University of Virginia Library

SCENE V.

Ethwald's apartment: he is discovered sitting by his couch, with his elbows resting upon his knees, and supporting his head between both his hands; the Queen standing by him.
Queen.
Why sit you thus, my lord? it is not well:
It wears your strength: I pray you go to rest.
[A pause, and he makes no answer.
These nightly watchings much retard your cure;
Be then advis'd!
[A pause, and he still takes no notice.
Why are you thus unwilling?
The tower is barr'd, and all things are secure.

Ethw.
How goes the hour? is it the second watch?

Queen.
No, near the window now, I heard the guard
Exchange the word: the first is but half spent.

Ethw.
And does the fearful night still lie before me
In all its hideous length? (Rising up with emotion.)

O ye successive terms of gloomy quiet!
Over my mind ye pass like rolling waves
Of dense oppression; while deep underneath
Lie all its noble powers and faculties
O'erwhelmed. If such dark shades must henceforth cross
My chequer'd life with still returning horrors,
O let me rest in the foul reptile's hole,
And take from me the being of a man!

Queen.
Too much thou givest way to racking thought:
Take this: it is a draught by cunning skill
Compounded curiously, and strongly charm'd;
With secret virtue fill'd—it soothes the mind,
And gives the body rest.

[Offering him a cup.
Ethw.
Sayst thou? then in good sooth I need it much.
I thank thee too; thou art a careful wife.
[Takes the cup, and as he is about to put it to his lips, stops short and looks suspiciously at her.
It has, methinks, a strange unkindly smell.
Taste it thyself; dost thou not take my meaning?
Do thou first drink of it.

Queen.
I am in health, my lord, and need it not.

Ethw.
By the dread powers of darkness, thou shalt drink it!
Ay, to the very dregs!

Queen.
What, would you cast on me such vile suspicions,
And treat a royal princess like your slave?

Ethw.
And so thou art. Thou rearst thy stately neck,
And while I list, thou flarest in men's eyes
A gorgeous queen; but unto me thou art—
I do command thee, drink it to the dregs.

Queen
(subdued, and lifting the cup to her lips).
Then be convinced how wrongful are thy thoughts.

Ethw.
(preventing her).
Forbear, I am too slightly mov'd to anger.
I should have known the being of thy state
Is all too closely with my fortune link'd.
Give me the cup. Thou sayst it soothes the mind?
If I indeed could rest-(Tastes it).
It tastes not well;
It is a bitter drug.

Queen.
Then give it me again; I'll hie to Dwina,
And get from her that which shall make it sweet.

[She walks to the door of another apartment, but as she is about to go out, Ethwald hurries after her, and catches her by the arm.
Ethw.
Thou shalt not go and leave me thus alone.

Queen.
I'll soon return again, and all around thee
Is light as noon-day.

Ethw.
Nay, nay, good wife, it rises now before me
In the full blaze of light.

Queen.
Ah! what meanst thou?

Ethw.
The faint and shadowy forms,
That in obscurity were wont to rise
In sad array, are with the darkness fled.
But what avails the light? for now since sickness
Has press'd upon my soul, in my lone moments,
E'en in the full light of my torch-clad walls,
A horrid spectre rises to my sight,
Close by my side, and plain and palpable,
In all good seeming and close circumstance,
As man meets man.

Queen.
Merey upon us! what form does it wear?

Ethw.
My murder'd brother's form.
He stands close by my side; his ghastly head
Shakes horridly upon its sever'd neck
As if new from the headsman's stroke; it moves
Still as I move; and when I look upon it,
It looks—No, no! I can no utterance find
To tell thee how it looks on me again.

Queen.
Yet, fear not now: I shall not long be absent;
And thou mayst hear my footsteps all the while,
It is so short a space.

[Exit Queen.
Ethw.
(returning to the middle of the stage).
I'll fix my steadfast eyes upon the ground,
And turn to other things my tutor'd thoughts
Intently. (After pausing for a little while, with his clenched hands crossed upon his breast, and his eyes fixed upon the ground.)
It may not be; I feel upon my mind
The horrid sense that preludes still its coming.
Elburga! ho, Elburga!

(Putting his hand before his eyes, and calling out with a strong voice of fear.)
Enter Queen in haste.
Queen.
Has't come again?

Ethw.
No; but I felt upon my pausing soul
The sure and horrid sense of its approach.
Hadst thou not quickly come, it had ere now
Been frowning by my side. The cup, the cup!

