University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

SCENE I.

An arched passage from a gateway in the royal castle. The sound of warlike music without. Enter Ethelbert and Selred with their followers, as if just come from a long march: enter, by the opposite side, Alwy, upon which they halt, the foremost of the followers but just appearing under the gateway.
Alwy.
Welcome, most valiant chieftains! Fame reports
That crown'd with full success ye are return'd.

Eth.
Good sooth, we boast but little of our arms;
Though Woggarwolfe, our base ignoble spoiler,
Wounded and sorely shent, we've left behind,
Again in cloister'd walls with ghostly men,
Winding his soul, with many a heavy groan,
Into a saintly frame! God speed the work!
We are but just in time to save our halls.

Sel.
It is a shame that such a ruffian thief
Should thus employ the arms of warlike Thanes.

Alwy.
In truth it is, but now there reigns in Mercia
A warlike king, who better knows to deal
With valiant men. The messenger inform'd you?

Sel.
He did; yet, be it own'd, to call him king
Sounds strangely in our ears. How died king Oswal?

Eth.
(to Sel.)
Patience, my friend! good time will show thee all.
Yet pray inform us, Alwy, ere we part,
Where is young Edward? in these late commotions
What part had he?

Alwy.
Would to the holy saints I could inform you!
Reports there are, incongruous and absurd—
Some say, in hunting from his followers stray'd,
Passing at dusk of eve a high-swoln stream,
Therein he perish'd; others do maintain
That, loathing greatness, he conceals himself
In some lone cave: but as I bear a heart
True to King Ethwald and the public weal,
I know of him no more.

Sel.
Thou liest!

Eth.
(pulling back Sel.)
Peace, art thou mad?

Alwy
(pretending not to hear).
What said brave Selred?

Eth.
A hasty exclamation of no meaning.

Alwy.
I must away, and bear the welcome tidings
Of your arrival to the royal ear.

Eth.
But stop, before thou goest I fain would know
How fared Elburga in the passing storm?
Where has she refuge found?

Alwy.
Within these walls; she is the queen of Mercia.

Eth.
I am indebted to thee.

[Exit Alwy.
Sel.
(staring with surprise upon Ethelbert).
What dost thou think of this? Did we hear truly?
To the usurper of her father's crown,
And, if our fears be true, his murd'rer too!
To him! O most unnatural!

Eth.
Ay, so it is. As one, who ventures forth
After an earthquake's awful visitation,
The country round in strange unwonted guise
Beholds; here swelling heights and herby knolls,
Where smok'd the cottage and the white flocks browz'd,
Sunk into turbid pools; there rifted rocks,
With all their shaggy woods upon their sides,
In the low bosom of the flowery vale
Resting uncouthly—even so does he,
Who looks abroad after the storms of state,
Strange changes see; unnatural and strange.

Sel.
It makes my spirit boil—the gentle Edward!
So gently brave!

Eth.
Yes, there is cause of grief
And indignation too: but Ethwald reigns,
Howe'er he gain'd his height, and he possesses
The qualities that suit his lofty station.
With them I fear he has his passions also,
Hostile to public good: be it our part
To use the influence we still retain
O'er his ambitious mind for Mercia's weal!
This is our duty now.

Sel.
I'll take thy counsel. (To the soldiers.)

Follow, weary comrades.

[Exeunt Eth. and Sel. and their followers, marching across the stage.

SCENE II.

A royal apartment. Elburga, as queen, discovered sitting on a chair of state, with Dwina, ladies, and officers of state attending.
Elb.
We've waited long: how goes the day?
knowst thou?

(To 1st officer.)
1st off.
As comes the light across this arched roof
From those high windows, it should wear, methinks,
Upon noon-day.

Elb.
And the procession to the royal chapel
Should at this hour begin. The king, perchance,
Is with affairs detain'd: go thou and see.
[Exit 1st officer.
I am impatient now.
[Voice heard without.
What voice is that?

