$B im bS3 
 
 ilil 
 
 4:fiO" 
 
 ii) LYJil" 
 
 
 
 m 
 
 m 
 
V"^ 
 
 l^ 
 
 f v- 
 
 r '■■ 
 
 Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2007 with funding frorti 
 
 Microsoft Corporation 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/ashtarothdramatiOOgordr;ich 
 
ASHTAROTH; A DRAMATIC LYRIC. 
 
ASHTAROTH; 
 
 A DRAMATIC LYEIC. 
 
 BY 
 
 THE AUTHOK OF " SEA SPEAY AND SMOKE DEIFT.' 
 
 MELBOURNE : 
 
 CLAESON, MASSINA, «fc CO., PEINTEES AND PUBLISHEES. 
 SYDNEY : GIBBS, SHALLAED, & CO. 
 
 1867. 
 

DRAMATIS PERSONS. 
 
 Hugo, a Norman Baron and a scholar. 
 
 Eric, a friend of Hiigo's. 
 
 Thurston, \ 
 
 Eustace, I Followers of Hugo. 
 
 Ralph, ) 
 
 Henry, a Page. 
 
 Luke, 
 
 , Monks living in a Norman Chapel. 
 Hubert, ) 
 
 Basil, Abbot of a Convent on the Rhine. 
 
 Cyril, a Monk of the same Convent. 
 
 OsRic, a Norwegian Adventurer, and formerly a Corsair. 
 
 EuDOLPH, an Outlawed Count, and the Captain of a Band of Robbers. 
 
 Dagobert, the Captain of some predatory Soldiers called " Free 
 
 Lances." 
 
 Harold, a Danish Knight. 
 
 Orion. 
 
 Thora, 
 
 Agatha, 
 
 Elspeth, a Nurse of Thora's, I Women. 
 
 Ursula, Abbess of the Convent on the Rhine, 
 
 Nuns, etc., 
 
 Men-at-Arms, Soldiers, and Robbers ; Monks, Friars, and Churchmen 
 Spirits, etc. 
 
 91692i^ 
 

 , ' 3 > 3 J J J 
 
 ASHTAROTH. 
 
 SCENE — A Castle in Noemandy. A Study in a Tower; HtJGO 
 seated at a table covered with maps and charts of the heavens, 
 astronomical instruments , books, manuscripts, etc. 
 
 Enter Henry, a Page. 
 Hugo : 
 
 Well, boy, what is it ? 
 Henry : The feast is spread. 
 
 Hugo: 
 
 Why tarry the guests for me ? 
 Let Eric sit at the table's head ; 
 
 Alone I desire to be. ■ [Henry goes out. 
 
 WTiat share have I at their festive board, 
 
 Their mirth I can only mar ; 
 To me no pleasure their cups afford, 
 
 Their songs on my silence jar. 
 With an aching eye and a throbbing brain, 
 
 And yet with a hopeful heart, 
 I must toil and strain with the planets again 
 
 When the rays of the sun depart ; 
 He who must needs with the topers tope, 
 
 And the feasters feast in the hall, 
 How can he hope with a matter to cope 
 That is immaterial ! 
 Orion : 
 
 He who his appetite stints and curbs 
 Shut up in the northern wing, 
 
 B 
 
10 ASHTAKOTH. 
 
 ,,j> ,\y"it;h Ms rye-bread flavoured with bitter herbs, 
 '-"'»''' Aiid his draught from the tasteless spring, 
 Good sooth, he is but a sorry clown. 
 
 There are some good things upon earth — 
 Pleasure and power and fair renown. 
 
 And wisdom of worldly worth ; 
 There is wisdom in follies that charm the sense, 
 
 In follies that light the eyes. 
 But the folly to wisdom that makes pretence 
 
 Is alone by the fool termed wise. 
 Hugo : 
 
 Thy speech, Orion, is somewhat rude ; 
 
 Perchance having jeer'd and scoff 'd 
 To thy fill, thou wilt curb thy jeering mood ; 
 
 I wot thou hast served me oft. 
 This plan of the skies seems fairly traced ; 
 
 What errors canst thou detect ? 
 Orion : 
 
 Nay, the constellations are all misplaced 
 
 And the satellites incorrect ; 
 Leave the plan to me ; you have time to seek 
 
 An hour of needful rest, 
 The night is young, and the planets are weak : 
 
 See, the sun still reddens the west. 
 Hugo : 
 
 I fear I shall sleep too long. 
 Orion : If you do 
 
 It matters not much ; the sky 
 Is cloudy, the stars will be faint and few ; 
 
 Now, list to my lullaby. 
 
 (Sings.) [Hugo reclines on a coach. 
 
 Still the darkling skies are red, 
 Though the day-god's course is ruti ; 
 
 Heavenly night lamps overhead 
 Flash and twinkle one by one. 
 
ASHTAEOTH. 11 
 
 Idle dreamer, earth-born elf ! 
 
 Vainly grasping heavenly things, 
 Wherefore weariest thou thyself 
 
 With thy vain imaginings ? 
 
 From the tree of knowledge first, 
 
 Since his parents pluck'd the fruit, 
 Man, with partial knowledge curs'd. 
 
 Of the tree still seeks the root ; 
 Musty volumes crowd thy shelf — 
 
 Which of these true knowledge brings ? 
 Wherefore weariest thou thyself 
 
 With thy vain imaginings ? 
 
 Will the stars from heaven descend ? 
 
 Can the earth-worm soar and rise ? 
 Can the mortal comprehend 
 
 Heaven's own hallow'd mysteries .• 
 Greed and glory, power and pelf — 
 
 These are won by clowns and kings ; 
 Wherefore weariest thou thyself 
 
 With thy vain imaginings ? 
 
 Sow and reap, and toil and spin ; 
 
 Eat and drink, and dream and die ; 
 Man may strive, yet never win. 
 
 And I laugh the while and cry — 
 Idle dreamer — earth-bom elf ! 
 
 Vainly grasping heavenly things, 
 Wherefore weariest thou thyself 
 
 With thy vain imaginings ? 
 
 He sleeps, and his sleep appears serene, 
 
 Whatever dreams it has brought him — 
 
 [Looks at the plans. 
 If he knows what those hieroglyphics mean, 
 
 He's wiser than one who taught him. 
 Why does he number the Pole-star thus, 
 
 Or the Pleiades why combine ? 
 And what is he doing with Sirius ! 
 
 In the devil's name or in mine ? 
 Man thinks discarding the beaten track, 
 
 That the sins of his youth are slain, 
 When he seeks fresh sins, but he soon comes back 
 
 To his old pet sins again. 
 
12 ASHTAEOTH. 
 
 SCENE— The Same. Hugo waking, Orion seated near Mm. 
 Daybreak. 
 
 Hugo: 
 
 Oh ! weary spirit, Oh ! cloudy eyes. 
 
 Oh ! heavy and misty brain ! 
 Yon riddle that lies 'twixt earth and skies. 
 
 Ye seek to explore in vain ! 
 See the east is grey ; put those scrolls away. 
 
 And hide them far from my sight ; 
 I will toil and study no more by day, 
 
 I will watch no longer by night ; 
 I have labour'd and long'd, and now I seem 
 
 No nearer the mystic goal ; 
 Orion, I fain would devise some scheme 
 
 To quiet this restless soul ; 
 To distant climes I would fain depart — 
 
 I would travel by sea or land. 
 Orion : 
 
 Nay, I warn'd you of this, " Short life, long art," 
 
 The proverb, though stale, will stand ; 
 Full many a sage from youth to age 
 
 Has toil'd to attain what you 
 Would master at once. In a pilgrimage. 
 
 Forsooth, there is nothing new, 
 Though virtue, I ween, in change of scene, 
 
 And vigour in change of air. 
 Will always be, and has always been. 
 
 And travel is a tonic rare ; 
 Still, the restless discontented mood 
 
 For the time alone is eased. 
 It will soon return with hunger renew'd 
 
 And appetite unappeased. 
 Nathless I could teach a shorter plan 
 
 To win that wisdom you crave ; 
 That lore that is seldom attain'd by man 
 
 From the cradle down to the grave. 
 
ASHTAEOTH. 13 
 
 Hugo : 
 
 Such lore I had rather do without, . 
 
 It has nothing mystic nor awful 
 In my eyes. Nay, I despise and doubt 
 
 The arts that are term'd unlawful ; 
 'Twixt science and magic the line lies plain. 
 
 I shall never wittingly pass it ; 
 There is now no compact between us twain. 
 Orion : But an understanding tacit ; 
 
 You have prospered much since the day we met ; 
 
 You were then a landless knight, 
 You now have honour and wealth, and yet 
 
 I never can serve you right, 
 Hugo : 
 
 Enough ; we will start this very day, 
 
 Thurston, Eric, and I, 
 And the baffled visions will pass away, 
 
 And the restless fires will die. 
 Orion : 
 
 Till the fuel expires that feeds those fires 
 
 They smoulder and live unspent ; 
 Give a mortal all that his heart desires 
 
 He is less than ever content. 
 
 SCENE — A Cliff on the Breton Coast, ovebhanging the Sea. 
 Hugo. 
 Hugo : 
 
 Down drops the red sun ; through the gloaming 
 
 They burst — raging waves of the sea 
 Foaming out their own shame — ever foaming 
 
 Their leprosy up with fierce glee ; 
 Flung back from the stone, snowy fountains 
 
 Of feathery flalies, scarcely flag 
 Where shock after shock, the green mountains 
 
 Explode on the iron-grey crag. 
 
14 ASHTAROTH. 
 
 The salt spray with ceaseless commotion 
 
 Leaps round me. I sit on the verge 
 Of the clijBf — 'twixt the earth and the ocean — 
 
 With feet overhanging the surge ; 
 In thy grandeur, oh sea! we acknowledge. 
 
 In thy fairness, oh earth ? we confess. 
 Hidden truths that are taught in no college. 
 
 Hidden songs that no parchments express. 
 
 Were they wise in their own generations. 
 
 Those sages and sagas of old ? 
 They have pass'd ; o'er their names and their 
 nations 
 
 Time's billows have silently rolFd ; 
 They have pass'd, leaving little to their children 
 
 Save histories of a truth far from strict ; 
 Or theories more vague and bewild ring 
 
 Since three out of four contradict. 
 
 Lost labour ! vain book- worms have sat in 
 
 The halls of dull pedants who teach 
 Strange tongues, the dead lore of the Latin, 
 
 The scroll that is god-like and Greek ; 
 Have wasted life's springtide in learning 
 
 Things long ago learnt all in vain ; 
 They are slow, very slow, in discerning 
 
 That book lore and wisdom are twain. 
 
 Pale shades of a creed that was mythic. 
 
 By time or by truth overcome. 
 Your Delphian temples and Pythic 
 
 Are ruins deserted and dumb ; 
 Your Muses are hush'd, and your Graces 
 
 Are bruised and defaced ; and your gods 
 Enshrin'd and enthroned in high places 
 
 No longer, are powerless as clods ; 
 
ASHTAEOTH. 15 
 
 By forest and streamlet, where glisten'd 
 
 Fair feet of the Naiads that skimm'd 
 The shallows ; where the Oreads listened 
 
 Rose-lipp'd, amber-hair'd, marble-limb'd, 
 No lithe forms disport in the river, 
 
 No sweet faces peer through the boughs ; 
 Elms and beeches wave silent for ever, 
 
 Ever silent the bright water flows. 
 
 (Were they duller or wiser than we are. 
 
 Those heathens of old ? Who shall say ? 
 Worse or better ? Thy wisdom, oh " Thea 
 
 Glaucopis" was wise in thy day. 
 And the false gods alluring to evil, 
 
 That sway'd reckless votaries then. 
 Were slain to no purpose : they revel 
 
 Recrowned in the hearts of us men.) 
 
 Dead priests of Osiris, and Isis, 
 
 And Apis ! that mystical lore, 
 Like a nightmare, conceived in a crisis 
 
 Of fever, is studied no more ; 
 Dead Magian ! yon star-troop that spangles 
 
 The arch of yon firmament vast 
 Looks calm, like a host of white angels. 
 
 On dry dust of votaries past. 
 
 On seas unexplored can the ship shun 
 
 Sunk rocks ? Can man fathom life's links, 
 Past or future, unsolved by Egyptian 
 
 Or Theban, unspoken by Sphynx, 
 The riddle remains, still unravell'd. 
 
 By student consuming night oil. 
 Oh earth ! we have toil'd, we have travail'd : 
 
 How long shall we travail and toil ? 
 
16 ASHTAKOTH. 
 
 How long ? The short life that fools reckon 
 
 So sweet, by how much is it higher 
 Than brute life ? the false gods still beckon. 
 
 And man, through the dust and the mire. 
 Toils onward, as toils the dull bullock, 
 
 Unreasoning, brutish, and blind, 
 With Ashtaroth, Mammon, and Moloch 
 
 In front, and Alecto behind. 
 
 The wise one of earth, the Chaldasan 
 
 Serves folly in wisdom's disguise ; 
 And the sensual Epicursean 
 
 Though grosser, is hardly less wise, 
 'Twixt the former, half-pedant, half-pagan. 
 
 And the latter, half sow and half sloth. 
 We halt, choose Astarte or Dagon, 
 
 Or sacrifice freely to both. 
 
 With our reason that seeks to disparage 
 
 Brute instinct it fails to subdue ; 
 With our false illegitimate courage, 
 
 Our sophistry, vain and untrue ; 
 Our hopes, that ascend so and fall so. 
 
 Our passions, fierce hates and hot loves. 
 We are wise (ay, the snake is wise also) — 
 
 Wise as serpents, not harmless as doves. 
 
 Some flashes, like faint si)arks from heaven. 
 
 Gome rarely with rushing of wings ; 
 We are conscious at times, we have striven. 
 
 Though seldom, to grasp better things ; 
 These pass, leaving hearts that have falter'd. 
 
 Good angels with faces estranged. 
 And the skin of the Ethiop unalter'd 
 
 And the spots of the leopard unchanged. 
 
ASHTAEOTH. 17 
 
 Oh eaxth ! pleasant earth ! have we hanker'd 
 
 To gather thy flowers and thy fruits ? 
 The roses are wither'd, and canker'd 
 
 The lilies, and barren the roots 
 Of the fig-tree, the vine, the wild olive. 
 
 Sharp thorns and sad thistles that yield 
 Fierce harvest — so we live and so live 
 
 The perishing beasts of the field — 
 
 And withal we are conscious of evil 
 
 And good — of the spirit and the clod, 
 Of the power in our hearts of a devil. 
 
 Of the power in our souls of a God 
 Whose commandments are graven in no cypher, 
 
 But clear as his sun — ^from our youth 
 One at least we have cherish'd — " An eye for 
 
 An eye and a tooth for a tooth." 
 
 Oh man ! of thy Maker the image ; 
 
 To passion, to pride, or to wealth, 
 Sworn bondsman, from dull youth to dim age, 
 
 Thy portion, the fire or the filth. 
 Dross seeking ; dead pleasure's death rattle 
 
 Thy memories' happiest song 
 And thy highest hope — scarce a drawn battle 
 
 With dark desperation. How long ? 
 
 Eoar louder ! leap higher ! ye surf -beds. 
 
 And sprinkle your foam on the furze ; 
 Bring the dreams that brought sleep to our turf-beds. 
 
 To camps of our long ago years, 
 With the flashing and sparkling of broadswords, 
 
 With the tossing of banners and spears, 
 With the trampling of hard hoofs on hard swards. 
 
 With the mingling of trumpets and cheers. 
 
18 ASHTAKOTH. 
 
 The gale has gone down ; yet outlasting 
 
 The gale, raghig waves of the sea 
 Casting up their own foam, ever casting 
 
 Their leprosy up with wild glee, 
 Still storm ; so in rashness and rudeness, 
 
 Man storms through the days of his grace ; 
 Yet man cannot fathom God's goodness. 
 
 Exceeding God's infinite space ; 
 
 And coldly and calmly and purely 
 
 Grey rock and green hillock lie white 
 In a star-shine dream-laden — so surely 
 
 Night Cometh — so cometh the night 
 When we, too, at peace with our neighbour, 
 
 May sleep where God's hillocks are piled. 
 Thanking Him for a rest from day's labour, 
 
 And a sleep like the sleep of a child ! 
 
 SCENE— The Castle in Nobmandy. Thoba working at embroidery, 
 Elspeth spinning. 
 
 Thora (sings): 
 
 We severed in Autumn early, 
 
 Ere the earth was torn by the plough ; 
 The wheat and the oats and the barley 
 
 Are ripe for the harvest now. 
 We sunder'd one misty morning 
 
 Ere the hills were dimm'd by the rain ; 
 Through the flowers those hills adorning 
 
 Thou comest not back again. 
 
