Wv 
 
 
 iiil 
 
 iilUJIJHfil
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 EDWIN AND ETHELBUEftA, 
 
 S frams. 
 
 BY 
 
 FREDERICK W^ WYON. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 SMITH, ELDER AND CO., 65, CORNHILL. 
 
 M.DCCC.LX. 
 
 [TVie right of Translation is reserved.']
 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 OsRic, an old Danish lord. 
 
 EsMUND, his Esquire. 
 
 Edwin, a young Saxon lord, whose father had been formerly 
 
 dispossessed of his castle by Lord Osric. 
 HosKOLD, a crafty Dane, and a retainer of Lord Osric. 
 Eric, an old retainer of Lord Osric. 
 Theodore, a Greek boy, affectionately attached to Lord Edwin. 
 
 OSWITH, \ 
 
 [ Retainers of Lord Edwin. 
 Hubert, ) 
 
 Ethelburga, daughter of Lord Osric. 
 
 Various minor characters. 
 
 Scene, either in a forest, or in Lord Osric's castle ; once in a 
 
 village. 
 
 865326
 
 PE0L06UE. 
 
 Now in the centre of the mystic stage 
 
 I stand, a god, my spirits at command. 
 
 To bring a worid upon 't for two brief hours. 
 
 Fade, Earth ! come, bliss of Heav'n, and thoughts more 
 
 bright 
 Than the worn mould of this dull life provide ! 
 And thou too, Soitow, give me leave awhile ; 
 Lay not thy heavy and all-quenching hand 
 On the swift spirit of invention. — 
 Honour, step forth ! thou scarce remember"d dame, 
 Sneer'd fi'om the world by low-brow'd hypocrites. 
 E'en with that eye of Juno come, when thou
 
 VI PROLOGUE. 
 
 Didst rock the cradle of young Albion ! 
 
 Go, seek old Osric's breast ; shine in him, touch 
 
 The frosts of eighty winters with thy glow. 
 
 Nest thou, Nobility, set thy true stamp 
 
 Upon young Edwin, that he be adorn'd 
 
 With ev'ry grace that fits a gentleman. 
 
 And worthy subject of an empress' love. 
 
 Fly, Virtue, to sweet Ethelburga's heart ! 
 
 There shalt thou find a beauteous temple rare, 
 
 Which thou, poddess, shield (for well thou canst) 
 
 From the lewd fire of assailing eyes. 
 
 Passion ! thou shalt have licence large to-day : 
 
 Esmund thy quarry, whom griev'd Nature framed 
 
 To spread her fame, and in the forefront shine 
 
 Of all her kind. Ill Counsel, to his car ! 
 
 Bury in wicked Hoskold thy dark soul. 
 
 But, lastly, thou, spirit, that all suiTey'st, 
 
 All things inform' st with thy sweet subtle fire,
 
 PROLOGUE. vu 
 
 Bright, mystic, glorious, peerless sov'reign Love ! 
 Be present, and inspire each character ; 
 Grant life and breath to all, and to thy priest 
 Reprieve from censure and the scorn of men !
 
 EDWIN AND ETHELBUEGA. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I. THE EOEEST. 
 
 Enter Edwin and Theodore. 
 
 Ediv. Enough, sweet Theodore ; go, play, dear boy; 
 I'll hear thy music at a merrier time. 
 
 TJie. Why is Lord Edwin sad ? The live-long day, 
 With leaden step has he paced to and fro, 
 Putting the merry forest out of tune. 
 Why have I seen him oft o'erslouch his brows ? 
 Then, while to pleasure him, the sweet birds sang 
 Under their green roofs, mid the summer leaves, 
 
 1
 
 2 EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. [aCT I. 
 
 In misplaced melancholy sit alone, 
 And muse, and sigh, and cover tip his face 
 Within his hands, until a tear stole through ? 
 Why is Lord Edwin sad ? 
 
 Edw. I cannot tell. 
 
 The. Say rather, that you will not. 
 
 Edw. Cease to inquire : 
 
 I am not sorrowful, if something sad. 
 Times are, 'tis sweeter to he sad than merry ; 
 Say, this is so. 
 
 The. Bui is it sweet to weep ? 
 
 Flows pleasure in salt tears ? Or all at once 
 Does melancholy seize upon the soul 
 Where never that dark humour dwelt hefore ? 
 For, till we lately to this forest came, 
 I never saw you sad. 
 
 Edw. Well, well ; thou'rt right : 
 
 This forest's sight has filled my soul with, grief: 
 There rest thee, Theodore, and ask no more. 
 Thou canst not aid me with thy little strength
 
 SCENE I.] EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. c 
 
 To do the business tliat I have in hand : 
 
 Nor would I stain thy young brow with my cares, 
 
 Because I love thee much, dear Theodore. 
 
 The. monstrous love ! to be so double-faced, 
 To pat my cheek, and wound me at the heart : 
 All sting, no honey ; like a cruel wasp ! 
 Thou wrong'st me, — oh ! thou dost ; I say, thou dost ; 
 When, day by day, thy veiy eyes have seen 
 My strength grow to the level of my love. 
 Why dost thou love me, say ? 
 
 Edw. Thou foolish boy ! 
 
 Who can say why he loves ? Thyself say how 
 Thou mak'st thyself belov'd. Think, if you will. 
 My heart, debarr'd from other vent, so spends 
 Its soft and sentimental part on thee. 
 
 The. Come, say what's forward. 
 
 Edu'. Willingly, I would ; 
 
 But that the tale might ruffle thee mih. fear. 
 
 The. In twilight does each tree a ghost appear. 
 A secret's worst is in the worst way told, 
 
 1—2
 
 4 EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. [act I. 
 
 When secrets iu friends' faces friends behold : 
 For mystery sets Fancy on the wing, 
 To spy a bugbear in each mortal thing ; 
 Which, if 'twere seen with vision less alarm'd, 
 Were of its dreadful colours half disarm' d : 
 As many terrors as the breast appal, 
 Uncertainty is mother of them all. 
 
 Ediv. Thy love hath conquer'd : come, I'll tell thee all. 
 Sit closer, Theodore : put by thy lute. 
 
 T]i(\ I'll hang it on this bough, to catch the wind, 
 That's full of love-sighs. — Oh, the silly wind ! 
 'Twill measure out its sorrows by the hour, 
 And sometimes die outright of pure despair ; 
 But the next moment up it springs again. 
 And screams and raves with fury and mad rage. 
 
 EJw. This England, as thou know'st, is my birth-laud ; 
 Nor far from this, stands my ancestral right, 
 A castle hoar, whose high abutting front 
 Looks forth upon the deep ; here I was born. 
 Now, when I was a child less old than thou,
 
 SCENE I.] EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. 5 
 
 A most ferocious, bloody brood of men 
 Came sudden fi-om the North. Ere yet was time 
 To arm resistance, on our gates they pour'd, 
 Struck down half-rais'd defence, swarm'd in and in, 
 Rush'd through the chambers like the blast of doom. 
 And smote, and smote till stone walls rung with shrieks, 
 And under-whisper'd gi'oans, muffled mth blood. 
 My father, — canst recal him, Theodore ? 
 
 The. Dim, through the vision of my childish days. 
 His aged face breaks sad and sorrowful, 
 
 Edw. Oh, he had cause ; for while hard-press'd he 
 fought, 
 My mother, then in second pregnancy. 
 Flew shi'ieking to his side ; yet, ere she reached him, 
 He saw her caught by th' hair and instantly 
 Brain'd by these devils. In a distant room 
 I lay asleep, but suddenly I woke 
 And saw my father bending o'er my crib. 
 With armour all aflame, and fearful looks. 
 He caught me out, and strain'd me to his breast :
 
 6 EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. [aCT I. 
 
 I hung about his neck, and scream'd for fright. 
 A blasphemous and blood-besmeared crew 
 Pursued him close : he laid me quickly do^n, 
 Caught up his axe, and sprang into the doorway. 
 Then I beheld him, (for it was a sight 
 To print remembrance on an infant's brain,) 
 Upon the threshold, root his firm left foot ; 
 His spacious chest unfold, that heay'd with fire : 
 Aloft he rais'd his arms, and in his eye 
 Defiance flam'd. 
 
 The. Strilve with thy soldier, Heaven ! 
 
 Descend upon thy cause, and show thyself. — 
 Oh, did he fall ? 
 
 Edw. No, boy, he did not fall : 
 
 For, as he stood thus firm, confronting Death 
 \Vho dark and closely overshadow'd him. 
 The leader of these men, a noble Dane, 
 Was fired with sympathy : he offer'd terms ; 
 And so, to save his child, my father stoop'd 
 To be a captive.
 
 SCENE I.] EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. 
 
 The. What befell him next ? 
 
 Edir. To serve the sea-kings : but he grew belov'd 
 Of these rough spirits ; and of his brother slaves 
 So valiantly esteem'd, that, on occasion, 
 They, giving vent to their affections,. 
 Chose him their leader. 
 
 j/,(<. See, how inborn worth 
 
 Communicates itself: though overspread 
 
 With thickest smoke of fortune, it shines thi-ough, 
 
 And draws all knees to its confessed light. 
 
 Edir. For many years we roved the desert seas, 
 My sire, and I. and fifty valiant men, — 
 Fresh, jolly, lawless, appetitive hearts, 
 Chance-fed like the sea-eagles, and o'erroof d 
 By blue ethereal Jove. To do our wills, 
 In mere blind spirit of obedience, 
 They would have plunder"d heaven of her stars, 
 And snatch'd the silver moon from out the sky. 
 Ha ! ha ! when o'er the horizon peep'd our poles. 
 To mark the trader droop his fearful sail,
 
 8 EDWIN AND ETHELBUKGA. [act I. 
 
 And creep into his hole ! The music faint, 
 The dancers shriek, coy maidens fly to th'arms 
 Of their spiu'n'd youths, who faster fled than they ; 
 While like a furious and on-striding ghost, 
 The beacon flamed alarm from hill to hill. 
 
 TJw. Lord, the meriy life o' the blue sea ! 
 When shall I see "t again ? Oh, when shall I 
 Be rock'd upon't once more ? Down, down to sink 
 Into the cavern of the awful deep, 
 And watch the wat'ry peril hang o'erhead, 
 Then, take the hu^e wave at his mighty spring, 
 And touch the stars ! Anon, mth sheet set fair 
 To the rough toying of the am'rous breeze, 
 Through the crest-tossing billow-ranks to ride. 
 Like Phoebus on his cloud-dividing steeds, 
 The mark of gods and men ! The music, heart ! 
 The music of the hurly-burly sea, 
 When to oui- songs he roar'd his boist'rous bass. 
 And, as our jovial cups we clink'd, would come 
 Bolt at the vessel's side, and leap aboard !
 
 SCENE I.] EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. 9 
 
 Ho ! ho ! the fright that stain'd each cheek with death, 
 Or ever we came near : was not a fish 
 But thrast his bottle nose ten fathom deep, 
 And trembled in his cave. 
 
 Ediv. Peace, peace, thou little prating fool ! be still : 
 But I've a tale to make thee steadier. 
 Once, being set upon a Moorish barque, 
 We, in the teeth of a determin'd foe, 
 Forc'd bloody entrance. All resistance slain, 
 Or bound, we search'd the ship ; and in the hold, 
 Found certain men, in chains ; most mis'rably 
 Pent up in darkness, filth, and pestilent air. 
 Among the rest, a pretty, pale Greek boy 
 Droop'd o'er his dying father. 
 
 The. Thine own hand 
 
 Undid the knotty bonds my father bore : 
 But when his limbs were free, methought I saw 
 His spiiit come into his eyes, and smile ; 
 Then soar beyond his body, that grew pale 
 For very envy, that it could not follow.
 