[Drinks eagerly.
Queen.
Heaven grant thee peace!
Wilt thou not send unto the holy priest,
To give thee ghostly comfort?

Ethw.
(shaking his head).
Away, away! to thee and to thy priests
I have, alas! lent too much heed already.

Queen.
Let not your noble spirit thus be shent!
Still bear good heart! these charmed drugs full soon
Will make you strong and vig'rous as before;
And in the rough sport of your northern war,
You will forget these dreadful fantasies.

Ethw.
Ay, thou speakst wisely now: methinks I still,
In the embattled field, 'midst circling hosts,
Could do the high deeds of a warlike king;
And what a glorious field now opens to me!
But, oh! this cursed bar; this ill-timed sickness;
It keeps me back ev'n like a bitted steed.
But it was ever thus! What have avail'd
My crimes, and cares, and blood, and iron toil?

Queen.
What have avail'd! art thou not king of Mercia?

Ethw.
Ay, ay, Elburga! 'tis enough for thee
To tower in senseless state and be a queen;
But to th' expanded and aspiring soul,
To be but still the thing it long has been
Is misery, e'en though enthron'd it were
Under the cope of high imperial state.
O cursed hind'rance! blasting fiends breathe on me.
Putst thou not something in thy damned drugs
That doth retard my cure? I might ere this
With cased limbs have stridden the clanging field,
And been myself again.—Hark! some one comes.

[Listening with alarm.
Queen.
Be not disturb'd, it is your faithful groom.
Who brings the watch-dog; all things are secure.

Ethw.
Nay, but I heard the sound of other feet.
[Running to the door, and pushing in a great bar.
Say, who art thou without?

Voice without.
Your groom, my lord, who brings your faithful dog.

Ethw.
(to Queen).
Didst thou not hear the sound of other feet?

Queen.
No, only his; your mind is too suspicious.

Ethw.
I in his countenance have mark'd of late
That which I liked not: were this dreary night
But once o'ermaster'd, he shall watch no more.
[Opens the door suspiciously, and enters an armed man leading in a great watch-dog: the door is shut again hastily and the bar is replaced. (To the dog.)
Come, rough and surly friend!
Thou only dost remain on whom my mind
Can surely trust. I'll have more dogs so train'd.
[Looking steadfastly at the groom.
Thy face is pale: thou hast a haggard look:
Where hast thou been?
[Seizing him by the neck.
Answer me quickly! Say, where hast thou been?

Gr.
Looking upon the broad and fearful sky.

Queen.
What sayst thou?

Gr.
The heaven's are all a flaming o'er our heads,
And fiery spears are shiv'ring through the air.

Ethw.
Hast thou seen this?

Gr.
Ay, by our holy saint!

Queen.
It is some prodigy, dark and portentous.

Gr.
A red and bloody mantle seems outstretch'd
O'er the wide welkin, and—

Ethw.
Peace, damned fool!
Tell me no more: be to thy post withdrawn.

[Exit groom by a small side-door, leading the dog with him.
Ethw.
(to himself, after musing for some time).
Heaven warring o'er my head! there is in this
Some fearful thing betoken'd.
If that, in truth, the awful term is come,
The fearful bound'ry of my mortal reach,
O'er which I must into those regions pass
Of horror and despair, to take my place
With those who do their blood-earn'd crowns exchange
For ruddy circles of devouring fire:
Where hopeless woe and gnashing agony
Writhe in the dens of torment; where things be
Yet never imaged in the thoughts of man,
Dark, horrible, unknown—
I'll mantle o'er my head, and think no more.

[Covers his head with his cloak, and sinks down upon the couch.
Queen.
Nay, rather stretch you on the fleecy bed.

Ethw.
Rest, if thou canst, I do not hinder thee.

Queen.
Then truly I will lean my head awhile.
I am o'erspent and weary.

[Leans on the couch.
Ethw.
(hastily uncovering his face).
Thou must not sleep: watch with meand be silent:
It is an awful hour!
[A long pause; then Ethwald starting up from the couch with alarm.
I hear strange sounds ascend the winding stairs.

Queen.
I hear them too.

Ethw.
Ha! dost thou also hear it?
Then it is real. (Listening.)
I hear the clash of arms.
Ho, guard! come forth.

Re-enter Groom.
Gr.
(disappears and then re-entering).
He sleeps so sound, my lord, I cannot rouse him.

