University of Virginia Library

SCENE THE FIRST.

Rosmunda, Romilda.
Ros.
Perfidious woman, put up to the skies
Thy unavailing vows; address to Heaven,
Which hears thee not, thy ineffectual prayers.
Meanwhile the sanguinary battle rages
On the Ticinus' shores; e'en to this place
I hear its clamour: nor in doubtful hope
Doth my heart waver: certainty of conquest
Do I infer from the high martial virtues
Of my new consort.

Rom.
Yes, if in the camp
Thy Almachilde be as much distinguish'd,
As he himself distinguish'd in this palace,
Then when he sacrificed with trait'rous hand
My father Alboino, he will conquer:
But Clefi, who is now his adversary,
Does not now lie immersed in indolence,
Clasp'd in a guilty consort's arms, as lay
Thy husband Alboino on that night
Of memorable horrors. Round his standard
The noblest heroes Clefi hath collected:
He with his warriors doth at once maintain
The sacred cause of violated faith,
Of outraged heaven, of multitudes oppressed,
And of the infringed laws of Lombardy:
And fervently I pray for his success.

Ros.
The dregs of Lombardy alone have flock'd
Round Clefi's mutinous standard; he counts not
One man of noble blood among his followers:
Indeed, he well deserves that thou shouldst be
So strenuous in his cause. For art not thou
The daughter of a king? Oh! fortunate
My fate, in truth, that made me not thy mother!
Sprung from a monarch, canst thou entertain
The vile desire to see the royal power
Cast with the throne to earth?

Rom.
Upon the earth
Rather would I behold the throne, than fill'd
By a contaminating, guilty upstart.
The consort and the daughter of a king,
Say, wert not thou? Thou, who hast dared to give
Thy hand in marriage to a trait'rous subject?

Ros.
To any man, that dared avenge my cause
This hand of mine was a due recompense.
I was constrain'd by dire necessity
To luckless nuptials with thy cruel father.
Yet reeking with the life-blood of Comundus,
My wretched father, Alboino gain'd me
Orphan and captive: the impious Alboino,
He that discomfited my partizans,
The spoiler of my patrimonial realm,
The insultor of my wretchedness. At length
From this inexorable fatal yoke,
'Neath which I languish'd for so many years,
I breathe. And now the rancour will burst forth
Which with so many conflicts I suppress'd:
Now thee, the abhorred child of Alboino,
(Of whom, for my especial happiness,
I'm not the mother,) I will banish thee
For ever from my sight. Thee I dispatch
A spouse to Alaric.

Rom.
I? ... I the spouse
Of Alaric?

Ros.
Yes. This appears to thee
A small revenge, and small indeed I deem it,
When set against the injuries I endured
From Alboino: but it pleases me
Thus from my sight for ever to remove
The impious remnant of thy father's blood.
I, for the covenanted aid received
From Alaric against the troops of Clefi,
Have, to the former, pledged my royal faith,
As an equivalent, to yield thyself.
Exult: thou wilt have, as thou dost deserve,
A spouse magnanimous: and though a realm
Vast as the one usurp'd by Alboino,
The Eruli on Alaric bestow not,
Yet he assuredly may vie with him
In frantic cruelty. Thee, Alaric
Happy will make, as Alboin' made me.

Rom.
Do not expect that I should ever yield
To nuptials dire as these. If thou'rt victorious,
And thirstest for a plenary revenge,
Amid these very walls (round which doth stray
The unavenged spectre of my father,
Where the vile traitor, by whose hands he fell,
Lies by thy side e'en in his very bed,)
The daughter thou shouldst immolate: and there
Opprobrious torments, and protracted pangs,
On her inflict. But thou presume to yield
My hand in marriage? ...

Ros.
Thou, with Alaric,
Wilt find the furies of a cruel step-dame
Join'd to the furies of a barbarous consort.
Those whom, at once, I fear and execrate,
With death I punish: thee, whom I fear not,
I would chastise with life.

Rom.
Say, who can be
Thy rival in barbarity? Not I.
There are no tears, no cries of innocence,
That can thy bosom pierce: yet, save my tears,
I now have no defence ... Oh Heaven! but no:
I can, and I know how to, ease myself
Of the intolerable load of life,
So that I go not to this destined marriage ...
Perhaps 'twould be more expedient for me,
Bringing thy dagger, and thy noble arts,
To Alaric as a dowry, thus to make
My coveted alliance cost him dear:
But am I Rosamund?

Ros.
I am; and feel
Proud in the consciousness that I am she.
The world knows well that I was not the first
To practise cruelty.

Rom.
If towards thyself
My sire was cruel, rights of war produced
That cruelty; but thou since ...

Ros.
Rights of war?
In the most cruel and inhuman clime,
Say, was it e'er a right, that impious rage
And sacrilegious scorn should violate
The unburied relics of the dead? E'en now
Doth Alboino not before my eyes
For ever glare at that unnatural banquet,
(Banquet of death to me!) with pride, and blood,
And fury drunk, at his dire table placed,
Wantonly gibing! Do not I behold him,
Sated with wine and beastly gluttony,
(Ah, horrid sight!) with a malicious coolness
Quaff his protracted and intemperate draughts
From my slain father's skull? Then send to me,
Mantling with the abhorred beverage,
The execrable chalice? In my ears
Doth not that scornful sanguinary challenge
Eternally reecho? “Drink, Rosmunda;
“Drink with thy father,” tauntingly he cried.
And thou, from such a monster born, dost stand
Before my eyes? If having first slain him,
I had suborned the vilest miscreants
First to contaminate, and then murder thee;
If having burn'd your bodies, I had then
Scatter'd your ashes to the winds of Heaven,
Yea, even thus, I never had obtain'd
A vengeance equal to the wrongs I've suffer'd.
Go; vex me now no more. 'Twill be to me
A grateful spectacle to see thee dragged,
Spite of thyself, to this abhorr'd alliance:
Now thou in vain resistest; thou by force
Shalt go. Be other hands, rather than mine,
Polluted with thy blood. But, go meanwhile;
I do not wish thee here, now I expect
My Almachilde conqueror from the camp.
Go; and prepare thee by to-morrow's dawn
For thy departure: 'tis my will: obey.