 My heart is heavy and weary 
 
 With the weight of a weary soul ; 
 The mid- day glare groweth dreary, 
 
 And dreary the midnight scroll, 
 The corn-stalks sigh for the sickle 
 
 'Neath the load of their golden grain ; 
 I sigh for a mate more fickle — 
 
 Thou comest not back again. 
 
ASHTAKOTH. 19 
 
 The warm sun risetli and setteth, 
 
 The night bringeth moist'ning dew, 
 But the soul that longeth, forgetteth 
 
 The warmth and the moisture, too ; 
 In the hot sun rising and setting 
 
 There is naught save feverish pain ; 
 There are tears in the night-dews wetting — 
 
 Thou comest not back again. 
 
 Thy voice in mine ear still mingles 
 
 "With the voices of whisp'ring trees, 
 Thy kiss on my cheek still tingles 
 
 At each kiss of the summer breeze ; 
 While dreams of the past are thronging 
 
 For substance of shades- in vain, 
 I am waiting, watching, and longing — 
 
 Thou comest not back again. 
 
 Waiting and watching ever, 
 
 Longing and lingering yet, 
 Leaves rustle and corn-stalks quiver, 
 
 Winds murmur and waters fret ; 
 No answer they bring, no greeting. 
 
 No speech, save that sad refrain. 
 No voice, save an echo repeating — 
 
 He cometh not back again. 
 
 Elspeth : 
 
 Thine eldest sister is wedded to Max ; 
 
 With Biorn, Hilda hath cast her lot. 
 If the husbands vanish'd, and left no tracks, 
 
 Would the wives have cause for sorrow, I wot ? 
 Thora : 
 
 How well I remember that dreary ride ; 
 
 How I sigh'd for the lands of ice and snow. 
 In the trackless wastes of the desert wide, 
 
 With the sun o'erhead and the sand below ; 
 'Neath the scanty shade of the feathery palms, 
 
 How I sigh'd for the forest of sheltering firs, 
 Whose shadows environ'd the Danish farms 
 
 Wliere I sang and sported in childish years. 
 On the fourteenth day of our pilgrimage 
 
 We stay'd at the foot of a sandhill high ; 
 
20 ASHTAROTH. 
 
 Our fever'd thirst we could scarce assuage 
 
 At the brackish well that was nearly dry ; 
 And the hot sun rose, and the hot sun set, 
 
 And we rode all the day through a desert land, 
 And we camp'd where the lake and the river met, 
 
 On sedge and shingle and shining sand ; 
 Enfolded in Hugo's cloak I slept, 
 
 Or watch'd the stars while I lay awake ; 
 And close to our feet the staghound crept 
 
 And the horses were grazing beside the lake ; 
 Now we own castles and serving men. 
 
 Lands and revenues. What of that ? 
 Hugo the Norman was kinder then, 
 
 And happier was Thora of Armorat. 
 Elspeth : 
 
 Nay, I warn'd thee, with Norman sails unfurl'd 
 
 Above our heads, when we wished thee jo}^, 
 That men are the same all over the world ; 
 
 They will worship only the newest toy ; 
 Yet Hugo is kind and constant, too, 
 
 Though somewhat given to studies of late ; 
 Biorn is sottish, and Max untrue. 
 
 And worse than thine is thy sister's fate. 
 But a shadow darkens the chamber door. 
 
 Enter Thurston. 
 Thurston : 
 
 'Tis I, Lady Thora ; our lord is near. 
 
 My horse being fresher, I rode before ; 
 
 Both he and Eric will soon be here. 
 
 Thora : 
 
 Good Thurston, give me your hand. You are 
 
 Most welcome. What has delay'd you thus ? 
 
 Thurston : 
 
 Both by^ea and land we have travell'd far, 
 
 Yet little of note has happen'd to us — 
 
ASHTAEOTH. 21 
 
 We were wreck'd on the shores of Brittany, 
 
 Near the coast of Morbihan iron-bound ; 
 The rocks were steep and the surf ran high, 
 
 Thy kinsman, Eric, was well nigh drown'd. 
 By a swarm of knaves we were next beset, 
 
 Who took us for corsairs ; then released 
 By a Breton count, whose name I forget. 
 
 Now, I go, by your leave, to tend my beast. 
 
 [He goes out. 
 Elspeth : 
 
 That man is rude and froward of speech : 
 
 My ears are good, though my sight grows dim. 
 Thora : 
 
 Thurston is faithful. Thou canst not teach 
 
 Courtly nor servile manners to him. 
 
 SCENE— The Castle Hall. Thurston, Ealph, Eustace, and other 
 folloivers of Hugo, seated at a long table. Harold seated apart. 
 
 Thurston : 
 
 Who is that stranger, dark and tall, 
 On the wooden settle next to the wall : 
 Mountebank, pilgrim, or wandering bard ? 
 
 Eustace : 
 
 To define his calling is somewhat hard ; 
 
 Lady Thora has taken him by the hand 
 
 Because he has come from the Holy Land. 
 
 Pilgrims and palmers are all the rage 
 
 With her, since she shared in that pilgrimage 
 
 With Hugo. The stranger came yesterday. 
 
 And would have gone on, but she bade him stay. 
 
 Besides, he sings in the Danish tongue 
 
 The songs she has heard in her childhood sung. 
 
22 ASHTAKOTH. 
 
 That's all I know of him, good or bad, 
 
 In my own opinion, he's somewhat mad. 
 
 You must raise your voice if you speak with him, 
 
 And he answers as though his senses were dim. 
 Thurston {to Harold) : 
 
 Good morrow, sir stranger. 
 Harold : 
 
 Good morrow, friend. 
 Thurston : 
 
 Where do you come from ? and whither wend ? 
 Harold : 
 
 I have travelled, of late, with the setting sun 
 
 At my back ; and as soon as my task is done 
 
 I purpose to turn my face to the North. 
 
 Yet we know not what a day may bring forth. 
 Thurston : 
 
 Indeed we don't. 
 {To Eustace, aside) Nay, I know him now 
 
 By that ugly scar that crosses his brow, 
 
 And the less we say to him the better. 
 
 Your judgment is right to the very letter — 
 
 The man is mad — 
 Eustace : But harmless, I think ; 
 
 He eats but little, eschews strong drink, 
 
 And only speaks when spoken to first. 
 Thurston : 
 
 Harmless or not, he was once the worst 
 
 And bitterest foe Lord Hugo had ; 
 
 And yet his story is somewhat sad — 
 Eustace : 
 
 May I hear it ? 
 Thurston : Nay, I never reveal 
 
 What concerns me not. Our lord may conceal 
 
 Or divulge at pleasure his own affairs, — 
 
 Not even his comrade Eric shares 
 
ASHTAEOTH. 2S 
 
 His secrets ; though Eric thinks him wise, 
 
 Which is more than I do, for I despise 
 
 That foolish science he learnt at Kome. 
 
 He dreams and mopes when he sits at home. 
 
 And now he's not much better abroad ; 
 
 'Tis hard to follow so tame a lord. 
 
 'Twixt us two, he won't be worth a rush 
 
 If he will persist in his studies — 
 Eustace : Hush ! 
 
 Ealph has persuaded our guest to sing. 
 Thurston : 
 
 I have known the day when his voice would ring 
 
 Till the rafters echoed. 
 Eustace : 'Tis pleasant still, 
 
 Though far too feeble this hall to fill. 
 Harold (sings) : 
 
 On the current, where the wide 
 
 "Windings of the river 
 Eddy to the North Sea tide, 
 Shall I in my shallop glide, 
 As I have done at her side ? — 
 
 Never ! never ! never ! 
 
 In the forest, where the firs. 
 
 Pines and larches quiver 
 To the northern breeze that stirs, 
 Shall my lips be press'd to hers, 
 As they were in bygone years ? — 
 
 Never ! never ! never ! 
 
 In the battle on the plain, 
 
 Where the lance-shafts shiver, 
 
 And the sword-strokes fall like rain. 
 
 Shall I bear her scarf again 
 
 As I have done ? — not in vain — 
 Never ! never ! never ? 
 
 In a fairer, brighter land, 
 
 Where the saints rest ever, 
 Shall I once more see her stand, 
 White, amidst a white-robed band, 
 Harp and palm-branch in her hand ? 
 Never ! never ! never ! 
 
24 ASHTAEOTH. 
 
 SCENE — The Same. Eustace, Thurston, and followers of Hugo. 
 Harold. 
 
 Enter hy, the hall door, Hugo, Eric, and Thora. 
 
 Eustace {and others standing up) : 
 
 Welcome, Lord Hugo ! 
 Hugo : Welcome or not, 
 
 Thanks for your greeting all. 
 Ha, Eustace ! what complaints hast thou got ? 
 What grievances to recall ? 
 Eustace : 
 
 Count William came with a numerous band. 
 
 Ere the snows began to fall, 
 And slew a buck on your lordship's land, 
 Within a league of the wall. 
 Hugo : 
 
 Count William has done to us no more 
 
 Than we to him. In his vineyard 
 Last summer, or later may be, a boar 
 Was slaughtered by Thurston's whinyard. 
 Thurston : 
 
 Ay, Hugo ! But William kept the buck 
 
 I will wager marks a score. 
 Though the tale is new to me ; and, worse luck, 
 You made me give back the boar. 
 Harold (advancing) : 
 
 Lord Hugo ! 
 Hugo : What ! Art thou living yet ! 
 
 I scarcely knew thee. Sir Dane I 
 And 'tis not so very long since we met. 
 Harold : 
 
 'Twill be long ere we meet again ; (gives a letter) 
 This letter was traced by one now dead 
 
 In the Holy Land ; and I 
 Must wait till his dying request is read. 
 And in his name ask the reply. 
 
ASHTAROTH. 26 
 
 Thoea (aside) : 
 
 Who is that stranger, Hugo ? 
 Hugo : By birth 
 
 He is countryman of thine, 
 Thora : what writing is this on earth ? 
 I can scarce decipher a line. 
 Harold : 
 
 The pen in the clutch of death works ill. 
 Hugo: 
 
 Nay, I read now ; the letters run 
 More clearly. 
 Harold : Wilt grant the request ? 
 
 Hugo : I will. 
 
 Harold : 
 
 Enough ! Then my task is done. (He holds 
 out his hand) 
 Hugo, I go to a far off land, 
 
 Wilt thou say, " God speed thee !" now ? 
 Hugo: 
 
 Sir Harold, I cannot take thy hand. 
 Because of my ancient vow. 
 Harold : 
 
 Farewell, then. 
 Thora : Friend, till the morning wait. 
 
 On so wild a night as this 
 Thou shalt not go from my husband's gate, 
 The path thou wilt surely miss. 
 Harold : 
 
 I go. Kind lady, some future day 
 Thy care will requited be. 
 Thora : 
 
 Speak, Hugo, speak ! 
 Hugo : He may go or stay. 
 
 It matters little to me. 
 
 [Harold goes out. 
 
26 ASHTAEOTH. 
 
 Thora : 
 
 Husband, that man is ill and weak ; 
 
 On foot he goes and alone 
 Through a barren moor in a night-storm bleak. 
 Eric : 
 
 Now, I wonder where he has gone ! 
 Hugo: 
 
 Indeed, I have not the least idea ; 
 
 The man is certainly mad. 
 He wedded my sister, Dorothea, 
 
 And used her cruelly bad. 
 He was once my firmest and surest friend, 
 
 And once my deadliest foe ; 
 But hate and friendship both find their end — 
 Now I heed not where he may go. 
 
 SCENE — A Chamber in the Castle. Hugo, Thora, and Eric. 
 
 Hugo : 
 
 That letter that came from Palestine 
 
 By the hands of yon wandering Dane, 
 Will cost me a pilgrimage to the Rhine. 
 Thora : 
 
 Wilt thou travel so soon again ? 
 Hugo : 
 
 I can scarce refuse the dying request 
 
 Of my comrade, Baldwin, now ; 
 His bones are dust. May his soul find rest ! 
 
 He once made a foolish vow 
 That at Engelmehr, 'neath the watchful care 
 
 Of the Abbess his child should stay, 
 For a season at least. To escort her there 
 
 I must start at the break of day. 
 
ASHTAROTH. 27 
 
 Thora : 
 
 Is it Agatha that goes or Clare ? 
 Hugo : 
 
 Nay, Clare is dwelling in Spain 
 With her spouse. 
 Thora : 'Tis Agatha. She is fair 
 
 I am told ; but giddy and vain. 
 Eric: 
 
 Some musty tales on my memory grow 
 
 Concerning Count Baldwin's vow. 
 Thou knew'st his daughter ? 
 Hugo : Ay, years ago. 
 
 I should scarcely know her now. 
 It seems when her father's vow was made 
 
 She was taken sorely ill ; 
 Then he travell'd, and on his return was stay'd ; 
 He could never his oath fulfil. 
 
 Eric: 
 
 If rightly I've heard 'twas Agatha 
 
 That fled with some Danish knight — 
 I forget the name. 
 
 Hugo : 
 
 Nay, she fled not far. 
 She returned again that night. 
 
 Thora : 
 
 For a nun, I fear she is too self-willed. 
 
 Hugo : 
 
 That is no affair of mine. 
 My task is over, my word fulfilled. 
 
 Should I bring her safe to the Rhine. 
 Come, Thora, sing. 
 
 Thora : Nay, I cannot sing, 
 
 Nor would I now, if I could. 
 Sing thou. 
 
28 ASHTAROTH. 
 
 Hugo : I will, though my voice should bring 
 
 No sound save a discord rude. 
 
 (Sings.) 
 
 Where the storm in its wrath hath lighted, 
 
 The pine lies low in the dust ; 
 And the com is withered and blighted, 
 
 Where the fields are red with the rust ; 
 Falls the black frost, nipping and killing. 
 
 Where its petals the violet rears, 
 And the wind, though tempered, is chilling 
 
 To the lamb despoiled by the shears. 
 
 The strong in their strength are shaken, 
 
 The wise in their wisdom fall ; 
 And the bloom of beauty is taken — 
 
 Strength, wisdom, beauty, and all ; 
 They vanish, their lot fulfilling, 
 
 Their doom approaches and nears. 
 But the wind, though tempered, is chilling 
 
 To the lamb despoiled by the shears. 
 
 'Tis the will of a Great Creator, 
 
 He is wise. His will must be done, 
 And it Cometh sooner or later ; 
 
 And one shall be taken, and one 
 Shall be left here, toiling and tilling 
 
 In this vale of sorrows and tears. 
 Where the wind, though tempered, is chilling 
 
 To the lamb despoiled by the shears. 
 
 Tell me, mine own one, tell me. 
 
 The shadows of life and the fears 
 Shall neither daunt me nor quell me, 
 
 While I can avert thy tears : 
 Dost thou shrink, as I shrink, unwilling 
 
 To realise lonely years ? 
 Since the wind, though tempered, is chilling 
 
 To the lamb despoiled by the shears. 
 
 Enter Henry. 
 Henry : 
 
 My lord. Father Luke craves audience straight, 
 He has come on foot from the chapel ; 
 
 Some stranger perished beside his gate, 
 When the dawn began to dapple. 
 
ASHTAEOTH. 29 
 
 SCENE— A Chapel kot veey far from Hugo's Castle. Hugo, 
 Eric, and two Monks (Luke and Hubert). The dead body of 
 Harold. 
 
 Luke : 
 
 Wlien the dawn was breaking, 
 
 Came a faint sound, waking 
 
 Hubert and myself; we hurried to the door, 
 
 Found the stranger lying 
 
 At the threshold, dying. 
 
 Somewhere have I seen a face like his before. 
 Hugo: 
 
 Harold he is hight. 
 
 Only yesternight 
 
 From our gates he wandered, in the driving hail ; 
 
 Well his face I know, 
 
 Both as friend and foe ; 
 
 Of my followers only Thurston knows his tale. 
 Luke : 
 
 Few the words he said, 
 
 Faint the signs he made. 
 
 Twice or thrice he groaned, quoth Hubert, " Thou 
 hast sinn'd. 
 
 This is retribution, 
 
 Seek for absolution ; 
 
 Answer me — then cast thy sorrows to the wind. 
 
 Do their voices reach thee ? 
 
 Friends who failed to teach thee, 
 
 In thine earlier days, to sunder right from wrong. 
 
 Charges 'gainst thee cited, 
 
 Cares all unrequited. 
 
 Counsels spurned and slighted — do they press 
 ^ and throng ?" 
 
 But he shook his head. 
 
 " 'Tis not so," he said ; 
 
 " They will scarce reproach me who reproached 
 of yore. 
 
