University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

Kilnsey Crag as before, but brightened by the advancing morn. Cathleen discovered near the base. To her enter Roddam.
RODDAM.
Sweet dawn and sweet Cathleen, met in a place
Both wild and sweet!
Why, you at least, Cathleen,
Have entered early on the pleasant trifling,
That brings your Lady to the emerald dales
And craggy hills of Craven.
[Contemplates the Crag.
Well, this rock,
Which hangs its rugged, high, and beetling mass,
As if a touch might hurl it to the plain,
Is worthy the attention it arrests.
So, doubtless, thinks Cathleen?

CATHLEEN.
In sooth, fair sir,
Cathleen had other musings.

RODDAM.
O, no doubt;
Such as young maidens will have, who have faith
In their own loveliness.

CATHLEEN.
Nay, Roddam, hear:
I had a dream last night.

RODDAM.
I guess, so, sweet.
You dreamt last night, and you are dreaming now,
As soldiers dream—of blood— (she starts)
I only mean
Of bleeding hearts, and conquests. In your vision,
How many Knights of Craven, fair Cathleen,
Bound in the magic circle of your gaze,
Paid their devoirs.

CATHLEEN.
Not quite a hundred, sir.

RODDAM.
Ha, well; but fifty?—twenty?—ten or five?

CATHLEEN.
Nay, more than five or ten. I think a score.

RODDAM.
By Venus, a fair number to select from!
I hope the vision gave you time to choose?

CATHLEEN.
It did, and I made choice.

RODDAM.
Now, kind Cathleen,
You crucify me! Do not jest too far.
You know my temper, and you know my heart.

CATHLEEN.
The one's like summer lightning, and the other
Like winter snow.

RODDAM.
My heart's not cold, Cathleen.

CATHLEEN.
Indeed I would not have it so.

RODDAM.
You would not?
Then are you kind as beautiful; and I
Must thank you thus— (Attempts to embrace her.)


CATHLEEN.
Presume not so, bold sir.
This was not in my dream—which is a trifle
Too light for Roddam's ear.

RODDAM.
By heaven, you wrong me!
When Cathleen speaks, the ear of Roddam finds
No music in the tones of harp or lute!
Forgive my levity. I long to hear
The dream that to my Cathleen's beauty lends
The charm of pensiveness.

CATHLEEN.
It seemed, at first,
We still were on our journey from the North.
The vales of Tyne, of Tees, and streamy Ure,
I saw again, as in a picture. Then
We reached a Dell which, ever as we went,
Narrowed and deepened, and at last closed in
Dark as a cavern. As we stood, methought,
Flashed the red lightning. Peal on peal the roar
Of thunder followed; and it seemed the rocks,
Piled o'er our heads, had each a separate echo,
Wherewith to mock the elements!

RODDAM.
You woke
In horror at the tumult?

CATHLEEN.
No; my dream
Was still prolonged, till deeper horror struck
The nerves of sleep. The noise of mortal conflict
Followed the thunder's rattle. Man met man—
Though whence the foe, or why there was a foe,
I knew not—and there rose the clash of arms;
And dying groans and garments rolled in blood
Attested well the havoc of the strife.
Anon, I found me in a circle grim
Of savage figures, and with me enclosed
The Lady Margaret and the Lady Emma,
Who shrieked for rescue. To our rescue came
Yourself, methought. One arm around me flung,
The other wielding its red weapon,—you
Had almost freed me from the ghastly ring,
When some one came behind—O God!—and stabbed you!
I saw you die!

RODDAM.
And sweeter death, Cathleen
I cannot die.

CATHLEEN.
I woke, and hastened forth,
To try if the fresh dawn-breeze would blow off
The vapour from my mind.

RODDAM.
And if it will not,
Love, like the beam that gilds yon mountain mist,
Shall shine it into beauty!
[Sounds are heard.
Hark! the Crag
Mutters, as if a hundred hammers plied
Their strokes within its bowels.

CATHLEEN
(looking out).
It but echoes
The trampling of our horsemen who, last night,
Sought at a neighbouring town the rest and food
This village had not. See, they gallop on,
Half screened by yon tall elms. Their white plumes toss,
And their arms glitter in the sun.—But who
Rides at their head? the monkish dress he wears
Contrasting oddly with the martial splendour
Of the gay train behind him.

RODDAM.
Our new Guide;
The same of whom the Host apprised Lord Fenwick.
Cathleen, we must return—by separate routes;
And, kind Cathleen, remember that our parting
Must not be quite an age. It must not, sweet.

CATHLEEN.
And you remember—to forget my dream!

[Exit Cathleen.
RODDAM.
(solus).
There passed the Flower of Beaumont! destined soon
To bloom, I trust, amid the bowers of Roddam.

[Exit.