t{i>f6 EmK. Et)>llU>(OV.GOSSE HonUcn: CHATTO AND WIND US, PICCADILLY. 1876. ?K Gnk TO ROBERT BRO WNING. As young Greek athletes hung their votive strigils Within the temples of the Powers above; As lovers gave the lamp that lit their vigils Through sleepless hours of love ; So I this lyric symbol of my labour^ This antique light that led my dreams so long^ This battered hull of a barbaric tabor, Beaten to runic song, Bear to that shrine where your dear presence lingers^ Where stands your Muse's statue white as smw ; I take my poor gift in my tremblitig fingers, And hang it there and go. This very day one hundred years are over Since Landor's godlike spirit came to earth : Surely the winter air laughed like a lover. The hour that gave him birth. 00 I d^n Ah f had he lived to hear our hearts' emotion, What lyric love had strewn his path to-day / Yourself had sung; and Swinbur tie's rapt dtrvotion Had cleft its sunward way ; And I, too, though unknown and unregarded, Had thrown ?ny violets where you threw your baySj Had seen my garland, also, not discarded^ Had gloried all my days ! But since the world his august spirit haunted Detains him here no more, but mourns him deadj And other chaplets, in strange airs enchanted, Girdle his sacred head, Take tlwu my small oblation, yea / receive it ! Laid at thy feet, withiti thy shrine it stands ! I brought it from my heart, and here I leave it, The work of reva-ent hands. January lOih, 1875. ARGUMENT. After King Knud died, his sons ruled Denmark one after another, but with Httle skill or fortune. Knud, the younger, slain in the church at Odense, was succeeded by Olaf, the most wretched of them all, and he by Erik, who was the wisest of men, and as lucky as his brothers were unfortunate. Under him Denmark flourished. Erik took to wife a German Princess, Botilda. Soon after her coming to Denmark the Wends harried the shores of the Baltic, and did great mischief Where- upon Erik made a league with the King of Norway, and in three great sea-fights broke up their power. Coming back to Roeskild, he called his lords and freemen round him, and swore to them that henceforth he would live among them to preserve peace in the realm, and, above all, to punish with death any who should kill a Christian man untried. This he did to put an end to the dissen- sions among the people. But it happened that a skald, one Grimur, nursed in his breast a passion for the Queen, though she knew it not. And Erik, being told of this, viii Argument. in a sudden rage slew Grimur with his own hand, and disgraced the Queen. But, on his first coming to high mass, the Archbishop of Lund resolutely withstood him, saying that he had broken his own law in slaying a man untried ; whereupon Erik, smitten with remorse, vowed to make pilgrimage to the Holy City, to heal this inward wound. Declaring this intention to the gathered Thing, the freemen threw themselves at his feet with tears, and prayed him to stay with them, but in vain. And, learn- ing that Botilda was innocent of any fault, his sorrow became a passion and drove him from the land. She went with him, having forgiven him, and they journeyed together to Micklegarth (Constantinople), where the Kmperor Alexios received them with so much hospitality, that they were fain at last to fly away to Cyprus secretly, yet not before that one of the Emperor's body-guard, a Dane, and foster-brother to Grimur, had heard how the skald was slain. This man followed Erik and Botilda to Cyprus, where he slew the King, just as he was about to embark for Palestine. Botilda took the body with her to the Holy Land, and died there. They lie buried side by side in a little valley at the foot of Olivet. PERSONS. Erik Eiegod, King of Denmark. Grimur, Skald. OssuR, Archbishop of Lund. Marcus, an old Councillor. Skjalm Hvide, Governor of Zealand. Thorolf, Leader of the Vseringar. Egil ) ' )■ Two lords of Erik's following. Gunnar, \ Sigurd, the Herald. GiSLi, Grimur's foster-brother. Boy, serving Anna Comnena. The Leader of the Thing. Also soldiers, priests, boys, Vaeringar, etc' Botilda, Queen of Denmark. Anna Comnena, Greek Princess. Adalbjorg, mother of King Erik. Svanhilda, ) . , , , ^ > Maids of Botilda s Court Thora, ) Ladies of the Court. T/ie action in tJie year 1103 a.d., first in Rocskild, the capital of Denmark, afterwards in Constantinople, and finally in Cyprus. KING ERIK. ACT I. KING ERIK. ACT I. Scene I. Botildds bower in Roeskild. Botilda with her embroidery- frame before her sits on a dais ; below her, working, sit SvANHiLDA and Thora. SVA*NHILDA {to THORA). Draw the gold thread twice through the silken woof, And then your work is over. Ask the Queen What flower she will have woven for the hem. THORA {to botilda). Madam, what flower ? botilda. A lily worked in red. SVANHILDA. But, madam — ^ King Erik. ACT I. BOTILDA. Well ? SVANHILDA. The wedding-gown you brought From Germany was wrought with lilies too, Gold lilies, buds and blown ones, round the edge. BOTILDA. And while we waited at the altar steps, To let the old Archbishop find the psalm, Did you not mark how in his strong red hands King Erik took the swept edge of my robe And through his fingers let the gold and white Glide in a little stream ? And afterwards He found a moment's idle space enough To praise the flowers, reminding me how first He saw me by the river-side at Mainz, A half-blown water-lily in my hair.l And so, since nothing ever slips his ken Of great or small, perchance when I shall go And meet him on the margin of the fiord, 'Twill please him that I wear the flowers again. Have you red silk enough ? THORA. This little skein. Will be enough for all I have to do. SVANHILDA {fo BOTILDa). And will }ou that we sing above our work ? SCENE I. Ki7ig Erik, 3 BOTILDA. Yes ! Any simple air I have not heard, Or any Danish ballad ! Nay ! Not now ! I cannot sit to hear you ! Let us talk ! How hot the air is ! How the hours are slow ! The summer days are long here in the north. I wonder when the ships — {breaks off). THORA. For these two months Your patience and your cheerfulness have been So sweetly constant in their silent hope, That I am fain to marvel, if I may, That these last hours should find you so distrest. BOTILDA. Oh ! not distrest, and yet not happy either ! I think to sleep the tiresome hours away, Yet waken very early ; think to school My fancy into dreams of other things, And ever more before the last hour comes I strain my hope, and thought, and wish, away, Lest at the last some unseen blow should fall. I dare not hope, now that the end draws near. I think he will not come ! SVANHILDA. , ''"''" '•' Madam ! Not come ? Have you not heard the news ? BOTILDA. {smiling). ^ ^-•'--ji-- What news ? I — 2 Kmsr Erik. act i '^ SVANHILDA {jiot IWtlc'mg). A lad At nightfall yesterday, from Elsinore, Came galopping across the court, and cried That standing on the cape, above the Sound, He had seen the dragons of the King go by, Northward, with music at the prow, and sails Set in the south wind; THORA. Yea ! and said he not That foremost in the fleet he saw the King, And knew him, taller than the tallest there, And saw his gold helm flashing in the sun ? BOTILDA. That is no news now ! Ere the words were said Old Marcus dragged him hither by the arm, I sitting here alone. The fellow came, Shamefaced to see me, waxing red and pleased, And pulling at the hair about his mouth ; I made him tell his story twice, and laughed. Because the stripling, seeing I grew glad, Would fain grow cunning, and had seen the King Do wonders in that moment. I broke off Some inches of the gold around my arm — The serpent, see, is shorter — gave it him, And bade him have a care of Roeskild mead ! I was so happy ! When the young man goes SCENE I. King Erik. Back to our faithful town of Elsinore He'll say, ''The Queen is mad." SVAN HILDA. The wind blows fair ; They lose much time in tacking up the fiord, Yet must they surely, ere the sun goes down, Moor at the harbour. BOTILDA. Surely after this The pirate Wends will scarcely dare again To push their black prows into Christian bays, And ravage field and homestead. Why ! last year When Erik and King Magnus Barefoot met Below the Gota River, Magnus said, " These Wendish devils only need a man As young, hardhanded, and as brisk as you To save our priests and people from this plague !" The wise old Northman said so ; thereupon The young king and the old king plighted troth And sailed against the heathen ; but this year Erik has gone alone to bum the hive And drown the hornets in the Middle Sea ; God speed him for his church's sake and mine. THORA. Well has he sped ! No thing he touches fails. His words are seed of wheat in fertile ground, His deeds are like the acts of warrior-saints. And all he does is fortunate. King Erik. ACT I. SVANHILDA. They say That all his fortune comes to him from God ; That like the knights, Ganore or Galahad, The old French priest was singing of, his strength Rests in himself, because his heart is pure. What say you, madam, for you know him best ? BOTILDA. The land is all ablaze with health and glee Since Olaf Hunger died, and men may deem That all this good is fruit of Erik's reign, Fair crops and dewfall, rain and stormless sea. And so God's very gifts augment his fame ; So do not I, who strive beyond my love. As one who strains across a sunny sky With level shading palm, to see the man Below the glory of his life and fame. But still I fail, for love engulphs it all, And blanches all my judgment with white light. What say you, and what say the rest of him ? Do any judge him hardly in their sleeve. Or mutter fiercely when they see him pass ? SVANHILDA. y I think not one I I hear no word but this. That he is kingliest king and manliest man. Too proud to be discourteous to the least. Too wise to vex his heart with idle words, SCENE I. King Erik. ; Too strong and young to scorn the old and weak, And stained with no one drop of Christian blood. ^ BOTILDA. That is most true. At home, in Germany, The feuds run high betwixt this house and that ; My brother killed a man in open street The year that we came hither. Erik said, A flame of anger smothered in his voice, " We spill not men's blood in the Danish streets. And yet we are not cowards." God be thanked ! I know he never slew a Christian man. THORA. How gallantly he rides ! BOTILDA. You foolish maid. You know I cannot chide you for such talk, Which wastes your time and mine. {Knocking without?^ Ah ! who is there ? \To SVANHILDA.] Go see who knocks, Svanhilda ! If it be Marcus or Grimur, let him in, and then Pass out into the court and feed the doves. \Exit SVANHILDA.] BOTILDA {to THORA). It must be Marcus. Rise, and fetch my lute ! \E7iter GRIMUR.] GRIMUR. i>Iadam, your maid was loath to let me in, 8 King Erik. act I. And if I had not heard your voice declare I was not quite unwelcome, I believe I could not have withstood her crabbed face. BOTILDA {sjtiiling). It seems she does not love you ! GRIMUR. Do you mark This broken rose I wear upon my breast ? When dawn was shooting first across the sea This morning, in the garth below, I saw These red leaves dropping like rose-flakes from heaven, And saw your whiter hand stretched out, as though The morning wind had scarcely spent your sleep. I kept the shattered core of it to wear Upon my heart. I50TILDA. It is not worth the pains ! Far better blossom round the window there. [thora returns with the lute. To her .