30 ASHTAROTH. 
 
 If their counsel 's good, 
 
 Kashly I withstood ; 
 
 Having suffered longer, I have suffered more." 
 
 " Do their curses stun thee ? 
 
 Foes who failed to shun thee. 
 
 Stricken by rash vengeance, in some wild career. 
 
 As the barbed arrow 
 
 Cleaveth bone and marrow 
 
 From those chambers narrow — do they pierce 
 
 thine ear ?" 
 And he made reply, 
 Laughing bitterly, 
 
 *' Did I fear them living — shall I fear them dead ? 
 Blood that I have spilt 
 Leaveth little guilt ; 
 On the hand it resteth, scarcely on the head." 
 
 " Is there one whom thou 
 
 May'st have wronged ere now, 
 
 Since remorse so sorely weigheth down thine 
 
 heart ? 
 By some saint in heaven. 
 Sanctified and shriven, 
 
 Would'st thou be forgiven ere thy soul depart ?" 
 Not a word he said, 
 But he bowed his head 
 Till his temples rested on the chilly sods ; 
 And we heard him groan — 
 " Ah ! mine own, mine own ! 
 If I had thy pardon I might ask for God's." 
 
 Hubert raised him slowly- 
 
 Sunrise, faint and holy, 
 
 Lit the dead face, placid as a child's might be. 
 
ASHTAEOTH. 31 
 
 May the troubled spirit, 
 
 Through Christ's saving merit, 
 
 Peace and rest inherit. Thus we sent for thee. 
 
 Hugo : 
 
 God o'erruleth fate. 
 
 I had cause for hate : 
 
 In this very chapel, years back, proud and strong ; 
 
 Joined by priestly vows, 
 
 He became the spouse 
 
 Of my youngest sister, to her bitter wrong. 
 
 And he wrought her woe, 
 
 Making me his foe ; 
 
 Not alone unfaithful — brutal, too, was he. 
 
 She had scarce been dead 
 
 Three months ere he fled 
 
 With Count Baldwin's daughter, then betrothed 
 
 to me. 
 Fortune straight forsook him, 
 Vengeance overtook him ; 
 
 Heavy crimes will bring down heavy punishment. 
 All his strength was shatter'd. 
 Even his wits were scatter'd. 
 Half-deranged, half-crippled, wandering he went. 
 We are unforgiving 
 While our foes are living ; 
 Yet his retribution weigh'd so heavily 
 That I feel remorse 
 Gazing on his corse, 
 
 For my rudeness when he left our gates to die. 
 And his grave shall be 
 'Neath the chestnut tree 
 Where he met my sister many years ago ; 
 Leave that tress of hair 
 On his bosom there — 
 Wrap the cerecloth round him ! Eric, let us go. 
 
32 ASHTAROTH. 
 
 SCENE — A EooM in thb Castle. Hugo and Eric. Early morning. 
 
 Hugo : 
 
 The morn is fair, the weary miles 
 Will shorten 'neath the summer's wiles, 
 Pomona in the orchard smiles. 
 And in the meadow, Flora ; 
 And I have roused a chosen band 
 For escort through the troubled land ; 
 And shaken Elspeth by the hand, 
 And said farewell to Thora. 
 Comrade and kinsman — for thou art 
 Comrade and kin to me — we part 
 Ere nightfall, if at once we start. 
 We gain the dead Count's castle. 
 The roads are fair, the days are fine. 
 Ere long I hope to reach the Khine. 
 Forsooth, no friend to me or mine 
 Is that same Abbot Basil ; 
 I thought he wrong' d us by his greed. 
 My father sign'd a foolish deed 
 For lack of gold in time of need. 
 And thus our lands went by us ; 
 Yet wrong on our side may have been ; 
 As far as my will goes, I ween, 
 'Tis pass'd, the grudge that lay between 
 Us twain. Men call him pious — 
 And I have prosper'd much since then, 
 And gain'd for one lost acre ten ; 
 And even the ancient house and glen 
 Eebought with purchase -money. 
 He, too, is wealthy ; he has got 
 'By churchly right a fertile spot, 
 A land of corn and wine, I wot, 
 A land of milk and honey. 
 
ASHTAROTH. 38 
 
 Now, Eric, change thy plans and ride 
 With us, thou hast no ties, no bride. 
 
 Eric : 
 
 Nay, ties I have, and time and tide • 
 
 Thou knowest wait for no man ; 
 
 And I go north ; God's blessing shuns 
 
 The dwellings of forgetful sons, 
 
 That proverb he may read who runs, 
 
 In Christian lore or Eoman. 
 
 My good old mother, she hath heard, 
 
 For twelve long months, from me no word ; 
 
 At thought of her my heart is stirr'd, 
 
 And even mine eyes grow moister. 
 
 Greet Ursula from me ; her fame 
 
 Is known to all. A nobler dame. 
 
 Since days of Clovis, ne'er became 
 
 The inmate of a cloister. 
 
 Our paths diverge, yet we may go 
 
 Together for a league or so ; 
 
 I, too, will join thy band below 
 
 When thou thy bugle windest. 
 
 [Eric goes out. 
 Hugo: 
 
 From weaknesses we stand afar, 
 On us unpleasantly they jar ; 
 And yet the stoutest-hearted one, 
 The gentlest and the kindest. 
 My mother loved me tenderly ; 
 Alas ! her only son was I. 
 I shudder'd, but my lids were dry, 
 By death made orphan newly. 
 A braver man than me, I swear. 
 Who never comprehended fear. 
 Scarce names his mother, and the tear, 
 Unbidden, springs, unruly. 
 
U ASHTAEOTH. 
 
 SCENE — A EoAD ON the Norman Frontiers. Hugo, Agatha, 
 Orion, Thurston, and armed attendants, riding slowly. 
 
 Agatha : 
 
 Sir Knight, what makes you so grave and glum, 
 At times, I fear you are deaf or dumb, 
 Or both. 
 
 Hugo : And yet, should I speak the truth, 
 
 There is little in common 'twixt us, forsooth, 
 You would think me duller, and still more vain, 
 If I uttered the thoughts that fill my brain ; 
 Since the matters with which my mind is laden 
 Would scarcely serve to amuse a maiden. 
 
 Agatha : 
 
 I am so foolish, and you are so wise, 
 'Tis the meaning your words so ill disguise. 
 Alas ! my prospects are sad enough : 
 I had rather listen to speeches rough, 
 Than muse and meditate silently 
 On the coming loss of my liberty. 
 Sad hope to me can my future bring. 
 Yet, while I may, I would prattle and sing, 
 Though it only were to try and assuage 
 The dreariness of my pilgrimage. 
 
 Hugo : 
 
 Prattle and sing to your heart's content. 
 
 And none will offer impediment. 
 Agatha (sings) : 
 
 We were playmates in childhood, my sister and I, 
 
 Whose playtime with childhood is done ; 
 Through thickets where briar and bramble grew high, 
 
 Barefooted I've oft seen h^r run. 
 
 I've known her when mists on the moorland hung white. 
 
 Bareheaded past nightfall remain ; 
 She has followed a landless and penniless knight 
 
 Through battles and sieges in Spain. 
 
ASHTAROTH. 35 
 
 But I pulled the flower, and shrank from the thorn, 
 Sought the sunshine, and fled from the mist ; 
 
 My sister was born to face hardship with scorn — 
 I was bom to be fondled and kiss'd. 
 
 Hugo (aside) : 
 
 She has a sweet voice. 
 Orion : And a sweet face, too — 
 
 Be candid for once, and give her her due. 
 Agatha : 
 
 Your face grows longer, and still more long. 
 
 Sir Scholar ! how did you like my song ? 
 Hugo : 
 
 I thought it rather a silly one. 
 Agatha : 
 
 You are far from a pleasant companion. 
 
 SCENE — An Apartment in a Wayside Inn. Hugo and Agatha. 
 Evening. 
 
 Hugo : 
 
 I will leave you now — we have talked enough. 
 And for one so tenderly reared and nursed 
 This journey is wearisome, perhaps, and rough. 
 Agatha : Will you not finish your story first ? 
 Hugo : 
 
 I repent me that I hegan it now, 
 
 'Tis a dismal tale for a maiden's ears ; 
 Your cheek is pale already, your brow 
 
 Is sad, and your eyes are moist with tears. 
 Agatha : 
 
 It may be thus, I am lightly vexed. 
 
 But the tears will lightly come and go ; 
 I can cry one moment and laugh the next. 
 
 Yet I have seen terrors, as well you know. 
 I remember that flight through moss and fern. 
 The moonlit shadows, the hoofs that rolled 
 
36 ASHTAEOTH. 
 
 In fierce pursuit, and the ending stern, 
 
 And the hawk that left his prey on the wold. 
 Hugo : 
 
 I have sorrowed since that I left you there : 
 
 Your friends were close hehind on the heath, 
 Though not so close as I thought they were. 
 {Aside) Now I will not tell her of Harold's death. 
 Agatha : 
 
 'Tis true I was justly punished, and men, 
 
 As a rule, of pity have little share : 
 Had I died, you had cared but little then. 
 Hugo : But little then, yet now I should care 
 
 More than you think for. Now, good night. 
 Tears still ? Ere I leave you, child, alone. 
 Must I dry your cheeks ? 
 Agatha : Nay, I am not quite 
 
 Such a child, but what I can dry my own. 
 
 [Hugo goes out. Agatha retires. 
 
 Okion {singing outside the window o/ Agatha's chamber): 
 
 'Neath the stems with blossoms laden, 
 
 'Neath the tendrils curling, 
 I, thy servant, sing, oh, maiden ! 
 
 I, thy slave, oh, darling ! 
 Lo ! the shaft that slew the red deer, 
 
 At the elk may fly too. 
 Spare them not ! The dead are dead, dear, 
 
 Let the living die too. 
 
 Where the wiles of serpent mingle, 
 
 And the looks of dove lie. 
 Where small hands in strong hands tingle, 
 
 Loving eyes meet lovely ; 
 Where the harder natures soften, 
 
 And the softer, harden — 
 Certes ! such things have been often, 
 
 Since we left Eve's garden. 
 
 Sweeter follies herald sadder 
 
 Sins — look not too closely ; 
 Tongue of asp and tooth of adder 
 
 Under leaf of rose lie. 
 
ASHTAEOTH. 37 
 
 Warned, advised in vain, abandon 
 
 Warning and advice too. 
 Let the child lay wilful hand on 
 
 Den of cockatrice too. 
 
 I, thy servant, or thy master, 
 
 One or both — no matter ; 
 If the former — firmer, faster, 
 
 Surer, still the latter. 
 Lull thee, soothe thee, with my singing. 
 
 Bid thee sleep, and ponder 
 On my lullabies, stOl ringing 
 
 Through thy dreamland yonder. 
 
 SCENE — A WOODED RISING GROUND, NEAR THE KhINE. HuGO and 
 
 Agatha resting under the trees. Thurston, Eustace, and 
 followers^ a little apart. Orion. (Noonday.) The Totoers of 
 ike Convent in the distance. 
 
 Agatha : 
 
 I sit on the greensward, and hear the bird sing, 
 
 'Mid the thickets where scarlet and white blos- 
 soms cling ; 
 
 And beyond the sweet uplands all golden with 
 flower, 
 
 It looms in the distance, the grey convent tower. 
 
 And the emerald earth and the sapphire-hued sky 
 
 Keep telling me ever my spring has gone by ; 
 
 Ah ! spring premature, they are tolling thy knell. 
 
 In the wind's soft adieu, in the bird's sweet farewell. 
 
 Oh ! why is the greensward with garlands so gay, 
 
 That I quail at the sight of my prison-house grey ? 
 
 Oh ! why is the bird's note so joyous and clear ? 
 
 The caged bird must pine in a cage doubly drear. 
 Hugo: 
 
 May the lances of Dagobert harry their house. 
 
 If they coax or intimidate thee to take vows ; 
 
 May the freebooters pillage their shrines, should 
 they dare 
 
 To touch with their scissors thy glittering hair. 
 
38 ASHTAEOTH. 
 
 Our short and sweet journey now draws to an end, 
 And homeward my sorrowful way I must wend ; 
 Oh, fair one ! oh, loved one ! I would I were free, 
 To squander my life in the greenwood with thee. 
 Obion {aside) : 
 
 Ho ! seeker of knowledge, so grave and so wise, 
 Touch her soft curl again — look again in her eyes. 
 Forget for the nonce musty parchments, and learn 
 How the slow pulse may quicken — the cold blood 
 
 may burn. 
 Ho ! fair fickle maiden, so blooming and shy, 
 The old love is dead, let the old promise die ! 
 Thou dost well, thou dost wise, take the word of 
 
 Orion, 
 " A living dog always before a dead lion !" 
 
 Thurston : 
 
 Ye varlets, I would I knew which of ye burst 
 Our wine-skin — what, ho ! must I perish with 
 
 . thirst? 
 Go, Henry, thou hast a glib tongue, go and ask 
 Thy lord to send Ralph to yon inn for a flask. 
 
 Henry : 
 
 Nay, Thurston, not so ; I decline to disturb 
 Our lord for the present ; go thou, or else curb 
 Thy thirst, or drink water, as I do. 
 
 Thurston : 
 
 Thou knave 
 Of a page, dost thou wish me the cholic to have ? 
 
 Orion (aside) : 
 
 That clown is a thoroughbred Saxon. He thinks 
 With pleasure on nought save hard blows and 
 
 strong drinks ; 
 In hell he will scarce go athirst if once given 
 An inkling of any good liquors in heaven. 
 
ASHTAEOTH. 39 
 
 Hugo : 
 
 Our Pontiff to manhood at Engelmelir grew, 
 The priests there are many, the nuns are but few. 
 I love not the Abbot — 'tis needless to tell 
 My reason ; but all of the Abbess speak well. 
 
 Agatha : 
 
 Through vineyards and cornfields beneath us, the 
 
 Ehine 
 Spreads and winds, silver-white, in the merry sun- 
 shine ; 
 And the air, overcharged with a subtle perfume, 
 Grows faint from the essence of manifold bloom. 
 
 Hugo : 
 
 And the tinkling of bells, and the bleating of sheep, 
 And the chaunt from the fields, where the labourers 
 
 reap 
 The earlier harvest, comes faint on the breeze 
 That whispers so faintly in hedgerows and trees. 
 
 Orion : 
 
 And a waggon wends slow to those turrets and spires, 
 To feed the fat monks and the corpulent friars ; 
 It carries the corn, and the oil, and the wine. 
 The honey and milk from the shores of the Ehine. 
 The oxen are weary and spent with their load ; 
 They pause, but the driver doth recklessly goad 
 Up yon steep, flinty rise ; they have staggered and 
 
 reeled. 
 Even devils may pity dumb beasts of the field. 
 
 Agatha (sings) : 
 
 Oh ! days and years departed, 
 Vain hopes, vain fears that smarted, 
 I turn to you, sad-hearted — 
 
 I turn to you in tears ! 
 Your daily suns shone brightly, 
 Your happy dreams came nightly. 
 Flowers bloomed and birds sang lightly. 
 
 Through all your hopes and fears ! 
 
40 ASHTAKOTH. 
 
 You halted not, nor tarried, 
 Your hopes have all miscarried, 
 And even your fears are buried, 
 
 Since fear with hope must die 
 You halted not, but hasted, 
 And flew past, childhood wasted. 
 And girlhood scarcely tasted. 
 
 Now womanhood is nigh. 
 
 Yet I forgive your wronging, 
 Dead seasons round me thronging, 
 With yearning and with longing, 
 
 I call your bitters sweet. 
 Vain longing, and vain yearning. 
 There now is no returning : 
 Oh ! beating heart and burning, 
 
 Forget to bum and beat ! 
 
 Oh ! childish suns and showers, 
 Oh ! girlish thorns and flowers. 
 Oh ! fruitless days and hours, 
 
 Oh ! groundless hopes and fears ; 
 The birds still chirp and twitter, 
 And still the sunbeams glitter : 
 Oh ! barren years and bitter. 
 
 Oh ! bitter barren years ! 
 
 SCENE — The summit op a Bukning Mountain. Night. A terrific 
 storm. Oeion {undisguised). 
 
 Orion (sings) : 
 
 From fathomless depths of abysses 
 
 Where fires unquenchable burst. 
 From the blackness of darkness, where hisses 
 
 The brood of the serpent accurs'd ; 
 • From shrines, where the hymns are the weeping 
 
 And wailing and gnashing of teeth. 
 Where the palm is the pang never-sleeping, 
 
 Where the worm never-dying, is the wreath ; 
 Where all fruits save wickedness wither. 
 