 10 EDWIN AND ETHELBUEGA. [aCT I. 
 
 Ediv. In fine, for this thou know'st, my father died ; 
 And those who serv'd him Avith united voice 
 Swore to myself ohedience. For awhile 
 I sway'd these stormy hearts, these leashless wills, 
 Their head and demigod. Yet in the hreast 
 Of pleasure, mid all joxial circumstance, 
 Full oft the solitary thought would spring 
 That poisons joy. 'Twas for my native land 
 This sickness, that stole o'er my secret soul 
 Till it outgrew the use and habit of mirth, 
 And life wax'd tedious. Finally I chose 
 From all my crew some fifty volunteers, 
 English kin-spirits, to my fortunes link'd. 
 And with a weary heart forswore the sea. 
 Now with my little band, yet strong in trust. 
 And thee, my Theodore, I stand once more 
 On mine own — homeless. This same forest, where 
 Methinks the birds sing nought but dirges now. 
 Was once my theatre of throng'd delight. 
 Ah me! how mom'uful, dull, and leaden-cold.
 
 SCENE I.] EDWIN AND ETHELBUEGA. 11 
 
 Through each remember'cl glade, the echo sounds 
 Of my strange manly feet ! On this sweet bank, 
 O'erarch'd with massy leaves, my mother sate, 
 And watch'd me, as I play'd — Ah, memory ! 
 There's not a tree, in all this wilderness. 
 But hath a voice, and hoarsely finds it out 
 To tell the story of departed days. 
 Upon the forest's verge my castle stands. 
 And frowns at me from its arm'd battlements. 
 
 The. Let cunning Fancy not beguile my lord. 
 Win it, and it shall smile, and turn about 
 Its armed teeth upon its present friends. 
 Why, what's a castle but the world in brief, 
 That dotes upon success and shelters it, 
 But at misfortune bristles virtuously ? 
 
 Edw. True, boy, thy wit makes thee a senator. 
 Tickle sad sorrow \sith a meriy jest 
 Until she smile. 'Tis folly, sure, to sit 
 With folded arms and sigh. Hence from my breast, 
 Vain gi-ief ! henceforth 111 feast my thoughts on war.
 
 12 EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. [act I. 
 
 The. What is his name, the lord who hokis your 
 castle ? 
 
 Edw. Lord Osric, boy, if he be 3'et alive. 
 I have sent to him an ambassador 
 To crave a battle, that my cause may come 
 To Heav'n's arbitrament. — Look yonder, boy: 
 Are they not dress'd like Danes, who come this way ? 
 Let us stand out of sight. 
 
 Enter Esmund with Hoskold. 
 
 Hos. Oh, yet in pity hear me ! look, sir squire ; 
 My guilt's mine own, — all mine : t' expose it, were 
 To slay the innocence of my wife and babes, 
 Wlio with myself will be cast forth to die. 
 Consider it, sii- squire, consider it : 
 How little is he wrong'd, who, being robb'd. 
 Can from his plenty not perceive the theft. 
 Our faults but testify that we are men ; 
 But he, who shutteth mercy from his breast. 
 Seems less than human.
 
 SCENE I.] EDWIN AND ETHELBUEGA. 13 
 
 Esni. Canst thou plead so fair, 
 
 Dainn'd as thou art, in act ? Ungi-ateful cm-, 
 That bit thy master's hand ! Thou worse than 
 
 beast : 
 Thou thing without a conscience, hear thy crime ! 
 Naked, thou earnest to our castle gates, 
 Thou, and thy wife, and shiv'ring little ones : 
 To pity moved by thy beseeching tale, 
 Thy tears, thy miseries, thy helplessness, 
 I drew thee from the cold, and housed thee warm : 
 I brought thee to my lord, who heard thee kindly ; 
 And, of his bounty, thou weii clothed and fed : 
 But when thy soul revived, and thou grew'st strong, 
 So warm'd the viper in thy guilty breast : 
 Unholy wretch ! thou didst pm'loin from him 
 Who gave thee life. 
 
 Hos. It hath a golden tongue, 
 
 Temptation. 
 
 Esyn. Gratitude, a heavenly one. 
 
 Hos. My shame and penitence have struck me dumb.
 
 14 EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. [aCT I. 
 
 Esm . And therefore will I overlook thy guilt : 
 Kestore what thou hast taken, and my tongue 
 Shall not accuse thee to thy injur'd lord. 
 
 Hos. Most generous ! Oh, yet a second time 
 My saviour ! Thou hast touched me to the quick 
 By mercy. Oh, thou wrong'st the veriest thief 
 E'er swung on gallows, if thou thought his heart 
 Incapable of thanks ! This life thou'st saved, 
 I, from this hour devote to thee ; henceforth 
 No charge of thine shall be so perilous, 
 Or grown so nigh to the pale edge of death, 
 But I will risk it for brave Esmuud's sake. 
 Hast thou no present trust for me ? 
 
 Esm. No, none. 
 
 Hos. I'm sorry for it, since my zeal is hot. 
 Think o'er 't again. 
 
 Esm. Still none ; at least not now. 
 
 Hos. More's in thy heart than speaks. Say, art thou 
 crossed 
 In the bright path of thine ambition ?
 
 SCENE I.] EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. 15 
 
 His name ! — and he o'ersliadows thee no more : 
 Or stands some babe betwixt thyself and fortune '? 
 Him will I steal, and to the forest bear, 
 To find his nurse among the hungry wolves. 
 
 Es7n. Irresolution ! Oh, how oft have I [Aside. 
 
 In thought leagued with this villain : yet, all things 
 Falling miraculously to my wish, 
 And opportunity beseeching speech. 
 My tongue falls dumb. virtue ! is't thy voice 
 That chokes the guilty passage ? 
 
 Hos. Then, farewell : 
 
 I see, thou wilt not trust me. Half thy tale 
 Blushes upon thy cheek : well, well ; how shame 
 Steals from a man all but the manly name. 
 
 Esm. Fellow, thou growest inide. 
 
 Hos. My zeal did err, 
 
 And 'tis my zeal asks pardon. 
 
 Esm. I am harsh ; 
 
 Hoskold, forgive it me : thou may'st be false, 
 But well thou canst play honesty : I own.
 
 16 EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. [act I. 
 
 Thy bluntness hath more oped my bosom, than 
 A speech of finer point. Come hither, friend ; 
 I will confess so much : I am not happy. 
 
 Hos. MaiTy, then use all means thou canst to be so. 
 
 Esm. Man, as thou fear'st thy Sovereign above, 
 Wilt thou be secret of my confidence ? 
 
 Hos. Sir Esmund, 'twas my love that swore e'en 
 now 
 To serve thee : what avails to double oaths ? 
 Keep thine own counsel, if thou wilt mistrust me. 
 
 Esm. Then listen, and I will unfold my grief: — 
 Lord Osric hath a daughter to his age, 
 Fair Ethelburga, whom I will not praise, 
 Lest I should slander a celestial saint. 
 Enough, I love her ; and, in her sweet quest, 
 Have wearied out a fruitless, misspent youth, 
 Which, else devoted, might have brought me to 
 Those shining goals of men, wealth and reno'wn. 
 For she, or whether o'er my rank she soars, 
 Or that my person and rude soldier's tongue
 
 SCENE I.] EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. 17 
 
 Those graces lack that give affection wings, 
 Disdains the love that I do set on her. 
 Oft have I moved her, yet no favour won ; 
 To -all entreaty is her heart love-proof; 
 Till, when with grief and pain she sees me pale, 
 Her pity through her cloud of anger breaks. 
 And looks upon me with that rosy light 
 Might draw a damned spirit back to life. 
 Thus paradise hangs ever at my lip ; 
 Still, as I near it, flies ; still lures me on ; 
 And still my hope-enthralled feet pursiie. 
 
 Hos. The miseries, sighs, lamentations, tears, 
 Sickness, and pains of heart, and weariness, 
 Griefs in all attitudes, and without name, 
 To make description weep to think upon. 
 That follow in the haggard train of love ! 
 All Neptune hath distilled thro-ugh lovers' eyes. 
 And from no other source derived his salt : 
 Old Boreas, who through the wood howls now, 
 Blew careless music fi'om his jolly lungs, 
 
 2
 
 18 EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. [acT I. 
 
 Until his breath was tainted with love-sighs. 
 
 \Vhat man who in his bosom bears a heart, 
 
 And hath not proved a woman's subtlety ? 
 
 Look, when she smiles, she masks an inward storm ;• 
 
 But when sh6 would be gracious, oft she frowns. 
 
 Let wit be mute in woman's company. 
 
 And reason speak in sov'reign manliness. 
 
 Oh, sir, 'tis very much to be reproved. 
 
 That man, t'whose throne the great Creator link'd 
 
 Fair universal nature, should beseech 
 
 Favours that are his due : produce the rule. 
 
 And woman, in her turn, makes suit to apes. 
 
 Apes sue to fishes : yet, bore nature sway, 
 
 "Woman in man should clearly recognize 
 
 Her prophet, priest, and king, and something more. 
 
 Look round, and glean experience with thine eye : — 
 
 Mark, how the fame of valour, show of strength, 
 
 A loud imperious tone, and lofty bearing. 
 
 Though wit be scant, draw woman's suflrages ; 
 
 Such man is pester'd and pursued by maids.
 
 SCENE I.] EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. 19 
 
 Till he abhor virginity ; while he, 
 Who, pale and silent, in the sunshine sits 
 Of the charm'd circle of his mistress' eye, 
 Winging his weary heart with true love-sighs, 
 And nightly nourishing his suit with tears, 
 For all requital hath his lady's scorn. 
 
 Esm. Then, prythee, what wouldst thou enjoin me to ? 
 
 Hos. To get her in thy pow'r, — ^to force thy suit. 
 
 Esm. Peace, fellow ! lest thy words, profanely piercing 
 The sacred stillness of this leafy dell. 
 May breathe a voice in oaks, to strike thee dumb. 
 
 Hos. Why, this it is, to give a saint advice : 
 Either be all for Heav'n, or not at all. 
 Take Virtue to thy heart, and shun thy love. 
 
 Esm. It is a blessed thing, to sleep in peace. 
 
 Hos. Sleep singly then, and envy not the man. 
 Who to his bosom shall entreat thy love. 
 
 Esm. Ah, Hoskold ! there thou wound'st me verily. 
 Didst thou know how exceedingly I bum, 
 And am consumed, and tortured in this flame ! 
 
 2—2
 
 20 EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. [aCT I. 
 
 In sober truth, I am a man no more ; 
 Nor have a heart for anji;hing on earth, 
 Save only to be mis'rable. 
 
 Hos. Be happy. 
 
 Esm. Then am I lost, 
 
 Uos. Why, then, be virtuous. 
 
 Esm. God ! despair lies upon that side too. 
 I live in Hell, to earn my death in Heav'n, 
 And suffer for a promise, in the trial 
 And conflict of our souls, that then's most dark : 
 Ah, gamester, on what desp'rate die thou stak'st ! — 
 Thine heart, thine all, upon a dubious gain ! 
 Heaven ? 'tis in the bosom of my love : 
 Then Heav'n itself is Hell, if she's not there ; 
 And Hell with her were Heav'n enough for me. 
 My mind is toss'd about betwixt two seas ; 
 Fate, bring me then to anchor, how she please. 
 
 Hos. Unhappy man, give o'er ; thou plagu'st thy- 
 self : 
 What, bo not thine o^vn devil. List to me : —
 
 SCENE I.] EDWIN AND ETHELBUllGA. 21 
 
 It is thy lady's wont each week to seek 
 A village, that beyond the forest lies. 
 