•] Before you come Gather a white-rose cluster in your hand. For Grimur wills to chose one. GRIMUR.' Madam, nay ! The blood-red-hearted flowers are all I love ; White roses are for maidens and dead brides. I pray you let me keep the broken core. \A pause.l ^ come to say farewell ! SCENE I. King Erik. BOTILDA. Farewell ? To-day ? To-day the King comes back ! Have you not heard ? How strange to go to-day. GRIMUR. The hour has come. I go to Odense, and there perchance The bride will meet me whom I go to wed ! Madam, I mean to sit among the graves And learn the marriage vows from aged priests, And in a little while to wed ! BOTILDA. 'Tis well ! There is not any bar ; I wish you both A happy life before the blessed end ! . Whom shall you marry ? GRIMUR. Will you hear her name ? Men call her Thanatos ! EOTILDA. The sound is Greek ! I know you have been often in the south. But you have never let me hear before That you had found a bride there ! You abode A year — you told me once, in Micklegarth ! And does she dwell there always ? GRIMUR. Nay I elsewhere 10 King Erik. act I. She has her pilgrim-stations. Only there Her lovers seek her most ; they love her best Who are most weary, and of weary men The pale-eyed Greeks are weariest, yet I more I BOTILDA. Is she the only daughter of some king To have so many suitors ? GRIMUR. Yea ! of him Who rules all kingdoms of the nether world ! BOTILDA. Grimur ! What, Csesar's daughter ? Ah ! you mock My foolish fancy with some riddhng word ; What is this strange Greek girl ? GRIMUR. Not Greek nor Dane, But queen, and spouse, and mother of us all, And here we call her Death ! BOTILDA. And you will die '^\ Grimur, you mock me still ! What need to die When life rekindles at the King's return ? My life redoubles beyond dream of death ! What thing can slay you ? GRIMtJR. Nay ! I will not say. There have been men to whom the mummer Love SCENE I. King Erik. Ii Came rattling bones and grinning, and who died Not knowing it was Love who laughed the while. BOTILDA. ;^vi^^^'^'wv We have been friends, if such a queen can be, Whose state must be most lonely when her king Sits not beside her. Yea, I will say friends. For here in this clear air of Danish life A king and queen are not too highly perched For- subjects' eyes to light on. Then, if friends We be, before you ride into the west. And meet new life, or, as you deem it, death, Speak frankly once and let me see your soul. '' Here in the North men have few words to say. And say them, shortly ; you have lived and moved So long among the shifting Greeks, that you Shift also, winding in a coil of words. You speak — and out upon my woman's wit That will not teach me what it is you lack — As though your spirit bled from some deep wound That no one found a herb to stanch ; and yet I know not why you half-confide your loss To me, a simple and unlearned girl. Nor why this strange fire gathers in your eyes. You have been often here since Erik went ! Stay two days more, and tell your heart to him. Could I have helped your want, I know ere this You had revealed it. GRiMUR {passionately). None could help so well ! 12 King Erik. ACT I. ( With a sudden change.) Oh madam, pardon me ; I came to tell Your Grace a story that I learned but now, Of how a maid in some outlandish place Looked upward with dumb lips and eloquent eyes At the land's king who passed her, and how he, Although he had a noble queen to wife, Left all to win this girl, and crossed the seas. And how they died together. But the tale Is hardly worth your patience. Let me go ! At Odense the bones of sainted Knud Draw maimed and halt and leprous folk in crowds, Who swarm for healing to his porphyry shrine. Thither I, too, will go ! Perchance the saint, Who loved and hated in his worldly days. May yield the secret of some sovereign balm Whose touch may cool this fever. Ere I go, So, kneeling on the ground, I pray you, friend— At least you will permit I call you friend — Then, friend, forget me not ! Farewell ! BOTILDA. Farewell ! » \^Exit GRIMUR.] How strangely he was moved. Ah ! Shall we go Across the court and up the winding stair ? The furthest turret overlooks the sea ! ]^Exeunt. SCENE II. Kinf[ Erik. 13 Scene IL The Palace of Roeskild. The Royal Hall adorned as if for a reception. On the dais, the King's throne, empty, and a little lower, on each side, a chair of state. On the one at the right hand of the throne Adalbjorg sits, the other is empty. Svanhilda a?id Thora busy themselves in the hall. adalbj5rg {very old, muttering to herself). So many times, so many days of state, So many sons to welcome ! One by one. Slain by the gods, the people, or the priests, They come no more from viking ! Now the last, My youngest, whom I ever loved the least. Strange that a mother should not love her last ! Knud was my darling, with the thick short neck And mighty chin, his father's very son — His father's, who has never seen me old, Who loathed a woman's wnrinkles. So did Knud, And lived to curse me, though I loved him best. This Erik is a kinder, softer man, Set in another mould. Most women love A man like Erik ! How this simple slip Of German sugar-meat and watered blood Adored him ! Well ! I may have had my day, 14 Khig Erik. ACT I. But I was ever true at heart to Svend ; This idle German woman frets my eyes, To see her eyes so lightly laugh and move. I would that Erik had not married her ; He set aside the woman of my choice, A girl to make a queen of, not a fool Like this Botilda, with her empty laugh. {To svanhilda). Why came you not to deck my bower to-day ? SVANHILDA. Madam, I waited on the Queen. ADALBJORG. Till when ? SVANHILDA. Till noon. Her robe — ADALBJORG. " And were you there alone ? SVANHILDA. No ! Thora waited also. ADALBJORG. Did you sing ? SVANHILD^. Nay ; for before the Queen had bidden us One came to greet her, parting, and I went> ADALBJORG, Who came ? Not Ossur ? SVANHILDA. Grimur, the young scald SCENE II. King Erik. 15 Who sings Greek songs below the eaves at dawn, He with the shifting Hps. ADALBJORG. So ! Grimur came ? Is Grimur so famiHar in our court That queens receive him daily with their maids ? Who is this Grimur ? SVAN HILDA. From the south he comes, I know not whence before, but Thora knows. Thora {to thora), what landsman is the grey-eyed scald ? THORA (ivho comes over). Iceland, they say ; but he has roamed abroad In France, and Rome, and Greece for years and years. ADALBJORG. How came he here ? THORA. I heard him tell the Queen From Lubeck last, not half a year ago. Ere she came hither he had known the Queen. ADALBJORG. Enough of idle talking. Thora, set Those scutcheons lower on the further wall ! They stand too high. {As thora ^^^i- over, in a lower voice.) And so Botilda's hours Are spent in leaning over from her bower, And listening to this poet sing below ! 1 6 Kmg Erik. act i. And has he come since Erik is away Each day to greet her as to-day ? SVANHILDA {hesitatingly). The hawk Sent in the magpie for a bone he saw, And when the bone was brought him, killed the pie ! adalbjOrg {in a higher voice). Woman, your proverbs are not worth your breath. {Soothingly.) Svanhilda, you were ever wise of head And clear of judgment. Let me know the truth. This man comes often to Botilda's bower? SVANHILDA, The world knows that. Men use to in the north, When they are cunning scalds and play the lute. ADALBJORG, And does he play the lute and nothing else ? SVANHILDA. But men must rest their fingers now and then. And tongues ? ADALBJORG. SVANHILDA. A poet sings above his lute. ADALBJORG. What songs ? SVANHILDA. Nay, Grimur always sings of love ; For war we call in Marcus. Grimur comes From Micklegarth, where life is only love. N. SCENE II. King Erih 17 ADALBJORG. And what has life been in Botilda's bower Since Erik, went out sea-wards ? SVANHILDA. Only love ! ADALBJORG. Girl, do you love the Queen ? SVANHILDA. I love my life. ADALBJORG. I swear you need not fear me ; answer ! SVANHILDA. Nay ADALBJORG. I also hate her ! Do you fear me now ? SVANHILDA. Madam, what would you ? ADALBJORG. Ask you one thing more 5 Believe you that this Grimur seeks the Queen ? SVANHILDA. With all the blind desire of one grown wild ! ADALBJORG. And has Botilda set the balance up And weighed the men, here Grimur, Erik here, And let her soul perceive the heavier scale ? SVANHILDA. I know not, but I think so ! 2 1 8 Kins Erik. act I. ADALRJORG. And her choice — ? SVAN HILDA. Is Erik, madam, else my heart is blind. Believe me, I have watched her — ADALBJORG. Erik.! Ah ! I thought we might have sent her queenship back Unqueened, and robed in weeds, and spat upon, To mourn her folly till her kinsmen took Some pity on her shame and ran her through, Or locked her in some castle all alone. And threw the vault-key out into the moat ; But if she loves her husband, all is lost ! SVAN HILDA. Madam, perchance the issue is not yet. Our cause has one strong friend at its right hand, ^Vho cannot fail to help us if we wait ; Grimur is maddened with his dangerous love. And when I passed him in the courts to-day His wild drawn face and passion-hungry eyes Drove, with a flash, a new thought to my brain. I will not speak it, for my life ! * Poor fool. He is gone to-day to Odense, forsooth. Because he cannot face his lord the King ! I wonder how his lord the King would fare If any bird should drop into his soul The seed that might spring up and bear for fruit SCENE II. King Erik. 19 This certainty, that, knowing he would come, Botilda sent her lover over sea Lest haply Erik -might suspect her truth? THORA {who has climbed to the window and looks out). A sudden shouting at the harbour-side ! Svanhilda, come ! The ships must be in sight. SVAN HILDA {riimiing to the window). The dragons will come singly up the fiord ; I would the hillside did not hide the sea. THORA. But we shall see them anchor. ADALBjoRG {t9 herself). Softly, soft ! The spider started when she felt the fly ; That starting loosed the web around the wings ! SVANHILDA. I see the flag ! THORA. And now I see the prow ! Hark, how the people shout, and hark ! the bell. The priests have seen him from the belfry tower ; Madam, {rjnming over to adalbjorg) the dragon of the King has come ! adalbjorg. Go, child, and watch the sight. For many a year I care not much whoever comes or goes. THORA. I see the King ; can jw/ not see the King, Svanhilda? 