 Whence nought save despair can be gleaned — 
 Come hither ! come hither ! come hither ! 
 
 Fall'n angel, fell sprite, and foul fiend. 
 Come hither ! the bands are all broken 
 
 And loosed, in hell's innermost womb, 
 When the spell unpronounceable spoken 
 
 Divides the unspeakable gloom. 
 
ASHTAROTH. 41 
 
 Evil Spirits approach. The storm increases. 
 Evil Spirits (singing) : 
 
 We hear thee, we seek thee, on pinions 
 
 That darken the shades of the shade ; 
 Oh ! Prince of the Air, with dominions 
 
 Encompass'd, with powers array'd, 
 With majesty cloth'd as a garment. 
 
 Begirt with a shadowy shine, 
 Whose feet scorch the hill-tops that are meant 
 
 As footstools for thee and for thine. 
 Orion (sings) : 
 
 How it swells through each pause of the thunder, 
 
 And mounts through each lull of the gust, 
 Through the crashing of crags torn asunder, 
 
 And the hurtling of trees in the dust ; 
 With its chorus of loud lamentations, 
 
 With its dreary and hopeless refrain ! 
 'Tis the cry of all tongues and all nations, 
 
 That suffer and shudder in vain. 
 
 Evil Spirits (singing) : 
 
 'Tis the cry of all tongues and all nations ; 
 
 Our song shall chime in with their strain ; 
 Lost spirits blend their wild exultations 
 
 With the sighing of mortals in pain. 
 
 Orion (sings) : 
 
 With just light enough to see sorrows 
 
 In this world, and terrors beyond, 
 'Twixt the day's bitter pangs and the morrow's 
 
 Dread doubts, to despair and despond, 
 Man lingers through toils unavailing 
 
 For blessings that baffle his grasp ; 
 To his cradle he comes with a wailing. 
 
 He goes to his grave with a gasp. 
 
 Evil Spirits (singing) : 
 
 His birth is a weeping and wailing, 
 
 His death is a groan and a gasp ; 
 O'er the seed of the woman prevailing. 
 
 Thus triumphs the seed of the asp. 
 
 SCENE — Chamber OF A Wayside Inn. Kvoo sitting alone. Evening. 
 
 Hugo: 
 
 And now the parting is over, 
 
 The parting should end the pain ; 
 And the restless heart may recover, 
 
 And so may the troubled brain. 
 
 D 
 
43 ASHTAEOTH. 
 
 I am sitting within the chamber 
 
 Whose windows look on the porch, 
 Where the roses cluster and clamber ; 
 
 We halted here on our march 
 With her to the convent going, 
 
 And now I go back alone ; 
 Ye roses budding and blowing, 
 
 Ye heed not though she is flown. 
 
 I remember the girlish gesture, 
 
 The sportive and childlike grace. 
 With which she crumpled and pressed your 
 
 Kose leaves to her rose-hued face. 
 Shall I think on her ways hereafter — 
 
 On those flashes of mirth and grief. 
 On that April of tears and laughter. 
 
 On our parting, bitterly brief ? 
 
 I remember the bell at sunrise 
 
 That sounded so solemnly, 
 Bidding monk, and prelate, and nun rise ; 
 
 I rose ere the sun was high. 
 Down the long, dark, dismal passage, 
 
 To the door of her resting-place 
 I went, on a farewell message, 
 
 I trod with a stealthy pace. 
 There was no one there to see us 
 
 When she opened her chamber door. 
 " Miserere, mei Deus," 
 
 Bang faint from the convent choir. 
 I remember the dark and narrow 
 
 And scantily-furnished room ; 
 And the gleam, like a golden arrow. 
 
 The gleam that lighted the gloom. 
 One couch, one seat, and one table. 
 
 One window, and only one — 
 
ASHTAEOTH. 43 
 
 It stands in the eastern gable, 
 
 It faces the rising sun ; 
 One ray shot through it, and one light 
 
 On doorway and threshold played. 
 She stood within in the sunlight, 
 
 I stood without in the shade. 
 
 I remember that bright form under 
 
 The sheen of that slanting ray. 
 I spoke — " For life we must sunder, 
 
 Let us sunder without delay. 
 Let us sever without preamble. 
 
 As brother and sister part. 
 For the sake of one pleasant ramble. 
 
 That will live in at least one heart." 
 Still the choir in my ears rang faintly, 
 
 In the distance dying away. 
 Sweetly and sadly and saintly. 
 
 Through arch and corridor grey ! 
 And thus we parted forever. 
 
 Between the shade and the shine ; 
 Not as brother and sister sever — 
 
 I fondled her hands in mine. 
 Still the choir in my ears rang deaden'd 
 
 And dull'd, though audible yet ; 
 And she redden'd, and paled, and redden'd — 
 
 Her lashes and lids grew wet. 
 Not as brother severs from sister. 
 
 My lips clung fast to her lips ; 
 She shivered and shrank when I kissed her. 
 
 On the sunbeam drooped the eclipse. 
 
 I remember little of the parting 
 With the Abbot, down by the gate, 
 
 My men were eager for starting ; '\ 
 
 I think he press'd me to wait. 
 
44 ASHTAKOTH. 
 
 From the lands where convent and glebe lie, 
 From manors, the church's right, 
 
 Where I fought temptation so feebly, 
 I too felt eager for flight. 
 
 Alas ! the parting is over : 
 
 The parting, but not the pain — 
 Oh ! sweet was the purple clover 
 
 And sweet was the yellow grain ; 
 And sweet were the woody hollows 
 
 On the summery Khineward track ; 
 But a winter untimely swallow's 
 
 All sweets as I travel back. 
 
 Yet, I feel assured, in some fashion 
 
 Ere the hedges are crisp with rime 
 I shall conquer this senseless passion, 
 
 'Twill yield to toil and to time. 
 I will fetter these fancies roaming ; 
 
 Already the sun has dipt ; 
 I will trim the lamps in the gloaming, 
 
 I will finish my manuscript. 
 Through the night-watch, unflagging study 
 
 Shall banish regrets perforce ; 
 As soon as the east is ruddy 
 
 Our bugle shall sound " to horse ! " 
 
 SCENE— Anothee Wayside House, neab the Nobman Fbontier. 
 Hugo and Obion in a chamber. Evening. 
 
 Obion: 
 
 Your eyes are hollow, your step is slow. 
 
 And your cheek is pallid as though from toil, 
 Watching or fasting, by which I know 
 
 That you have been burning the midnight oil. 
 
ASHTAROTH. 45 
 
 Hugo: 
 
 Ay, three nights running. 
 Orion : 'Twill never do 
 
 To travel all day and study all night ; 
 Will you join in a gallop through mist and dew, 
 In a flight that may vie with the eagle's flight ? 
 Hugo: 
 
 With all my heart. Shall we saddle " Hollo ?" 
 Orion : 
 
 Nay, leave him undisturh'd in his stall ; 
 I have steeds he would hardly care to follow. 
 Hugo: 
 
 Follow, forsooth ! he can lead them all. 
 Orion : 
 
 Touching his merits we will not quarrel ; 
 But let me mount you for once, enough 
 Of work may await your favourite sorrel. 
 And the paths we must traverse to-night are 
 rough. 
 But first let me mix you a beverage. 
 To invigorate your enfeebled frame. 
 
 [He mixes a draught and hands it to Hugo. 
 All human ills this draught can assuage. 
 Hugo: 
 
 It hisses and glows like liquid flame ; 
 Say, what quack nostrum is this thou'st brew'd ? 
 Speak out ; I am learn'd in the chemist's lore. 
 Orion : 
 
 There is nothing but what will do you good ; 
 And the drugs are simples ; 'tis hellebore. 
 Nepenthe, upas, and dragon's blood. 
 
 Absinth, and mandrake, and mandragore. 
 Hugo: 
 
 I will drink it, although, by mass and rood, 
 I am just as wise as I was before. 
 
46 ASHTAEOTH. 
 
 SCENE — A EouGH Hilly Country. Hugo and Oeion, riding at 
 speed on black horses. Mountains in the distance. Night. 
 
 Hugo : 
 
 See, the sparks that fly from our hoof-strokes make 
 A fiery track that gleams in our wake ; 
 Like a dream the dim landscape past us shoots, 
 Our horses fly. 
 
 Orion : They are useful brutes, 
 
 Though somewhat skittish ; the foam is whit'ning 
 The crest and rein of my courser " Lightning," 
 He pulls to-night, being short of work. 
 And takes his head with a sudden jerk; 
 Still heel and steady hand on the bit. 
 For that is " Tempest" on which you sit. 
 
 Hugo : 
 
 'Tis the bravest steed that ever I back'd, 
 Did'st mark how he cross'd yon cataract ? 
 From hoof to hoof I should like to measure 
 The space he clear'd. 
 
 Oeion : He can clear at leisure 
 
 A greater distance. Observe the chasm 
 We are nearing. Ha ! did you feel a spasm 
 As we flew over it. 
 
 Hugo : Not at all. 
 
 Orion : 
 
 Nathless 'twas an ugly place for a fall. 
 
 Hugo : 
 
 Let us try a race to yon mountain high 
 That rears its dusky peak 'gainst the sky. 
 
 Orion : 
 
 I won't disparage your horsemanship. 
 
 But your steed will stand neither spur nor whip. 
 
 And is hasty and hard to steer at times. 
 
 We must travel far ere the midnight chimes ; 
 
ASHTAEOTH. 47 
 
 We must travel back ere the east is gray. 
 Ho ! " Lightning" and " Tempest !" Away ! Away ! 
 
 [They ride on faster. 
 
 SCENE — A Peak in a Mountainous Country overhanging a Eockt 
 Pass. Hugo and Orion on black horses. Midnight. 
 
 Hugo: 
 
 These steeds are sprung from no common race, 
 Their vigour seems to annihilate space : 
 What hast thou brought me here to see ? 
 
 Orion : 
 
 No boisterous scene of unhallow'd glee, 
 
 No sabbath of witches coarse and rude. 
 
 But a mystic and musical interlude ; 
 
 You have long'd to explore the scrolls of Fate. 
 
 Dismount as I do, and listen and wait. 
 
 [They dismount. 
 
 Orion (chanting) : 
 
 Spirits of earth and air and sea, 
 
 Spirits unclean, and spirits untrue, 
 By the symbols three, that shall nameless be ; 
 
 One of your masters calls on you. 
 
 Spirits {chanting in the distance) : 
 
 From the bowels of earth, where gleams the gold ; 
 From the air, where the powers of darkness hold 
 
 Their court ; from the white sea-foam 
 Whence the white rose-tinted goddess sprung 
 Whom poets of every age have sung. 
 
 Ever we come ! we come ! 
 
 Hugo: 
 
 How close to our ears the thunder peals 
 How the earth beneath us shudders and reels ! 
 
 A Voice (chanting) : 
 
 Woe to the earth ! Where men give death ! 
 
 And women give birth ! 
 To the sons of Adam, by Cain or Seth ! 
 
 Plenty and dearth J 
 
48 ASHTAEOTH. 
 
 To the daughters of Eve, who toil and spin, 
 
 Barren of worth ! 
 Let them sigh and sicken and suffer and sin ! 
 
 Woe to the earth ! 
 
 Hugo : 
 
 What is yon phantom large and dim 
 That over the mountain seems to swim ? 
 
 Orion : 
 
 'Tis the scarlet woman of Babylon ! 
 
 Hugo : 
 
 Whence does she come ? Where has she gone ? 
 And who is she ? 
 
 Orion : You would know too much ; 
 
 There are subjects on which I dare not touch, 
 And if I were to try and enlighten you 
 I should probably fail, and possibly frighten you; 
 You had better ask some learned divine, 
 Whose opinion is p'rhaps worth as much as mine 
 In his own conceit ; and who besides 
 Could tell you the brand of the beast she rides ; 
 What can you see in the valley yonder ? 
 Speak out ; I can hear you, for all the thunder. 
 
 Hugo: 
 
 I see four shadowy altars rise, 
 
 They seem to swell and dilate in size. 
 
 Larger and clearer now they loom, 
 
 Now, fires are lighting them through the gloom. 
 
 A Voice (chanting) : 
 
 The first a golden-hued fire shows, 
 
 A blood red flame on the second glows. 
 
 The blaze on the third is tinged like the rose. 
 
 From the fourth a column of black smoke goes. 
 
 Orion : 
 
 Can you see all this ? 
 Hugo : I see and hear ; 
 
 The lights and hues are vivid and clear. 
 
ASHTAEOTH. 49 
 
 Spirits {sing at the first altar) ; 
 
 Hail, Mammon 1 while man buys and barters 
 
 Thy kingdom in this world is sure, 
 Thy prophets thou hast and thy martyrs, 
 
 Great things in thy name they endure ; 
 Thy fetters of gold crush the miser, 
 
 The usurer bends at thy shrine, 
 And the wealthier nations and the wiser 
 
 Bow with us at this altar of thine. 
 
 Spirits (sing at the second altar) : 
 
 Hail, Moloch I whose banner floats blood-red 
 
 From pole to equator unfurl'd, 
 Whose laws redly written have stood red. 
 
 And shall stand while standeth this world ; 
 Clad in purple, with thy diadem gory, 
 
 Thy sceptre the blood-dripping steel, 
 Thy subjects with us give thee glory. 
 
 With us at thine altar they kneel. 
 
 Spirits (sing at the third altar) : 
 
 Hail, Sovereign ! whose fires are kindled 
 
 By sparks from the bottomless pit, 
 Has thy worship diminish'd or dwindled ? 
 
 Do the yokes of thy slaves lightly sit ? 
 Nay, the men of all climes and all races 
 
 Are stirr'd by the flames that now stir us ; 
 Then (as we do) they fall on their faces, 
 
 Crying, " Hear us ! Oh ! Ashtaroth, hear us ! 
 
 Spirits (all in chorus) : 
 
 The vulture her carrion swallows, 
 
 Keturns to his vomit the dog. 
 In the slough of uncleanliness wallows 
 
 The he-goat and revels the hog. 
 Men are wise with their schools and their teachers, 
 
 Men are just with their creeds and their priests ; 
 Yet in spite of their pedants and their preachers 
 
 They backslide in footprints of beasts ! 
 
 Hugo: 
 
 From the smoky altar there seems to come 
 
 A stifled murmur, a droning hum. 
 Orion : 
 
 With that we have nothing at all to do, 
 
 Or at least, not now, neither I nor you ; 
 
50 ASHTAEOTH. 
 
 Though some day or other, possibly, 
 We may see it closer, both you and I ; 
 Let us visit the nearest altar first ; 
 Whence the yellow fires flicker and burst, 
 Like the flames from molten ore that spring ; 
 We may stand in the pale of the outer ring, 
 But forbear to trespass within the inner 
 Lest the sins of the past should find out the sinner. 
 [They approach the first altar, and stand within 
 
 the outer circle which surrounds it, and near 
 
 the inner. 
 
 Spirits {sing) : 
 
 Beneath us it flashes, 
 
 The glittermg gold, 
 Though it turneth to ashe« 
 
 And dross in the hold ; 
 Yet man will endeavour, 
 
 By fraud or by strife, 
 To grasp it and never 
 
 To yield it \vith life. 
 
 Orion : 
 
 What can you see ? 
 
 Hugo : Some decrepid shapes 
 
 That are neither dwarfs, nor demons, nor apes, 
 In the hollow earth they appear to store 
 And rake together great heaps of ore. 
 
 Orion : 
 
 These are the gnomes, coarse sprites and rough : 
 Come on, of these we have seen enough. 
 [They approach second altar, and stand as before. 
 
 Spirits {singing) : 
 
 Above us it flashes, 
 
 The glittering steel, 
 Though the red blood splashes 
 
 Where its victims reel ; 
 Yet man will endeavour 
 
 To grapple the hilt, 
 And to wield the blade ever. 
 
 Till his life be ppilt. 
 
ASHTAEOTH. 51 
 
 Okion : 
 
 What see you now ? 
 Hugo : A rocky glen, 
 
 A horrid jumble of fighting men, 
 
 And a face that somewhere I've seen before. 
 Orion: 
 
 Come on ; there is naught worth seeing more 
 
 Except the altar of Ashtaroth. 
 Hugo : 
 
 To visit that altar I am loth. 
 Orion ; 
 
 Why so ? 
 
 Hugo : 
 
 Nay, I cannot fathom why ; 
 
 But I feel no curiosity. 
 
 Orion : 
 
 Come on. Stand close to the inner ring. 
 And hear how sweetly these spirits sing. 
 
 [They approach third altar. 
 