 Esm. Ay, to o'ersee her father's tenantry. — 
 Oft have I seen my heart's sweet sovereign, 
 Encii-cled with her rustic worshippers, 
 Hearing their silly suits and grievances ; 
 Or, with the magic of her bright-beam'd eye. 
 Healing their quarrels ; e'en her presence hath 
 A harmony that quells contentious thoughts ; 
 Or alms-bestowing, with a grace so apt, 
 The tongue lies mute in the receiver's mouth, 
 Choked with the heart's commissions. 
 
 Hos. At day's close, 
 
 Through this same forest homeward she returns, 
 Thyself in company to guard her safe. 
 Now, here will I, with sundry men of tmst. 
 Lie secretly in ambush ; and, when ye 
 Approach, rash out, and bear thy mistress off. 
 On Brackley moor, there stands a ruin'd house ; 
 Come thither to thy love, and ui'ge thy suit.
 
 22 EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. [aCT I. 
 
 Esm. Do, as thou wilt ; but, prythee, say no more. 
 
 Hos. I'll to my fellows then : seek thou thy love : 
 All shall be ready, ere thou com'st with her. [Exit. 
 
 Esm. Shades of mine ancestors, whose martial deeds 
 Blazed in the virtuous front of the noonday. 
 To the eternal shame of secret plots !- — 
 Oh, gloriously enthroned o'er erring men ! 
 Look not upon me now, lest reason sink 
 Beneath those holy, still, and quenchless fires : 
 Let me be covered with mine own sin, 
 That Heav'n hold me no more in memory. 
 Pure-thoughted girl ! angel of innocence ! 
 Two souls eclipse not with thy cmelty ! 
 I would unlock desire with lawful key, 
 
 « 
 
 And save thee with a priest's chaste warranty : 
 But spurn my love, and sue thy friend in Heav'n ; 
 In me thou'st none : yet to my pray'rs prove kind ; 
 And 111 requite this wooing of hot youth 
 With an eternity of wedded truth. [Exit. 
 
 The. A fox ! a fox ! Lord, wilt thou not give chase ?
 
 SCENE II.] EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. 23 
 
 Edic. Kun, Theodore, to Hubert, my chief man ; 
 And bid him through the forest wind his horn, 
 To call my men : I'll follow instantly. 
 
 The. Mark me ; I'm here, and now I'm gone. 
 
 [Exit, running. 
 
 Edic. Poor lamb ! 
 
 The wolf hath come thee villanously near. 
 And, but thine heav'nly shepherd waked, thou'dst bled. 
 'Tis true thy father is mine enemy ; 
 But treachery is a disguised de\il, 
 "Who's foe alike to all. I hear my horn 
 Startle the forest glades with echoing shrill : 
 I'll go, and with my presence urge despatch. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE II. ^ "V^ILLA-aE. 
 
 Enter VhJiAGEes, Musicians, dr. 
 
 1st Vill. (woman). Now, by thine eye, thou lov'st me. 
 2nd Vill. (man). Sweet, I do.
 
 24 EDWIN AND ETHELBUKGA. [acT I. 
 
 1st VilL Ah, me ! how grew division 'twixt us 
 two ? 
 Say, did the treason through thine eye creep in ? 
 Or was't my scolding lips first sow'd the sin ? 
 Sweet love, the quarrel in thine eye began. 
 That corresponded with bold Marian ; 
 Though through the village 'tis for ever told, 
 She's ugly as a witch, and quite as old : 
 Ye had your signals 
 
 2nd Vill. Dearest, say not this. 
 
 1st Vill. Tell rue, she's plain. 
 
 2nd Vill. Sweet, if you think, 
 
 she is. 
 
 1st Vill. Forgive me, then, if I did sulk and pout ; — 
 Who would not do it, being so put out ? — 
 And be more loving to me than of late. 
 
 2nd Vill. I'll press my pardon on thy lips, my 
 Kate. [They retire. 
 
 8rd Vill. Since Heav'n was pleased to take away my 
 wife, —
 
 SCENE II.] EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. 25 
 
 Not yet two months, — how barren seems this earth 
 
 Of every solace it was wont to have ! 
 
 Sure none but fools would in this world know 
 
 mirth, 
 When not a spot each treads on but may be 
 The laugher's grave. Ye hills, whose nodding brows 
 Salute the morn, ye meadows and gi-een vales, 
 I have no pleasm-e now to look upon ye, 
 For ye remind me that I once was happy. [He retires. 
 
 ith Vill. I will not be denied to look upon her. 
 
 5th Vill. Well, well ; I've wam'd thee to keep from 
 her sight. 
 When Master Peter gave account of thee, 
 I saw her cheek inflame vfiih. sudden fire : 
 Thou'rt ruin'd if she look upon thee now. 
 Go, hide thee, till thy credit be repair'd. 
 
 ith Vill. As moth to flame, or to the magnet, 
 steel. 
 Or this gross earth to the celestial sun, 
 So am I drawn to her. [They retire.
 
 26 
 
 EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. [act I. 
 
 Mm. Look to your parts ; 
 
 My Lady Etlielbui'ga comes this way. 
 
 Enter Ethelbuega. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Under a stately-tressed tree, 
 
 When quiet eve breathed sweet and holy, 
 A youth lay, — none so sad as he, 
 That feed with melancholy ; — 
 " My love's forsworn. 
 Her vows hath torn ; 
 Let rae die, and quit life's folly." 
 All. Oh, let me die, and be forgot : 
 What is hfe, where love is not ? 
 
 O'er the forest leaves she comes, 
 Trijiping with her httle feet ; 
 On the grass she kneels her down, — 
 " Art thou there, my sweet ? 
 Do not chide ; 
 For beside 
 Thine, my heart doth truly beat." 
 All. Welcome, sweet sumiy love, sweet AprU Hfe, 
 
 That lives at death of cold, rough Winter's strife.
 
 SCENE II.] EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. 27 
 
 All aroiind her steals his arm, 
 
 Tender light breaks through his frown, 
 On his bosom falls her head 
 Gently, gently down. 
 
 Wake, breezes ! flow- 
 In murmurs soft and low. 
 And, ■^Tapping round, love's faint sweet spirit drown. 
 All. Hush ! hark ! no sound : the moon sleeps still 
 In valley, and o'er grass-clothed hill. 
 
 Eth. How moviug is the voice of harmony 
 In silence breathed, under the fall of eve ! 
 Methinks the night bends an attentive ear 
 And hither throngs more fast, while the faint stars 
 Show foiih their tim'rous heads, to be resolved 
 "What heav'nly creature 'tis that charms the air. 
 Friends, sing again, yet not so sadly now, — 
 A song that trips unto a merry tune. 
 
 ' SONG. 
 
 Who will be a forester. 
 
 And in the greenwood dwell ; 
 All day to chase the flying deer 
 . Through copse and mossy dell ?
 
 28 EDWIN AND ETIIELBUKGA. [aCT I. 
 
 A yew-tree bow with arrows keen 
 
 Upon his shoulder rattle ; 
 The spear gleams in his hand that shall 
 
 Do with the chafed boar battle. 
 
 Ho ! hoUoa ! ho ! the deer bounds past ; 
 
 His dog looks in his face ; — 
 Away ! away ! — fi-om far the blast 
 
 Brings back the furious chase ; — 
 
 Till when at eve the western sun 
 
 The em'rald trees doth tan ; 
 Back to his forest home comes he, 
 
 A toilwom, hungiy man. 
 
 Wlaere Marian at her rose-twined door, 
 
 In kirtlc white dress 'd neatly, 
 Him welcomes to her outspread store, 
 
 And kisses sweetly, sweetly. 
 
 Who will be a forester, 
 
 And in the greenwood dwell ? 
 Who loves with me sweet Hberty, 
 This hfe shall suit him well. 
 All. Then hey ! hark, how ray horn winds through the hollow ! 
 All ye who would pleasure, come follow me, follow ! 
 
 Eth. Hath any man beheld Sir Esmuncl yet ? — 
 Sweet friends, my heart requites your melody 
 Beyond report of my untutor'd tongue.
 
 SCENE II.] EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. 29 
 
 Mils. We'll sing again. 
 
 Eth. I pray ye, sing no more, 
 
 Lest pleasure surfeit of sweet sounds, and die : 
 Too oft repeated sweets find wings, and fly. — 
 But see, the fire of slow-climbing eve 
 Is brightly kindled in the tall tree -tops, 
 To all pacific reamers on the wing 
 The signal for home-flitting. If I stay 
 Much farther on the wrong side of this wood. 
 My fears will make me too a winged thing. 
 
 Esmund, thou must needs be changeable 
 On a sudden, if thou canst be so remiss ; 
 But late thy fault was much the other way, 
 
 1 could not rid my garment of thy pray'rs. 
 God be thank'd ! he comes. 
 
 Enter Esmund. 
 
 Esm. My love and service to your ladyship ! 
 Eth. Thou comest late ; but that my fears forgive, 
 Because thou com'st at all.
 
 30 EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. [act I. 
 
 Esm. What ? angry, lady ? 
 
 Oh, chicle me with a smile, if thou wilt chicle. 
 
 Eth. Let us set forth. Who is't, that weeps in black ? 
 
 [To 3rd ViU. 
 The best of men in tears, my sorrowing Maurice ! 
 How shall I comfort thee ? Alas, good man ! 
 And yet, alas ! my comfort is so small ; 
 Death has broke ope thy thrifty store of joy, 
 And stol'n thy treasure with his greedy hand. 
 We are all sport of that same cruel fiend : 
 But think, good Maurice ; think, thou woful man, 
 How short his triumph, and thine own, how vast. 
 When, through the dark and speechless vault of death. 
 The tramp of resm-rection shall sound ; 
 And thou, rising from sleep, shalt gaze on Christ, 
 Where, robed in awful majesty. He stands, 
 With many legions of bright-mailed saints, 
 In the full hour of fated victory ! 
 And when, from rank to rank, from choir to choir, 
 From height to height of the celestial throng,
 
 SCENE II.] EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. 31 
 
 The harps of seraphs shall advance his praise, 
 Till silence shall eschew itself and sing, — 
 Thou shalt behold, and meet, and to thee clasp 
 Thy risen, glorious, and transfigur'd wife, 
 To anchor on thy breast eternally. 
 Oh, think on this, thou woe-bewilder' d man, 
 And lift thyself above these clouds of care. 
 
 3rd Vill. And so I will, and put my trust in Him, 
 Unto whose pity I commend my tears. 
 
 Eth. Possessing hope, thou still enjoy'st thy lost one. — ■ 
 Please you. Sir Esmund, that we now proceed. — 
 
 Oh, infamous ! thou bold notorious man [To itli Vill. 
 
 That, wanting virtue, hast cast off the cloak 
 
 Of vice, mute shame, since thou has dared to meet me 
 
 In all the glaring newness of thy guilt. 
 
 What, thinkest thou thy character is dumb ? 
 
 villain ! hath not guilt a tongue of fire 
 
 To brand itself in th' eyes of righteous men ? 
 
 Thine actions, do they not proclaim thee, wretch ? 
 
 Thy thefts, lusts, slanders, thy false-swearing lips ?
 
 32 EDWIN AND ETHELBUEGA. [aCT I. 
 
 Thy beastly and perpetual drunkenness ? 
 Thy words profane, that ope the wounds of Christ ? 
 Go, look upon thy fields, which thou neglect' st, 
 To sow this peaceful village o'er with broils. — 
 Answer me not, thou God-abandon'd man ; 
 With my reproof shall end thy tenancy : 
 Here thou abid'st no more. — I am too harsh ; 
 I see repentance s'wimming in thine eye, 
 And honesty, like the rich-laden bark 
 That o'er its limits swells the rising wave, 
 Float in upon that tide : I'll pause awhile. — 
 Farewell to all who love me. 
 