2—2 20 King Erik. ACT I. SVANHILDA. Yea, I saw him long ago ! {aside) God knows, my heart would see him in the dark ! Look ! down the line of men Botilda goes ! THORA. She was not soon enough to greet him first ; He spoke to Marcus ere she came ; her robe Looks well there in the sun. SVANHILDA (Jaug/is). He does not glance Down at her gay red.lilies ! THORA. Yet he seems To have no eyes for any face but hers. He does not notice that the Bishop kneels. See how the helmets sparkle in the sun ! I am glad the town will have its men again, The streets are dull with only maids and babes. SVANHILDA. Ah ! now he puts her arm beneath his own, And curbs his footsteps to her tender scope. And up the shining street they come. THORA. The priests Have gathered round the Bishop, and walk next I think the fighting men should lead the train. SVANHILDA. The priests and bishops have us by the nose ; SCENE II. Kijtz Erik. 21 "ii They follow the King only. Take you heed ; You may not die before they lead the King ! \_T/iey come from the window. The fighting men have had their passing hour ; They should have let King Knud be at his prayers, The day they smote him in St. Alban's church. His falling rosary turned into a sword That any priest may brandish, and those drops, That stained the altar and the choir with red, Cry out at Rome against our men at arms. What crowds of shaven pates and sandalled feet Throng all our corridors since Erik went To pray the Pope for pardon for us all ! Believe me, not so lightly go they hence. \_Th£y retire to the back. \Enter King Erik and Queen 'Qoti'Lda, followed by Arch- bisJiop OssuR, priests, warriors, waiting men, and a great crowd t/iat fills the hall. Erik and Botilda ascend the dais, a7id Erik bows to greet Adalbjorg.] ERIK. Hail, mother ! Give me welcome ! , ^ADALBJORG. Hail, my son ! ERIK. How has it been with you ! ADALBJORG. Nay ! Hot and cold, Hot when the sun burned on me, cold and chill 22 Kins: Erik. act i. 'lb Whenever my old blood-beats felt the shade. I stir about the house less day by day. ERIK. Yet you look brightly ! {To botilda). Sweet one, sit you there ! [BoTiLDA takes the chair to the left ; Erik stands before his throne^ looking down the hall. There is great con- fusion, but when they see him about to speak they suddetily become silent.^ ERIK. My lords and warders of the royal house, And ye who daily serve the blessed saints, And all who stand within these walls to-day. Receive my thanks, that with such ready grace Your loyal hearts have met the warmth of mine. And welcomed us here coming from the sea. Not now the first time do I test your love Returning ; twice and thrice before to-day Your shouts have filled my homeward-hurrying sails, And taught the winds that Denmark loves her King Once more, receive my thanks, and know in truth That, tired with wandering on the uncertain sea. Your King, for every " welcome " that he hears Could fain return you double, Yea ! and dwell Upon the sweet and unfamiliar word As one who never thinks to wander more. So alway at the happy sight of home The heart folds up its weary wings, and dreams SCENE II. King Erik. 23 Of rest till life is done, remembering not That in a little while the old desire To push with sail and oar into the sea, And feel the short waves break again, and bound Sunwards, against the salt and gathering wind. Will grow into a passion and prevail. Yet this one time I do not think to change ; Nof hardly can the smell of hollowed pine, Nor white lines of the breakers out at sea, Nor burdens of the rowers any more Wake in me the wild longing to be gone, Since time, still hurrying by on feather and foot, Flits by us ere we know, and leaves us old, I trow we should not drop our work undone. But leave the last hours fruitful as the first. Yet from my heart of hearts I thank my God He gave my youth some toil to do for him Abreast the foam and surf of the wild sea, For so my first years have been sweet ; but now My ships are anchored and my viking done. For when I left you, friends, three months ago. We crept along the blue line of the fiord. And out into the northern sea, and met A pirate fleet that fled with shattering sails Before a gale from Norway ; them we chased, And after sun-down, by the Swedish coast. With never a star to guide us, rode them down And sent their souls out screaming in the dark. 24 King Erik. ACT I. Heavy with prey from Danish shores they sailed, And under hatches in the largest craft A Christian man sat trembling ; him we fed And comforted with wine till strength returned, And with a quivering tongue, too faint for speech, He murmured what the heathen planned to do. Here in Roeskild it was their dream to set The banner of their fiendish gods, and slake Our altar-tapers in our own hearts' blood. Then no more did I parley with small schemes, But set our prows, before the glint of morn. Southward, and, ere the sun set, passed the Sound. Nor longer need I speak of all our deeds ; The men that fought and fell not at my side, Stand there and mingle with your welcoming crowd : Their tales will last you many a winter's night. The Wends will never come to mar us more, And so my work upon the waves is done. Now other harvests wait for me to reap In steadier furrows ; dear and loyal friends, I do not think to leave my realm again. Twice for the Church, with weary steps and long. Through German forests to the southern slopes, I passed to greet Pope Urban, and three times My harrying keels have cut the northern sea. Now rest and household labour wait me ; laws That build the setdement of popular life. And henceforth never any Christian blood SCENE III. Kino Erik. 25 Shall stain our Danish earth, but pure and strong Our kingdom flourish in perpetual peace. \Applau5e expressed by the cromd.] [the curtain falls.] Scene III. A Mcony overlooking the Cathedral-dose, and the sea beyond Erik and Adalbjorg efiter in conversation. ADALBJORG. I came out here the morning you set sail, And, finding that the place was warm and dry, I've taught my girls to set my tables here On shiny afternoons ; here, if you will. Be seated. Welcome, though you come not soon ! ERIK. Mother, your pardon that I creep so late To this, our first still interchange of words ! T thought to come an hour ago ; I thought Ere this to have dropped the story of three months In your attentive ear, but should even now Be still a loiterer in Botilda's bower If that red tower between us and the sun Had rung no clanging summons of the hours To waken my remembrance. 26 King Erik. ACT l. ADALBJORG. Had you then So many secrets for each other's ears ? ERIK. No secrets ; nay, nor had she much to ask, Nor I desire to answer. For one hour We only looked into each other's eyes And murmured little words ; or else I drew Her hair out web-wise in my sidelong hands, Whereat she laughed, but could not turn, and spanned. Or tried to span, my wrist with her small hands, And laughed to see the white mark on the red When they broke from her. And then she laughed again, And strained her lips and kissed me unawares So suddenly that I was fain to laugh ; And then we sat, her hand gulphed up in mine, Quite grave and sad, and still found nought to say. You know the ways of lovers, mother ! Fie ! That we should be such children still. ADALBJORG. Ah ! well, And found ye then at last no words to say ! ERIK. Ah yes ! At last I rose and must begone, But just before I went away she found A question that I must not leave unsolved. And so we sat awhile again. And, then, SCENE III. King Erik. 27 Just ere I went a second time, I thought Of one more thing to speak of, till the bell Boomed suddenly, and up I leaped and came. ADALBJORG. j A wise man is as foolish as a child, And wanton, if a woman whispers '* Wait !" But now for men's talk, Erik ! Let me hear, — If ^ou will take your mother to your heart, — What schemes are these to base the public weal, State changes that you hinted of to-day ? ERIK. Yea, I will tell you ! But yet not to-day. To-morrow is for business. Though I deem That man a traitor to his better thought Who dallies with a good intent, and lets The sword slip through his indolent finger-tips With promise of another time for war, A luckier season, yet for these few hours That separate the violent time that's past From golden peace that's coming, I would wait Poised in the present. Like a man that stands Right on the jut of some dark seaward rock And sets his eyes against the sun, and feels The soft air winding round his freshened hmbs, Stript for the swimming, I, who come but now From heat and travail of the dusty wars Would pause awhile, tip-toe, before I plunge Downward into the sea of rest and love. 28 King Erik. ACT I. ADALBJORG. Re§t ! what is rest ? ERIK. The fighting man's reward ; I, who have fought and conquered, now seek rest, Or leisure for some better work than war. ADALBJOP.G. But rest is like the dangerous mandrake-flower, A medicine if it fall into your hand, But if you drag it from your span of life Before its time, it hath a deadly shriek, And slays the spirit unaware. Such rest Makes women mad ! We will not talk of this I What think you of Botilda ? ERIK. She is pale, With flushes in the cheeks, but else not ill. ADALBJORG. I have not seen her often since you went, But every morning, every evening, heard The multitudinous twitter of girls' tongues Chirping within her bower ; sh^ hath not pined ! Her days with lutes and laughter have been gay. ERIK. I would not have her sad when I am gone ; She told me how she sighed sometimes ! ADALBJORG. But that I could not hear, I lay too far away. SCENE III. King Erik. 29 ERtK. 'Tis nothing that she laughed. We laughed and sang At night above our beer, my men and I, And drowned the long wash of the wandering seas With riot of loud voices. ADALBJORG. Yet a wife Is somewhat sorry when her lord is gone, At least it v/as so in old-fashioned days. Germans have lighter hearts. Ah ! have you watched That little cloud climb up out of the sea In the mid-heart of sunlight ? See how black It grows that was so white a while ago ! {Cries otit.) [Enter svanhilda.] My cloak, and haste or it will rain. It comes. Erik, I fear the chill. Come in and talk. [Exit.'\ ERIK {to svanhilda, iv/lO wUl foUow). Stay ! What is your name ? svanhilda. Svanhilda ! ERIK. Well 1 Svanhilda ! Have I seen you with the Queen, Or in my mother's hall ? A face like yours No man forgets ! SVANHILDA. I wait upon the queen ! 30 ' King Erik. ACT l. ERIK. As one of her bower-maidens ? Stay awhile ! My mother has her cloak ! and, see, the cloud Is passing, and you need not fear the rain. Why do you tremble so ? SVANHILDA. It is the chill ; I do not use to shake at all ; my lord, What service have you to command of me ? ERIK. How have your days passed since I went away ? Girl, you may tell me any truth you will, Nor blush to speak a thing so small. The Queen Was sad when I set sail ? SVANHILDA. I Oh yes ! my lord. ERIK. So little sad ! Why, girl, you must forget ; I know that she was very white and wan. I saw her from the quay. And when some days Went by and I was gone, did she grow fair And, like the inmost windings of a shell. Pearly and rosy once again ! SVANHILDA. Oh yes ! Most hurriedly, my lord. ERIK. Nay, not too soon !