 Spirits {sing) : 
 
 Around us it flashes, 
 
 The cestus of one 
 Bom of white foam that dashes 
 
 Beneath the white sun ; 
 Let the mortal take heart, he 
 
 Has nothing to dare : 
 She is fair. Queen Astart6, 
 
 Her subjects are fair ! 
 
 Orion : 
 
 What see you now, friend ? 
 Hugo : Wood and wold. 
 
 And forms that look like the nymphs of old. 
 
 There is nothing here worth looking at twice. 
 
 I have seen enough. 
 Orion : You are far too nice ; 
 
 Nevertheless you must look again. 
 
 Those forms will fade. 
 
52 ASHTAROTH. 
 
 Hugo : They are growing less plain. 
 
 They vanish. I see a door that seems 
 To open ; a ray of sunlight gleams 
 From a window behind, a vision as fair 
 As the flush of dawn is standing there. 
 
 [He gazes earnestly, 
 Orion (sings) : 
 
 Higher and hotter the white flames glow, 
 And the adamant may be thaw'd like snow, 
 And the life for a single chance may go, 
 
 And the soul for a certainty. 
 Oh ! vain and shallow philosopher, 
 Dost feel them quicken, dost feel them stir, 
 The thoughts that have stray'd again to her, 
 
 From whom thou hast sought to fly? 
 
 Lo ! the furnace is heated till sevenfold ; 
 
 Is thy brain still calm ? Is thy blood still cold 
 
 To the curls that wander in ripples of gold 
 
 On the shoulders of ivory ? 
 Do the large dark eyes and the small red mouth 
 Consume thine heart with a fiery drouth, 
 Like the fierce sirocco that sweeps from the south, 
 
 When the deserts are parch'd and dry ? 
 
 Aye, start and shiver and catch thy breath. 
 The sting is certain, the venom is death. 
 And the scales are flashing the fruit beneath. 
 
 And the fang striketh suddenly. 
 At the core the ashes are bitter and dead. 
 But the rind is fair and the rind is red. 
 It has ever been pluck'd since the serpent said, 
 
 Thou shalt not surely die. 
 
 [Hugo tries to enter the inner ring, Oeion holds 
 him back ; they struggle. 
 
 Hugo: 
 
 Unhand me, slave ! or quail to the rod ! 
 Agatha ! Speak ! in the name of God ! 
 
 [The vision disappears, the altars vanish. Hugo 
 falls insensible. 
 
ASHTAROTH. 6S 
 
 SCENE — The Wayside House. Hugo waking in his Chamber. 
 Orion unseen at first. Morning. 
 
 Hugo : 
 
 Vanish fair and fatal vision ! 
 
 Fleeting shade of fever'd sleep, 
 Chiding one, whose indecision 
 
 Waking substance fail'd to keep ; 
 Picture into life half starting, 
 
 As in life once seen before. 
 Parting somewhat sadly, parting 
 
 Slowly at the chamber door ; 
 
 Were my waking senses duller ? 
 
 Have I seen with mental eye 
 Light and shade and warmth and colour 
 
 Plainer than reality ? 
 Sunlight that on the tangled tresses 
 
 Every ripple gilds and tips ; 
 Balm and bloom and breath of kisses 
 
 Warm on dewy scarlet lips. 
 
 Dark eyes veiling half their splendour 
 
 'Neath their lashes' darker fringe, 
 Dusky, dreamy, deep, and tender. 
 
 Passing smile and passing tinge 
 Dimpling fast and flushing faster ; 
 
 Ivory chin and coral cheek. 
 Pearly strings, by alabaster 
 
 Neck and arms made faint and weak ; 
 
 Drooping downcast lids enduring 
 
 Gaze of man unwillingly ; 
 Sudden sidelong gleams alluring. 
 
 Partly arch and partly shy. 
 Do I bless or curse that beauty ? 
 
 Am I longing, am I loth ? 
 Is it passion, is it duty 
 
 That I strive with ? One or both ? 
 
64 ASHTAEOTH. 
 
 Eound about one fiery centre 
 
 Wayward thoughts like moths revolve. 
 {He sees Orion) 
 Ha ! Orion, thou did'st enter 
 
 Unperceived. I pray thee solve 
 These two questions : firstly, tell me 
 
 Must I strive for wrong or right ? 
 Secondly, what things befeU me. 
 
 Facts, or phantasies, last night ? 
 Oeion : 
 
 First, your strife is all a sham, you 
 
 Know as well as I which wins ; 
 Second, waking sins will damn you, 
 
 Never mind your sleeping sins ; 
 Both your questions thus I answer. 
 
 Listen, ere you seek or shun : 
 I at least am no romancer. 
 
 What you long for may be won. 
 Turn again and travel Ehineward, 
 
 Tread once more the flowery path. 
 Hugo: 
 
 Ay, the flowery path, that sinward 
 
 Pointing, ends in sin and wrath. 
 
 Orion : 
 
 Songs by love-birds lightly caroll'd 
 Even the just man may allure 
 Hugo : 
 
 To his shame ; in this wise Harold 
 Sinn'd, his punishment was sure. 
 Orion : 
 
 Nay, the Dane was worse than you are, 
 
 Base and pitiless to boot. 
 Doubtless all are bad, yet few are 
 Cruel, false and dissolute. 
 
ASHTAEOTH. S6 
 
 Hugo: 
 
 Some sins foreign to our nature 
 Seem, we take no credit when 
 We escape them. 
 Orion : Yet the creature 
 
 Sin-created, lives to sin. 
 Hugo : 
 
 Be it so ; come good, come evil, 
 Kide we to the Khine again ! 
 Orion (aside) : 
 
 'Gainst the logic of the devil 
 Human logic strives in vain. 
 
 SCENE — A Camp near the Black Forest. Eudolph, Osric, Dago- 
 BERT, and followers. Orion disguised as one of the Free- 
 lances. Mid-day. 
 
 Osric : ' 
 
 Now by axe of Odin, and hammer of Thor, 
 
 And by all the gods of the Viking's war, 
 
 I swear we have quitted our homes in vain ; 
 
 We have nothing to look to, glory nor gain. 
 
 Will our galley return to Norway's shore 
 
 With heavier gold or with costlier store ? 
 
 Will our exploits furnish the scald with a song ? 
 
 We have travell'd too far, we have tarried too long. 
 
 Say, captains all, is there ever a village 
 
 For miles around that is worth the pillage ? 
 
 Will it pay the costs of my men or yours 
 
 To harry the homesteads of German boors ? 
 
 Have we cause for pride in our feats of arms 
 
 When we plunder the peasants or sack the farms ? 
 
 I tell thee, Rudolph of Rothenstein, 
 
 That were thy soldiers willing as mine, 
 
 And I sole leader of this array, 
 
 I would give Prince Otto battle this day. 
 
56 ASHTAROTH. 
 
 Dost thou call thy followers men of war ? 
 
 Oh Dagobert ! thou whose ancestor 
 
 On the neck of the Caesar's offspring trod, 
 
 Who was justly surnamed " The scourge of God." 
 
 Yet in flight lies safety. Skirmish and run 
 
 To forest and fastness ; Teuton and Hun, 
 
 From the banks of the Rhine to the Danube's 
 
 shore, 
 And back to the banks of the Rhine once more ; 
 Retreat from the face of an armed foe. 
 Robbing garden and henroost where'er you go, 
 Let the short alliance betwixt us cease, 
 I and my Norsemen will go in peace ! 
 I wot it never will suit with us 
 Such existence, tame and inglorious ; 
 I could live no worse, living single handed, 
 And better with half my men disbanded. 
 
 Rudolph : 
 
 Jarl Osric, what would'st thou have me do ? 
 'Gainst Otto's army our men count few ; 
 With one chance of victory, fight, say I ! 
 But not when defeat is a certainty. 
 If Rudiger joins us with his free-lances 
 Our chance will be equal to many chances ; 
 For Rudiger is both prompt and wary. 
 And his men are gallant though mercenary ; 
 But the knave refuses to send a lance 
 Till half the money is paid in advance. 
 
 Dagobert : 
 
 May his avarice wither him like a curse ! 
 I guess he has heard of our late reverse ; 
 But, Rudolph, whether he goes or stays, 
 There is reason in what Jarl Osric says ; 
 Of provisions we need a fresh supply. 
 And our butts and flasks are shallow dry, 
 
ASHTAROTH. 57 
 
 My men are beginning to grumble sadly, 
 'Tis no wonder, since they must fare so badly. 
 
 KUDOLPH : 
 
 We have plenty of foragers out, and still 
 We have plenty of hungry mouths to fill ; 
 And moreover by some means, foul or fair, 
 We must raise money ; 'tis little I care, 
 So long as we raise it, whence it comes. 
 
 OsRic : 
 
 Shall we sit till nightfall biting our thumbs ? 
 The shortest plan is ever the best ; 
 Has anyone here got aught to suggest ? 
 
 Orion : 
 
 The cornfields are golden that skirt the Rhine, 
 
 Fat are the oxen, strong is the wine. 
 
 In those pleasant pastures, those cellars deep, 
 
 That o'erflow with the tears that those vineyards weep ; 
 
 Is it silver you stand in need of, or gold ? 
 
 Ingot or coin ? There is wealth untold 
 
 In the ancient convent of Englemehr ; 
 
 That is not so very far from here. 
 
 The Abbot, esteem'd a holy man, 
 
 Will hold what he has and grasp what he can ; 
 
 The cream of the soil he loves to skim, 
 
 Why not levy a contribution on him ? 
 
 Dagobert : 
 
 The stranger speaks well ; not far away 
 That convent lies ; and one summer's day 
 Will suffice for a horseman to reach the gate ; 
 The garrison soon would capitulate. 
 Since the arm'd retainers are next to none. 
 And the walls, I wot, may be quickly won. 
 
 Rudolph : 
 
 I kept those walls for two months and more 
 When they feared the riders of Melcliior ; 
 
58 ASHTAROTH. 
 
 That was little over three years ago. 
 Their Abbot is thrifty, as well I know 
 He haggled sorely about the price 
 Of our service. 
 
 Dagobert : Rudolph, he paid thee twice . 
 
 Rudolph : 
 
 Well, what of that ? Since then I've tried 
 To borrow from him ; now I know he lied 
 When he told me he could not spare the sum 
 I asked. If we to his gates should come 
 He could spare it though it were doubled ; and still 
 This war with the church, I like it ill. 
 
 OsRic : 
 
 The creed of our fathers is well nigh dead, 
 
 And the creed of the Christian reigns in its stead ; 
 
 But the creed of the Christian, too, may die. 
 
 For your creeds or your churches what care I ! 
 
 If there be plunder at Engelmehr, 
 
 Let us strike our tents and thitherward steer. 
 
 SCENE — A Farm House on the Rhine {about a mile from the 
 Convent.) Hugo in chamber alone. 
 
 Enter Eric. 
 Eric: 
 
 What, Hugo, still at the Rhine ? I thought 
 
 You were home. You have traveU'd by stages short. 
 Hugo (with hesitation) : 
 
 Our homeward march was labour in vain, 
 
 We had to retrace our steps again ; 
 
 It was here or hereabouts that I lost 
 
 Some papers of value ; at any cost 
 
 I must find them : and which way lies your course ? 
 Eric: 
 
 I go to recruit Prince Otto's force. 
 
 I cannot study as you do ; I 
 
 Am wearied with inactivity, 
 
ASHTAROTH. 59 
 
 So I carry a blade engrim'd with rust 
 (That a hand sloth-slacken'd has, I trust, 
 Not quite forgotten the way to wield) 
 To strike once more on the tented field. 
 Hugo: 
 
 Fighting is all a mistake, friend Eric, 
 
 And has been so since the age Homeric, 
 
 When Greece was shaken and Troy undone 
 
 Ten thousand lives for a worthless one. 
 
 Yet I blame you not ; you might well do worse ; 
 
 Better fight and perish than live to curse 
 
 The day you were born ; and such has been 
 
 The lot of many, and shall, I ween. 
 
 Be the lot of more. If Thurston chooses 
 
 He may go with you ; the blockliead abuses 
 
 Me and the life I lead. 
 
 Enter Orion. 
 
 Orion : Great news ! 
 
 The Engelmehr monks will shake in their shoes ; 
 In the soles of their callous feet will shake 
 The bare -footed friars. The nuns will quake. 
 
 Hugo : 
 
 Wherefore ? 
 
 Orion : The outlaw of Bothenstein 
 
 Has come with his soldiers to the Bhine, 
 Back'd by those hardy adventurers 
 From the northern forests of pines and firs. 
 And Dagobert's horse. They march as straight 
 As the eagle's swoops, to the convent gate. 
 
 Hugo: 
 
 We must do something to save the place. 
 
 Orion : 
 
 They are sure to take it in any case. 
 Unless the sum that they ask is paid. 
 
60 ASHTAROTH. 
 
 Eric : 
 
 Some effort on our part must be made. 
 Hugo : 
 
 'Tis not so much for the monks I care. 
 Eric: 
 
 Nor I ; but the Abbess and Nuns are there. 
 Orion : 
 
 'Tis not our business ; what can we do 
 
 They are too many, and we are too few : 
 
 And yet I suppose you will save if you can 
 
 That lady, your ward or your kinswoman. 
 Hugo: 
 
 She is no kinswoman of miiie. 
 
 How far is Otto's camp from the Rhine ? 
 Orion : 
 
 Too far for help in such time of need 
 
 To be brought, though you used your utmost speed. 
 
 Eric: 
 
 Nay, that I doubt. 
 
 Hugo : And how many men 
 
 Have they ? 
 
 Orion : To your one they could muster ten. 
 
 Eric : 
 
 I know Count Rudolph, and terms may be made 
 With him, I fancy ; for though his trade 
 Is a rough one now, gainsay it who can, 
 He was once a knight and a gentleman. 
 And Dagobert, the chief of the Huns, 
 Bad as he is, will spare the nuns ; 
 Though neither he nor the Count could check 
 Those lawless men, should they storm and sack 
 The convent, Jarl Osric, too, I know. 
 He is rather a formidable foe, 
 And will likely enough be troublesome ; 
 • But the others, I trust, to terms will come. 
 
ASHTAROTH. 61 
 
 Hugo : 
 
 Eric, how many men have you ? 
 I can count a score. 
 Eric : I have only two. 
 
 Hugo : 
 
 At every hazard we must try to save 
 The nuns. 
 Eric : Count Rudolph shall think we have 
 
 A force that almost equals his own, 
 If I can confer with him alone. 
 Orion : 
 
 He is close at hand ; by this time he waits 
 The Abbot's reply at the convent gates. 
 Hugo : 
 
 We had better send him a herald. 
 Eric : Nay, 
 
 I will go myself. [Eric goes aiU, 
 
 Hugo : Orion, stay ! 
 
 So this is the reed on which I've leaned, 
 
 These are the hopes thou hast fostered, these 
 The flames thou hast fanned. Oh, lying fiend ! 
 Is it thus thou dost keep thy promises ? 
 Orion: 
 
 Strong language, Hugo, and most unjust ; 
 You will cry out before you are hurt — 
 You will live to recall your words, I trust. 
 
 Fear nothing from Osric or Dagobert, 
 These are your friends, if you only knew it. 
 
 And would take the advice of a friend sincere : 
 Neglect his counsels and you must rue it. 
 For I know by a sign the crisis is near. 
 Accept the terms of these outlaws all. 
 
 And be thankful that things have fallen out 
 Exactly as you would have had them fall — 
 You may save the one that you care about ; 
 
62 ASHTAEOTH. 
 
 Otherwise, how did you hope to gain 
 
 Access to her — on what pretence ? 
 What were the schemes that worried your brain 
 
 To tempt her there or to lure her thence ? 
 You must have bungled, and raised a scandal 
 
 About your ears, that might well have shamed 
 The rudest Hun, the veriest Vandal, 
 
 Long or ever the bird was tamed. 
 Hugo : 
 
 The convent is scarce surrounded yet, 
 
 We might reach and hold it against their force 
 Till another sun has risen and set ; 
 
 And should I despatch my fleetest horse 
 To Otto— 
 
 Orion : 
 
 For Abbot, or Monk, or Friar, 
 
 Between ourselves 'tis little you care 
 If their halls are harried by steel and fire, 
 
 Their avarice left your heritage bare. 
 Forsake them ! Mitres, and cowls, and hoods, 
 
 Will cover vices while earth endures ; 
 Through the green and gold of the summer woods 
 
 Ride out, with that pretty bird of yours. 
 If again you fail to improve your chance, 
 
 Why, then, my friend, I can only say 
 You are duller far than the dullest lance 
 
 That rides in Dagobert's troop this day. 
 " Foemina semper," frown not thus, 
 
 The girl was always giddy and wild ; 
 Vain, and foolish, and frivolous. 
 