First SONG without.
Hark! the cock crows, and the wind blows,
Away, my love, away!
Quick, don thy weeds and tell thy beads,
For soon it will be day.

1st lady.
'Tis sadly wild.

Dwi.
'Tis sad, but wondrous sweet.
Who may it be? List, list! she sings again.

Second SONG without.
Where layst thou thy careless head?
On the cold heath is my bed,
Where the moor-cock shuts his wing,
And the brown snake weaves his ring.
Safe and fearless will I be,
The coiled adder stings not me.

Elb.
(rising, displeased, from her seat).
Call those who wait without. What may this mean?

Enter an Attendant.
Atten.
Pardon, my royal dame! be not offended!
'Tis a poor maid bereaved of her mind.
Rent are her robes, her scatter'd locks unbound,
Like one who long through rugged ways hath stray'd,
Beat with the surly blast; but never yet,
Though all so sorely shent, did I behold
A fairer maid. She aims at no despite:
She's wild, but gentle.

Dwi.
O hark again!

Third SONG without.
[A pause.

Fourth SONG.
Ah, maiden! bear the biting smart,
Nor thus thy loss deplore;
The Thane's fair daughter has his heart,
He will return no more.

1st lady.
'Tis strangely melancholy.

Dwi.
'Tis like the mournful sounds which oftentimes
The midnight watcher, in his lonely tower,
Hears with the wailing blast most sweetly mingled.

Elb.
(to attendant).
Go thou and lead her hither.

Atten.
I will, great queen.—But here she comes unbidden.

Enter Bertha, with a wild unsettled air, and her hair scattered upon her shoulders. The ladies gather about her with curiosity.
1st lady.
How fair she is!

2d lady.
Her eyes of lovely blue,
Gentle, but restless. Dost thou see that glance?
[To 1st lady.
I fear to look upon her.

Dwi.
Fie, fie upon it! press not near her thus;
She seems offended: I will speak to her. (To Berth.)

Sweet lady, art thou sad?
[Bertha looks steadfastly at her, then drops her head upon her breast, and makes no answer.
We would be kind to thee.

[Berth. then looks more gently on her, but is still silent.
1st lady.
Dost thou not speak, thou who canst sing so well?

Dwi.
Who taught thee those sweet notes?

Berth.
The night was dark: I met spirits on my way:
They sang me sweet songs, but they were sorrowful.

Dwi.
Ah, woe is me! and dost thou wander then,
In the dark night alone, no one to tend thee?

Berth.
When the moon's dark, I follow the night-bird's cry,
And it doth guide my way.—But he'll return,
So do they tell me, when sweet violets blow,
And summer comes again.

Dwi.
And who is he?

Berth.
List, and the winds will tell thee as they pass:
The stilly air will whisper it. But softly,
Tell it to none again. They must not know
How stern he is, for he was gentle once.

Dwi.
A cruel heart had he who could forsake thee!

Ber.
(putting her hand eagerly on Dwina's mouth).
Hush, hush! we'll not offend him. He is great,
And must not be offended.

Elb.
(coming near her).
What, sayst thou he is great?
Rent are thy weeds, and thin thy ruffled robe:
Why didst thou leave thy home thus unprotected?

Ber.
(turning hastily upon her).
I saw his banner
streaming in the air,
And I did follow it.

Elb.
His banner in the air! What is thy love?

Berth.
(looking fiercely at her).
They say he is a king.

Elb.
(smiling).
Poor maid! 'tis ever thus with such as she;
They still believe themselves of some high state,
And mimic greatness.

Berth.
Thou art a fair dame and a gay—but go;
Take off thine eyes from me; I love thee not.
[Shrinks from Elburga, walking backwards, and looking frowningly at her; then beckoning to Dwina, she speaks in her ear.
They say a royal dame has won his faith,
Stately and proud. But in a gloomy dream
I heard it first, confused and terrible:
And oftimes, since, the fiend of night repeats it,
As on my pressed breast he sits and groans.
I'll not believe it.

