University of Virginia Library

SCENE IV.

Nave of St. John's Church, and Prince Edwin's Tomb. Night-time. Bruern in the distance, behind a column.
Enter Ethelstan from a wicket.
Ethelstan.
Look up, faint king!—tho' like the shuddering wretch
That glares upon the corse of him he slew!—
I must go on—yea, did these hollow vaults
Groan sensitive at each step, as if I trod
Over the bosoms of expiring men
Who cursed me and so died!—Where is his tomb?
Mine eyes seem loose, and wander, yet see nought—
Or fall—fall—still to earth! Can I remember?—
What were the marks? which is it?—Pale Fear clutches me
By each wild lock, and tears me from myself!—
Oh I am all distract!—Patience!—'Twas thus,
Was it not?—Ay!—thus said the Prior, thus—
Now comes back memory, like a scarce-wish'd friend!
‘Fast by the column, next but two the Tower,
Where at first bell the morning-moon will shine,
Prince Edwin sleeps'—Would I could sleep his sleep!—
‘Of beach-worn stone his bed, and as thou badest,
Scoop'd like a billowy sea'—Of stone? hard stone?
Thrice comfortable couch to what I, nightly,
Take my unrest on! guilt turns to a rack
My bed of smoothest rushes! gives them thorns
To pierce and harrow me as I writhe!—Well—well:
‘His pillow of marble, wrought with fringe like foam;
His eyes turn'd blindly up to heaven, as if
Closed on all hope of succour'—I sent none!
Edwin I sent thee none!—I was more deaf
Than the stunn'd sea-rock; frothier and more frenzied
Than the white rage around it; crueller still
Than ocean that in wrath precipitate, on thee
Burst—whelming thy sad cries with careless roar!—
O tyrant! tyrant king! fiend-hearted brother!—
How deep is hell? My brain whirls as I think on't;
Darkness will swallow me ever! O that it could!
But to look up thence, and behold him pleading
With angel face wash'd silver pale by tears,
Sea-worn,—his locks yet heavy from the brine,—
Pleading my pardon—Let me not look there!
Kindness cuts deeper, undeserved, than Hate
Plunge at thee as she will!—What else?—‘His eyes
Closed on all hope of succour; so he lay
When he was found dead-floating to the shore,
And so, as thou ordainedst, lies he here?’
Yon length-laid statue facing heaven so calm,
Must e'en be his. Dare I approach it nigher?
O God! how pale he looks, while on his cheek
The ghastly moonbeams glisten!—Yet he's calm;
His bosom heaves not with a sigh,—sure proof
At once of grief and life!—Here stand I, miserable!
Drench'd in the cold sweat of mine agony,
Who, but for such sad breathings-out, might seem
As much a stone as he!—Dead at the heart,
A mere, mere gloss of life upon my surface,
Where all shows smooth,—but I am dead within!
Let me rush forward, and kneel down and beg
[Approaching.
Forgiveness of him who was ever kind!
Nought stays me—
[The bell tolls one.
Ha! that dread bell sounds like thunder,
Shaking the huge tower o'er me as 'twould fall,
Did I proceed!—'Twas but that bronze recorder
Toll'd, and the vasty silence and surprise
Made it so loud. O bright, pure eye of Heaven,
Wilt thou still search me out, and blazon me
Thus, wheresoe'er in darkness I would hide?
Blest Moon, why smile upon a murderer?
He hates thy glitter on him, like a leprosy!
It mads me, wolf-like, and I feel bedropt
With a cold-scalding mildew!—Why, that's well,
Thou starest at me no more!—Alas, shine forth!
Leave me not thus to night's dark angels swaying
Their gleamless swords about me!—
(Kneels at the tomb.)
I will kneel!—
O thou whose spirit hovering o'er this tomb
Look'st down upon thy prostrate brother here,
And see'st his penitence, and his soul's pain,
Say with thy heart-heard voice, shall he for ever
Shall he be unforgiven?

Ellisif
(from behind the tomb).
Unforgiven!

Ethelstan.
Hell's scream within mine ears!—Conscience, 'tis thou
Affright'st me thus!—What fantasy is this?
Spake I so shrill, the Daughter of the Rock,
Wild Echo, should have woke with such a shriek?—
My flesh felt like a swarm of living atomies
When I did hear it!—Shall I quake at nought
More than an echo?