Ethw.
Then, villain, I'm betray'd! thou hast betray'd me!
But set thy brawny strength against that door,
And bar them out: if thou but seemst to flinch,
This sword is in thy heart.

[A noise of armed men is now heard at the door endeavouring to break it open, whilst Ethwald and the groom set their shoulders to it to prevent them. Enter Dwina hastily from an inner apartment, and with the Queen assists in putting their strength also to the door, as the force without increases. The door is at last broken open, and Hereulf, with the rebel chiefs, burst in sword in hand.
Her.
(to Ethwald).
Now, thou fell ruthless lion, that hast made
With bloody rage thy native forest waste!
The spearmen are upon thee! to the strife
Turn thy rough breast: thou canst no more escape.

Ethw.
Quick to thy villain's work, thou wordy coward,
Who in the sick man's chamber seekst the fame
Thou dar'st not in th' embattled field attain!
I am prepar'd to front thee and thy mates,
Were ye twice numbered o'er.

[Sets his back to a pillar, and puts himself into a posture of defence.
Her.
The sick man's chamber! darest thou, indeed,
Begrimed as thou art with blood and crimes
'Gainst man committed, human rights assume?
Thou art a hideous and envenom'd snake,
Whose wounded length even in his noisome hole,
Men fiercely hunt, for love of human kind;
And wert thou scotch'd to the last ring of life,
E'en that poor remnant of thy curs'd existence
Should be trod out in the dust.

Ethw.
Come on, thou boasting fool! give thy sword work,
And spare thy cursed tongue.

Her.
Ay, surely will I!
It is the sword of noble Ethelbert:
Its master's blood weighs down its heavy strokes;
His unseen hand directs them.

[They fight: Ethwald defends himself furiously, but at last falls, and the conspirators raise a loud shout.
1st ch.
Bless heaven, the work is done!

2d ch.
Now Mercia is reveng'd, and free-born men
May rest their toil'd limbs in their peaceful homes.

3d ch.
(going nearer the body).
Ha! does he groan?

2d ch.
No, he dies sullenly, and to the wall
Turns his writh'd form and death-distorted visage.

[A solemn pause, whilst Ethwald, after some convulsive motions, expires.
Her.
Now hath his loaded soul gone to its place,
And ne'er a pitying voice from all his kind
Cries, “God have merey on him!”

3d ch.
I've vow'd to dip my weapon in his blood.

st ch.
And so have I.

[Several of them advancing with their swords towards the body, a young man steps forth, and stretches out his arm to keep them off.
Young man.
My father in the British wars was seiz'd
A British prisoner, and with all he had
Unto a Mercian chief by lot consign'd;
Mine aged grandsire, lowly at his feet,
Rent his grey hair; Ethwald, a youthful warrior,
Receiv'd the old man's pray'r and set him free;
Yea, even to the last heifer of his herds
Restor'd his wealth.
For this good deed, do not insult the fallen.
He was not ruthless once.

[They all draw back, and retire from the body. The Queen, who has, during the fight, &c., remained at a distance, agitated with terror and suspense, now comes forward to Hereulf with the air of one who supplicates for mercy, and Dwina, following close behind her, fulls upon her knees, as if to beseech him in favour of her mistress.
Queen.
If thou of good king Oswal, thine old master.
Aught of remembrance hast—

Her.
I do remember:
And deeply grieve to think a child of his
Has so belied her mild and gentle stock.
Nothing hast thou to fear: in some safe place,
In holy privacy, mayst thou repent
The evil thou hast done; for know, proud dame,
Thou art beneath our vengeance.
But as for thine advisers, that dark villain,
The artful Alwy, and that impious man,
Who does dishonour to his sacred garb,
Their crimes have earn'd for them a bitter meed,
And they shall have it.

2d ch.
Shall we not now the slumb'ring Mercians rouse,
And tell our countrymen that they are free
From the oppressor's yoke?

Her.
Yes, thou sayst well: through all the vexed land
Let every heart bound at the joyful tidings!
Thus from his frowning height the tyrant falls
Like a dark mountain, whose interior fires,
Raging in ceaseless tumult, have devour'd
Its own foundations. Sunk in sudden ruin
To the tremendous gulf, in the vast void
No friendly rock rears its opposing head
To stay the dreadful crash.
The joyful hinds, with grave and chasten'd joy,
Point to the traveller the hollow vale
Where once it stood, and the now sunned cots,
Where, near its base, they and their little ones
Dwelt trembling in its deep and fearful shade.

[Exeunt.