> SCENE III. King Erik. 31 I am quite sure that she was pale at first, And sighed as if a weight were on her heart, And often turned aside, and would not show How wet her cheeks were ! Did she not ? SVANHILDA. Why, no ! Or else I never marked it ! ERIK. If you loved Your eye would see such signs. I know she did, And often sighed, and sat for hours and hours, Her face between her hands, and looking out Along the blue that leads us to the sea. What did you there, within the bower, of nights ? SVANHILDA. We danced and sang the wildest, merriest songs. ERIK. Poor love ! She felt how dull and sad it was, And made you dance before her, as a King Whose only daughter is a long while dead. Fights with his grief, and makes his jester leap. And shake his bells and squeak, in hopes one day To be betrayed out of his tears and smile. SVANHILDA. The Queen danced also. ERIK. Girl, that is a lie, 3^2 King Erik. act I. And if you were a man I'd strike you for it ! She did not dance. SVAXHILDA. My lord, she did not dance. ERIK. And were you all alone there, she and you And all the other maidens ? SVANHiLDA. Every day The poet Grimur came and 'sang to her. ERIK. , Not every day ! Forgetful, witless girl, The poet would not come there every day ; The Queen v/ould drive him thence. But now and then, Since he is cunning in the lute, he brought His instrument to charm her grief away, And now and then she listened to his song. Was it not so ? SVAN HILDA, It was, my lord, it was ! And now and then he lingered a long while. ERIK. You senseless girl ; you mad, unreasoning girl, He never lingered ! Could a knave so dare To insult a widowed queen ? And v/hen he came "What said they ? Did he tell of wondrous deeds, Hakon and Palnatoke, men like me, SCENE III. King Erik. 33 Who fought upon the ridge of the green wave, ' And reddened it with slaughter ? SVANHILDA. Nay, my lord. He sang of ladies who at night-fall heard Their lovers in the garden-walk, and rose, And lifted the green satin of their robes, Lest It should rustle in their husbands' ears. ERIK. Their husbands' ! Nay, he never sang of that ; You know you lie now — SVANHILDA. Oh, I had forgot : He never sang such songs. But mostly, sir, The queen and Grimur spoke the German tongue, And what they said we could not understand. But let me go, sir, for your mother calls. ^ \ExiL ERIK. These idle maidens say they know not what. The silver on the sea-side of that cloud Is gone ; how like a bird it hovers, poised. Ready to burst in deluge ! It will pass, For the wind rises, and it bows not low. [^Enier Marcus.] Welcome, old counsellor of days long gone ! Your memory wakened in me ere you came, For I was thinking of those boyish days When you so wisely could control my fits 3 34 King Erik. act i. Of anger and despair ; and now I feel I need such help again. An hour ago ' My heart was like a singing bird, and now Like one that sings not, battered with the rain. And why, I know not. MARCUS. In those olden days Your eager heart could easily o'ertum The balance of the nerves, and oftentimes Watching your ecstasy or violent joy, I've prophesied and proved a sudden change To uttermost dejection. In the boy It was my place to check the wild delight. And whisper prudence. To the man, the king, Such counsel would be folly, and your race, "Whose veins run swift with a strong tide of blood, Were ever thus. But if you question why — ERIK. Marcus, while I was fighting on the seas Where were you ? MARCUS. Here in Roeskild all the while, Save that two months ago, for one short day, Aly friend the Abbot of — ' ERIK. And you passed the time In singing to the harp ? SCENE III. King Erik. 35 MARCUS. Nay, most of it In shaping that* great song that will for ever Join my poor name with yours in deathless fame, The saga of your fights by land and sea, To which I now must add these glorious deeds Against the pirates. Since your heart is sad I pray you let me pour into your ear The music of the stave you have not heard. ERIK. Not now, dear Marcus. Poets are like leaves For commonness, in Roeskild now, meseems. MARCUS. Why so ? Nay, nay ! Since Eistein went to France, I stand alone in skaldship, for the priests — Saint Knud forgive me — are poor doggrel knaves. ERIK. Then what is Grimur ? MARCUS. Grimur ! very right, I had forgotten Grimur. But, my lord, His paltry rhythms and bars from Micklegarth Would scarcely please you. If I might begin — ERIK. I would see Grimur ! MARCUS. But, dear master, but ! — 36 King Erik. act l ERIK. I tell you fetch me Grimur ! MARCUS. Lo ! I would — How harsh you are to-day to an old man, Who loves you— lo ! 1 \yould, but, dear my lord I— ERIK. Are you so set on singing your own stave You cannot — MARCUS. But he is not in Roeskild \ Before the noon to-day he saddled horse And rode away to westward, and ere night, Should sail across the Belt to Odense. ERIK. To Odense ! To-day ! This very noon ! At noon my ships were winding up the fiord ! Why stayed he not to greet me ? MARCUS. Nay ! I know not ! I asked him wherefore part in such hot haste. ERIK. » What answered he ? '•* MARCUS. He drew his long thin lips, Moving the little forked beard, and laughed ; Said presently, he should have gone before ; That foxes should not prowl about the coops SCENE III. King Erik. 2>7 Much after sunrise ; then laughed more and went, His little lute swinging across his arm, A peacock feather in his hat ERIK. Well, well ! I care not what he wore ! I am in haste, I go to seek my mother ! MARCUS. Sire, farewell ! ^Exit dij^erent sides. KING ERIK ACT II. ACT 11. Scene I. The market-square of Roeskild. Two priests, one singing in a dolorous drawling tone, and the other joinijig in the burden. FIRST PRIEST. He knelt at his prayers in St. Alban's choir, And the stars were few overhead ; Red was the glare of the altar-fire And the northern lights burned red. BOTH. Our martyr and king Saint Kniid / FIRST PRIEST. Outside, in the dark, the grim men howled And hammered against the door ; But the shadows fell from the clerestory And flickered along the floor. BOTH. To our martyr and king Saint Knud ! 42 King Erik. act ii. FIRST PRIEST. They broke the door and they thundered in, The saint rose up and stood ; He held between his life and their sin A cross of carven wood. BOTH. ^ Our martyr and king Saint Knud ! FIRST PRIEST. They broke the rail of the altar-stair, They quenched the altar-light ; They clutched the saint by the long fair hair, ' And stabbed him in God's sight. BOTH. Stabbed our king Saint Kmid ! FIRST PRIEST. The blood ran over the carven cross, And his cold white face turned east, And his body lay spread in the holy choir Like the corpse of a murdered priest. sBOTH. Our martyr and king Saint Knud ! SECOND PRiiST. Ah, brother, very sad ! FIRST PRIEST. Nay ! what is sad ? SECOND PRIEST. You'sing not well to-day, you are but hoarse. SCENE I. KiiiQ Erik. 43 FIRST PRIEST. These vapours tell upon a tender throat ; I was not made for matins. Out and fie ! When I begin to sing before the queen My voice will vanish like an organ-pipe's When no man blows the bellows ! SECOND PRIEST. "^ t Ugh ! 'tis cold These misty mornings reddening in the west Are cruel for the lungs. If I should cough When the queen bows herself in silent prayer, I pray thee, brother, smite me on the back, For that relieves the tonsils. FIRST PRIEST. That I will ! SECOND PRIEST. O cold, cold, cold ! how bitter cold it is ! Ah ! here they come, with banners and the pyx, And two boys swinging censers. FIRST PRIEST. Ah ! the queen ! \Enter, from the right, Botilda, her ladies and maidens, some priests and boys.'\ BOTILDA. Perchance these good men will be wise men too, And know the latest tidings. Have you heard What time the lord archbishop came from Lund Last night, or if he came at all ? 44 King Erik. ACT II. FIRST PRIEST. He came So late last night that he abode till dawn Within a hospice just outside the gates, And sent us on as heralds to your Grace, To pray you to have patience for so long As he perforce must tarry \ but even now He should be hastening here. A LADY. And must we march To meet the sea ere sunset ? BOTILDA. Sweet, no man Could hurry so far although his feet were winged ! Nay, we shall go by stages, and to-night Be housed in Aastrup cloister. ANOTHER LADY. Shall we ride ? What are these palfreys ? ^.BOTILDA. We will ride by turn ; For since this going is a pilgrinpage We needs must walk a little, yet I think The saint would never have us die ! A LADY. Besides, The good archbishop is quite sure to ride, He is so short of breath ! SCENE I. Kiiig Erik. 45 BOTILDA. He comes at last ! [Enter at the left Erik and his body-guard.'] BOTILDA. Oh ! Erik, welcome ! welcome ! ERIK. So, dear love, You, did not think I should be back so soon. We found the knave at once ; he saw our helms Shining beneath his castle in the wood, And when we came it was to boltless doors. And I have brought him with me. But, sweetheart, So early walking in the dewy streets ! I thought to find you nestled in your bower ! And all these ladies too ! and all these priests I \_They move forward.] BOTILDA. I am so glad to see you ere I go ! ERIK. Go where ? BOTILDA. I thought before your work was done. We should be home again ! ERIK. Be home again ? Where are you bound, Botilda ? BOTILDA. To the shrine 46 King Erik. ACT II. Of Knud, your brother ! When you sailed away To fight the Wends, I went that very night, And all the priests before my face read mass, And broke the blessed wafer ; there I vowed. At night, in the cathedral, Erik, think ! That if I ever saw your face again. Bending above me, I would wend on foot And pay my offerings at the blessed shrine — ERIK. At Odense ? BOTILDA. Are you not glad I prayed ? My vows have brought you back ! ERIK. Yea ! brought me back Too early or too late, methinks. BOTILDA. What, love ? You ought to take my hands in yours, and bless My journey with a kiss. I do not care For all these folk around us ! Dear, those eyes Looked kinder when I bid you last farewell ! But you will let rae go ? ERIK. Td Odense? BOTILDA. For women always ought tO' pay their vows, Lest up in heaven the holy saints should frown SCENE I. King Erik. 47 And stamp the sapphire pavement, hke the priest When giggling girls break silence at the mass. Laugh, Erik, or your eyes will frighten mine. Dear love, why do you look so strange at me ? Will you not let me go to Odense ? ERIK. No, by my God, I will not ! BOTILDA. Erik, why ? ERIK. No matter, but I will not ! Get you home ! [Erik goes over to his jne?i, who follow hitn. Exeunt BoTiLDA half shrieks, sinks on a sto?ie seat, and covers her face with her hands. The ladies and maids, 7vho have kept aloof flock roimd her.] thora. Madam, what ails you ? A LADY. Ah ! how pale she is ! another lady. ^ Nay ! she is hot as fire ! BOTILDA. Oh ! let me breathe, Svanhilda, hold my hands ! Dear friends, forgive ; The air is frore ; I am not wont to rise So early ! SVANHILDA. Hush ! and have you any pain ? 