 Since she fled from her father's halls, a child. 
 I sought to initiate you once 
 
 In the mystic lore of the old Chaldaean ; 
 But I found you far too stubborn a dunce. 
 
 And your tastes are coarser and more plebeian ; 
 
ASHTAEOTH. 6a 
 
 Yet mark my words, for I read the stars, 
 
 And trace the future in yonder sky, 
 To the right are wars and rumours of wars, 
 
 To the left are peace and prosperity. 
 Fear nought. The world shall never detect 
 
 The cloven hoof, so carefully hid 
 By the scholar so staid and circumspect. 
 
 So wise for once, to do as he's bid. 
 Remember, what pangs come year by year 
 
 For opportunity that has fled ; 
 And Thora in ignorance. 
 Hugo : Name not her ! 
 
 I am sorely tempted to strike thee dead ! 
 Orion : 
 
 Nay, I hardly think you will take my life. 
 
 The angel Michael was once my foe ; 
 He had a little the best of our strife, 
 
 Yet he never could deal so stark a blow. 
 
 SCENE — A Chamber in the Nuns' Apartments of thb Convent. 
 Agatha and Ursula. 
 
 Agatha : 
 
 My sire in my childhood pledged my hand 
 
 To Hugo — I know not why — 
 They were comrades then 'neath the Duke's com- 
 mand. 
 
 In the wars of Lombardy. 
 I thought, 'ere my summers had turned sixteen, 
 
 That mine was a grievous case ; 
 Save once, for an hour, I had never seen 
 
 My intended bridegroom's face ; 
 And maidens, vows of their own will plight. 
 
 Unknown to my kinsfolk all 
 My love was vowed to a Danish knight, 
 
 A guest in my father's hall ; 
 
^ ASHTAKOTH. 
 
 His foot fell lightest in merry dance, 
 
 His shaft never missed the deer ; 
 He could fly a hawk, he could wield a lance. 
 
 Our wildest colt he could steer. 
 His deep voice ringing through hall or glen 
 
 Had never its match in song. 
 And little was known of his past life then, 
 
 Or of Dorothea's wrong. 
 I loved him — Lady Ahhess, I know 
 
 That my love was foolish now ; 
 I was but a child five years ago, 
 
 And thoughtless as bird on bough. 
 One evening Hugo the Norman came, 
 
 And, to shorten a weary tale, 
 I fled that night (let me bear the blame), 
 
 With Harold, by down and dale. 
 He had mounted me on a dappled steed, 
 
 And another of coal-black hue 
 He rode himself ; and away at speed 
 
 We fled, through the mist and dew. 
 
 Of miles we had ridden some half a score. 
 
 We had halted beside a spring. 
 When the breeze to our ears through the still 
 night bore 
 
 A distant trample and ring ; 
 We listen'd one breathing space, and caught 
 
 The clatter of mounted men. 
 With vigour renew'd by their respite short 
 
 Our horses dash'd through the glen. 
 Another league, and we listen'd in vain ; 
 
 The breeze to our ears came mute, 
 But we heard them again, on the spacious plain, 
 
 Faint tidings of hot pursuit 
 In the misty light of a moon half hid 
 
 By the dark or fleecy rack, 
 
ASHTAROTH. 65 
 
 Our shadows over the moorland slid ; 
 
 Still listening and looking back. 
 So we fled (with a cheering word to say 
 
 At times as we hurried on), 
 From sounds that at intervals died away, 
 
 And at intervals came anon. 
 
 Another league, and my lips grew dumb, 
 
 And I felt my spirit quailing, 
 For closer those sounds began to come, 
 
 And the speed of my horse was failing. 
 " The grey is weary and lame to boot," 
 
 Quoth Harold ; " the black is strong. 
 And their steeds are blown with their fierce pursuit. 
 
 What wonder ! our start was long. 
 Now, lady, behind me mount the black, 
 
 The double load he can bear ; 
 We are safe when we reach the forest track. 
 
 Fresh horses and friends wait there." 
 Then I sat behind him and held his waist ;, 
 
 And faster we seem'd to go 
 By moss and moor ; but for all our haste 
 
 Came the tramp of the nearing foe ; 
 A dyke through the mist before us hover'd : 
 
 And, quicken'd by voice and heel. 
 The black overleap'd it, stagger'd, recover'd ; 
 
 Still nearer that muffled peal. 
 And louder on sward the hoof-strokes grew, 
 
 And duller, though not less nigh. 
 On deader sand ; and a dark speck drew 
 
 On my vision suddenly. 
 And a single horseman in fleet career. 
 
 Like a shadow appear'd to glide 
 To within six lances' lengths of our rear, 
 
 And there for a space to bide ; 
 
ASHTAEOTH. 
 
 Quoth Harold, " Speak, has the moon reveal'd 
 
 His face ?" I replied, " Not so ; 
 Yet 'tis none of my kinsfolk," then he wheel'd 
 
 In the saddle and scann'd the foe, 
 And mutter 'd, still gazing in our wake, 
 
 *' 'Tis he ; now I will not fight 
 The brother again, for the sister's sake 
 
 While I can escape by flight." 
 " Who, Harold ?" I ask'd ; but he never spoke. 
 
 By the cry of the bittern harsh, 
 And the bullfrog's dull discordant croak, 
 
 I guess'd that we near'd the marsh. 
 And the moonbeam flash'd on watery sedge 
 
 As it broke from a strip of cloud 
 Eagged and jagged about the edge 
 
 And shaped like a dead man's shroud ; 
 And flagg'd and falter'd our gallant steed 
 
 'Neath the weight of his double burden. 
 As we splash'd through water and crash'd through 
 reed ; 
 
 Then the soil began to harden, 
 And again we gain'd, or we seem'd to gain, 
 
 With our foe in the deep morass. 
 But those fleet hoofs thunder'd, and gain'd again, 
 
 When they trampled the firmer grass, 
 And I cried, and Harold again look'd back, 
 
 And bade me fasten mine eyes on 
 The forest that loom'd like a patch of black 
 
 Standing out from the faint horizon. 
 
 " Courage, sweetheart ! we are saved," he said ; 
 
 " With the moorland our danger ends, 
 And close to the borders of yonder glade 
 
 They tarry, our trusty friends." 
 Where the mossy uplands rise and dip 
 
 On the edge of the leafy dell, 
 
ASHTAROTH. 67 
 
 With a lurch, like the lurch of a sinking ship, 
 
 The hlack horse toppled and fell ; 
 Unharm'd we lit on the velvet sward, 
 
 And even as I lit I lay. 
 But Harold uprose, unsheath'd his sword, 
 
 And toss'd his scabbard away. 
 And spake through his teeth, " Good brother-in-law, 
 
 Forbearance, at last, is spent ; 
 The strife that thy soul hath lusted for. 
 
 Thou shalt have to thy soul's content !" 
 While he spoke, our pursuer past us swept 
 
 Ere he rein'd his warhorse proud 
 To his haunches flung, then to earth he leapt. 
 
 And my lover's voice rang loud, 
 " Thrice welcome ! Hugo of Normandy, 
 
 Thou hast come at our time of need, 
 This lady will thank thee, so will I, 
 
 For the loan of thy sorrel steed !" 
 
 And never a word Lord Hugo said, 
 
 They closed 'twixt the wood and wold, 
 And the white steel flicker'd over my head 
 
 In the moonlight calm and cold ; 
 'Mid the feathery grasses crouching low, 
 
 With face bow'd down to the dust, 
 I hear'd the clash of each warded blow. 
 
 The click of each parried thrust. 
 And the shuffling feet that bruis'd the lawn 
 
 As they traversed here and there, 
 And the breath through the clench'd teeth heavily 
 drawn. 
 
 When breath there was none to spare ; 
 Sharp ringing sword-play, dull trampling heel. 
 
 Short pause, spent force to regain. 
 Quick muflled footfall, harsh grating steel, 
 
 Sharp ringing rally again, 
 
ASHTAEOTH. 
 
 They seem'd long hours those moments fleet 
 
 As I counted them one by one, 
 Till a dead weight toppled across my feet, 
 
 And I knew that the strife was done. 
 
 When I looked up, after a little space, 
 
 As though from a fearful dream, 
 The moon was flinging on Harold's face 
 
 A white and a weird-like gleam ; 
 And I felt mine ankles moist and warm 
 
 With the blood that trickled slow 
 From a spot on the doublet beneath his arm, 
 
 From a ghastly gash on his brow ; 
 I heard the tread of the sorrel's hoof 
 
 As he bore his lord away ; 
 They pass'd me slowly, keeping aloof 
 
 Like spectres misty and grey. 
 I thought Lord Hugo had left me there 
 
 To die, but it was not so ; 
 Yet then, for death I had little care, 
 
 My soul seem'd numb'd by the blow ; 
 A faintness foUow'd, a sickly swoon, 
 
 A long and a dreamless sleep. 
 And I woke to the light of a sultry noon 
 
 In my father's castle'd keep. 
 
 And thus. Lady Abbess, it came to pass 
 
 That my father vow'd his vow ; 
 Must his daughter espouse the church ? Alas ! 
 
 Is she better or wiser now ? 
 For some are feeble and others strong. 
 
 And feeble am I and frail. 
 Mother ! 'tis not that I love the wrong, 
 
 'Tis not that I loathe the veil. 
 But with heart still ready to go astray 
 
 If assail'd by a fresh temptation, 
 
ASHTAROTH. 69 
 
 I could sin again as I sinn'd that day 
 
 For a girl's infatuation. 
 See ! Harold the Dane thou say'st is dead, 
 
 Yet I weep not bitterly ; 
 As I fled with the Dane, so I might have fled 
 
 With Hugo of Normandy. 
 Ursula : 
 
 My child, I advise no hasty vows, 
 
 Yet I pray that in life's brief span 
 Thou may'st learn that our church is a fairer spouse 
 
 Than fickle and erring man ; 
 Though fenced for a time by the church's pale, 
 
 When that time expires thou 'rt free, 
 And we cannot force thee to take the veil, 
 
 Nay, we scarce can counsel thee. 
 
 Enter the Abbot hastily. 
 
 Basil {the Ahhot) : 
 
 I am sorely stricken with shame and grief, 
 
 It has come by the selfsame sign, 
 A summons brief from the outlaw'd chief. 
 
 Count Eudolph of Rothenstein. 
 Lady Abbess, ere worse things come to pass 
 
 I would speak with thee alone ; 
 Alack and alas ! for by the rood and mass 
 
 I fear we are all undone. 
 
 SCENE — A Farm House near the Convent. A Chamber fur- 
 nished with writing materials. Hugo, Eric, and Thurston, 
 on one side, on the other Osric, Rudolph, and Dagobert. 
 
 OSRIC : 
 
 We have granted too much, ye ask for more ; 
 I am not skilled in your clerkly lore, 
 I scorn your logic ; I had rather die 
 Than live lilie Hugo of Normandy ; 
 
70 ASHTAROTH. 
 
 I am a Norseman, frank and plain ; 
 
 Ye must read the parchment over again. 
 
 Eeic : 
 
 Jarl Osric, twice we have read this scroll. 
 
 OsEic : 
 
 Thou hast read a part. 
 
 Eeic : I have read the whole. 
 
 OsEic : 
 
 Ay, since I attached my signature ! 
 
 Eeic : 
 
 Before and since I 
 
 Rudolph : 
 
 Nay, of this be sure. 
 Thou hast signed ; in fairness now let it rest. 
 
 OsEic : 
 
 I had rather have signed upon Hugo's crest ; 
 He has argued the question mouth to mouth 
 With the wordy lore of the subtle south ; 
 Let him or any one of his band 
 Come and argue the question hand to hand, 
 With the aid of my battleaxe I will show 
 That a score of words are not worth one blow. 
 
 Thueston : 
 
 To the devil with thee and thy battleaxe ; 
 I would send the pair of ye back in your tracks, 
 With an answer that even to thy boorish brain 
 Would scarce need repetition again. 
 
 OsEic : 
 
 Thou Saxon slave to a milksop knight, 
 I will give thy body to raven and kite. 
 
 Thueston : 
 
 Thou liest ; I am a freeborn man. 
 And thy huge carcass — in cubit and span 
 Like the giant's of Gath — 'neath Saxon steel, 
 Shall furnish the kites with a fatter meal. 
 
ASHTAROTH. 71 
 
 OSRIC : 
 
 Now, by Odin ! 
 KuDOLPH : Jarl Osric, curb thy wrath ; 
 
 Our names are sign'd, our words have gone forth. 
 Hugo: 
 
 I blame thee, Thurston. 
 Thurston : And I too blame 
 
 Myself, since I follow a knight so tame ! 
 
 [Thurston goes out. 
 
 OSRIC ! 
 
 The Saxon hound, he said I lied ! 
 
 EUDOLPH ; 
 
 I pray thee, good Viking, be pacified. 
 Osric : 
 
 Why do we grant the terms they ask ? 
 
 To crush them all were an easy task. 
 Dagobert : 
 
 That know'st thou not ; if it come to war. 
 
 They are stronger perhaps than we bargain for. 
 Eric : 
 
 Jarl Osric, thou may'st recall thy words — 
 
 Should we meet again. 
 Osric : Should we meet with swords 
 
 Thou, too, may'st recall them to thy sorrow. 
 Hugo : 
 
 Eric ! we dally. Sir Count, good morrow. 
 
 SCENE — The Guest Chamber of the Convent. Hugo, Eric, 
 and Orion. 
 
 Eric: 
 
 Hugo, their siege we might have tried ; 
 This place would be easier fortified 
 Than I thought at first ; it is now too late. 
 They have cut off our access to the gate. 
 
72 ASHTAEOTH. 
 
 Hugo : 
 
 I have weigh'd the chances and counted the cost, 
 
 And I know by the stars that all is lost 
 
 If we take up this quarrel. 
 Eric : So let it be ! 
 
 I yield to one who is wiser than me. (Aside) 
 
 Nevertheless, I have seen the day 
 
 When the stars would scarcely have bade us stay. 
 
 Enter the Abbot, Cyril, and other monks. 
 Hugo: 
 
 Lord Abbot, we greet thee. Good fathers all 
 
 We bring you greeting. 
 Orion {aside) : And comfort small. 
 
 Abbot : 
 
 God's benediction on you, my sons. 
 Hugo : 
 
 May he save you, too, from Norsemen and Huns ! 
 
 Since gates are beleaguer'd and walls begirt 
 
 By the forces of Osric and Dagobert ; 
 
 'Tis a heavy price that the knaves demand. 
 Abbot : 
 
 Were we to mortgage the church's land 
 
 We never could raise what they would extort. 
 Orion (aside) : 
 
 The price is too long and the notice too short. 
 Eric: 
 
 And you know the stern alternative. 
 Abbot : 
 
 If we die we die, if we live we live ; 
 
 God's will be done ; and our trust is sure 
 
 In Him, though his chast'nings we endure. 
 
 Two messengers rode from here last night. 
 
 To Otto they carry news of our plight. 
 
 On my swiftest horses I saw them go. 
 Orion (aside) : 
 
 Then his swiftest horses are wondrous slow. 
 
ASHTAEOTH. 73 
 
 Eric: 
 
 One of these is captive and badly hurt ; 
 By the reckless riders of Dagobert 
 He was overtaken and well nigh slain, 
 Not a league from here on the open plain. 
 Abbot : 
 
 But the other escap'd. 
 Eric : It may be so ; 
 
 We had no word of him, but we know 
 That unless you can keep these walls for a day 
 At least, the Prince is too far away 
 To afford relief. 
 Abbot : Then a hopeless case 
 
 Is ours, and with death we are face to face. 
 Eric: 
 
 You have arm'd retainers. 
 Cyril {a Monk) : Aye, some half score ; 
 
 And some few of the brethren, less or more. 
 Have in youth the brunt of the battle bided. 
 Yet our armoury is but ill provided. 
 Hugo: 
 
 We have terms of truce from the robbers in chief. 
 Though the terms are partial, the truce but brief ; 
 To abbess, to nuns, and novices all. 
 And to every woman within your wall 
 We can offer escort, and they shall ride 
 From hence in safety whate'ei; betide. 
 Abbot : 
 
 What escort, Hugo, can'st thou afford ? 
 Hugo : • 
 
 Some score of riders who call me lord 
 Bide at the farm not a mile from here. 
 Till we rejoin them they will not stir; 
 My page and armourer wait below, 
 And all our movements are watch'd by the foe. 
 
74 ASHTAKOTH. 
 
 Strict stipulation was made, of course, 
 That except ourselves, neither man nor horse 
 Should enter your gates — they were keen to shun 
 The chance of increasing your garrison. 
 