Dwi.
What is thy name, sweet lady?

Berth.
(rubbing her hand across her forehead as if trying to recollect).
I had a name that kind friends call'd me by;
And with a blessing did the holy man
Bestow it on me. But I've wander'd far
Through wood and wilds, and strangely on my head
The numbing winds have beat, and I have lost it.
Be not offended with me—
For, lady, thou art gentle, and I fear thee.

[Bowing submissively to Dwina.
Enter Ethelbert.
Eth.
(to Dwina, after looking at Bertha).
What maid is that so haggard and so wild?

Dwi.
A wand'ring maniac, but so fair and gentle
Thou needs must speak to her.

Eth.
(going up to Bertha).
Fair lady, wilt thou suffer—gracious heaven!
What see I here! the sweet and gentle Bertha!
Ah, has it come to this! Alas, alas!
Sweet maiden, dost thou know me?

Berth.
(after looking earnestly at him).
I know thee well enough. They call thee mad;
Thy wild and raving words oft made the ears
Of holy men to tingle.

Eth.
She somewhat glances at the truth. Alas!
I've seen her gay and blooming as the rose,
And cheerful, too, as song of early lark,
I've seen her prattle on her nurse's lap,
Innocent bud! and now I see her thus.

[Weeps.
Berth.
Ah! dost thou weep? are they unkind to thee?
[Shaking her head.
Yes, yes! from out the herd, like a mark'd deer,
They drive the poor distraught. The storms of heaven
Beat on him: gaping hinds stare at his woe;
And no one stops to bid heav'n speed his way.

Eth.
(flourish of trumpets).
Sweet maid, retire.

Berth.
Nay, nay! I will not go: there be without
Those who will frown upon me.

Eth.
(endeavouring to lead her off).
I pray thee be entreated!

[Dwina takes hold of her also to lead her off, but she breaks from them furiously.
Berth.
Ye shall not force me! Wist ye who I am?
The whirlwind in its strength contends with me,
And I o'ermaster it.

Eth.
Stand round her then, I pray you, gentle ladies!
The king must not behold her.

[The ladies gather round Bertha, and conceal her.
Enter Ethwald, followed by Thanes and Attendants.
Ethw.
(after returning the obeisance of the assembly).
This gay and fair attendance on our person,
And on our queen, most honour'd lords and dames,
We much regard; and could my heart express—
[Bertha, hearing his voice, shrieks out.
What cry is that?

Dwi.
Regard it not: it is a wand'ring maid,
Distracted in her mind, who is in search,
As she conceits it, of some faithless lover.
She sings sweet songs of wildest harmony,
And at the queen's command we led her in.

Ethw.
Seeking her love! distracted in her mind!
Have any of my followers wrong'd her? Speak!
If so it be, by righteous heaven I swear!
The man, whoe'er he be, shall dearly rue it.

[Bertha shrieks again, and, breaking through the crowd, runs up to Ethwald. He starts back, and covers his eyes with one hand, whilst she, catching hold of the other, presses it to her breast.
Berth.
I've found thee now, and let the black fiend growl,
I will not part with thee. I've follow'd thee
Through crag and moor and wild. I've heard thy voice
Sound from the dark hill's side, and follow'd thee.
I've seen thee on the gath'ring twilight clouds,
Ride with the stately spirits of the storm.
But thou lookst sternly on me.
O be not angry! I will kneel to thee;
For thou art glorious now, as I am told,
And must have worship.

(Kneeling, and bowing her head meekly to the ground.)
Ethw.
(turning away).
O God! O God! Where art thou, Ethelbert?
Thou mightst have saved me this.

[Looking round, and seeing that Ethelbert weeps, he also becomes softened, and turns to Bertha with great emotion.
Berth.
They say she's fair and glorious: woe is me!
I am but form'd as simple maidens are.
But scorn me not; I have a powerful spell,
A Druid gave it me, which on mine arm
When once enclasp'd, will make me fair as she;
So thou wilt turn to me.