 Villagers. Blessings with you ! 
 
 Esm. Keep back, keep back, ye rude unmanner'd 
 clowns, 
 Out of my lady's path : ye asce too forward. 
 
 EtJi. shame, shame, shame! Sir Esmund, cruel 
 man ! 
 Wilt thou scorn love because its nature is 
 To rush in front of manners ? Oh, to me
 
 SCENE III.] EDWIN AND ETHELBUKGA. 33 
 
 How fairer seems, and raore to be desired 
 
 The rough, rade si^irit of affection, 
 
 Though saucy, reckless, wikl and tm-bulent 
 
 As th' ocean-foam that beats the doors of Heav'n, 
 
 Than thin profession lisp'd in choicest teims. — 
 
 Farewell again to all. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCE]SrE III. THE EOREST. 
 
 Enter Hoskold and another. 
 
 Hos. "UTiat humours are in men ! say, shall I laugh ? 
 Or should it rather be a cause for tears. 
 To mark the ways of mad capricious love ? 
 The dull grow ^\'itty, but the vdse turn fools : 
 Those that were joyous once as summer flies. 
 Are mopers now to think upon theii" love. 
 Detest the world, forswear its company 
 But to be closeted Tvith their sweet thoughts : 
 Yet see the man, t'whom not his bosom fiiend 
 Gave credit for the wealth of ten poor words, 
 
 3
 
 34 EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. [aCT 1. 
 
 As swift as fire talk down an orator 
 
 That would calumniate his mistress' chin. 
 
 I, the philosopher, am most the fool, 
 
 Because I love a man, who is in love, 
 
 And follow him as 'he his love pursues 
 
 For the reward of one approving look. 
 
 Yea, though the world heside accounts me villain, 
 
 Nor wi-ongs me much, for gallant Esmund's sake 
 
 Would I heap more damnation on my soul. 
 
 To see a man of noble qualities, 
 
 In counsels wise, in execution swiffc, 
 
 Brave, generous, of an exalted mind. 
 
 Grovel his greatness at a vain girl's feet 
 
 Who loves him not ! What maiden ever did 
 
 Requite the man who loved her most of all ? 
 
 I cannot teach my Esmund how to lisp 
 
 Or sing love's praises to the Hquid lyre. 
 
 But I will show a royal road to woo. 
 
 The end of love is surely to win love, — 
 
 What matters then how won, if only won ?
 
 SCENE III.] EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. 35 
 
 Whether 'tis conquered or persuaded fau- ? 
 
 Maids look not at the means when they're undone. — 
 
 Say, fellow, art thou perfect in thy part ? 
 
 Thou art ? Stand back, then, till I signal thee. 
 
 [TJiey retire. 
 
 Enter Esmund and Ethelburga. 
 
 Esm. Chide me no further, lady : a reproof 
 From those we love is as a volume spoken. 
 Like a stem wind around a rain'd house. 
 Thou but reprov'st a heart that's desolate, 
 And empty of all joy. 
 
 Eth. I'll say no more. 
 
 Unless it be with words to unsay my words. 
 Arid heal thee with that weapon caused thy wound. 
 I was too swift to judge a swift rash tongue : 
 Forgive me, if I grieved thee ; but thou didst — 
 Grant it, thou didst offend me grievously. 
 
 Esm. Jesu ! am I not mortal ? who could see, 
 That fi-om his heart look'd forth, these ragged clowns 
 
 3—2
 
 36 EDWIN AND ETHELBDEGA. [act I. 
 
 Cheering their faces in thy sun-bright eye, 
 And feel no envy ? 
 
 Eth. Thou dost grow too wann. 
 
 Esm. My heart's on fire, and shall my tongue be cool ? 
 Hast thou or heart to feel or eye to judge, 
 And rat'st me less in passion than the Finn 
 Whose spirit's bound in ice ? I love thee, lady; 
 Yet have more strength than skill to tell thee so. 
 Oh, by whatever name shall I conjure thee ? 
 (For well thy beauty graces every name,) 
 My joy ! my giief ! my death ! my life ! my bane ! 
 Why shunn'st thou Esmund, who would die for thee ? 
 Alas ! my person hath no shape of love ; 
 Nor is my tongue endued with happy skill 
 To tinkle sweetly in a lady's ear, 
 Yet this my merit, — ^that I love thee, lady. 
 When other men shall paint thee with their praise. 
 Count thy perfections with a ready tongue, 
 And I alone sit silent, cold and still, 
 This be my merit and redeeming grace,
 
 SCENE III.] EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. 37 
 
 That I adore thee more than all beside. 
 
 For loudest speakers but comraend themselves, 
 
 Their heart still echoes back the flattery 
 
 Which they would heap on others : but true love, 
 
 When he would move a soul in trees or rocks 
 
 With the swift fire of his conscious speech, 
 
 Summons his spii'its quickly to command. 
 
 Then like a vaunting general grows pale, 
 
 Falters, and dies in his own eloquence. 
 
 Be moved then, Ethelburga, with my suit. 
 
 At least for charity, and scorn not love. 
 
 Lest thou hereafter of scorn'd love be scorn'd. 
 
 Eth. Enough, no more : cease, and for ever cease. 
 Have I not told thee twenty thousand times, 
 I will not hear thy suit ? I love thee not. 
 
 Emi. Thy reason, lady ? Oh, declare my fault ! 
 
 Eth. I have none other than a lady's reason ; 
 I love thee not, because I do not love thee, 
 Nor would a gentle mind solicit more. 
 Till late, I held thee in my best esteem ;
 
 38 EDWm AND ETHELBURGA. [act I. 
 
 My sire, — nay I, and all — stand in thy debt, 
 
 For thou art valiant, active, skill'd and wise, 
 
 And gifted with the eye and spirit of rule, 
 
 By which, thou hast reform'd our warriors, — 
 
 A service beyond thanks in these fierce times, 
 
 When death flies o'er the sea on ev'ry wind. 
 
 To these opinions that I held of thee, 
 
 I credited thee with a soul of honour, 
 
 Aud should be loath to think I err'd therein : 
 
 Then, prythee, cease thy suit. — Thou seek'st my love, 
 
 And hast but barely 'scaped the plain reverse. 
 
 My scorn : thus in a heart that's wisely ruled, 
 
 Aflection should be cured. 
 
 Esm. It lies too deep : 
 
 Contempt may cure a surface -shown desire. 
 But true love is enthroned beyond reproof, 
 
 Eth. Thou feelest it, indeed. Now, would my heart 
 Spoke not within me such a hopeless no ! 
 Take comfort : fairer women are than I, 
 Milder in speech, and far more beautiful ;
 
 SCENE III.] EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. 39 
 
 And, from the ruins of thy present love, 
 Shall rise another of more auspices. 
 
 Esm. Oh, couldst thou know the inly fire of love, 
 How modestly it creeps into the heart, 
 And there, by secret, mute, and happy feeding, 
 Continually doth augment itself 
 Till reason have no pow'r to quench the flame, 
 Nay, rather joins her precious influence ! 
 Alas ! how wilt thou comfort my sick soul, 
 That dieth for thy love, thy love denied ? 
 E'en as the leech, who with all drugs of eaii;h 
 Encounters poison, save the antidote. 
 Grant me thy love, if thou wilt comfort me, 
 Which is more sweet and sov'reign to my soul. 
 Than cool redemption to a parched tongue. 
 
 Eth. I counsel thee, go from us for a season : 
 Time be thy nurse, whose light o'erpassing hand 
 Sows comfort and relief in ev'rything ; 
 In darkness, day ; sweet Summer's bounteous smile 
 Under the shaggy brow of Winter di'ear ;
 
 40 EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. [aCT I. 
 
 And, with the music of her rolling years, 
 Lulls sorrow into dim forgetfuluess. 
 
 Esm. If ever Time shall darken o'er this flame, 
 Which memory shall feed till my death's hour ; 
 If e'er mine eye let slip a wanton look, 
 Or my heart sigh for other earthly thing, 
 Say, I ne'er lov'd thee : hold me for a jest, 
 A reed, a weathercock, and no true man. 
 
 Eth. Though modesty should blush to see me so 
 Outstep a maiden's limit, still will I 
 Essay once more to he thy counsellor. 
 Waste not thy youth upon an idle chase ; 
 Quench not thy valour in the depths of love : 
 The boundless ocean hath more ports than one, 
 And he who from one haven is thrust back 
 To toss upon the weary boist'rous sea. 
 Doth wisely steer in search of peace elsewhere. 
 I counsel thee, go from us for a season : 
 Search out the world ; be look'd on ; air thy parts 
 Of honour in bright eyes and princely courts :
 
 SCENE III.] EDWm AND ETHELBURGA. 41 
 
 Ambition, be thy mark ; I say, press on ; 
 
 Set all thine heart thereto, and greatly win. 
 
 What, is't not more becoming to a man 
 
 To win bright glory from the gen'ral mouth, 
 
 Than to lie tangled in a lady's chain, 
 
 Pamp'ring his own despair ? Go forth, I say : 
 
 Free breath, for fainting sorrow ! Soon thou'lt 
 
 find 
 This variously shifting scene of life 
 Blow up the spark in thy pale di'ooping soul. 
 And ope thine eyes on new affections. 
 Tis trae, alas ! thou art my father's staff, 
 His castle's rock, and, of his mut'nous men 
 Alone the forceful bond of unity, — 
 Still go, and Heav'n be with thee, as with us ! 
 'Tis said, the harvest hath been plentiful 
 In the home-countr}-, and the full-fed Danes 
 May haply give the world some breathing time : 
 There is no mention now of plunderers ; 
 Seize th' opportunity.
 
 42 EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. [aCT I. 
 
 Esm. I will not go. 
 
 Thou know'st, I cannot live apart from thee. 
 But see, the night hath fall'n, while we have talk'd ; 
 And through the thin rear of yon drifting clouds 
 The stars peep wickedly. Mischiefs abroad 
 And couples with the wolf this fearful night. 
 How wild the wind amid the branches roars ! 
 A storm frowns o'er the forest. Thunder ! Hark ! 
 
 Enter Hoskold and another ; the latter seizes 
 Ethelburga. 
 
 Eth. What men are these ? Help me ; help, 
 Esmund, help ! < 
 
 Enter Edwin and Men. 
 
 Edir. Am I too late ? Fellow, release that lady : 
 What, wilt thou fight ? Thy blood be on thyself. 
 
 ['EDw./ights the man, u-ho falls. 
 Hos. Fly, quick. [To Esmund. 
 
 Esm. Hast thou betray'd me ?
 
 SCENE III.] EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. 43 
 
 Hos. No, by Heav'ii ! 
 
 Esm. I have a troop observing by the wood : 
 Let's steal avfay, and bring them to the rescue. 
 
 [Esm. and Hos. steal aimij. 
 
 Edw. Secure that man, and bring him to our 
 quarters. 
 Go, some of you, pursue the guilty squire : 
 My anger shall be hot, if he escape. [Exeunt Men. 
 
 Now sweet thoughts to my heart, sweet utterance 
 Flow musically from my skilless tongue, 
 To cheer this pretty trembler : here she stands, 
 Her sweet pale face betwixt two lilies buried. 
 God ! she needs must be most beautiful. 
 For beauty, like a daughter of the skies, 
 Ere she be seen, doth make her presence felt, 
 In trem'lous music o'er the spirit's chords. 
 Alas, would she but look upon me once ! — 
 heav'nly spirit of perfection. 
 Art thou descended upon earth ? Bright soul ! — 
 For grosser thing, I deem, thou can.st not be, —
 
 44 EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. [aCT I. 
 
 That art more beautiful than a saint's thought, 
 
 So holy, pure, and unexampled fair ! 
 