48 King Erik. ACT tl, BOTILDA. Yes ! at the heart. But it will pass ! Dear friends O do not look so anxious. I will rise ! Thora, your arm ! You see I am quite well, Indeed, indeed, quite well ! A LADY. The archbishop comes ! ossuR {enters with a train). Madam, this early pilgrimage of yours Commends your zeal and chides my tardiness. Yet when I tell you all, — ah 1 help the queen, She faints ! support her ! BOTILDA {resolutely rising). It is nought ! forbear I Dear friends, it passes ; I again am strong. Ossur, the king is in Roeskild again ! OSSUR. So soon, and is his work of justice done ? BOTILDA. Himself will tell you all ; but for the rest He brings such tidings to himself and me, As breaks our course of action. Friends, you saw How suddenly it moved me ! When he heard That we had planned this pilgrimage to-day, He would that I should hold to it, and go ! Nay ! when I prayed in this new urgent need, (Whereof I will not speak at large) to stay, And share in its doubtful issues, how his voice SCENE I. Kin^ Erik. 49 Grew loud in his'dissuasion, ye all heard, Who watched us ! But at last my wish prevailed, And if ye go to Odense at all It must be without me. OSSUR. But all your vows ! BOTILDA. I will redeem them later, or if not The saint shall lose no honour for my sake, Some other way of worship being found. But feave us, I would see his Grace alone. \All exeunt but Botilda and Ussur.] BOTILDA. let us sit awhile ; 'tis early still ! The town has scarcely yet begun to stir. 1 pray you tell me, do you love the king ? OSSUR. Next after God, the best I know. Since first I held his span-long body at the font, ■And felt his tiny grasp, I've watched his growth In manly attributes of body and soul, With pride and godly hope. A\Tiy do you ask ? You knew the answer ere it came. BOTILDA. I did ! My heart is sick and faint with rootless fear, And I would stay myself on you ! OSSUR. Alas! 4 50 King Erik. ACT II. What secret thing is this that shakes you so ! Will you not tell me ? BOTILDA (^starting). There is nought to tell ! I will go home again ! Is this a dream ? Oh ! crush my wrists together with a rope, Strain back my hair like mad-folk's hair, for I Am mad,— or dreaming ! Nay, I am quite well ! Let us sit down again and rest and talk ! How strange it is to think that you have known My Erik ere he was a man ! OSSUR. Ah, say ! Shall we not go ? Your cheeks are drawn and white ; I know not what strange flame is in your eyes. You are not well ! BOTILDA. Yes, very well ! Not yet ! When folk come by, I'll rise and take your arm ! But speak to me of Erik in his youth. Not as a child \ I do not dare to think Of him as less in stature than myself ; But how he reached the fulness of his height And bloom of earliest manhood, that strange time I love to dream of ! When J saw him first Young as he was, the passion of the wars Had lined his face with furrows. Was he fair In earlier days ? SCENE I. Ki7ig Erik. 5 1 OSSUR. Yea ! as God's angels are, With perfect limbs and a most faultless face, Save that the mouth was set and somewhat hard. BOTILDA. But now the yellow hair conceals the lips ! How strange, I never saw his mouth ! {Aside) To-day I am glad at heart I never saw his mouth. Father, when you were first a country priest Did common peasant women who were sad Come weeping to your cloister, tell you all, And sob till they were quiet ? OSSUR, Yea, sometimes ! BOTILDA, If such a time should com.e that I should be So desolate, and weak, and sick at heart That sitting, leaning in my satin sleeves, Wiih perfumes in the air I breathe, my eyes Should watch a beggar in the streets below, And envy her, and pray that I v/ere dead, Say, will you let me come to you, and pour The torrent of my sorrow in your ears. And weep till I am still, and rock myself As some poor nurse may rock a fretful babe, That dozes, worn with wailing. {She kneels before him.) OSSUR. Madam, rise ! 4—2 52 King Erik. ACT II. Oh ! rise, dear daughter ! I entreat, entreat ! What sorrow can assail you so ! What fear Has power to shake your soul with such distress ! tell me ! BOTiLDA {rises). I am weak and overstrung ! Forgive this foolish passion ! When the king Came suddenly to-day, he had strange news ! 1 was not ready, knew not how to bear it ! I have not learned to school my face to follow The brain's behests, it shows too much the heart — My weak; flushed heart, made faint with extreme love. The town is waking ; listen ! Let us go ! \Exeimt. Scene II. A garden in Roeskild. Thora weaving flowers. THORA. I wish there were more yellow flowers in June ; My garland is too full of reds and blues ! Now, cowslips would be best ; but they die soon, And those white stars with little cups of gold They put upon the altar-cloth in Lent, Are over, too ; and tulips fall abroad ! Well ! I must keep to roses ! Gh how still The grass and trees are in the afternoon. SCENE II. King Erik. 53 I wonder where the birds are ? All the bees Are fallen asleep upon their thymy beds. I am tired of this low bubbling of the well, In Roeskild one can never get so far As not to hear some fountain ! \JE,nter Grimur.] {To Grimur), Back again ? I thought you were in Odense ! GRIMUR. You did ? ] Wen, so I thought myself ! THORA. What brings you back ? GRIMUR. What took me forth, free fancy and light heart ! THORA. I wonder you should chance to find me here, We maids come here so seldom, but the queen ,'/_^ Frequents this little plot, and loves to lie Full length upon the summer grass and watch \ The moving shingle at the well-spring's heart. GRIMUR. Yea, I have seen her so. And will she come This afternoon to wander here alone ? I grew so tired of exile from the court, I never crossed the sea ; for when I came Down to the shore and saw the hills of Fyen, 54 King Erik» ACT II. A kind of horror took me for the life That I should lead there. Roeskild is the sun, The rest of Denmark but a moor at night ; Here only men can act and women speak, In other places mere uncultured boors, Like beasts of burden, spin out doleful lives. With sordid, paltry loves and hates and fears. A man of spirit. craves a busier scene. You are the first that I have spoken with Since I set out ; the rest one whistles to As to a hound that fawns to be caressed, Or sneaks away to deprecate the lash. The common folks are curs. THORA. You cannot be A Dane at heart ; you are not one, nor know The spirit of our people. I wax red And hot to hear you speak so. Such as you Stir the hind's heart beneath his fustian coat, And though he answers not, some bitter day You will remember and he not forget. ,.GRIMUR. Enough, enough ! you do not know the world ! You should have ridden beside, me as I rode By William Rufus through the farms and thorpes In England, three years since ! Hah ! that was life Worth living in the country. Oh ! to see The people flying out into the woods, SCENE II. King Erik 55 To miss the red king's whip ! I swear I thought I should have died of laughter as I rode ! Poor William, dead this year ! He drank so deep, Knew a hound's points, and women — ! Well ! ah well ! The best of men die soonest ! Where's the queen ? You have not told me how Botilda fares I THORA. You cannot see her, she is faint to-day ; And lies in the white chamber. \Eiitcr Marcus.] MARCUS. Grimur, hail ! I saw you from the terrace, and came down. An hour ago I heard of your return. GRIMUR. You give me a cold welcome ! By St. Knud, I did not wish a warmer, hoped to come Unseen and unreported, and so crossed The fiord below the haven, climbed the hill And won the town first by the palace gate. Who told you of my coming ? MARCUS. Why, in truth — If you will know — the mother of the king. THORA. Svanhilda must have seen you j ere I came 56 King Erik. ACT II. She passed me on the terrace, would not speak, But hastened on — GRIMUR. Yea ! tell me now at once What crime against this people have I done That all men peep and whisper where I go ? Am I not free to ride away in peace, One day, and on the next day come again ? What do these women think that I have done ? Am I a beast to eat them ? Have I slain Their gallants secretly, and gouged their eyes To mix in magic salve ? It makes me mad Thus to be spied upon and tracked and trapped ! Learn once for all that I am the queen's friend ! The queen shall know how much ye vex my life. {Aside) Go, Thora, tell the queen that I am come — She knows it last of all, I warrant you — And pray her, if she rest enough by then, To let me speak to her to-night. The sky Is broken ; it will clear at sundown. Go ! And pray her meet me underneath her bower To-night at moon-rise. If she will not come, Then tell her that I sail away at dawn, And plead with her to come to ^ay farewell. I send no other message. Oh ! plead well ! Thora ! To-night at moon-rise ! Thora ! Stay ! \Exit Thora. SCENE II. King Erik. 57 MARCUS. By chance, have you seen Erik since you came ? GRIMUR. No, wiseacre, nor shall before I go ! You are too wise, sometimes ! Before I reached The strip of sea that parts us off from Fyen, I heard in Soro cloister, where I lay, That Erik had gone west to Kallunborg, To chasten some offender. I know well He will not see Roeskild again for days ! MARCUS. And so you thought the hour for your return Propitious ! GRIMUR. Nay ! I do not heed this king More than a paste-king at a puppet show. But I have changed my journey, bent my vows From Danish Knud to Bridget of the Swedes, And go to Lund to worship at her shrine. MARCUS. You talk too much of worship. Men like you Would liefer dawdle at a lady's train, And kneel before her in her bower, than bend A fearful knee in church at a saint's shrine. Your twinkling eye-lids give your words the lie j Nay, Grimur, not so glibly talk of prayer ! 58 King Erik. ACT II. So ! will you let those jangling strings be still, And listen ? Pray you, may I question you ? GRIMUR. Speak out, most reverent age ! MARCUS. First, then, what words Were those you whispered when the maiden went ? GRIMUR. I prayed her bring a psalter ! MARCUS. Ribald youth. What words were those you spake about the queen ? GRIMUR. I bid the girl go tell her how my face Was withered with my fasting ! MARCUS. Idle knave ! GRIMUR. Diligent graybeard, it is my turn now ! Pray you, what right have you to question thus ? MARCUS. The right of one who serves th'e king and queen, And doubts him of your fealty to both. GRIMUR. Doubt not ! I am most loyal to the queen. SCENE II. King EiHk. 59 MARCUS. What is your mission to Botilda now ? Why did you leave the town, and why return ? Why did you stay here chattering to her maid ? GRIMUR. I wait to hear another " why " ! ' Behold, I have not patience to endure your tongue ; Marcus, your fame is rife in all the court, The little boys and busy chattering girls Point at you for a dullard that will push His beard into the smallest hinge ajar To peep and listen. Yet, lest you should go With lifted hands and eyelids to the king, Or prattle to his mother, learn that I Come hither in my friendship for the queen To kiss her robe in parting. I am tired Of barren dunes and spaces of cold sea ; To-morrow I go southward ; while I lay At Soro, in the monk's refectory I met a man who told me that my friend, Count Roger, reigns in Sicily ; his name Woke memories in me of the golden days When he and I went harrying down the coasts Of Tunis and Algiers. I go to him ; There by the borders of the summer sea Men lead a merrier life, and love their days, And drink large draughts of pleasure till they die. So, since Botilda is my only friendj 6o Kinz Erik. ACT II. 