Ethw.
O Ethelbert! I pray thee pity me!
This sight doth move me, e'en to agony.
Remove her hence; but O deal gently with her!

[Ethelbert endeavours again to lead her off, and the ladies crowd about her. She is then carried out, and is heard to scream as they are carrying her.
Ethw.
(in great disorder).
Come, come away! we do but linger here.

[Elburga, who, since Ethwald 's entering, has remained in the background, but agitated with passions, now advances angrily to him
Elb.
So thou hast known this maid?

Ethw.
Fie! speak not to me now.

Elb.
Away, away!
Thou hast lodg'd softer passions in thy breast
Than I have reckon'd on.

Ethw.
(shaking her off).
Fie! turn thy face aside, and shade thine eyes!
That no soft passion in thy bosom lives,
Is thy opprobrium, woman, and thy shame.

Elb.
There are within my breast such thoughts, I trust,
As suit my lofty state.

Ethw.
(aside to Elb.)
Go, heartless pageant, go,
Lead on thy senseless show, and move me not
To do thee some despite. (Aloud to the ladies.)

Move on, fair dames.
[To Elb., who seems unwilling to go.
The king commands it.

[Exeunt Elburga and ladies.
1st off.
(to Ethw., who stands with his eyes fixed on the ground).
Please you, my lord, but if you move not also,
The ceremony will, in sooth, appear
As marr'd and cut in twain.

Ethw.
What sayst thou, marshal?

1st off.
Please you, my lord, to move?

Ethw.
Ay, thou sayst well: in the soul's agony
A meaner man might turn aside and weep.

[Exit Ethw. with part of his train, the others ranging themselves in order to follow him. A great confusion and noise is then heard without, and a voice calling out “The king is wounded.” The crowd press back again in disorder, and presently re-enter Ethw. supported.
1st off.
My lord, how is it with you?

Ethw.
I fear but ill, my friend. Where is the man
That gave me this fell stroke?

1st off.
I cannot tell: they have surrounded him.

Enter 2d Officer.
2d off.
He is secured.

Ethw.
Is it a Mercian hand?

2d off.
It is, my lord, but of no high degree.
It is the frantic stroke of a poor groom,
Who did his late lord love; and, for that crime,
Last night, with wife and children weeping round him,
Was by your soldiers turn'd into the cold,
Houseless and bare.

Ethw.
Curse on their ruffian zeal!
Torment him not, but let him die in peace.
Would I might say—. I'm very faint, my friends:
Support me hence, I pray you!

[Exeunt, Ethw. supported.

SCENE III.

A royal apartment: an open door in front, showing an inner chamber, in which is discovered Ethwald lying upon a couch, and surrounded with the Thanes and Officers of his court, Selred and Ethelbert standing on each side of him.
Sel.
(after Ethw. has said something to him in a low voice).
He is too much inclosed and longs for air:
He'll breathe more freely in the outer chamber,
Let us remove him.

[They lift him in his couch, and bring him forward to the front of the stage.
1st off.
How are you now, my lord?

Ethw.
Somewhat exhausted: and albeit, good Thanes,
I greatly am indebted to your love,
For a short space I fain would be alone.

1st off.
Farewell! God send your highness rest! meantime
We'll pray for your recovery.

2d off.
And heaven will hear our prayers.

Omnes.
Amen, amen!

Ethw.
Pray heaven to order all things for the weal
Of my good realm, and I shall be well pleased
To live or die. Adieu!
[Exeunt all but Ethw., Selred, and Ethelbert. After a pause, in which Ethw. seems agitated and uneasy.
My dearest Selred, think it not unkind,
But go thou too.
[Exit Selred.
[Raising himself on the couch, and taking both the hands of Ethelbert, which he presses in his, looking up in his face expressively for some time before he speaks.
I am oppress'd. To them, even in this state,
I still must be a king: to you, my friend,
Let me put off all seeming and constraint,
And be a poor weak man. (A pause.)
Thou speakest not,
Thy face is sad and solemn. Well I see
Thou lookst upon me as a dying wretch—
There is no hope.