 Oh, droop thy face no longer to the ground, 
 
 Lest the fond earth that roots the summer flow'r 
 
 Mistake thee for the pride of all her wreath, 
 
 And so embrace thee as her fairest child ; 
 
 But lift thine eyes, and sun those cheeks of snow. 
 
 Thou image of pale Dian, white with fear 
 
 And paler than the stilly midnight wave 
 
 'V\Tiereon the moonbeam trembles. Does she hear me ? — 
 
 Rash man, I am her terror ! See, she lifts 
 
 Her eyes, and, meeting mine, di'oops them, as swift 
 
 As two faint stars that twinkle through the dark 
 
 And instantly retrieve themselves in night. 
 
 Sweet lady, let me do thee reverence. 
 
 Eth. I'm in thy pow'r : I fear, thou'rt mocking me. 
 I pray thee, do not kill me. 
 
 Edw. No, good sooth. 
 
 Eth. For there are those will pay thee hand- 
 somely.
 
 SCENE III.] EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. 45 
 
 Edic. All worldly riches being summ'cl in thee 
 Must beggar all thy kin. lady, lady, 
 Since I have wrought some service for thy sake, 
 So let mine eyes some satisfaction take. 
 Wilt thou not look upon me once again ? 
 Eth. Was't thou came to my rescue ? 
 Edw. Ay, sweet maid, 
 
 From rude enforcement of unholy men. 
 Eth. I thought thou wert a robber. 
 Edw. In mine eyes 
 
 Are two fond thieves that would thine image steal, 
 To be the goddess of an empty shiine : 
 My heart hath long been desolate for thee. 
 
 Eth. I do not think I fear thee very much : 
 Methinks a robber should not look as thou : 
 Oh, if thy soul be of a piece with thee, 
 Stain not her beauty with a cruel deed : 
 Be gentle, for thy looks' sake. 
 
 Edw. By all the pow'rs that mortal faith o'ersee. 
 By thy dear self, which is the greater oath, —
 
 46 EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. [aCT I. 
 
 Eih. What man was that, — me! — what man 
 was he, 
 Who shamed my waist with his embracing arai ? 
 Oh, he did fi-ight me, like a basilisk : 
 I would, I might forget his dreadful looks. 
 
 Ediv. He shall not live to frighten thee again. 
 
 Eth. Nay, haim him not, I charge, or mine's the 
 pain. 
 But say, how cam'st thou hither, or what saint 
 Wafted thee from the farthest end of earth ? 
 
 Edw. Heav'n, and pure breezes that eschew offence, 
 Did waft the plot into my timely ear ; ' 
 
 Forthwith I called my men, came quickly hither, 
 And thus thy rescue was accomplished. 
 
 Eth. I thank thee ft'om my heart. Teach me thy 
 name, 
 That in my pray'rs I may remember it. 
 
 Edw. Recall me by what name thou lovest best. 
 
 Eth. Thine own were very well, if I knew that. 
 
 Edw. Sweet, I am nameless, till thou christen me :
 
 SCENE III.] EDWIN AND ETEELBURGA. 
 
 That name I bore, my heart hath put away 
 With an eternal, cleeply-swom divorce ; 
 For, I remember (oh, that this should be !) 
 That name was with thy race at enmity. 
 
 Eth. I'd rather that thou wert a robber now ; 
 Be one, that I may buy thy heart of thee, 
 With all the wealth I have. 
 
 Edw, Give me thy glove ; 
 
 I'll wear it in my helm ; and he, who wins it. 
 Shall wear my poor life too. 
 
 Enter Theodore. 
 
 The. My lord, a troop comes riding like the ^iud, 
 Bristling with spears and shining o'er with steel : 
 In the firm front the crafty squire doth ride, 
 Beside himself with rage ; his frowTi of thunder 
 Makes answer to the lightnings of his sword, 
 With which he cuts the air. 
 
 Edm. Lady, dear lady. 
 
 Time has run out for love's sweet circumstance,
 
 48 EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. [act I. 
 
 So, to the centre of 't : I love thee ! Dost thou hear ? 
 
 And wilt thou understand me what I mean, 
 
 WTien I do simply tell thee that I love thee ? 
 
 And wilt thou in thine heart think o'er my love ? 
 
 And wilt thou put an ocean in that word, 
 
 Of oaths and vows, and think I pour'd it forth ? . 
 
 Eth. I fear thy love's too sudden : for they say. 
 That tnie love grows not in a single day. 
 
 Ediv. I would there were an oath of that fine pow'r. 
 As would enforce belief by hearing it. 
 Might I but stay, I have such reasons — oh ! 
 Such wealth of terms to gild my love withal. 
 Thou shouldst perceive it, like the sun in Heav'n : 
 But now 'twere death. Hark ! they are calling thee. 
 
 Esm. My lady ! [Within. 
 
 Edw. Though I'm alone, I'll not relinquish thee 
 To that base man. 
 
 Eric. Ho ! Lady Ethelbui-ga ! [Within. 
 
 Eth. 'Tis Eric's voice: my father's henchman calls. 
 
 Eric. My lady ! [Within.
 
 SCENE III.] EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. 49 
 
 Edw. Sweet, farewell ; and think on me : 
 
 I will contrive some means to see thee soon ; 
 Oh, speedily I will. 
 
 Eth. Farewell. [Goinrj. 
 
 Edw. Farewell. 
 
 Eth. My soul returns, and wings me back to 
 thee, [Beturnim/. 
 
 To say, — oh, yet I should not, — youth, though I 
 Know not thy name, my heart knows that I love thee : 
 Thou lov'st me too, thou say'st, and I believe thee, 
 Because to doubt, were pain. Well, well ; thou dost : 
 Truth's in thine eye, and shall dispense with oaths. 
 
 Edw. Yet let me register my true love's vow 
 Upon this tablet of fair ivory. 
 Which, if I forfeit, may I ne'er know bliss ; 
 And thus I seal my soul's oath with a Idss. 
 
 Em. My lady! * [V/ithin. 
 
 Eth. They're at hand. No more, no 
 
 more. [Exit. 
 
 Edw. It is my soul, that leaves me thus alone, 
 
 4
 
 50 EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. [aCT I. 
 
 Then farewell, life ; end with my date of joy. 
 As one who, from a sweet and happy dream. 
 Far straying in some lonely ocean-isle. 
 Wakes suddenly to find his ship a speck 
 Fading far off at sea, and wrings his hands, 
 The while with careless, quick, distracted feet, 
 He treads the desert, sad, sea-heaten shore. 
 E'en so am I : now, solitude, I know thee. 
 Even to suffocation : I could weep. 
 
 The. For sorrow ? 
 
 Ediv. No, for joy : and yet not that ; 
 
 My joy 's away. Time, thou heart of ice ! 
 Thou cruel, mute, slow, pleasure-quenching fiend, 
 Couldst thou not kill me in the interval 
 That thou hast intei'posed 'twixt life and life ? 
 But let me cast about to find some means 
 To gaze once more upon this paragon. 
 Be fav'rable, thou supreme God of hearts ! 
 Thou babe of inspiration, shine in me 
 With all thy subtle, wise, discerning fire ;
 
 SCENE III.] EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. 51 
 
 Make me an angel of intelligence, 
 
 To plot the sweet encounter of my love. 
 
 Hist, Theodore ! 
 
 The. What is it, my good lord ? 
 
 Edw. Bring me the clothes of that hoar-headed Dane 
 Who died awhile since in our company. 
 Dost recollect him, boy ? He was a man 
 All white with age, and silver-Heach'd by Time. 
 His beard flow'd to his waist ; beyond his feet 
 Jutted his wrinkled face, so crook'd he was : 
 With staff in 's palsy-shaken hands, he limp'd 
 Thus, — seest thou, boy ? — vnth. such a crumbling step. 
 His looks would thrill all men with ghostly awe : 
 I've seen young warriors bow their steel-clad strength. 
 And give themselves to God, chanced they to light 
 Upon the creeping presence of that man. 
 Young Cupid shrive me for the sin, if I, 
 Who am a soldier listed in Love's wars. 
 Abuse my youth, to shut my warm blood up 
 In such an impotent receptacle. 
 
 4—2
 
 52 EDWIN AND ETHELBUKGA. [aCT I. 
 
 There's more protection in a few gray hairs 
 Than in the steel proof of a coat of mail. 
 Thus mask'd, I'll enter in Lord Osric's castle, 
 And feast my soul upon this breathing pearl 
 That hangs in Danger's cheek. 
 
 The. Oh, dear my lord, 
 
 Be not too rash. 
 
 Edu\ Comfort, sweet Theodore ! 
 
 For, pretty boy, when I have won my love, 
 I will prefer thee to become her page ; 
 That, in the suuohine of her glorious eye, 
 Thou may'st for ever bask. But truce to words ! 
 For the sA\ift hours are but shod with lead, 
 Until my feet are mng'd towards my love.
 
 SCENE I.] EDAVIN AND ETHELBURGA. 53 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 A. CxI-a.m:bee iisr loed oseics C-a.stle. 
 
 Filter EsMXJND. 
 
 Esm. Crosses that put some weaker from their 
 
 emis, 
 Breed but new fires in me. Still to pursue, 
 As mortals may, is to o'ercome ; so then 
 Fly on, ye swift desires ; on, burning thoughts I 
 As falcons, to o'ertake your beauteous prey : 
 My soul no longer shall restrain your flight. 
 Let me consider then. That stranger, sure. 
 Whom some mischance thrust in 'twixt me and 
 
 bliss,
 
 54 EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. [aCT II. 
 
 Should be the wide-reputed Saxon chief 
 
 Of whose arrival in these woods I hear, 
 
 And rumour doth report he claims this castle. 
 
 'Tis well, 'tis happy, 'tis most fortunate ; 
 
 For my Lord Osric, being old and weak 
 
 And shatter'd with severe infirmities. 
 
 Hath for these many years devolved on me 
 
 All warlike matters. Of his former troop 
 
 Few live that now remember him ; while I, 
 
 From time to time, have fiU'd the gaps with men 
 
 Devoted all to me. Then here's my plan : 
 
 First, will I break upon Lord Osric's sleep, 
 
 And rouse his numb age with the fearful sight 
 
 Of this same threat'ning Saxon ; on which vantage, 
 
 I will entreat him strongly for his daughter, 
 
 Who haply then may more submissive prove. 
 
 Out of pure pity for her helpless sire. 
 
 If not, — farewell to conscience ! I'll seek out 
 
 The Saxon, and propose my love shall be 
 
 The costly purchase of my treachery. [Eocit.
 
 SCENE II.] EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. 55 
 
 SCENE II. 
 ^NOTHEU CH^MBEK IN THE CA.STLE. 
 
 Enter Oseic and Eeic. 
 
 Erie. How fares my lord, to-day ? 
 
 Oar. Why, Eric, well ; 
 
 Better than old men use : thou know'st, my youth 
 Was not bestow'd on pleasure, therefore I 
 Do reap the fruits of honour in mine age. 
 
 Eric. And carry out the harvest bravely too : 
 Why, you should not be far off seventy ? 
 
 Osr. But seventy ? Why, I remember me, 
 So many years back, for a boy of ten. 
 I'm eighty, Eric, though thou'lt not believe me. 
 
 Eric. No, no. 
 
