University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

The Royal Bower.
Ethelstan on his couch asleep: Ellisif seated by the couch, thrums over a harp monotonously. An Attendant.
Ellisif
(ceasing to play).
Both are entranced: well done!—
(Softly to the Attendant.)
Repose thee, go!
Drowsiness with his beetle wings hath humm'd
Thy lullaby too: retire!—She nods!—Dost hear me?—
Go rest thee till I call, i'the outer chamber:
Tread soft—wake not his grace—close the door easily,—
As 'twere upon the dead!
[Exit Attendant. Ellisif makes fast the bolt, and lets down the door-tapestry.
So, 'tis well done!
He sleeps!—My witching harp hath o'er him weft
Slumber's soft web, and in its airy mesh
His strength is ta'en as in an iron toil!
There lies he powerless, as on some lone strand
A youth by mermaid's murmurous song enswoon'd,
Fool of her fatal shell!—What joy to view him
Laid out for slaughter thus—thus at my mercy—
Him, slayer of my husband and my father,—
Him, who trod down their glory into dust,
Now spurnable as a corpse beneath my feet!—
(Drawing a dagger.)
This tempter clings to me—'twill scarce be sheathed!—
No! I'll not slay him; he shall live to crouch,
Footstool of my ambition!—Sleep, sleep on,
But not to rest! I've caught from thy bird-maiden
A secret note of thee, which used with craft,
Shall bring thee sleep thou'dst well exchange for wakefulness
As dry-eyed as the sun's!—Lend me once more,
Presence of my dead lord! thy sorrowful voice
To thrill his soul with! that faint voice thy grave
Yawns forth by night, and with the moaning winds
Mingles spiritual!—Now, better skill'd,
Let me assay it.
(Goes behind the couch, and whispers plaintively into the King's ear.)
Sleep'st thou, unkind brother?
O canst thou sleep, nor think'st of Edwin torn
Piecemeal by these wild horses of the sea!

Ethelstan
(dreaming, starts to his elbow).
Ha!—here again? how can I save thee now?—
Art not a corse?

Ellisif.
Lo! where the grim birds follow me!
And gore my tender flesh—feast on my heart—
The bleeding heart that loved thee, Ethelstan!

Ethelstan
(rising).
Avaunt, foul raveners!—Where are my bow-men?—
Off cormorants!—fly all my hawks at them!—
Stanch his deep wounds!—cover his bosom up!
Let me not see it bleed!

Ellisif
(following him).
Hark how the blast
Shrieks in mine ear!—the bitter-seething spray
Wraps its cold shroud around me!

Ethelstan.
Still his eyes
Turn their dull balls this way!—they pierce me through
Into my heart's heart!

Ellisif.
Ethelstan, O cruel!
Help me!—take off these writhing serpents here
That strangle me in their weedy coils!—Now! now!
They pull me to the bottom!—Help, help, Ethelstan!
O I am lost!

Ethelstan.
Save him! a boat there! save him!
Let me plunge for him, cowards!—Edwin! thy hand!
Strain up to me!—My crown to him who saves thee!

Ellisif.
Gone!—sunk!—for ever!—Cruel, cruel king!
O thou shalt drown in hell's sulphureous sea
Of fathomless fire for this!

Ethelstan
(falling on his knees).
Mercy! O mercy!

Ellisif.
Deliver then thy fatal signet up:
Say—Where is that curst instrument which seal'd
The warrant for my death?

Ethelstan.
There! in the casket!
Under my pillow.

Ellisif.
Give me, that I may fling it
Down to the infernal stithy where 'twas forged!

Ethelstan.
Take it! the touch doth scorch—
(He opens a casket, and gives out a signet; she stamps a parchment with it, replaces it, and the casket also.)
Now, am I saved?
Is there a hope?—Speak! Speak!—He answers not!—
O God, still unforgiven!

Ellisif.
Unforgiven!

Ethelstan
(awaking).
Despair!

Ellisif.
My dearest liege, what hath so stirr'd you?
Why move you from your couch? Lie down, lie down,
And sleep as calm again.

Ethelstan.
Calm! I could sleep
On bed of firiest martyrdom after this!
O, I have seen such things, and heard!—my blood
Is ice, my brain is fire!—Tell me, dear wife,
Where have I been?

Ellisif.
Why here, upon your couch!

Ethelstan.
Wherefore didst not awake me?

Ellisif.
So I did:
When just now, suddenly, with heaving breast,
Thou didst begin to mutter some wild words,
And started up—I thought 'twas well to wake thee!

Ethelstan.
Thanks, tenderest love!—It seem'd an age of pain,
And pain the soul might burst with!—I will tell it thee;
Let us away; some demon haunts this room!
The air is breathless—let us away, sweet queen!
Thou shalt console—shalt know all!—But for thee
Anguish had turn'd me wild!—Thanks! thanks! thanks ever!

[Exeunt.