'a Here in Roeskild, methinks the boon I crave Of saying just farewell to her is small. And let me warn you, Marcus, dare to pass Between me and my will, — you may not live To finish your great saga of the king ! MARCUS. I do not fear you, nor your tags and rhymes. My verses are of nobler pitch than yours. Go sing your staves and little pretty songs To women of light loves in Sicily. But let me teach you that the king is here, Here in Roeskild, here in the court ; that he Has heard what shame your idle words and songs Have ^Tought for the queen's honour. Pure is she, Clear-thoughted as a maiden, and reflects No stain of yours upon her perfect heart, But if you would not that the king should come And bid his men to bind you hand and foot, And mar your body, as men did last year To Magnus, up in Norway — GRIMUR. What did they ? MARCUS. Bound down the lad, and took* away his eyes, And worse than that ; and then while still he moaned, Made hopeless in his pain, 'and strove to die, They bore him to a prison by the sea, SCENE II. King Erik. 6i And nursed him so that still he lives and moans, Barren and blind. GRIMUR. So shall not I be bound, To-morrow I will journey. MARCUS. Best to-night Let your sharp hoof-falls ring along the road. Each hour you stay is perilous ! GRIMUR. Forbear. My life is mine to do with what I will, Your words and thoughts I neither need nor heed. I feel within my heart we shall not meet More, before death. It may be, you being old. That I shall linger in the flowery south Till you are dead and buried. Fare you well, And leave your harp and saga when you die For me to sing and twangle. MARCUS. Fare you well. But oh ! once more, be wise, and ride to-night ! \Exeunt different sides P\ 62 Kmg Erik. ACT II. Scene III. Terrace u?tder Bot'ddds bower. Enter Grimur. Moonlight, GRIMUR. How strange is love ! It grips us by the throat, Shuts up the eyes of reason, drugs the soul, And leads the body prisoner where it will. Why am I here ? I have not here one friend ; This castle, this whole town, this very land Are in his hand who hates me. At this hour His axes may be waiting for my blood, And his worst ruffians with a wary thumb Trying the murderous edge. Why am I here ? Can just a woman's countenance so change The wholesome temper of my brain and will, That I can walk into the jaws of death Merely to see her ? If she had been mine. If once and for one moment's space her mouth Had brushed my lips and trembled there and gone, That memory might now nerve me ; or if once Her wrist had throbbed within my tender grasp, Or once my arm stole round h*er, but why now, When never the least favour that love gives Her frosty eyes have granted, I should dare Torture and death to see her once again, SCENE III. King Erik. ^l Passes my skill. Cold moon, that ey'st me there, The light long clouds that hurry across thy face Fly and are gone ; thou dost not stir for these. But o'er the impassive beauty of thy roimd, Like fugitive thoughts that tremble at themselves, These stains of vapour pass and fade and fly. Oh ! that my body were stedfast as thy sphere, Thou crystal-hearted loveliness ! But I Am led by that that mars me, flagging pulse And kindhng runlet of the passionate blood. They move not thee, but this has power to guide My panting body whither it will, and stirred By love as by a wind that flickers and falls, It leads me on to perilous walks of death. Shame on this helmless spirit of mine, and shame On thee, quick stream, whose throbbings stir me so. I will be master of my blood ! Chaste moon, Draw my whole being to thee, and drop thy frost Down on my spirit. So ! I will be calm, Will bridle in my breath, and teach my heart To think not of my love. Now ! I am cold ! Cold as the sea that frets against those rocks. Falling and moaning. I am still at last ! I wait not here for any ! In the world There is no woman who can move me now. Hush ! how the wind has fallen. Still, so still ! Calm as my heart that recks no more of love. {Starting up.) Oh love, love, love ! Would God I had her here 64 King Erik. ACT II. To wind my arras tight underneath her hair, And crush her to my breast, and feel her heart, And press her Hps asunder in a kiss ! Ah ! doth the moon not redden ? Lo ! methinks Her heart repents her of her frosty will, And blushes with new passion ! Hush ! what's that ? ^ The measured murmur of the voiceful sea Sounds, but nought else ! How still it is, but hark \ A door that opened and that closed. She comes ! I hear her footsteps on the grass ! My heart, Break not and fail not in this supreme hour ! \Enier Thora.] Thora ! She will not come ? Oh ! say not so ? Flatter my ears and tell me she will come, Then break the sad news to me word by word As maids tell children when their mothers die ? Why is it that she will not come ? THORA. She will ! She rose and drew her hair back from her eyes, First when the moon was rising. She was faint With walking in the sharp air of the dawn, And sudden meeting of the king. She lay Half swooning on her bed when I came back Full of your message ; when I 'told it her She spoke not, and I thought she heard it not, But when I said the words again, she cried With sharpness strange to her familiar mood, SCENE III. Kinor Erik. 65 " I hear you ! vex me not !" and turned herself Round to the wall, and would not speak or stir, And now she bade me tell you that she comes ; But when you see her you will find her changed, So pale she is, with slumber-hungry eyes, Dark founts of pent-up tears. I pray you, sir, Afflict her not in parting ! Say your will As briefly as you can. She is but weak, Nor for another gentleman than you Would come to say farewell. But hush ! she comes ! [E?iier Botilda. Grimur staf-fs forward but restrains himself. She comes slowly towards him, but not very near, and stops?[ BOTILDA. Grimur ! GRIMUR. O blessed mouth to speak my name 1 Botilda ! Let me — let me touch your hand. BOTILDA. My friend, you see how like a ghost I am. And half the bodily life seems dead in me ! I have slept ill of late, and changes come. And time is not as golden as youth says. Methinks I have so little corporal life That I v/ould fain you touched me not. My maids Were lost in wonder that I came to-night. I wonder, too ! but when I heard your tale, 5 66 Kins: Erik. ACT II. '^> And how the purpose of your journey stood, I thought that I would speak our last farewell. So t Have you found your bride ! GRIMUR. She flies me still ; Sometimes I think her face is very near, To-night she might come walking here and find Her bridegroom on this grass. BOTILDA. I am not now So simple as I was a week ago. For wit grows fast when sorrow warms the sod. You mean that death might find you here to-night ? GRIMUR. Why, yes ! 'tis true ! BOTILDA. Death walks not in these courts, With noiseless footfalls and a girdled knife ; There is no fear of death. Yet you say well Saying that danger stares you in the face Haunting this ploi of maiden turf by night. Why do you come ? GRIMUR. Ah ! cannot eyes like yours Interpret eyes like mine, nor your wan cheeks The hollow writing in the lines of these. SCENE III. King Erik. 67 BOTILDA. I cannot see your eyes. GRIMUR. But if you did You'd see the starting tears that dim them so That they are blind to yours. BOTILDA. What would you say ? Oh ! let us hasten through our hearts' farewell. GRIMUR. Not hearts' ; it may be lips'. Where'er I go My heart remains your thrall, and when you die, 'Twill rise with you to heaven, though all the rest Be buried and forgotten. BOTILDA. Yea ! our hearts' : It is my heart that comes to bid you go, And pray God speed for ever. Oh, my tongue, Trip not, but push the matter to an end ! I cannot frame the very words I would, Although I learned them ! Ah ! men say they love A woman, yet they grieve her to the soul. And will not understand the thing she means, But force their rough love straight into her face When all she asks is friendship. Till to-day I did not know, I cannot yet be sure. That you desired — How strange, how very strange ! 5—2 68 King Erik. ACT IL GRiMUR {kneeling). Madam, forgive me ! BOTILDA. Rise, the hour grows late And I have somewhat left for me to say. Grimur, if any little word of mine, Spoken in laughter, set your heart on fire, I pray your pardon ! GRIMUR. Shall I rather fall And kiss the ^yhite feet of your perfect truth ? BOTILDA, Once more ! If ever I have seemed to smile At any wanton song that like a bird Percht on my maids' lips, warbling, and so shook The honour in your heart and wrought its fall, Pray you forgive me ! GRIMUR. Purest saint and queen. Stay, your words stab me ! ^ BOTILDA. Have I given you cause In any sorry jest about the King To doubt my wifely steadfastness or faith ? GRrMUR. Never ! SCENE III. King Erik. 69 BOTILDA. Then if it was this face of min-e That innocently slew your inward truth, Henceforward I will veil it to the world, Since something -in its fashion must belie The will that dwells within it. GRIMUR. Hush, I go ! Profane not that fair beauty ! Like the snow Be cold and silent, beautiful and pure ! I will not mar your peace ; my broken heart Shall plead no more against a froward fate. Sweet saint, whose virtue leaves me pilotless, I push the frail boat of vay life once more Out into the strange seas, I know not how, And care not whither ! O be thou the star For my tossed soul to steer by ! Since no more My shattered heart may dream of earthly love, Guide it to heaven with prayer. Ah 1 when you pray, Remember me in secret. BOTILDA. Yea, I will ! And may the words that glide from out your lips So smoothly, be the index of the soul ! Grimur, we part, and if we meet again Not you, nor I can know, but I trow not. Once, this last hour, I will be frank and speak, 70 King Erik. ACT II. Put off the woman's trick of measured words, And like a man be brazen. Then, if love Be this, to feel a heightened pulse of life Beat when the loved one's footsteps touch the stair, To lose all drooping sense of bodily ill When he is near and smiling ; to grow sad And weary, when 'tis sure he will not come : Then once, and only once, since time began, Has love come down into this heart of mine, Grimur, I never reddened when you came ; Your presence never stirred the little pains That vex our idle hours ; and never yet Those hours seemed leaden for their lack of you ! And now I must be gone, and though we part. Your best remains behind you ! You have sung Too many songs that memory dare not lose, To fade from ours, and when we touch the lute We'll speak of you as of our father's friend, A poet dead and gone. Dead friend, farewell ! [Exeunt Botilda and Thora.] GRIMUR {lyin^ on the ground). Gone ! Now for silence ! Hark ! what's that that beats Aloud and is no bell ? It is my head, So hot and throbbing, and so fike to burst. Hush ! is she gone ? I thought I heard a step ! Oh that the sea would roar, the wind would howl, I cannot bear this stillness ! Hush ! what's that ! SCENE III. King Erik. 7 1 I wonder if one lay awake like this All night upon the cool bed of the grass, Whether towards sunrise one would hear the blades Starting at dewfall ? Will the Queen not come ? I thought Botilda said that she would come ? Dead ! She is dead ! And I am like to die, Am dead already ! How the waves are light That wash across my bones in this dead sea ! Ah, me ! how near I am, not dead, but mad ! I cannot yet remember — ah ! she said Farewell ! O what a doleful thing to say To one who never yet has fared but ill. Why did I not take hold of both her hands And kiss them while she stood there ! Like a stock I let her say what grievous thing she would And made no answer ! Now it is too late, I know I shall not touch her till I die. [A pause.'] {Enter Thora. Grimur starts up.'] THORA. Still here ! Make haste to horse and ride away Now in this moment ! GRIMUR. Ride away ? THORA. Yes ! yes ! Stay for no last words now, lest they should come And find you here, and bind you hand and foot. 72 Ki7ig Erik. ACT II. For when we came again into the bower We found the maids all pale-eyed and aghast, And one, Svanhilda, gone ! See, there are lights Moving high up the towers, and see they come Nearer, and shadows flicker in the hall. Svanhilda hates you, knows that you are here, And, if my instant thought betrays me not, Has flown to tell your secret to the King. Fly, while the hunters give you space and time ! GRIMUR. I will ; — but, Thora, tell me ere you go How looked Botilda as you climbed the tower ? THORA.. Oh ! do not stay for questions ! GRIMUR. Did she laugh ? THORA. Laugh ? No ! She moved the corners of her lips, But more for tears than laughter. GRIMUR. Was she sad ? Sad that she would not see me any more ? THORA.