Ellisif.
More than an echo!

Ethelstan
(starting up).
Ay?
Then Ethelstan is more himself!—What art,
That mock'st my words?—Hell-born or human fiend,
Thou shalt speak for thyself!—Bind not, O Darkness!
A brave man's hands, that know not where to strike!

Ellisif.
Thy sword were vain on me, fell it as bright
And swift as meteor shoots. I was the breath
Of thy lorn brother while he lived,—am now
The wan, invisible warder of his tomb!

Ethelstan.
Too thin and wire-sharp voice hast thou for his.

Ellisif.
The serpents of the pit, to which thou sent'st me,
Gave me that meagre voice their wrizzled throats
Utter amid the mire!

Ethelstan.
I could not send thee
Where thy sins sank thee not.

Ellisif.
When thou didst cast
Thy brother forth to die, he was unshriven;
Unshriven, so unforgiven—as thou shalt be!

Ethelstan.
If we repent are we not all forgiven?

Ellisif.
We are forgiven as we forgive; didst thou
Forgive thy brother?

Ethelstan.
God is more merciful
Than man to man! O were we but forgiven
As we forgive, how few were e'er absolved!
My trust in Christ is firmer than in thee,
And he hath to the penitent promised pardon.

Ellisif.
Ay! fool thee with the hope thou'rt penitent,
Yet wear'st a lawless crown! that some few tears
Can wash the scarlet out of such a sin
As stains thy soul!—Didst thou not, when the sea
Was gurliest, and his green face pale with ire,
When the winds lash'd him till he roll'd in pain
His huge-ribb'd skeleton back, didst thou not choose
That merciless mood of his, to fling thy brother
Into his gulfy maw, which, at each yawn
Disclosing hell, had swirl'd down, not a boat,
But a great ark itself?—O then they howl'd
Thy damning chorus from the deep abysm—
Last-born of Cain, come hither!

Ethelstan.
Horrible! horrible!

Ellisif.
Ocean, thy complice blind, was far more penitent:
His grappling surge that gather'd his poor prey,
Too small for note, beneath his ponderous bosom,
Released it, like an infant overlain,
Next morn; and bore his innocent bedmate home
Unto its mother earth, with rude wild wail,
Raving for what his restlessness had done!

Ethelstan.
I was not less remorseful, nor did less
The little all of recompense—too late!
He heap'd thee o'er with shells, I raised this tomb
Costliest, in thy honour.

Ellisif.
Where's my throne?
Thou undermined'st that? Where's the bright form
Which clothed me like a creature of the sun?
Thou stripped'st me of that even to these bones!
Where is the breath of joyful life which Heaven
Breathed in my nostrils? Thou hast turn'd that, that,
Into the blue sulphureous flame I utter,
Condemn'd to burn in my own ire against thee!

Ethelstan.
If my rash deed have made thee thus a devil
Who wast near angel, I were rightly damn'd.

Ellisif.
Thou art! thou art!—Thy last, thy fondest hope
Of any bliss on earth, mark how I quench it:
She, whom thou lovèst so, long lost, late found,
Thy queen elect, the saint thy heart enshrines,
She whom thou dream'st will, like another self,
Double thy joys, divide thy woes,—that peerless one,
Hates thee as I do!

Ethelstan.
Ellisif?

Ellisif.
Even she!

Ethelstan.
My bleeding heart's sole balm to poison turn'd!
O she's not false!—She makes me who did cause,
Howe'er unwilling, her dear father's death,
Fast from the luxury of her sight awhile,
Till, purified in penitential tears,
Mine eyes may taste of it again:—nought else!
Thou art the false one, thou much changèd spirit,
If thou have even the substance of a shade!

Ellisif.
My speech hath touch'd thy conscience to the quick:
Take now this bloody stigma from my hand,
Proof I am no false vision!

[A flash of moonlight—Ellisif vanishes—Bruern, sheathing his sword, shrinks aside.
Ethelstan.
Thy foul purpose
Dreaded the light, which scared thee too!—Thou wert,
Sure, but my superstition's child alone?
Nor trace—nor footfall—fleeting form—nor shadow
Tells of thee!—Ha! what church-breaker art thou?
Come forth, assassinative shape!

