruffians!
Alwy.
Ay, vengeance! vengeance! rouse thee like a man!
Occasion tempts; the foe, not yet return'd,
Have left their castle careless of defence.
Call all thy followers secretly to arms:
Set out upon the instant.
Wog.
By holy saints, I will! reach me, I pray!
[Pointing to his arms lying at a little distance from him.
Alwy
(giving them).
There, be thou speedy.
Wog.
(putting on his armour).
Curse on those loosen'd springs, they will not catch!
Oh, all the goodly armour I have lost!
Light curses on my head! if I do leave them
Or spear, or shield, or robe, or household stuff,
Or steed within their stalls, or horn or hoof
Upon their grassy hills! (Looking about.)
What want I now?
Mine armour-man hath ta'en away my helm—
Faith, and my target too! hell blast the buzzard!
[Exit furiously.
Alwy
(laughing).
Ethwald, we have fulfill'd thy bidding well,
With little cost of craft! But let us follow,
And keep him to the bent.
[Exeunt.
| Ethwald | |