Eth.
Much will it profit thee
To be prepared as though there were no hope;
For if thou liv'st thou'lt live a better man,
And if thou diest, may heav'n accept it of thee!

Ethw.
O that it would! But, my good Ethelbert,
To be thus seized in my high career,
With all my views of glory op'ning round me—
The Western state e'en now invites mine arms.
And half Northumberland, in little time,
Had been to Mercia join'd.

Eth.
Nay, think not now, I pray thee, of these matters!
They mix uncouthly with the pious thoughts
That do become your state.

Ethw.
I know it well;
But they do press so closely on my heart—
O I did think to be remember'd long!
Like those grand visitations of the earth,
That on its alter'd face for ages leave
The traces of their might. Alas, alas!
I am a powerful, but a passing storm,
That soon shall be forgotten!

Eth.
I do beseech thee think of better things!

Ethw.
Thou seest I weep.—Before thee I may weep.
[Dropping his head upon his breast, and groaning deeply.
Long have I toil'd and stain'd my hands in blood
To gain pre-eminence; and now, alas!
Newly arrived at this towering height,
With all my schemes of glory rip'ning round me,
I close mine eyes in darkness, and am nothing.

Eth.
What, nothing sayst thou?

Ethw.
O no, Ethelbert!
I look beyond this world, and look with dread,
Where all for me is fearful and unknown.
Death I have daily braved in fields of fight,
And, when a boy, oft on the air-hung bough
I've fearless trod, beneath me roaring far
The deep swoln floods, with every erring step
Instant destruction. Had I perish'd then—
Would that I had, since it is come to this!

[Raising up his hands vehemently to heaven.
Eth.
Be not so vehement: this will endanger
The little chance thou still mayst have for life.
The God we fear is merciful.

Ethw.
Ay, He is merciful; but may it reach—
O listen to me!—Oswal I have murder'd,
And Edward, brave and gentle—ay, this bites
With a fell tooth!—I vilely have enthrall'd;
Of all his rights deprived. The loving Bertha:
Too well thou knowst what I have been to her—
Ah! thinkest thou a thousand robed priests
Can pray down mercy on a soul so foul?

Eth.
The inward sighs of humble penitence
Rise to the ear of heav'n, when pealed hymns
Are scatter'd with the sounds of common air;
If I indeed may speak unto a king
Of low humility.

Ethw.
Thy words bite keenly, friend. O king me not!
Grant me but longer life, and thou shalt see
What brave amends I'll make for past offences.
Thou thinkest hardly of me; ne'ertheless,
Rough as my warrior's life has been, good thoughts
Have sometimes harbour'd here.
[Putting his hand on his heart.
If I had lived,
It was my full intent that, in my power,
My people should have found prosperity:
I would have proved to them a gen'rous lord.
If I had lived—Ah! thinkst thou, Ethelbert,
There is indeed no hope?

Eth.
I may not flatter you.

Ethw.
(holding up his clasped hands).
Then heaven
have mercy on a guilty soul!
Good Ethelbert, full well thou knowst that I
No coward am: from power of mortal thing
I never shrank. O might I still contend
With spear and helm, and shield and brandish'd blade!
But I must go where spear and helm and shield
Avail not:
Where the skill'd warrior, cased in iron, stands
Defenceless as the poor uncrusted worm.
Some do conceit that disembodied spirits
Have in them more capacity of woe
Than flesh and blood maintain. I feel appall'd:
Yes, Thane of Sexford, I do say appall'd.
For, ah! thou knowst not in how short a space
The soul of man within him may be changed.

Eth.
I know it all too well. But be more calm;
Thou hast a task to do, and short perhaps
May be the time allow'd thee. True repentance
With reparation of offences past
Is ever yok'd. Declare it as thy will
That Edward do succeed unto his rights:
And for poor Bertha, she shall be my charge;
I'll tend and cheer her in my quiet home.

