University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

A Forest on the way to Brunanburh.
Enter Ethelstan, with House-carls.
Ethelstan.
Pleasant, in these dim woods where Quiet dwells,
To hold sweet under-talk with her, whose voice
Spirit-like, whispers us beneath the boughs,
Herself unseen! Pleasant with light foot-fall
To press rich Autumn's bed of russet leaves,
Make the warm-smelling moss give out its odour,
And here, unbonneted, in sunless noon,
Drink the green air, refreshing both to sense
And soul world-wearied!—Blest the Woodman sure
Who lives his lusty life out here, and whistles it
Lark-like away, the blither nearer heaven!
Perchance he hath his hut among these bowers,
His wife beloved and babe?—some one that smiles
Cheer thee! when drooping he goes home at eve—
But Ethelstan! crown'd Ethelstan!—
We linger, fellows!
By St. John Beverley we're all entranced!
O I could still my beating heart to hear
That gentle bird's grove-buried song!—Away!
Our fortunes will slide from us if we stay!

Enter a House-carl.
House-carl.
My liege, the followers report just now
A prisoner of price.

Ethelstan.
Bring him before us.
Enter House-carls with Prisoner.
What runagate art thou? that when the foes
Thicken about us, tak'st that coward time
Thus to desert thy country and thy king?—
Some wretch, half-Dane, all traitor?

Prisoner.
A true Saxon!
Wretch enough to be born thy brother!

[Throws off his disguise.
Ethelstan.
Edmund!
Childe Edmund!—to my heart! No, I'll not clasp thee;
Thou art a froward boy that must be taught
By rigour and restraint.—Leave us!
[Exeunt House-carls.
Ungrateful!
Have I not shown a father's gravest care,
Mix'd with a mother's mildest, ever for thee?
And yet thou'lt play the sullen with me thus,
The truant, yea the o'er-grown micher!—Wherefore?
Because I check'd thee gently for thy good
Some days since!

Edmund.
I confess that—but—

Ethelstan.
But folly!
Be wiser for thyself another time;
It might have cost thee blood—the Dane's upon us!
I want thee, Edmund—All's forgiven, forgot!
Thou 'rt my right arm again!—Come hither, lad:
These supple kinsmen of the galloping waves
Will soon o'er-ride Northumbria—that's their custom!
Thou must with some few men hang on their rear
To hold them back; hie swift to Derwent stream—
Cross by the windmill's boat—

Edmund
(falling on his knees).
Spare me! O spare me!
Why should poor, guiltless Edmund thus be sent
To his cold grave so soon?

Ethelstan.
Soon? at these years?
When for a Saxon was it ever “soon,”—
Most for a kinsman of Great Alfred, “soon,”—
To die defending Mother-land?—I never
Thought thee unworthy of thy race before!

Edmund.
Unworthy is it then to wish me drown'd
In Danish blood rather than Derwent stream?

[Giving the Death Warrant.
Ethelstan.
Ha! treachery!—domestic treachery!—
How was this seal'd?—Who has been at my pillow?—
True Edgitha,—from traitors traitresses!—
And yet the Maiden may explain—I'll write to her,
I will not see her,—on that side I'm weak!—
Edmund, here is my dagger, here my breast,
Strike if thou fear'st me, Childe!—Strike, and be king!

Edmund
(embracing him).
Best father! brother loved! dear liege! O pardon me!
(Starting up.)
Thou said'st by boat—the Derwent stream—farewell!

[Exit.
Ethelstan.
Royal-soul'd Edmund!—No! they shall not make thee
Hate me; I will not suffer them do that!
A little o'er-suspicious art thou, Edmund;
Dim-vision'd! for clear-sighted men see where
Danger is not, as well as where it is,
Have owl and eagle eyes to see in the dark
And daylight both.—Yet, verily, thou hadst
Some cause!—O Woman, heaven's own daughter or hell's!

[Exit.