* Fly, stay not here ! Oh yes ! she was not glad ! I swear to you her eyes were- full of grief, Go, only go ! SCENE III. King Erik. 73 GRIMUR. Ah ! was she sad, dear love ! She could not mean those cruel words she spake ! Perchance she tried my love with me ! Perchance She loves me still, has loved me from the first, And tempts me now to try me ! Yea ! I go ! Fear not, I go ! My horse is near the gate They shall not find me, Thora ! THORA. Then farewell ! \Exit. GRIMUR. But yet I will not go till I have sung One little bird-like song she used to love, A carol with the live heart of regret Yearning within it ! She shall hear, and know I burn to clasp her though she bids me go ! \_He takes his lute, and walks tinderneath the window^ where the light is moving. He siiigs.'\ Autimin closes Roiind the roses, Shatters, strips them, head by head; Winter passes O'er the grasses, Turns them yelloiv, brown and red ; Can a lover Eer recover When his summer love is dead? 74 King Erik. ACT ii. Yet the swallow Turm to follow In the northward wake of spring. To refashion Wasted passion With a sweep of his dark wing, As returning Loi'e flies burjiing To these stricken lips that sing/ [^During the songY,^iY:. has come across the stage, and stands behind him.^ ERIK. Good knave, a word with you. . Grimur {turnivg). The end is come ! ERIK. Fine sir, what want you here ? GRIMUR. My lord, I sing As I have often done before, to charm The august slumbers of ^the saintly queen J ERIK. A very saintly song for holy ears ! So ! you would sing, forsooth ? Ah ! by St. Knud, 'Tis wonder that I did not thrust you through But now, when you were v/hining ! Go your way ! SCENE III. King Erik. 75 [Grimur glances up at Botilda's window.\ What, cur, you look up yonder ere you go? What then, can nothing teach you but the sword. That queens are for your masters ? Curse and die ! {Stabs Jiim.) GRIMUR. , Oh ! pray for me, Botilda ! ERIK, Pray for you ? Go down to hell, and wait for her to come ! Perchance she loves you so that she may pray To die before her time. GRIMUR. It ebbs away ! Love, anger, sorrow, fade into the air ; I wish I may die quickly ! Erik, bow Your ear to me, for I am fainting ! Hark ! About the plot I had to win the queen, And hope to feed my passion at your shame, I swear she never knew it. — Help ! More breath ! How dark it is ! O Erik, drive them off ! These devils push their fingers in my eyes ! God's mother, save me ! {Dies.) ERIK. Dead, with fruit of lies Around him, and one flower upon his lips. \E?iter Thora.] 'j6 King Erik. ACT II, THORA. What's that ? O mercy ! ERIK. 'Tis a dog that's gone Where he shall never taste of mercy more. Look at him with the little face turned up, The goodly cloven chin, the wanton lips, The love-curls draggled not with wine but blood. Look at him well ! See him as he is now, Before I bid my men to come and throw His carrion out upon the shore to rot, For you must go back to your mistress' bower. And tell her how you found him, and then shut The door, and put some black weeds on her limbs. And let her moan her matins like a nun — The world and I shall never see her more. [the curtain falls.] KING ERIK, ACT III. ACT III. Scene I. Before Roeskild Cathedral. The doors of the Cathedral are closed ; within the church is heard a noise of si^iging. A priest stands in the porch. A man-at-arms of the king enters. SOLDIER. Room in the church ! King Erik comes to mass. Open the doors ! PRIEST. It must not be so yet. Within the Lady Chapel in the east, They read the last dread litany that gives The unannealed spirit of the slain Its purgatorial freedom, SOLDIER. Yet the King May enter in and worship in the choir. Who is this dead man that they bury ? 8o Kmg Erik. act hi. PRIEST. One, Whose corpse was taken from the shuddering sea That touched it at full tide. A murdered man, I know not whom ! But till the Archbishop comes I dare not let the doors be thrown apart. He strictly charged me, let no creature pass. SOLDIER. The King's command is weightier than your lord's. PRIEST, Nay, for in him I hear the Church and God. SOLDIER. Here comes the king. Quick ! Open, or move aside ! [Etiier Erik, with his train.] ERIK. What ! waiting with shut doors ? But overnight I told the lord Archbishop to prepare The church for mass betimes. 1 thought to find The aisles already misty with the smoke Swung thick and heavy round the censer-boys. And flowers about the threshold, and a line Of nodding priests along the porch and nave. So late on such a day as this ! *Good man, Are you the only waker up betimes The morning that King Erik comes to mass, Ere he can meet his burghers ? SCENE I. Ki?tg Erik 8r PRIEST. Pardon, Sire ! But if your men-at-arms made less to-do With iron heels upon the holy pavement, You'd hear the sound of singing in the church. We have been stirring, all of us, since dawn. ERIK. Then throw the gates wide open. It grows late. PRIEST. Oh ! pardon still, I dare not ! Ossur said, I must not turn this door upon its hinge, Till all the singing ceased above the dead. ERIK. What ! means the good Archbishop then to keep Our blood and bones a-cold in this sharp air ? I like not these strange customs. Hush ! the choir Has ended ! Turn aside, and let us pass 1 \The doors fly open, tz^ For no man wa]ks like Erik ! Ossur, stay ! I faint ! I cannot bear it ! Let us go ! [Ossur goes to the left to open the door, but Botilda remains in her seat clutching the elbows of the chair . Enter Erik, from the right. 'Botilda keeps her eyes upon the ground. IErik starts o?i seeing Botilda. Ossur returiis and stands by the Queen.^ ERIK. Ossur, your presence v>-ill be welcomer There, whence I come ! botilda {aside to ossur). O leave me not ! ossur. My lord, Permit that first I lead the Queen away ; She is but weakly. "QOTiUDK {faifitly). Nay ! I will remain ! Go, my good Ossur, go ! [Exit Ossur. {After a pause]. botilda {sharply, looki?7g up and clutching the chair). Whence do you come ? ERIK. From watching by my mother. bqtilda. Said she aught o' Of me or of my sorrows. SCENE III. King Erik. 113 ERIK. Yea ! some words. BOTiLDA {starting up). Where is she ? I will go to her, and you, You shall be near us ! God shall be our judge. ERIK. God is the judge of all of us, but now She stands before him nighest. BOTILDA. What ? ERIK. She's dead ! BOTILDA. Dead ? With a He upon her lips, a crime Reddening within her mouth, gone up to God From soiling a white soul. Ah me ! ah me ! {Sinks back.) ERIK. Of all the words she said I caught but these, " Forgive me, I have erred ! I hoped for good, Did evil that the good might come, have sinned Before the saints and one pure woman's heart." She said not whom she meant ! BOTILDA. But I know whom ! Ah ! now I see it. Erik, can you dare To stand there like a judge, and wait for me 8 1 14 Ki7ig Erik. ACT in. To throw myself before you in the dirt, To grovel for a little grace, to pray For so much sufferance from my injurdt lord That I may choose this prison and not that ? Lo ! if I pleased you so, and bowed to gain The promise of your favour, made my heart The footstool for your pride, and sank to rise Retaken, a soiled suppliant, to your breast. For love, and not for honour, it were well You thrust your spurred heel deep into my brain, And crushed me there and slew me. ERIK. Let me speak ! I stand not as a judge here in your sight. But rather at the anger in your eyes Shrink like a guilty thing, abashed. BOTILDA (baring her ar?fi). You see The scar there, bleeding I Mind you how it came ? ERIK. No. BOTILDA. ' You were spurred and ready for the chase, And just as you were starting, and I hung Close to your side, your wild roan reared, and sharp The rowel of your spur was in my wrist. It has not bled since then until to-day. SCENE III. King Erik. 115 ERIK. Weep not, but hear me speak — BOTILDA, Now all day long The sharp edge of your anger in my heart Cuts and drinks blood and is not turned away ! Slay me and let me sleep ! ERIK. Yet I will speak, Although your righteous anger, like a flame, Burns me to flying ash of shame and grief. Behold, I am all broken, spirit and will. For I have learned my own disgrace, and seen How fair your fame is, and how true your soul, And cursed my brutish passion. BOTILDA, You should fall There, on the pavement, on your knees, to beg Pardon for your gross anger ; men have thoughts So foul a woman cannot feel them stir And not shriek out and rave. And now I leave you — [BoTiLDA hastily goes but is arrested by Erik.] Erik. Botilda, stay ! BOTILDA. Why should I ? 8—2 ii6 King Erik. ACT III. ERIK. Go not yet ! Listen before you break my heart ! Oh, love ! I swear I know that you are clear as light, Pure as the sea, fresh as new-fallen snow, The only perfect thing that God has made, The earthly image of a saint — BOTILDA. You thought That I was base enough — O God, O God ! ERIK. Forgive me that I thought at all ! Poor fool, Tricked by the beating of my jealous heart. Ah ! had I loved you less I had not been So mad, and to my own dishonour swift. Ah ! can you not forgive me ? BOTILDA. Dear, I do ! But oh ! what sorrow you had spared us both, Had you been trustful. ERIK. Ah ! how sweet you are How beautiful the light upon your hair, Your living hair, so dull an hour ago. I never loved you as I love you now ; Red lips, bright eyes, the living face that moves Changeful and changeless like the radiant sea ; SCENE III. King Erik. ii/ My own desire, my only one delight, Leave me not now, but let us hand in hand Go up into the Holy Place, and kneel Together at the shrine. BOTILDA. I do not dare So long a journey, and so far from home. ERIK. \ Ah ! will not you go with me ? BOTILDA. If you say That I can dare to do it, I will dare. ERIK. My brave Botilda. BOTILDA. You may kiss me now ! I never loved another man than you ! {They embrace.) [the curtain falls.] KING ERIK, ACT IV. ACT IV. Scene I. A plain two miles north of Constanii/iople. The Royal Tent in the Danish Camp. Enter Botilda a7td SVANHILDA. SVANHILDA. Madam, the daughter of this emperor Has sent you flowers and fruits, with loving words ; Her gifts stand piled within, BOTILDA. The messengers Had found a warmer welcome in my heart Had they been sent to lead us to the town. SVANHILDA. What answer shall I give ? BOTILDA. What boy or man Came with the present ? 