Ethw.
Thou dost prevent my boon: heaven bless thee for it!
I give thee power to do whate'er thou thinkst
I living should have done. 'Tis all I can,
And gracious heaven accept it at my hands!

Eth.
Amen, my friend! I'll faithfully fulfil
The important trust—Ha! how thy visage changes!
Thy mind's exertion has outrun thy strength.
He faints away. Help! who attends without?

Enter Selred with Attendants.
Sel.
Alas, my brother!

[Assisting Eth. to raise Ethw.'s head.
Eth.
Raise him gently, Selred.
For, if that life within him still remain,
It may revive him.

Sel.
Ah, see how changed he is! Alas, my brother!
Pride of my father's house, is this thy end?

Enter Elburga, Nobles, &c.
Elb.
Let me approach unto my royal lord.
Good Ethelbert, thou long hast known thy king,
Look'd he e'er thus before?

[Looking on Ethw.
Eth.
No, royal dame; and yet 'tis but a faint;
See, he revives again.

Ethw.
(opening his eyes).
Who are about me now?

Eth.
The queen and nobles.

Sel.
And Selred, too, is here, my dearest Ethwald!

Ethw.
(holding out his hand to Sel.)
Ay, noble
brother, thou wert ever kind.
Faintness returns again; stand round, my friends,
And hear my dying words. It is my will
That Ethelbert shall, after my decease,
With the concurrence of the nation's council,
The kingdom settle as may best appear
To his experienced wisdom, and retain
Until that settlement the kingly power.
Faintness returns again; I say no more.
Art thou displeas'd, my Selred?

Sel.
(kneeling and kissing his hand).
No, brother,
let your dying will bereave me
E'en of my father's lands, and with my sword
I will maintain it.

Ethw.
Thou art a gen'rous brother; fare thee well!

Elb.
What, is the queen, indeed, so poor a thing
In Mercia's state that she should be o'erpass'd,
Unhonour'd and unmention'd?

Ethw.
(to Elb., waving his hand faintly).
Be at peace!
Thou shalt have all things that become thy state. (To attendants.)

Lower my head, I pray you.

1st off.
He faints again.

2d off.
He will not hold it long:
The kingdom will be torn with dire contentions.
And the Northumbrian soon will raise his head.

Ethw.
(raising himself eagerly with great vehemence).
Northumberland! Oh I did purpose soon,
With thrice five thousand of my chosen men,
To have compass'd his proud towers.
Death, death! thou art at hand, and all is ended!

[Groans, and falls back upon the couch.
1st off.
This is a faint from which I fear, brave Thanes,
He will awake no more.

2d off.
Sayst thou? go nearer and observe the face.

1st off.
If that mine eyes did ever death behold,
This is a dead man's visage.

2d off.
Let us retire. My good lord Ethelbert,
You shall not find me backward in your service.

1st off.
Nor me.

Omnes.
Nor any of us.

Eth.
I thank you, Thanes! 'Tis fit you should retire;
But Selred and myself, and, of your number,
Two chosen by yourselves, will watch the body.
[To Dwina, who supports Elburga, and seems soothing her.
Ay, gentle Dwina, soothe your royal mistress,
And lead her hence.
[After looking steadfastly on the body.
Think ye, indeed, that death hath dealt his blow?

1st off.
Ah, yes, my lord! that countenance is death!

[Selred kneels by the body, and hides his head.
Eth.
Then peace be to his spirit!
A brave and daring soul is gone to rest.
Thus powerful death th' ambitious man arrests,
In midst of all his great and towering hopes,
With heart high swoln; as the omnipotent frost
Seizes the rough enchafed northern deep,
And all its mighty billows, heav'd aloft,
Boldly commixing with the clouds of heaven,
Are fix'd to rage no more.

[The curtain drops.