[Seeing Bruern.
Bruern.
I cannot:
Good pilgrim, do an outlaw'd man no harm.

Ethelstan.
Forth, slave, I say!

Bruern.
Ne'er trust me! By this altar
The Chair of Safety is, to which I'm chain'd.

Ethelstan.
Chain'd?

Bruern.
Ay, by fear's strong fetters; for I bear
A wolf's head—whoso brings it in gets gold!—
Let me to sleep again.

Ethelstan.
Knave, it was thou
Held insolent parley with me here:—Confess!

Bruern.
Most like! bytimes I babble in my sleep.

Ethelstan.
That rheumy voice, like grating of a rope,
Could not have feign'd such piercing words.—Speak, felon!
Where's thy fine-spoken friend?

Bruern.
There!

Ethelstan.
Who?

Bruern.
Prince Edwin!

Ethelstan.
Why, what art thou, that let'st thy blunt words fall
Like stones in thick ooze dropp'd from some high tower,
When of such perilous moment they may sink
The stranded bark beneath, without thy caring?

Bruern.
Churl Bruern I!—the Prince's man.

Ethelstan.
Thou scape
Great Ocean's watery ordeal, and not he?
That chance was given him for sweet Mercy's sake;
If innocent, I trusted saviour wings
Would hover round his barque, and fan it o'er
To some blest island, though fleet-wrecking storms
Blew in its teeth, and undulous mountains rose
Moon-high between it and its harbourage.

Bruern.
Then innocent I, as those same wings brush'd me
Back to this island blest!

Ethelstan.
That shakes my creed:
Wherefore but thee?

Bruern.
Long time upon the gunwale
The Prince stood,—like white-eyed Despair,—then suddenly
Leapt far into the flood with a mad shriek,
And sank: but I, more harden'd in mishaps,
Clung fast to the boat's bottom as a barnacle,
While she stuck to herself; then on my shield,
Which oft a soldier makes his raft, I scull'd it
With an old stave, witch-like, across the deep;
Till Providence, who protects the innocent,
Flung me, nigh shapeless, mash'd to merman spawn,
Weltering ashore.

Ethelstan.
Why iterate to me
Thy innocence?

Bruern.
Dread, sir, I know my king.
The majesty of his sunbright locks betray'd him,
Albeit in pilgrim weed.

Ethelstan.
Say,—and be pardon'd
Thy treason here, in virtue of that death
Thou almost suffer'd for no treason done,—
Who was it now assail'd me by that tomb?

Bruern.
My liege, I know not.

Ethelstan.
Heard'st thou nought?

Bruern.
I heard
A low voice down the aisle mumbling of beads
And paternosters, till its hum beguiled me,
As doth the drowsy purr of a beldam's wheel
Her nodding self, to sleep.

Ethelstan.
Nor saw'st nought?

Bruern.
Where?

Ethelstan.
Here!

Bruern.
When, sire?

Ethelstan.
At that moonburst from the murk?

Bruern.
Thy royal self.

Ethelstan.
None else?

Bruern.
I saw a screech-owl
Whirr from yon niche into the cloister near;
None else, though so long custom'd to this gloom,
Bat-like I could chase moths, or spy out things
As dusk of coat as my half-brother mouse,
Dotting the distant floor.

Ethelstan.
Doth maddening sorrow
Conjure up semblances, yea, phantom sounds,
Beyond the dread creations of a dream?
It may be so!—'Tis held that warning voices
Do come at times from dead mouths to quick ears,
Which thrill as cold to hear them!—Sure, 'twas scarce
Bold treason, too refined for this coarse worker?
Begone! (To Bruern)
,—and clear mine eyesight of a blot!
Although, perchance, unguilty of this deed,
Thou hast been aye a dark and dangerous man,
Whose ill society suspicion cast
On all permitting it; my thoughtless brother
Kept too much commerce with thee, and thy like,
Who turn to damning though dumb witnesses
Against their friends in jeopardy.—Begone,
Lourer! as sullen-eyed as untamed steer,
And as strong-headed thy wild course to roam.
Begone! I may repent my mercy too!

[Exeunt severally.