 Eeic : 
 
 I hold safe conduct here in my hand, 
 Signed by the chiefs of that lawless band ; 
 See Rudolph's name, no disgrace to a clerk, 
 And Dagobert's scrawl, and Osric's mark ; 
 Jarl sign'd sorely against his will, 
 With a scratch like the print of a raven's bill ; 
 But the foe have muster'd in sight of the gate, 
 For another hour they will scarcely wait ; 
 Bid abbess and dames prepare with haste. 
 We have neither moments nor words to waste. 
 
 Hugo : 
 
 Lord Abbot, I tell thee candidly 
 
 There is no great love between thou and I, 
 
 As well thou know'st ; and nevertheless 
 
 I would we were more, or thy foes were less. 
 
 Abbot : 
 
 I will summon the Lady Abbess straight. 
 
 Eric : [The Abbot and Monks go out. 
 
 'Tis hard to leave these men to their fate, 
 Norseman and Hun will never relent : • 
 
 Their day of grace upon earth is spent. 
 
 [Hugo goes out, followed by Orion. 
 
 SCENE — The Corridoe outside the Guest Chamber. Hugo 
 pacing up and down, Obion leaning against the wall. 
 
 Hugo: 
 
 My day of grace with theirs is past. 
 
 I might have saved them ; 'tis too late — 
 Too late for both. The die is cast. 
 And I resign me to my fate. 
 
 God's vengeance I await. 
 
ASHTAROTH. 76 
 
 Omon : 
 
 The boundary 'twixt right and wrong 
 
 Is not so easy to discern. 
 And man is weak and fate is strong, 
 And destiny man's hopes will spurn, 
 Man's schemes will overturn. 
 Hugo: 
 
 Thou liest, thou fiend ! Not unawares 
 
 The sinner swallows Satan's bait. 
 Nor pits conceal'd nor hidden snares 
 
 Seeks blindly ; wherefore dost thou prate 
 Of destiny and fate ? 
 Orion : 
 
 Who first named fate ? But never mind. 
 
 Let that pass by — to Adam's fall 
 And Adam's curse look back, and find 
 Iniquity the lot of all 
 
 And sin original. 
 Hugo: 
 
 But I have sinn'd, repented, sinn'd 
 Till seven times that sin may be 
 By seventy multiplied ; the wind 
 Is constant when compared with me, 
 And stable is the sea ! 
 
 My hopes are sacrificed, for what ? 
 For days of foUy, less or more. 
 For years to see those dead hopes rot 
 Like dead weeds scatter'd on the shore 
 Beyond the surfs that roar ! 
 Orion : 
 
 The wiles of Eve are swift to smite ; 
 
 Ay, swift to smite and not to spare — 
 Red lips and round limbs sweet and white, 
 Dark eyes and sunny silken hair, 
 Thy betters may ensnare. 
 
76 ASHTAROTH. 
 
 Hugo : 
 
 Not so ; the strife 'twixt hell and heaven 
 
 I felt last night, and well I knew 
 
 The crisis ; but my aid was given 
 
 To hell. Thou'st known the crisis too, 
 
 For once thou'st spoken true 
 
 Having foretold it ; there remains 
 
 For grace no time, for hope no room ; 
 
 Even now I seem to feel the pains 
 
 Of hell, that wait beyond the gloom 
 
 Of my dishonour 'd tomb. 
 
 Thou who hast lived and died to save 
 
 Us sinners, Christ of Galilee ! 
 
 Thy great love pardon'd and forgave 
 
 The dying thief upon the tree, 
 
 Thou can'st not pardon me ! 
 
 Dear Lord ! hear thou my latest prayer, 
 
 For prayer must die since hope is dead ; 
 
 Thy Father's vengeance let me bear, 
 
 Nor let my guilt be visited 
 
 Upon a guiltless head ! 
 
 Ah ! God is just ! Full sure I am 
 
 He never did predestinate 
 
 Our souls to hell. Ourselves we damn — 
 
 (To Orion, with sudden passion) 
 
 Serpent ! I know thee now, too late ; 
 
 Curse thee ! Work out thy hate ! 
 Orion : 
 
 I hate thee not, thy grievous plight 
 Would move my pity, but I bear 
 
 A curse to which thy curse seems light ; 
 
 Thy wrong is better than my right, 
 
 My day is darker than thy night ; 
 Beside the whitest hope I share 
 How white is thy despair ! 
 
ASHTAROTH. 77 
 
 SCENE— The Chapel op the Convent. Ursula, Agatha, Nuns 
 and Novices. 
 
 {Hymn of the Nuns) : 
 
 Jehovah ! we bless thee, 
 
 All works of thine hand 
 Extol thee, confess thee, 
 
 By sea and by land, 
 By mountain and river, 
 
 By forest and glen. 
 They praise thee for ever ! 
 
 And ever ! Amen ! 
 
 The heathen are raging 
 
 Against thee, oh Lord ! 
 The ungodly are waging 
 
 Eash war against God ! 
 Arise, and deliver 
 
 Us, sheep of thy pen, 
 Who praise thee for ever ! 
 
 And ever ! Amen ! 
 
 Thou, shepherd of Zion ! 
 
 Thy firstlings did'st tear 
 From jaws of the lion, 
 
 From teeth of the besu: ; 
 Thy strength to deliver 
 
 Is strong now as then. 
 We praise thee for ever ! 
 
 And ever 1 Amen 1 
 
 Thine arm hath deliver'd 
 
 Thy servants of old, 
 Hath seatter'd and shiver'd 
 
 The spears of the bold, 
 Hath emptied the quiver 
 
 Of bloodthirsty men. 
 We praise thee for ever ! 
 
 And ever ! Amen ! 
 
 Nathless shall thy right hand 
 
 Those counsels fulfil. 
 Most wise in thy sight, and 
 
 We bow to thy will ; 
 Thy children quail never 
 
 For dungeon or den, 
 They praise thee for ever ! 
 
 And ever ! Amen ! 
 
78 ASHTAROTH. 
 
 Though fierce tribulation 
 Endure for a space, 
 
 Yet, God ! our salvation ! 
 * We gain by thy grace 
 
 At end of life's fever, 
 
 Bliss passing man's ken ; 
 
 There to praise thee for ever ! 
 And ever ! Amen ; 
 
 SCENE — The Guest Room of the Convent. Hugo, Eric, and 
 Orion. Enter Ursula, Agatha, and Nuns. 
 
 Ursula : 
 
 Hugo ! we reject thine offers, 
 
 Not that we can buy 
 Safety from the church's coffers. 
 
 Neither can we fly. 
 Far too great the price they seek is, 
 
 Let their lawless throng 
 Come, we wait their coming ; weak is 
 Man, but God is strong. 
 Eric : 
 
 Think again on our proposals. 
 
 It will be too late 
 When the robbers hold carousals 
 On this side the gate. 
 Ursula : 
 
 For myself I speak and others 
 
 Weak and frail as I, 
 We will not desert our brothers 
 In adversity. 
 Hugo (to the Nuns) : 
 
 Does the Abbess thus advance her 
 Will before ye all? 
 A Nun : 
 
 We will stay. 
 Hugo : Is this thine answer, 
 
 Agatha ? The wall 
 
ASHTAUOTH. 79 
 
 Is a poor protection truly, 
 And the gates are weak, 
 And the Norsemen most unruly. 
 Come, then. 
 A Nun {to Agatha) : Sister, speak ! 
 Orion {aside to Hugo) : 
 
 Press her ! She her fears dissembling, 
 
 Stands irresolute ; 
 She will yield — her limbs are trembling, 
 Though her lips are mute. 
 
 [A trumpet is heard without. 
 Eric: 
 
 Hark ! their savage war-horn blowing 
 Chafes at our delay. 
 
 Hugo: 
 
 Agatha, we must be going. 
 Come, girl ! 
 Agatha {clinging to Ursula) : Must I stay ? 
 Ursula : 
 
 Nay, my child, thou shalt not make me 
 
 Judge : I cannot give 
 Orders to a novice. 
 Agatha : Take me, 
 
 Hugo ! Let me live ! 
 Eric {to Nuns) : 
 
 Foolish women ! will ye tarry, 
 Spite of all we say ? 
 Hugo: 
 
 Must we use our strength and carry 
 You by force away ? 
 Ursula : 
 
 Bad enough thou art, Sir Norman, 
 
 Yet thou wilt not do 
 This thing. Shame ! — on men make war, man, 
 Not on women few. 
 
80 , ASHTAROTH. 
 
 Eeic : 
 
 Heed her not — her life she barters 
 
 Of her free accord, 
 For her faith ; and, doubtless, martyrs 
 Have their own reward. 
 Ursula : 
 
 In the Church's cause thy father 
 
 Never grudged his blade — 
 Hugo, did he rue it ? 
 Orion : Rather ! 
 
 He was poorly paid. 
 Hugo : 
 
 Abbess, this is not my doing, 
 
 I have said my say ; 
 How can I avert the ruin. 
 
 Even for a day ? 
 Since they count two hundred fairly, 
 
 While we count a score ; 
 And thine own retainers barely 
 Count a dozen more. 
 Agatha (kneeling to Ursula) : 
 
 Ah ! forgive me. Lady Abbess, 
 
 Bless me ere I go ; 
 She who under sod and slab is 
 
 Lying cold and low 
 Scarce would turn away in anger 
 
 From a child so frail ; 
 Not dear life, but deadly danger 
 Makes her daughter quail. 
 Hugo : 
 
 Eric, will those faces tearful 
 
 To God's judgment seat 
 Haunt us ? 
 Eric : Death is not so fearful. 
 
 Hugo : No, but life is sweet, 
 
 Sweet, for once, to me, though sinful. 
 
ASHTAROTH. 81 
 
 Orion {to Hugo) : Earth is scant of bliss ; 
 Wisest he who takes his skin-full, 
 When the chance is his. 
 {To Ursula) : 
 
 Lady Abbess ! stay and welcome 
 
 Osric's savage crew ; 
 Yet when pains of death and hell come, 
 Thou thy choice may'st rue. 
 Ursula {to Orion) : 
 
 What do'st thou 'neath roof trees sacred ? 
 Man or fiend, depart ! 
 Orion : 
 
 Dame, thy tongue is sharp and acrid, 
 Yet I bear the smart. 
 Ursula {advancing, and raising up a crucifix) : 
 I conjure thee by this symbol 
 Leave us ! 
 
 [Orion goes out hastily. 
 Hugo : Ha ! the knave. 
 
 He has made an exit nimble : 
 
 Abbess ! thou art brave. 
 Yet once gone, we re past recalling ; 
 
 Let no blame be mine. 
 See, thy sisters' tears are falling 
 Fast, and so are thine. 
 Ursula : 
 
 Fare you well ! The teardrop splashes 
 
 Vainly on the ice. 
 Ye will sorrow o'er our ashes 
 And youi* cowardice. 
 Eric : 
 
 Sorry am I, yet my sorrow 
 
 Cannot alter fate ; 
 Should Prince Otto come to-morrow, 
 He will come too late. 
 
82 ASHTAEOTH. 
 
 Hugo : 
 
 Nay, old comrade, she hath spoken 
 
 Words we must not hear. 
 Shall we pause for sign or token — 
 
 Taunted twice with fear ? 
 Yonder, hilt to hilt adjusted. 
 Stand the swords in which we trusted 
 Years ago. Their hlades have rusted, 
 
 So, perchance, have we. 
 Ursula ! thy words may shame us, 
 Yet we once were counted famous, 
 Morituri, salutamus, 
 
 Aut victuri, te ! [They go out. 
 
 SCENE — The outskirts of Eudolph's Camp. Eudolph, Osric, 
 and Dagobebt. Hugo. 
 
 Rudolph : 
 
 Lord Hugo ! thy speech is madness ; 
 
 Thou hast tax'd our patience too far : 
 We offer'd thee peace — with gladness. 
 
 We gladly accept thy war. 
 Dagobert : 
 
 And the clemency we extended 
 
 To thee and thine, we recall ; 
 And the treaty 'twixt us is ended — 
 
 We are ready to storm the wall. 
 OsRic : 
 
 Now tear yon parchment to tatters. 
 
 Thou shalt make no further use 
 Of our safeguard : the wind that scatters 
 
 The scroll shall scatter the truce. 
 Hugo: 
 
 Jarl Osric, to save the spilling 
 
 Of blood and the waste of life, 
 I am willing, if thou art willing, 
 
 With thee to decide this strife ; 
 
ASHTAEOTH. 88 
 
 Let thy comrades draw their force back : 
 
 I defy thee to single fight, 
 I will meet thee on foot or horseback, 
 
 And God shall defend the right. 
 
 KUDOLPH : 
 
 No single combat shall settle 
 
 This strife : thou art over bold — 
 Thou hast put us all on our mettle, 
 
 Now the game in our hands we hold. 
 Dagobert : 
 
 Our lances round thee have hover'd, 
 
 Have seen where thy fellows bide ; 
 Thy weakness we have discover'd, 
 
 Thy nakedness we have spied. 
 OsRic : 
 
 And hearken, knight, to my story — 
 
 When sack'd are the convent shrines. 
 When the convent thresholds are gory. 
 
 And quaffd are the convent wines ; 
 When our beasts with pillage are laden, 
 
 And the clouds of our black smoke rise 
 From yon tower : one fair -haired maiden 
 
 Is singled as Osric's prize. 
 I will fit her with chain and collar 
 
 Of red gold, studded with pearls. 
 With bracelet of gold, Sir Scholar : 
 
 The queen of my captive girls. 
 Hugo (savagely) : 
 
 May the Most High God of battles, 
 
 The Lord and Euler of fights, 
 Who breaketh the shield that rattles. 
 
 Who snappeth the sword that smites. 
 In whose hands are footman and horseman 
 
 At whose breath they conquer or flee, 
 Never show me his mercy, Norseman ! 
 
 If I show mercy to thee. 
 
84 ASHTAROTH. 
 
 OSRIC : 
 
 What ho ! art thou drunk, Sir Norman ? 
 
 Has the wine made thy pale cheek red ? 
 Now, I swear by Odin and Thor, man, 
 
 Already I count thee dead. 
 Rudolph : 
 
 I crave thy pardon for baulking 
 
 The flood of thine eloquence, 
 But thou can'st not scare us with talking, 
 
 I therefore pray thee, go hence. 
 OsRic : 
 
 Though I may not take up thy guantlet. 
 
 Should we meet where the steel strikes fire, 
 'Twixt thy casque and thy charger's frontlet 
 
 The choice will perplex thy squire. 
 Hugo : 
 
 When the Norman rowels are goading, 
 
 When ghtters the Norman glaive. 
 Thou shalt call upon Thor and Odin : 
 
 They shall not hear thee nor save. 
 " Should we meet !" Ay, the chance may fall so. 
 
 In the furious battle drive. 
 So may God deal with me — more, also ! 
 
 If we separate, both alive ! 
 
 SCENE — The Coust-yaed of the old Fabm. Eustace and other 
 followers o/Hugo andE^uic lounging about. Enter Thurston 
 hastily, with swords under his arm. 
 
 Thurston : 
 
 Now saddle your horses and girth them tight, 
 
 And see that your weapons are sharp and bright. 
 
 Come, lads, get ready as fast as you can. 
 Eustace : 
 
 Why, what's this bustle about, old man ? 
 
ASHTAROTH. 86 
 
 Thurston : 
 
 Well, it seems Lord Hugo has changed his mind, 
 As the weathercock veers with the shifting wind ; 
 He has gone in person to Osric's camp. 
 To tell him to pack up his tents and tramp : 
 But I guess he won't. 
 
 Eustace : Then I hope he will. 
 
 They are plenty to eat us, as well as to kill. 
 
 Kalph : 
 
 And I hope he won't — I hegin to feel 
 
 A longing to moisten my thirsty steel. 
 
 [They begin to saddle and make preparations 
 
 for a skirmish. 
 Thurston : 
 
 I've a couple of blades to look to here. 
 
 In their scabbards I scarcely could make them stir 
 
 At first, but I'll sharpen them both ere long. 
 A Man-at-arms : 
 
 Hurrah for a skirmish ! Who'U give us a song ? 
 Thurston {sings, cleaning and sharpening) : 
 
 Hurrah for the sword ! I hold one here, 
 
 And I scour at the rust, and say 
 'Tis the umpire, this, and the arbiter 
 
 That settles in the fairest way ; 
 For it stays false tongues and it cools hot blood, 
 
 And it lowers the proud one's crest ; 
 And the law of the land is sometimes good, 
 
 But the law of the sword is best. 
 In all disputes 'tis the shortest plan. 
 