122 Kins: Erik. ACT IV. SVAN HILDA. Neither man nor boy, Or if a man, so withered, wrinkled, parched, So yellow in the eyes, so foul of face, He rather seemed the ape out of a show Than man or Christian, yet he spoke in Greek. BOTILDA. How weary is this hot and windless air ! [Enter Erik.] Have you not come to strike away the gyves That bind our Avrists and ancles ? One may stir As nimbly as a hind, and yet 1 )e bound With bonds that eat the life out. [To SvANHiLDA.] Go and say The Queen thanks Caesar's daughter for her gift And hopes ere long to tell herself as much. [Exit SVANHILDA. Erik, I die ! What ? ERIK. BOTILDA. " Can you cease to fret Curbed at this last strange moment of our life Here at the gates of Micklegarth ? Methought Our cousin Vladimir was over-fain To spur us on our journey to the south, But here we rust and fum.e, and cannot stir, SCENE T. King Erik. 123 ERIK. Some subtle fear must move Alexios much. BOTILDA. This is the outer portal of that shrine Wliose holiest holy is Jerusalem. Now were we near our end. ERIK. Ere many hours Entrance must be vouchsafed. BOTILDA. Ah ! but not thus Came all the other Northern men of war, Stealing to Micklegarth ; but with their keels Ploughing the sunlight of the Golden Horn, Like Sigurd Jorsalfar, with cedar oars And sails of silk ; or like the wandering sword, King Harald Haarderaade, he who fled The passionate sorceress Zoii, as we heard But lately in our cousin's court. But you, Though ringed about with splendour of a king, And on a grave and holy errand bent, Are left outside, and flowers are sent to me, Flung to appease, as bones to famished dogs. ERIK. Justice, sweet Queen, and patience for the Greeks, Not given, as we, to sudden strokes in the light. This Emperor has lost in years gone by 124 King Erik. ACT IV. Much honour by the wandering wake of kings, And all the rabble at the sacred heels Of such as go crusading, oft has marred His treasuries and temples. BOTILDA. But our folk Are noble, and too great in heart and name To itch for gold, or bite the ruby-stones Out of God's mother's jewelled feet in church. ERIK. The man yet knows us not, and would be ware. BOTILDA. 'Tis easy to think ill when one's own heart Is bowed to some dishonour. ERIK. Fret you then To see the painted walls, the streets of gold, The silver spires, and all the gallant things Heaped up by vanished Caesars ? , BOTILDA. Nay, not so ! Erik, you know me better. All these things Had gulled me once into a woAdering mood. But now I heed them little. Ah ! my love ! Dream you that I forget, but for one hour, The final deed, the expiating prayer, SCENE I. Kin^ Erik. 125 The silence and the incense and the shrine, Then when we kneel together hand in hand Where God's dear house, no more by Turks profaned, Stands waiting for all pilgrims ? We may have Sweet hours for. wonder on our slow return, But now I pant to see Jerusalem, And have no wish beside it. ERIK. Yea ! till then A ghostly sorrow parts us like a knife. But fear not, we will bend Alexios soon. \Enter Sigurd.] SIGURD. My Lord, a troop of glittering men-at-arms, Danes like ourselves, stand marshalled at the door. Their leader bears a message on his lips, From Caesar. ERIK. We will see them. Bring them here. {Exit Sigurd. [Erik and Botilda seat themselves. Enter attendants, bringing in Thorolf, the leader of the Vceringar, and his troop. Enter also Egil, Gunnar, and other chiefs of Erik's following, who stand around the King. Tho- rolf and the Varingar do homage to Erik.] 126 King Erik. ACT IV. THOROLF. Hail, King ! ERIK. Hail, chieftain ! Give these men to drink ! \Servants give wine to Thorolf and his men, who all pledge the King.'] ERIK. How fares your august master ? THOROLF. He who rules The Greeks and Turks, Alexios, lives in peace. ERIK. Came you from him ? THOROLF. Sir, by his leave we came. But on no mission from the Imperial Court. BOTILDA {aside). Death will reach first ! ERIK. Whence come ye then to-day, If not from audience of the En^peror ? THOROLF. Lord, we are Danes, and m'any years are spent Since we were young and turned our footsteps south, SCENE I. King Erik. 127 And saw the last of Denmark. Nor since then, Though many motley princes have gone by, Has even in all our days one Danish king Come to Constantinople : Yea ! and we, Though bondmen in some sort, and hired to keep Our master's person safe by night- and day. And sparkling in his silver mail, and shod With shoes of Caesar's service, cannot deem That we are wholly his ; our ears have heard What good and gracious things your hand has wrought At home, in Denmark, and we come this hour To lay our heart's allegiance at your feet, ■ '.eing Danes and hard of hand, and sick to see The gold sword slip out of these poor weak hands Of Greeks a shadow frightens. So we prayed Alexios, that his grace would let us come And tender you our honjage. ERIK. Good my friends, I thank you for your courtesy ! I find That free-born hearts beat under silver mail. As under rougher armour ! You have sought A softer service than our North can give, And finding it, disdain it not. These lords, Here standing by my hand, would scarce be fain To lead such gallant gentlemen as you, In scarlet and in silver. 128 King Erik. kzi iv, THOROLF. Ah, my king ! We have to clothe ourselves as he commands Who rules the loose-robed and voluptuous Greeks ; Chide us not for this tinsel. Ah ! to be In some deep forest among Paynim hordes, To stain our silver plasquets with their blood ! You'd find our thews unsoftened. GUNNAR. Are you bound By any pledge to serve this Emperor, Of whom you speak so slightly ? THOROLF. Pledges snap Like bent withs in the sudden flame of th' blood. EGIL. How ! would you leave your Emperor for our King ? THOROLF. Ours also ! Are not we too, we too, free ? No drop in all our veins is Greek ! No word In all our speech but has the old home sound ! King Erik, we are weary of our lives, Tired of the sun, tired of the worn-out men, Tired of the eunuchs chattering all day long, Tired of the faded women in the streets ! Alexios needs us now no more ; the East SCENE I. King Erik. 129 Is still, and Godfrey keeps the Turk at bay. AVe long to live the natural life of man, Free servants of a noble king, whose face Shall lead us on to battle ; here we kneel, No more the slaves of any Greek on earth, But soldiers of King Erik ! Bid us march Back to the city ; lo ! we know it well. Know where the palace, where the treasury lies ; Strike but one blow, and all the world is yours ! ERIK. Ye Vaeringarj I bid you make good speed Back to your liege Alexios. It is well That sight of faces fresh from colder air. And coloured with the north, should stir your hearts ; Nor do I wholly cast your homage back, But take it from you as a Dane from Danes, Being your king by birthright. But, as king, I bid you all remember who you are, Sons of what fathers, honoured with what grace To ring about with circles of strong hands The Emperor of all the world, and guard His sacred head from sorrow. Bear in mind How solemn and how grave a charge is this. How worthy of such lordly men as you, How pleasant to the saints above, since he Stands up the very bulwark of Christ's church, Warring the Sarazin ; and this high meed 9 130 King Erik. ACT IV. Ye owe to valiant northmen of past time, Whose eagle eyes and stalwart arms, and hands Sturdy to grip and hew, brought Denmark's name High honour in these countries. For their sake Be no less noble than your past deeds were. THOROLF. Yet there be some not dead who bear in mind How Harold fled away from Micklegarth By night, with all the Vasringar, yet he AVas noble, and his fame without a stain. ERIK. A wasted woman, no more fair or young, Crusted with blood, and seething with worn lust, Stood in his path and held a sword to slay. Had Zoe, like the Devil, made her nest In God's sweet city, Sarras, in the sky. The saints had pardoned a young fighting man Who fled to earth to 'scape her. THOROLF. Sire, in war We fought our best for Csesar ; now in peace Have we not leave to choose ohr own designs ? ERIK. Nay, for before you heed, from east or west, War, like a storm upon an inland sea, SCENE I. King Erik. 131 May smite you in a moment. But, good friends, I j>ray you, not command you, seek to give The charge your hands received from men now dead, Unharmed to your successors ; as you love Your country and your king, so love them still, But set your honour higher. Be alert, Cautious and temperate, chaste and wise in peace, But when the trumpets blow and standards fly. Forget to love your children, wives and friends. Yea ! even forget that ye are Danes and mine ! Care less for life than glory ; shame on him Who blinks before the scimitar's white edge. THE V^RINGAR. Hail for St. Knud, and for King Erik hail ! ERIK. But if at last but one of you should wend With honour back to Denmark before death. His deeds with lands and gold, as shall be meet, I swear that I will guerdon ; and should one Pour out his blood on some heroic field. Him will I not forget, but lift his name And make it golden for his friends at home. So now return, and when you find him, greet The Emperor from Erik, King of Danes, And tell him if it please him not to mark . 9—2 132 King Erik. ACT IV. Our standards nodding in the sacred streets, I will take ship across the Euxine Sea, To Trebizond, and thence find ways and means To reach the holy city of our God, THOROLF. So will we say ; and now, our king, farewell. ERIK. Farewell. THOROLF {to Botildd). O Lady, rose of the heart's love, Farewell ! BOTILDA. Dear friends, till next we meet, farewell ! \Exmnt Thorolf ajid the V(zringar\ GUNNAR. Sire, had these warriors had their loyal will, Ere now we had been half our way EGIL. What spoils The magic city carries in its heart Our Danish shrines will never know. My king, May we not call them back ? BOTILDA. , Meet chastisement Had made this churlish emperor reflect On what is due to strangers. SCENE I. Kijig Erik. 133 GUNNAR. With the key Of Europe and of Asia in your hands, Sire, you would stand the highest king on earth. ERIK. Lo ! how ye miss my purpose ! Not to win Fresh glory, or new provinces, or gold, Have I with little retinue or train Come southward through the painful Russian steppes, Here to the gates of Micklegarth. In peace, More like a journeying prelate than a king, I strike my course as swiftly as I can Straight to the Holy Land ; and gifts of war, Spoil, or rich raiment, gems, or slaves, or ore, Would be but like a fair-embroidered scarf, Heavy with workmanship of precious stones, Wound tight around the naked feet and thighs Of one who runs to snatch his life from death. So will not I be trammelled ; and I hold, — Knowing the wily purpose of those Greeks, — That in the armed battalion of our friends Alexios had his spies, who, when they bring True tidings of my peaceful words and ways, Will strengthen him to courage ; you, dear love, Who long to see the gates behind our back. Be of good cheer ; behold, I prophesy 134 King Erik. k