 Osr. 'Tis true, howe'er thou think it strange : 
 
 Go, ask my liegemen, if thou doubt my lips, 
 Who have fought with me, and confess'd me lord, 
 Since first young Osric slipp'd his leading-strings. 
 But see, the sun hath seized on yonder wall ;
 
 56 EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. [act II. 
 
 Support me to tlie window : 'tis most sweet 
 To look on nature at this budding time. 
 Sweet breath of spring, how thou renewest me ! 
 
 Eric. Here you may have a fair and distant view. 
 
 Osr. The rosy morn, upon the hills uprous'd, 
 Brushes the dewy lawn with flying feet, 
 Descending to the plain : the dappled clouds 
 Course o'er the flow'ry fields ; the light bee hums 
 In the shy bosom of the blushing rose. 
 Hark, Eric, how the lark his matin sings, 
 Far risen in yon deep blue crystalline ; 
 His chorus, all creation, full and strong. 
 The hounds are forth upon the distant hills, 
 With eager bay rousing the noble chase ; 
 The horn winds through the dell ; the forest glades 
 Ring gaily with the whistling woodman's stroke ; 
 The plougliman's smack is heard, and hearty voice, 
 Urging his oxen through the cloddy fields ; 
 And see, reflected in the sleeping lake, 
 The snowy breast of yon proud- sailing cloud,
 
 SCENE II.] EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. 57 
 
 That o'er its rnin-or stoops, and hovers there, 
 To gaze on its own virgin majesty. 
 Sweet scene of beauty ! perfection sole ! 
 bright reflection of celestial things ! 
 How calm and gracious is thine influence, 
 How deep, and beyond utterance, thy pow'r ! 
 Methiuks, my veins swell with the tide of youth, 
 And that I am no more a weak old man, 
 The while I gaze on beauty. Oh, she hath 
 A sov'reign spell to lift the weary soul 
 From this dark maze, wherein we, lost, do pine. 
 To happy mansions of immortal bliss, 
 "Where only freedom dwells and true content. 
 Let him be envied of all gi'osser men, 
 Whose heart, not hooded o'er by worldliness, 
 Can truly feel this precious influence. 
 For he alone can know felicity. 
 'Tis an elixir of pei-petual youth. 
 That, e'en beneath gray hairs, can save for us 
 The happy thrill of childhood, and beguile,
 
 58 EDWIN AND ETHELBUEGA. [act II. 
 
 By rejjetition of familiar sights, 
 
 Our souls to the glad times when we were young. 
 
 Dost know, my Eric, I sometimes inquire. 
 
 Within myself, when on these scenes I gaze, 
 
 If all my middle life were not a dream. 
 
 I have breathed peace so long, that warlike thoughts 
 
 Seem but the memory of another world. 
 
 And marvel how this wither'd arm I lift, 
 
 Once grasped Lord Osric's sword, the fiery Dane, 
 
 Who tore this castle from its Saxon lord. 
 
 I am transported to my youth again, 
 
 By gazing on these old familiar sights. 
 
 By giving ear to these remembered sounds : 
 
 Thus sang the merry lark when I was young, 
 
 Thus joyfully would bark the nimble hounds ; 
 
 The breeze thus whisper'd, mid the summer leaves. 
 
 His amorous-complaining melody ; 
 
 And thus in youth the brook flow'd silverly. 
 
 Eric. What, is Lord Osric old ? Not so ; old age 
 We measure not by counting of our years,
 
 SCENE II.] EDWIN AND ETHELBUKGA. 59 
 
 Nor by the snows becli-izzlecl on our heads, 
 
 But by the infii'm soul. Could you but hear 
 
 The trump of war ! Ah ! there's Lord Osric's vein. 
 
 Osr. Eric, thou'rt old to be a flatterer. 
 
 Eric, 'Tis but your modesty that calls me so, 
 For uttering an universal truth. 
 
 Osr. There was a thing that troubled me last night ; 
 'Thas slipp'd my memory. 
 
 Eric. Why, this it was : 
 
 My lady Ethelbui'ga stay'd from home ; 
 'Twas nightfall, and a storm raged o'er the wood, 
 Was terrible to see. 
 
 Osr. When came she back ? 
 
 Eric. Ere midnight, safe. To tell a foolish tale. 
 That should be chidden on an old man's tongue ; — 
 The storm, for shame to have so rudely beat 
 Upon so fair a creature in his wi*ath, 
 To show his dumb contrition to the maid, 
 On either cheek had hung a wat'17 pearl, 
 As speaking-precious as an angel's tear.
 
 60 EDWm AND ETHELBURGA. [acT II. 
 
 Osr. What escort had slie with her ? Didst thou see ? 
 Eric. An armed company : 'twas so, in truth. 
 Osr. Why so ? 
 
 Eric. In happy time here comes your squire : 
 
 Sir Esmund will inform you of these things. 
 
 Enter Esmund, i)i haste. 
 
 Esm. Good morrow to your lordship. Here's a morn 
 To bring fresh roses into wither'd cheeks : 
 By Heav'n ! it fills my soul with lusuiy : 
 As hahny, thrilling, and restorative, 
 To those who feel their current on the ebb. 
 As that fair Shunnamite, whose sweet young breath 
 Fann'd David's cheek, as on his breast she lay. 
 You've risen early. 
 
 Osr. Esmund, what's thy news ? 
 
 Not peaceful, for I see thine armour's on : 
 And such a forc'd smile plays upon thy brow. 
 As when the sun strikes through embattled clouds. 
 Smile all, or be all frowns ; be peace or war.
 
 SCENE II.] EDWIN AND ETHELBUEGA. 61 
 
 And why dost tliou approach so hastily ? 
 I am no soklier, if some mischief lurks not 
 Under so hot a tread. 
 
 Esm. Regard it not, 
 
 My lord. — This message, Eric, to the men. — 
 
 [Exit Eric. 
 And yet in truth I could have wish'd I had 
 A tale more fit for venerable ears. 
 
 Osr. Away, this shy beginning of rough things ! 
 This soft and maidenlike exordium, 
 That ushers in the flaming majesty 
 Of glorious war ! Forgett'st thou who I am ? 
 Osric, am I, a soldier, and a Dane. 
 How dar'st thou preface to me I am old. 
 When thy next word's of war ? I know it, I. 
 What ! think'st thou I've no strength ? — Within there, 
 
 Eric ! 
 Bring me my weapon from the armoury. — 
 I'll show thee in a trice, what I can do. 
 
 Esm. Oh, sir, content you for a little space.
 
 62 
 
 EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. [aCT II. 
 
 Osr. I've slept too long of late ; I o^ti 't, with shame 
 In peace, a soldier grows luxurious : 
 But 'twas occasion for mine aims that slept, 
 And not my need, that wink'd on exigence. 
 Peruse my person o'er : are these the limbs, 
 That usually accompany old age ? 
 'Tis luxury that drains the strength of man, 
 And rots him ere the timely stroke of death. 
 In the first fire of impetuous youth. 
 And when my weightier arm proclaim'd me man, 
 'Twas still my glory to be first afield : 
 
 With all my soul I did attend upon 
 
 1, 
 
 The shi-ill-sped summons of ennobling war ; 
 Yea, my heart hung upon it, as its food : 
 And now I'm old, shall I forget myself? 
 Then Osric were not Osric, but his tomb, 
 And lives to chronicle a man that's dead. 
 I tell thee, Esmund, when I hear that note. 
 By day, or stretch'd upon my bed at night. 
 If but one limb can to the other move.
 
 SCENE II.] EDWIN AND ETHELBUEGA. 63 
 
 Or stand at all, old Osric slialt thou see 
 Helm his gray hairs to do a martial deed, 
 Ai-m his scarr'd breast, and to the battle ride, 
 Tlirough banded shields to pierce to his brave sire, 
 Who from the blessed halls of Odin show'rs 
 Sweet looks upon brave deeds. 
 
 Esm. Had I been told, 
 
 Or had I dream' d there lay so fresh a soul 
 Under that white and wi-inlded bark of life, 
 I still had doubted it. Oh, I want words 
 To meet this marvel ! To the saints be praise, 
 That have prolong'd your vigour with your days. 
 Your valom" shall have speedy breath, my lord. 
 I hope, I've not offended. 
 
 Osr. Oh, no, no ! 
 
 Esmund, I love thee well ; I know thee for 
 An honest and a right brave gentleman. 
 But, prythee, keep me in suspense no more. 
 
 Esm. Thus rumoui* doth report : a Saxon lord 
 Hath lately with a troop possessed the forest ;
 
 64 EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. [act II. 
 
 'Tis said, moreover, that lie claims your castle. 
 
 This hearing, I (oh, pardon it) concealed ; 
 
 Partly, for rumour is a liar approved, 
 
 But chiefly, that I fear'd t' imperil you, 
 
 Being old, with such fierce news ; though I was wrong 
 
 there : 
 But truth spoke out last night ; for as my lady. 
 Guarded by me, pass'd homeward in the dusk, 
 Some men sprang from an ambush suddenly, 
 And seized your daughter. On the instant, I 
 Drew, and defended her ; but being press'd 
 By many weapons, and my lady in act 
 To be borne off, and knowing that a troop 
 Was station'd near, I ran with all my strength, 
 And brought them in ; at whose approach, the men 
 Fled for their lives, and left your daughter harmless. 
 Osr. Now by my sword, if I have closed mine 
 
 eyes 
 That robbers may o'erleap the pales of law, 
 And ravish in the face of open day, —
 
 SCENE II.] EDWIN AND ETHELBUKGA. 65 
 
 Wliat, 'neath the very fro'wii of this my castle ! — 
 I am unworthy to have lived so long. 
 
 Esm. My reputation to a jester's bell, 
 If these were robbers ! my lord, not so : 
 I know what kind of "•reature is a thief ; 
 Pale, stealthy, timorous, brave but by night. 
 Slinking, like ghosts, from day : but these were men. 
 Whose faces were as open title-deeds 
 Writ to all present and to futui'e times. 
 By nature's hand sealed ■nith her xniddiest blood 
 Unto possession of this fair round earth, 
 And for a name, term'd Saxons. See, my lord ; 
 Here comes one to confirm me. 
 
 Enter Oswith. '. . 
 
 Osiv. To Lord Osric, 
 
 Mine embassy. 
 
 Osr. Lord Osric hears you, herald. 
 
 Say first, who sent you. 
 
 Osw. From Lord Edwin, I 
 
 5
 
 66 EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. [act II. 
 
 Bear tliis demand ; either restore this castle, 
 Now my Lord Edwin's, by inheritance 
 From his deceased sire. Lord Ethelwulf : 
 And whereof he, the said Lord Ethelwulf, 
 Was formerly disseized by violence ; 
 Or, failing this condition, name a day 
 Whereon, supported by what pow'r you have. 
 You may oppose Lord Edwin in the field, 
 And, to award of the just God of battles, 
 Submit your title ; which to be conceived 
 In the set teeth of justice, law and honour, 
 My master now avers, and, trusting to 
 That high imperial Pow'r who ever arms 
 Right with His majesty, sends you, by me. 
 Defiance, with this glove. 
 
 Osr. A moment, stay. 
 
 I ask thee, herald, is thy lord a knight ? 
 
 Osw. By the hand of Eichard, Duke of Normandy. 
 