 The surest and best appeal ; — 
 What else can decide between man and man ? 
 
 (Chorus of all) : ' 
 
 Hurrah ! for the bright blue steel ! 
 
 Thurston (sings) : 
 
 Hurrah ! for the sword of Hugo our lord ! 
 
 'Tis a trusty friend and a true ; 
 It has held its own on a grassy sward, 
 
 When its blade shone bright and blue. 
 
86 ASHTAEOTH. 
 
 Though it never has stricken in anger hard, 
 And has scarcely been cleansed from rust, 
 
 Since the day when it broke through Harold's guard 
 With our favourite cut and thrust ; 
 
 Yet Osric's crown will look somewhat red, 
 And his brain will be apt to reel, 
 
 Should the trenchant blade come down on his head — 
 
 (Chorus of all ) : 
 
 Hurrah ! for the bright blue steel ! 
 
 Thueston (sings) : 
 
 Hurrah ! for the sword of our ally bold, 
 
 It has done good service to him ; 
 It has held its own on an open wold, 
 
 When its edge was in keener trim. 
 It may baffle the plots of the wisest skull, 
 
 It may slacken the strongest limb, 
 Make the brains full of forethought void and null. 
 
 And the eyes full of farsight, dim ; 
 And the hasty hands are content to wait. 
 
 And the knees are compell'd to kneel. 
 Where it falls with the weight of a downstroke straight, 
 
 (Chorus of all): 
 
 Hurrah ! for the bright blue steel ! 
 
 Thurston (sings) : 
 
 Hurrah ! for the sword — I've one of my own : 
 
 And I think I may safely say. 
 Give my enemy his, let us stand alone. 
 
 And our quarrel shall end one way ; 
 One way or the other — it matters not much, 
 
 So the question be fairly tried. 
 Oh ! peacemaker good, bringing peace with a touch, 
 
 Thy clients will be satisfied. 
 As a judge, thou dost judge — as a witness, attest. 
 
 And thou settest thy hand and seal. 
 And the winner is blest, and the loser at rest — 
 
 (Chorum of all) : 
 
 Hurrah ! for the bright blue steel ! 
 
 [Hugo and Eric enter during the last verse of 
 the song. 
 
ASHTAEOTH. 87 
 
 Hugo : 
 
 Boot and saddle, old friend, 
 Their defiance they send ; 
 Time is short — make an end 
 
 Of thy song. 
 Let the sword in this fight 
 Strike as hard for the right 
 As it once struck for might 
 
 Leagued with wrong. 
 Ha ! RoUo, thou champest 
 Thy bridle and stampest. 
 For the rush of the tempest 
 
 Do'st long ? 
 Ho ! the kites will grow fatter 
 On the corpses we scatter, 
 In the paths where we shatter 
 
 Their throng : 
 Where Osric, the craven, 
 Hath reared the black raven 
 'Gainst monks that are shaven 
 
 And cowl'd ; 
 Where the Teuton and Hun sit 
 In the track of our onset. 
 Will the wolves, ere the sunset, 
 
 Have howl'd. 
 Retribution is good. 
 They have revell'd in blood, 
 Like the wolves of the wood. 
 
 They have prowl' d. 
 Birds of prey they have been, 
 And of carrion unclean, 
 And their own nests (I ween) 
 
 They have foul'd. 
 Eric : 
 
 Two messengers since 
 Yestermorn have gone hence, 
 
88 ASHTAEOTH. 
 
 And ere long will the Prince 
 
 Bring relief. 
 Shall we pause ? — they are ten 
 To our one, but their men 
 Are ill-arm'd, and scarce ken 
 
 Their own chief; 
 And for this we give thanks : 
 Their disorderly ranks, 
 If assail'd in the flanks, 
 
 Will as lief 
 Run as fight — loons and lords. 
 
 Hugo : 
 
 Mount your steeds ! draw your swords ! 
 Take your places ! My words 
 
 Shall be brief : 
 Ride round by the valley, 
 Through pass and gorge sally — 
 The linden trees rally 
 
 Beneath. 
 
 Then, Eric and Thurston, 
 
 Their ranks while we burst on, 
 
 Try which will be first on 
 
 The heath. 
 (Aside) 
 
 Look again, mother mine, 
 
 Through the happy starshine, 
 
 For my sins do'st thou pine ? 
 
 With my breath, 
 See ! thy pangs are all done. 
 For the life of thy son : 
 Thou shalt never feel one 
 
 For his death. 
 
 [They all go out hut Hugo, who lingers to tighten 
 his girths. Orion appears suddenly in 
 the gatewuy. 
 
ASHTAEOTH. 89 
 
 Orion : 
 
 Stay, friend ! I keep guard on 
 Thy soul's gates : hold hard on 
 Thy horse. Hope of pardon 
 
 Hath fled ! 
 Bethink once, I crave thee, 
 Can recklessness save thee ? 
 Hell sooner will have thee 
 Instead. 
 Hugo: 
 
 Back ! My soul, tempest toss'd. 
 Hath her Kuhicon cross'd : 
 She shall fly — saved or lost ! 
 
 Void of dread ! 
 Sharper pang than the steel, 
 Thou, oh, serpent ! shalt feel, 
 Should I set the bruised heel 
 
 On thy head. [He rides out. 
 
 SCENE— A Room in the Convent Tower overlooking the Gate. 
 Ursula at the window. Agatha and Nuns crouching or 
 kneeling in a comer. 
 
 Ursula : 
 
 See, Ellinor ! Agatha ! Anna ! 
 
 While yet for the ladders they wait 
 Jarl Osric hath rear'd the black banner 
 
 Within a few yards of the gate ; 
 It faces our window, the raven. 
 
 The badge of the cruel sea-kings. 
 That has carried to harbour and haven 
 
 Destruction and death on its wings. 
 
 Beneath us they throng, the fierce Norsemen, 
 
 The pikemen of Eudolph behind 
 Are mustered, and Dagobert's horsemen 
 
 With faces to rearward inclined ; 
 
 a 
 
90 ASHTAKOTH. 
 
 Come last, on their coursers broad -chestea, 
 Rough-coated, short-pastern'd and strong. 
 
 Their casques with white plumes thickly crested, 
 Their lances barb-headed and long : 
 
 They come through the shades of the linden. 
 
 Fleet riders and warhorses hot ; 
 The Normans, our friends — we have sinn'd in 
 
 Our selfishness, sisters, I wot — 
 They come to add slaughter to slaughter, 
 
 Their handful can ne'er stem the tide 
 Of our foes, and our fate were but shorter 
 
 Without them. How fiercely they ride ! 
 
 And " Hugo of Normandy !" " Hugo !" 
 
 *' A rescue ! a rescue !" rings loud, 
 And right on the many the few go ! 
 
 A sway and a swerve of the crowd ! 
 A springing and sparkling of sword -blades ! 
 
 A crashing and 'countering of steeds ! 
 And the white feathers fly 'neath their broad blades 
 
 Like foam flakes ! the spear-shafts like reeds ! 
 
 A Nun {to Agatha) : 
 
 Pray, sister ! 
 Agatha : Alas ! I have striven 
 
 To pray, but the lips move in vain 
 When the heart with such terror is riven. 
 Look again, Lady Abbess ! Look again ! 
 Ursula : 
 
 As leaves fall, by wintry gusts scatter'd. 
 
 As fall by the sickle, ripe ears. 
 As the pines by the whirlwind fall shatter'd, 
 
 As shatter'd by bolt fall the firs. 
 To the right hand they fall ! to the left hand 
 They yield ! They go down ! they give back ! 
 
ASHTAROTH. 91 
 
 And their ranks are divided and cleft, and 
 
 Dispersed and destroy'd in the track ! 
 Where, stirrup to stirrup, and bridle 
 
 To bridle, down-trampling the slain ! 
 Our friends, wielding swords never idle, 
 
 Hew bloody and desperate lane 
 Through pikemen so crowded together, 
 
 They scarce for their pikes can find room, 
 Led by Hugo's gilt crest, the tall feather 
 
 Of Thurston, and Eric's black plume ! 
 A Nun {to Agatha) : 
 Pray, sister ! 
 
 Agatha : 
 
 First pray thou, that heaven 
 Will lift this dull weight from my brain, 
 
 That crushes like crime unforgiven. 
 Look again. Lady Abbess ! Look again ! 
 Ursula : 
 
 Close under the gates men are fighting 
 
 On foot where the raven is rear'd ! 
 'Neath that sword-stroke, through helm and skull 
 smiting, 
 
 Jarl Osric falls, cloven to the beard ! 
 And Hugo the hilt firmly grasping. 
 
 His heel on the throat of his foe, 
 Wrenches back. I can hear the dull rasping, 
 
 The steel through the bone grating low ! 
 And the raven rocks ! Thurston has landed 
 
 Two strokes well-directed and hard 
 On the standard pole, wielding two-handed 
 
 A blade crimson'd up to the guard. 
 Like the mast cut in two by the lightning ! 
 
 The black banner topples and falls ! 
 Bewildering ! back- scattering ! afi'right'ning ! 
 
 It clears a wide space next the walls. 
 
92 ASHTAEOTH. 
 
 A Nun (to Agatha) : 
 Pray, sister ! 
 
 Agatha : 
 
 Does the sinner unshriven. 
 
 With nought beyond this life to gain, 
 
 Pray for mercy on earth or in heaven ? 
 
 Look again, Lady Abbess ! Look again ! 
 
 Ursula : 
 
 The gates are flung open, and straightway. 
 
 By Ambrose and Cyril led on, 
 Our own men rush out through the gateway; 
 
 One charge, and the entrance is won ! 
 No ! our foes block the gate and endeavour 
 
 To force their way in ! Oath and yell, 
 Shout and war-cry wax wilder than ever ! 
 
 Those children of Odin fight well ; 
 And my ears are confused by the crashing, 
 
 The jarring, the discord, the din ; 
 And mine eyes are perplex' d by the flashing 
 
 Of fierce lights that ceaselessly spin ; 
 So when thunder to thunder is calling. 
 
 Quick flash follows flash in the shade, 
 So leaping and flashing and falling 
 
 Blade flashes and follows on blade ! 
 While the sward newly -plough'd, freshly painted. 
 
 Grows purple with blood of the slain. 
 And slippery ! Has Agatha fainted ? 
 Agatha : 
 
 Not so. Lady Abbess ! Look again ! 
 Ursula : 
 
 No more from the window ; in the old years 
 
 I have look'd upon strife. Now I go 
 To the court-yard to rally our soldiers 
 
 As I may — face to face with the foe. 
 
 [She goes out. 
 
ASHTAEOTH. 93 
 
 SCENE— A Boom in the Convent. Thurston seated near a small 
 
 fire. 
 
 Enter Eustace. 
 Eustace : 
 
 We have come through this skirmish with hardly 
 a scratch. 
 Thurston : 
 
 And, without us, I fancy, they have a full batch 
 
 Of sick men to look to. Those robbers accurs'd 
 
 Will soon put our soundest on terms with our 
 worst. 
 
 Nathless I'd have bartered with never a frown 
 
 Ten years for those seconds when Osric went down. 
 
 Where's Ethelwolf ? 
 Eustace : Dying- 
 
 Thurston : And Eeginald ? 
 
 Eustace : Dead. 
 
 And Ealph is disabled, and Eudolph is sped. 
 
 He may last till midnight — not longer. Nor Tyrrel, 
 
 Nor Brian, will ever see sunrise. 
 
 Thurston : That Cyril 
 
 The monk, is a very respectable fighter. 
 
 Eustace : 
 
 Not bad for a monk. Yet our loss had been lighter. 
 
 Had he and his fellows thrown open the gate 
 
 A little more quickly. And now, spite of fate, 
 
 With thirty picked soldiers, their siege we might 
 
 weather, 
 
 But the Abbess is worth all the rest put together. 
 
 [Enter Ursula. 
 Thurston : 
 
 Here she comes. 
 
 Ursula : Can I speak with your lord ? 
 
 Eustace : 'Tis too late. 
 
 He was dead when we carried him in at the gate. 
 
U ASHTAROTH. 
 
 Thurston : 
 
 Nay, he spoke after that, for I heard him myself ; 
 
 But he won't speak again, he must lie on his shelf. 
 Ursula : 
 
 Alas ! is he dead, then ? 
 Thurston : As dead as St. Paul. 
 
 And what then ? to-morrow, we too, one and all 
 
 Die, to fatten these ravenous carrion birds. 
 
 I knelt down by Hugo and heard his last words : 
 
 " How heavy the night hangs — how wild the waves 
 dash; 
 
 Say a mass for my soul — and give Rollo a mash." 
 Ursula : 
 
 Nay, Thurston, thou jestest. 
 Thurston : Ask Eric. I swear 
 
 We listened, and caught every syllable clear. 
 Eustace : 
 
 Why, his horse was slain too. 
 Thurston : 'Neath the linden trees grey, 
 
 Ere the onset, young Henry rode Rollo away ; 
 
 He will hasten the Prince, and they may reach 
 your gate 
 
 To-morrow — though to-morrow for us is too late. 
 
 Hugo rode the boy's mare, and she's dead, if you 
 like— 
 
 Disembowel'd by the thrust of a freebooter's pike. 
 Eustace : 
 
 Neither Henry nor Rollo we ever shall see. 
 Ursula : 
 
 But we may hold the walls till to-morrow. 
 
 Thurston : 
 
 Not we. 
 
 In an hour or less, having rallied their force, 
 
 They'll storm your old building — and take it, of 
 
 course. 
 
ASHTAKOTH. 95 
 
 Since of us, who alone in war's science are skill' d, 
 One-third are disabled, and two-thirds are kill'd. 
 Uesula : 
 
 Art thou hurt ? 
 Thurston : At present I feel well enough, 
 
 But your water is brackish, unwholesome, and 
 
 rough ; 
 Bring a flask of your wine, dame, for Eustace and I, 
 Let us gaily give battle, and merrily die. 
 
 [Enter Emc, with arm in sling, 
 Eric: 
 
 Thou art safe. Lady Abbess ! The convent is safe. 
 To be robbed of their prey, how the ravens will 
 
 chafe ; 
 The vanguard of Otto is looming in sight : 
 At the sheen of their spears, see thy foemen take 
 
 flight. 
 Their foremost are scarce half a mile from the wall. 
 Thurston : 
 
 Bring the wine, lest those Germans should swallow 
 it all. 
 
 SCENE— The Chapel of the Convent. 
 {Dirge of the Monks.) 
 
 Earth to earth, and dnst to dnst, 
 
 Ashes unto ashes go. 
 Judge not. He who judgeth just, 
 
 Judgeth merciful also. 
 Earthly penitence hath fled, 
 • Earthly sin hath ceased to be ; 
 
 Pile the sods on heart and head, 
 
 Miserere Domine ! 
 
 Hominum et angelorum^ 
 Domine ! precamur te 
 
 Ut immemor sis malorum — 
 Miserere Domine ! 
 (Miserere !) 
 
96 ASHTAROTH. 
 
 Will the fruits of life brought forth, 
 
 Pride and greed, and wrath and lust. 
 Profit in the day of wrath, 
 
 When the dust returns to dust ? 
 Evil flower and thorny fruit 
 
 Load the wild and worthless tree, 
 Lo ! the axe is at the root, 
 
 Miserere Domine ! 
 
 Spes, fidesque, caritasque, 
 Frustra fatigant per se, 
 
 Frustra virtus, forsque, fasque, 
 Miserere Domine ! 
 (Miserere !) 
 
 Fair without and foul within, 
 
 When the honey'd husks are reft 
 From the bitter sweets of sin, 
 
 Bitterness alone is left, 
 Yet the wayward soul hath striven 
 
 Mostly hell's ally to be. 
 In the strife 'twixt hell and heaven, 
 
 Miserere Domine ! 
 
 Heu ! heu ! herbd latet anguis- 
 Caro herba — carni vo& — 
 
 Solum purgat, Ghristi sanguis, 
 Miserere Domine ! 
 (Miserere !) 
 
 Pray that in the doubtful fight 
 
 Man may win through sore distress, 
 By His goodness infinite, 
 
 And His mercy fathomless. 
 Pray for one more of the weary 
 
 Head bowed down and bended knee. 
 Swell the requiem, Miserere ! 
 
 Miserere Domine ! 
 
 Bonum, malum, quifecisti 
 Mali imploramus te, 
 
 Salve fratrem, causa Christi, 
 Miserere Domine ! 
 (Miserere !) 
 
 Clarson, Massina, and Co., Printers, 72 Little Collins Street East, Melbourne, 
 
YCf 05747 
 
 91692Jd> 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
mmm