University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

The King's Cabinet.
Ethelstan on a Couch. Enter Fergus and Runilda.
Ethelstan.
O!—come at last, my fair perversity?
Sit ye down here: I know your tribe's free nature,
Less ruly than the wind-sway'd sea, obeys
The changeful moon alone. Sit down, prince Fergus.—
Now, a soul-soothing strain, that may hum by me
As runnel sweet by slumbrous shepherd's ear.—
What is this for? why dost thou clash the strings,
Tearing, so falcon-like, as 'twere a victim,
Thy loved harp's breast? Fie! fie! a gentler passion!

Runilda.
It comes!—it comes!—but like the hill-flood's roar,
When earth-shook pinnacles their sheeted rocks
Roll in confounding unison, that makes
The faint stars echo—when hoarse ocean chimes—
When tempest-slanted forests turn their leaves
To whistles shrill—and innocent birds attune
Their shrieks to vultures' screams—when beasts untameable
Stand bellowing for bare fear—when heaven itself
Is one loud forge of flashing bolts, and cave
Rifted with ever-bursting thunders.—Nay,
Waft it not from thee thus!—'twill come!—but soon
Be soft enough, as death's last, groanless sigh,
The strength of agony spent—

Ethelstan.
What dreadful cliff
Hath turn'd her brain? what whirlwind hath enrapt her,
That she's so giddy-headed?

Fergus.
Now, sir, she's still,
Fix'd as a wild-way cross, and looks as bleak!—

Ethelstan.
Good!—there's a spreading life upon her face
That whitens to a smile. Dreamer, awake!

Runilda.
With my lark's throat I warble forth my glee!
With my lark's glance far, far a-field I see!
Look ocean-ward!—Said I not true!—They come!
Look! look! look! look!
[Breaking into a loud chant.

Ethelstan.
Still this wild barding?

Runilda.
'Tis as true and wise
As that we write on rocks to last for ages,
Channeling our dark lore in mystic Runes.
There! See you there? is that no cloud aloft?

Ethelstan.
Yea, black as Night's breath.

Runilda.
'Tis a cloud of ravens,
That croak of slaughter, echoing Rumour's knell!

Ethelstan.
The blackness travels north; here is bright sun;
What say you now, ill-boding bird?

Runilda.
O blindness!
See you what sanguine streaks do scar that sun,
Portending crimson times? Last night, remember thee,
What did thine eyes behold? As thou rodest hither
Were not the Northern Streamers blood-red flames?
Glanced not the mountain-rills beneath the moon
As if 'twere blood they ran with?—did they not, King?

Ethelstan.
Thy own mind's eye is bloodshot.

Runilda.
He's unsavable!
Death's film is drawn already o'er his eye,
He cannot see his tomb-ward steps!—I've done!—
Towards him my duty's o'er!

Ethelstan.
Lead her away:
Her mind's distemperature hath infected me:
Take her, prince Fergus.

Runilda.
Fergus, fair-hair'd Fergus!
Do not thou stop thine ears and seal thine eyes;
Death's arrows fill the air—to house! to house!
Go you not forth—the God of Battle grim
Gapes with sepulchral mouth to swallow thee!
Go you not forth, young Fergus—'tis to die!

Fergus.
Well, well, with thee to chant my coronach,
Immortal maker! I shall be content.

Runilda
(chanting).
O woe! for the fair-hair'd son of the Gael!
Red, red is his royal blood,
That fresh from his heart, O woe and wail!
Lies under him in a flood!

Fergus.
Come, come, the King looks at us.

[Exit, leading Runilda.
Ethelstan.
I know well
What spawn foul ocean genders!—Ran her brain
Less on such perilous themes—war, spoil, invasion,
I'd say she had some knowledge, of a truth,
The fry had grown to monsters.—Fate works strangely!
Well must it work for me, however ill,
As I am at the worst! But one frail reed
Hangs o'er the brink of that deep gulf beneath me,
Break this, and I fall in!—The proof is nigh.

[Exit.