 Osr. Why then. Sir Esmund, take the challenge up ; 
 And, gentle herald, bear this answer back :
 
 SCENE II.] EDWIN AND ETHELBUKGA. 67 
 
 Since, without God inspire, our actions all 
 Are weak and nerveless as an infant's arm, 
 Nay, wither'd ere conceived in our will's womb, 
 So by His aid did I obtain this castle, 
 And so by His continuing grace will I 
 Retain 't ; so let thy lord consider well 
 How he array himself against a man 
 So prosperous and well with Grod as me. 
 But if thy master, in contempt of life, 
 Would spit himself into the jaws of death, 
 And drag his comrades after (whose sad state 
 Moves me to tears). Lord Osric's wont is not 
 To baulk a foe in the pui'suit of glory. 
 When honour calls him, and his fame's at stake, 
 A man must loose the bonds of charity. 
 And from his bosom thrust each kindly thought 
 To wither in the fiery sun of war ; 
 Till, in the eve of the contention's heat, 
 His foe upon the green cool turf doth lie. 
 And to compassion of a brave man fall'n, 
 
 5—2
 
 68 EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. [aCT II. 
 
 Unseals the parch'd fount of the victor's tears. 
 Tell him, in fine, 
 
 Lord Osric, on the seventh day, will dare 
 His utmost valour upon Brackley moor. 
 
 Osw. Nobly deliver'd ! As the bird of Jove 
 Gives warning of a king, so flying Fame, 
 That through all Christian countries spoke of you, 
 Advised us of a brave and courteous knight. 
 Accept my thanks, and with th' assurance you 
 Find in your breast, credit Lord Edwin too. 
 
 Osr. This chain of gold was once a Swedish knight's, 
 Whom on the plains of Germany I slew. 
 Ah, rest his soul ! he was a gallant man ; 
 His fellow lives not now. Wear't for me, sir. 
 
 Osic. I thank your lordship, and so take my leave. 
 
 Osr. Farewell, sir, and commend me to your lord. 
 
 [Exit OswiTH. 
 I never heard a man more dignify 
 Himself in speech. If but the oracle 
 Shame not his mouthpiece, this young Saxon lord
 
 SCENE 11.] EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. 69 
 
 Were worthier to live Lord Osric's friend 
 
 Than perish by his sword. Spirit of battles, 
 
 Thou true Promethean spark, how thou rekindlest 
 
 Cold nature in my limbs ! But now, I was 
 
 As one benumbed with winter, reft of soul, 
 
 Heavy and sapless as a fallen tree ; 
 
 Now my blood dances like a spring-touch'd brook. 
 
 I think, life hath her seasons circling round, 
 
 And youth comes in upon the rear of age. — 
 
 O God ! I thank thee, that Thou hast vouchsafed 
 
 Some glory still to my far-travell'd sun, 
 
 Ere it decline to its dark western tomb. — 
 
 What ! rouse thee, Esmund : is thy joy so mute ? 
 
 Oh, then, thou'lt weep upon thy wedding day. 
 
 Why hang'st thou thy sad head so leadenly ? 
 
 And bit'st thy lip ? Man of my heart, what ails 
 
 thee ? 
 Art thou translated into Osric's body ? 
 Thou hast a look of age. 
 
 Es7n. And reason for it :
 
 70 EDWIN AND ETHELBUEGA. [acT II. 
 
 When Wisdom is by old men tlirust away, 
 Fain must she dwill with youths. 
 
 Osr. I see, thine eye 
 
 Labours with meaning. 0' my faith, I'll 'scape thee : 
 I'll not be midwife to so wise a babe. 
 Thou art too prudent to be merry, sir, 
 When merriment's becoming. I'll at once 
 Go forth, and marshal all my warriors. — 
 Nay, speak, man, if thou wilt ; discharge that look. 
 
 Esm. My lord, my lord, could words to weapons turn, 
 Or valour in one breast rout a whole airmy, 
 Against all men, yours were the victory. 
 But oh, bethink you of your humble means 
 To follow these proud thoughts. Alas ! how slowly 
 Performance limps after our winged wills. 
 Your men are few in number, lazy, proud, 
 Gross-bodied, feeble, mut'nous to the core, 
 And from the bloody clasp of war long free, 
 Are fall'n asunder through lax discipline. 
 Horses, and aims, and warlike furniture
 
 SCENE II.] EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. 7 1 
 
 Are more defective tlian you can suppose. 
 Ah, my dear master, tliat I should say this ! 
 But when your heart finds this brave utterance, 
 Mine own refuses to respond Amen. 
 
 Osr. Now, for mine honour's sake, I must reprove thee. 
 Had I not proved thee by experience 
 To be beyond suspicion a brave man, 
 I'd tell thee to thy face, " There spoke a coward." 
 What man who lives, or from his grave can boast 
 That e'er he took Lord Osric at sm-prise ? 
 Hast thou not heard me tell of the Lord Stein ? 
 
 Esm. Alas ! my lord. 
 
 Osr. I think thou dost forget. 
 
 In Denmark, on a time, my castle stood 
 Perch'd on the swart brow of a pine-clad rock ; 
 And the Eedhand (for so they call'd Lord Stein) 
 In the still hours came suddenly upon me. 
 Jesu ! was war within the skies that night : 
 The wind did battle with the chimney-stalks, 
 Hurling them from the roof ; the gaunt trees roar'd,
 
 72 EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. [act II. 
 
 And toss'd their mighty branches to and fro, 
 Contending in their strength ; near and more near 
 The iron step of Thor roll'd o'er the hills, 
 Shaking the vault of heav'n ; and, in the midst, 
 Fearfally quench'd, the lamp of night went out. 
 And darkness swallow'd up both earth and sky. 
 But from the casement of my castle-keep 
 As through the gloom I gazed, a single flash 
 Tore the obscurity ; was something moved, 
 And glitter'd in the light ; I knew 'twas arms : 
 I rons'd my men ; in silence deep we arm'd, 
 And secret watch'd behind the close-barr'd gates. 
 Softly our foes came climbing up the steep. 
 From crag to crag ; full eighty men in steel : 
 But when now half was gather'd at the edge. 
 We drew the bolt, and with a cry rush'd forth. 
 Then o'er the thunder rose the din of war ; 
 Shout answer'd shout, and arms rang horribly : 
 The screams of falling men appall'd the night. 
 Remorselessly huii'd o'er the steep incline.
 
 SCENE II.] EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. 73 
 
 Flamed o'er witli a pine-torch, the Redliand stood ; 
 
 He raised his battle-axe, and rash'd at me : 
 
 Sweyn took the blow upon his lifted targe, 
 
 And, flashing round, my great two-handed sword 
 
 Descended on his shoulder ; low he fell : 
 
 Then tum'd his men, and, leaping down the rock, 
 
 Fled cow'ring o'er the plain, their recreant backs 
 
 Turn'd to the pale eye of the tim'rous moon. — 
 
 "We bore him swiftly thi'ough the castle gates, 
 
 Unarm'd him tenderly, and laid him down 
 
 On mine own couch. Alas ! thrice gallant foe. 
 
 Wast then, alas ! wast then a dying man, 
 
 Though all the glories of Walhalla shone 
 
 In thy bright hero's eyes. Softly my hand 
 
 Thou took'st in thine, and with a sigh that bore 
 
 Thy spirit on its wings, thus murmur'd forth : 
 
 " Thy castle, my Lord Osric, 
 
 " Is like a thunder -cloud, wherein Jove sits, 
 
 '• That, being but reach'd at by ambitious hand, 
 
 " Doth shoot forth instant death." His eyes grew dim,
 
 74 EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. [act II. 
 
 And his brave spirit was in happiness. — 
 Esmund, in those days were men indeed ! 
 But for these shallow youths of Saxony, — 
 The very spawn of these degen'rate times, — 
 'Tis but to don our steel-coats and ride forth, 
 Or, like the famous Greek, great Peleus' son. 
 Peep o'er the battlements and shout at them. 
 And further they'll not stay. 
 
 Es7n. _ Oh, that a man 
 
 By too much courage should undo himself, 
 And by assurancpi arm his enemy ! 
 Oh, rouse thee, gallant lord ; shake off this dream : 
 Time runneth on the while your thoughts sleep fast. 
 Prosperity is in the hand of Heav'n, 
 And earthly fortunes are as shifting sand. 
 
 Osr. Hath anything befallen to my men ? 
 Why, think ; 'twas but the other day I storm'd 
 This castle with a regiment of fire. 
 
 Esm. Pardon, my lord ; 'twas twenty years now since ; 
 And of your men most part are in their graves :
 
 SCENE n.] EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. 75 
 
 Some few still linger in the eye of Death, 
 Who, like a gaoler, in their footsteps walks, 
 Stealing his shadow o'er them ere himself : 
 Pale, feeble, toothless, sunken in their cheeks. 
 Some blind, some deaf, some wanting of a limb, 
 And scarce a soul but drivels in his talk : 
 E'en as the last few wither'd leaves of Autumn, 
 Left to bewail their too long living hap. 
 While Winter, stern and pale, comes frowning in ; 
 Grey ghosts of strength, mere memories of men, 
 Stray gleanings from the busy hand of Fate. 
 
 Osr. Was it so long ? Oh, let me pause awhile. 
 But wilt thou tell me it was twenty years ? 
 Yet let me think : — Oh, yes, oh, yes ! it was : 
 memory ! Osric ! fallen ! fallen ! 
 Vain-glorious man, what dost thou meditate ? 
 Thou quenched light, wilt thou be flaming still, 
 And gUtter in the front of warriors ? 
 Osric, thou hast grown old : thine hairs are grey ; 
 Thy bram hath turn'd to folly.
 
 76 EDWIN AND ETHELBUEGA. [act II. 
 
 Esni. Grive me leave — • — 
 
 Osr. Nay, Esrnund, I have done with flattery. 
 Whom sorrow teaches, learns his lesson well. 
 Those sweet delusions of old age have fled, 
 And cleared mine eyes, that now I see these limhs 
 Are wither'd, halt, and feehle. 
 
 Esm. I but thought 
 
 To check you flying madly, not to bring 
 That lofty and thrice noble spirit to earth, 
 Pierc'd v/ith so sharp a pang. Do I not love you ? 
 
 Osr. I know th.ou dost, my Esmund, and I turn 
 To thee more confidently in that thought. 
 Listen : my life hath met with some applause ; 
 I have reaped glory with a sweating brow, 
 And fame so earned is sweet, sweeter than life. 
 Should this young Saxon come upon me now, 
 When I am feeble and enthrall'd by age, 
 Fast bound in sickness and infirmities, 
 And, pilfring from me mine illustrious name, 
 Leave me defenceless to the cruel tongue
 
 SCENE IL] EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. 77 
 
 That stings misfortune to the quick ! Esmund, 
 In one disgrace, ingloriously slain, 
 Shoukl Osric and his honour lie entombed. 
 
 Esm. Far, far, my noble master, be such end 
 To such a life. 
 
 Osr. Look, Esmund, on thy youth 
 
 I lean the burden of my fourscore years : 
 Staff up mine ancient honour, lest it fall, 
 And bear me to my grave. 
 
 Esm. And so I will ; 
 
 And, with His aid, who fights for a just cause, 
 Will bring you honourably through this strife. 
 Yet longs my heart to utter a request. 
 
 Osr. What Osric and his honour can accord, 
 Be sure is thine. 
 
 Esjn. Oh, let me be forgiv'n, 
 
 If in this hour I shall presume too far 
 Upon my vantage. You, my lord, have oft, 
 When I improved your men in martial arts, 
 Both praised my skill and heaped me up with thanks
 
 78 EDWIN AND ETHELBUEGA. [acT II. 
 
 For its unbouglit bestowal. Many years 
 
 Have I served you with many services, 
 
 Nor asked reward. When danger threaten'd you, 
 
 Mine eyes have wearied out the starry night, 
 
 To watch the coming of your enemies ; 
 
 And oft (for now I dare confess so much) 
 
 That your grey head might know tranquillity. 
 
 And nightly on a quiet pillow lie, 
 
 Have I, unknown, join'd battle with your foes, 
 
 Fought secretly, and without glory conquer'd. 
 
 Osr. For which I could desire myself more rich 
 Of recompence. 
 
 Esm. And I myself more rich 
 
 A thousand thousand times in services 
 To merit that I ask ; which, if you grant, 
 Both beggars me of claim and runs before 
 To make my future bankrupt. Ah, my lord ! 
 Seeing that all men serve for recompence. 
 And without motive, none, for what serve I '? 
 What object have I set before mine eyes.
 
 SCENE II.] EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA, 79 
 
 Whose wished consummation nerves my limbs 
 To labour in the painful race of life ? 
 Thyself dost know (who trulier than thou ?) 
 What witchery beams from the eye of Fame, , 
 Who, in the vision of all noble spirits, 
 Stands vested in a thousand heav'nly hues. 
 Some desire knowledge ; 'tis a godlike thirst ; 
 And earthlier spirits burrow still for gold. 
 But me, thou seest, by nor fame nor wealth 
 Enthrall'd, nor the request of learning sweet : 
 The prize is still to find, that lures me on. 
 What fancy sprung of earth or air seek I ? 
 
 Oh, scorn me not, because I answer, love ; 
 
 Ah ! fame and wealth are shadows to pursue ; 
 
 For who can clasp them to his beating heart, 
 
 And rest content ? But 'tis not so with love ; 
 
 That hath a form and beauty palpable. 
 
 To gaze upon, touch, circle, and enjoy. 
 
 Till drowned bliss wake in Elysium, 
 
 And turn to his celestial food again.
 
 80 EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. [acT II. 
 
 Who seeketh fame, must walk companionless ; 
 But sweet society attends on love. 
 Wisdom still treads upon a precipice, 
 And oft with thought grown giddy and brainsick, 
 Down topples into moody discontent : 
 But he who loves, and is in turn beloved, 
 Lock'd up and bosom'd in his own content, 
 Looks from the shelter of a happy heart, 
 And with unenvious eye sees Folly tlironed. 
 And robed in honours proudly bear herself ; 
 In sweet and inward contemplation wrapt 
 Above the thoughts of sad mortality. 
 Ah me ! what gold, digg'd fr'om the depths of hell, 
 Shall be compared with Love's golden locks ? 
 What glory, harp'd upon strange lips, outweigh 
 The sweet report writ in Love's beaming eye ? 
 In presence of the king, what fool were he 
 Should court the lent light of the minister ! 
 E'en so the man, who woos Philosophy, 
 Nor first does homage at the shrine of Love,
 
 SCENE II.] EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. 81 
 
 Who oft the risen soul hurls from his seat, 
 
 And bends his proud neck to entreat a child. 
 
 But when adored Love dwells in a man, 
 
 And sways the fury of his warring thoughts, 
 
 Oh, then, his fancy, from brute sense refined. 
 
 On viewless wings cleaving the liquid sky, 
 
 Can soar beyond the eagle in her flight, 
 
 And pass the swallow that wings o'er the sea. 
 
 Yea, oft such vigour is in mortal man. 
 
 When through his chaste eye Love on beauty looks, 
 
 From thought to thought, fi-om bliss to bliss led on 
 
 Through a succession of bright images. 
 
 Into the imperishable sea he breaks, 
 
 To visions in immortal glory bathed, 
 
 Where Justice, Temperance, and Virtue dwell. 
 
 Hymning sweet music to the ear of Heav'n : 
 
 So spake the holiest man of ancient Greece, 
 
 Wise Socrates, upon whose shoulder sate 
 
 Apollo, in the likeness of a dove. 
 
 And whisper'd oracles into his ear. 
 
 6
 
 82 EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. [aCT II. 
 
 Ail me ! to laud so sweet a sovereign 
 I have a mint of phrases in my brain ; 
 But the swift feet of all-too-nimble Time 
 Fast follow on my breathless fluency 
 And bid me thus to sum mine argument, — 
 That he who wealth desires or earthly fame, 
 Seeks but a shadow, a mere gilded name ; 
 But he who after Love his footsteps bends, 
 He travels on the road in bliss that ends. 
 
 Osr. Assuredly some god possesses thee ; 
 'Tis not thyself ^vho speaks, but he through thee. 
 
 But name to me the lady of thy heart. 
 
 Esm. My lord, she is your daughter, Ethelburga. 
 Osr. Ha ! this proves me more blind than I am halt, 
 
 Else surely had mine eyes discem'd so far. 
 
 Alas ! I fear thy suit's impossible. 
 
 Why, man, she is a man-iage for a king : 
 
 I have had offers — Oh, she is the star. 
 
 The polar star, of gazing noblemen, 
 
 By whom his heart's affections each doth steer.
 
 SCENE II.] EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. 83 
 
 Full many an honour'd knight — ay, that he has — 
 Hath sought her hand, and for her favour swore 
 To rid the world of Turks, yea, to perplex 
 Hell with slain heretics ; but, being old, 
 I could not bring myself to part from her. 
 That she should vanish from me utterly. 
 Esm. Heav'n knows, as I would have you think, my 
 lord, 
 I never thought to prosper in this suit. 
 Fortune hath not so smiled upon my life, 
 That my heart's hopes are swell'd with insolence ; 
 But as a sick man tells to all the world 
 The tedious story of his sufferings. 
 Without respect of who can cure his pain, 
 E'en so my sorrows did out-talk my hopes, 
 That, heavy with despair, still droop'd behind. 
 And yet I would those words were still to say, 
 Which have put separation 'twixt us two. 
 Now forth I go, to wander through the world. 
 And seek for comfort where no comfort is. 
 
 6—2
 
 84 EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. [act II. 
 
 Farewell, my lord ; henceforth account me dead ; 
 For so I am, my light of life being fled. 
 
 Osr. Why, look, I did not bid thee to despair : 
 Jesu ! how swift of thought these lovers are I 
 Esmund, were I to grant thy wishes now, 
 When I am old and hardly borne upon, 
 Some men might say I chose my interest 
 Kather than Esmund for my son-in-law : 
 And yet I swear to thee it is not so. 
 Though many men my daughter have desired, 
 Of all her suitors I esteem thee most, 
 And willingly would make her o'er to thee. 
 
 Esm. My gracious lord ! what thanks have I for 
 this? 
 
 Osr. But stay, first must I question her desires ; 
 For I so nicely weigh her happiness, 
 That if she but thy little finger hate, 
 Or take exception to a hair of thee, 
 No further mention must be of this match. 
 I will go presently, and talk with her, [Exit.
 
 SCENE II.] EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. 85 
 
 Es7n. Ay, go to her, and my soul go with thee, 
 To teach persuasion to thine aged lips. 
 The sire look from thine eyes, speak in thy tones. 
 And touch her bosom with authority ! 
 Oh, may thy silver hairs and crael needs 
 Move her to pity ! There are some would say 
 " 'Twere satisfaction small to lover's fire 
 To wed a wife that she might love her sire ;" 
 But such ne'er loved ; for who that does can look 
 Beyond possession of the thing he loves ? 
 There thought, being quench'd in its own too much 
 
 bliss, 
 Travels no further in futmity. 
 But if this hazard prove unlucky too, 
 Then to Lord Edwin I myself will hire, 
 And, with my soul, purchase my soul's desire. [Exit.
 
 86 EDWm AND ETHELBURGA. [act II. 
 
 SCENE III. BEFOEE THE C^STI^E 
 
 a^!^TES. 
 
 Enter Edwin, disguised as an aged Dane. 
 
 Edw. Ye stately tow'rs, ye proud-eyed battlements, 
 Under whose bending brows suspicion shrinks, 
 And wraps him closer in his counterfeit ! 
 Oh, yet again, I greet ye : hold ye still 
 Young Edwin in remembrance ? I am he. 
 Though sadder by some twenty years than when 
 Ye saw my childhood. All, debaueh'd of Fortime ! 
 Time-serving traitors, flatt'rers, summer-friends ! 
 And could ye from a stranger ward the winds, 
 While he who own'd ye, loved ye, to the storm 
 Gave his unshelter'd head ? 
 Yet soft ; my love doth sanctify your guilt : 
 Guilt ! 'tis mine own, for branding ye with it, 
 Being usurp'd so sweetly : lightlier fold 
 My lady in your kind embracing guard 
 Than the close portals of the willing rose
 
 SCENE III.] EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. 87 
 
 The soft intrusion of the pretty bee. 
 
 While Edwin toss'd upon the weary deep, 
 
 Here cradled was his love, that is his soul ; 
 
 Then may 't he said, he never roved at all : 
 
 How love can varnish o'er a bitter thought ! — 
 
 But time slips by the meditative man, 
 
 That should be seiz'd to purpose. Here's the horn 
 
 That parleys with this castle : at this blast 
 
 Ply Fortune to my aid. , [Whids the horn. 
 
 Enter Hoskold. 
 
 Hos. Old man, what want you, 
 
 That thus you boldly dare the echoes wake ? 
 
 Edw. Rest, and a morsel, sir, for Jesus' sake. 
 Look, I am old, and I have travell'd far : 
 The palsy 's in my limbs ; see, how they shake : 
 My spirit faints for lack of nourishment. 
 
 Hos. Beggar, away ! and to a convent hie ; 
 Here's no besotted den of monkery. 
 
 Edw. A surly soul behind so fair a face !
 
 88 EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. [aCT II. 
 
 Sweet beauty sourly marr'd is man's disgrace : 
 If thou wilt natui-e's favours not supplant, 
 Look not so darkly on a suppliant. 
 I prythee, let me in. 
 
 Hos. Begone, thou cheat ; 
 
 The flatt'ring tongue proclaims its own deceit. 
 My fingers 'gin to twine about my staff: 
 The hound hath smelt thee out ; hark, how he growls. 
 EduK Thou wilt not let him tear me ? 
 Hos. Yes, I will. 
 
 Ediv. I will amaze thee with some wondrous arts, 
 Which from the cunning Saracen I learn'd. 
 Such virtue can I breathe into a sword, 
 It shall cut stone ; but mace, nor battle-axe, 
 Swift-flying arrow, nor steel-headed lance. 
 Shall aught avail against thy coat of mail. 
 When I have charm'd it. 
 
 Hos. Let me see thy hand. 
 
 Fellow, where didst thou get that jewell'd ring ? 
 Thief, thou hast stolen it : give it to me.
 
 SCENE III.] EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. 89 
 
 Edw. What, scoundrel, what ! dar'st thou call me a 
 thief? 
 I'll break thy head, to mend thy manners, boor. 
 
 [Strikes 1dm, 
 Hos. Help ! murder ! within there ! 
 
 Enter several Retainers. 
 
 1st Ret. Has the knave fled, 
 
 Who made thee roar so lustily to us ? 
 
 Hos. The ancient hj'pocrite has three men's strength. 
 
 2)id Ret. Let see, if he be man or miracle : — 
 Come, snow-bedeck'd volcano, to thy staflf. — 
 This is the prettiest match that e'er I saw. 
 A ring ! a ring ! stand round. 
 
 Hos. Ye are all fools : 
 
 Ye know, I fear him not. 
 
 2n(Z Ret. The ancient man 
 
 Hath still a nose to smell a coward out, 
 For all his looks of Jove, and big round voice. 
 A ring ! a ring ! Th' old man shall have fair play.
 
 90 EDWIN AND ETHELBUEGA. [aCT II. 
 
 1st Bet. Be silent : see, Lord Osric comes this 
 way. 
 
 Enter Osric. 
 
 Osr. Peace, hounds ! Unruly curs, who gave ye 
 leave 
 To bark down order by my castle gates ? 
 Off, to your work ! Begone, ye idle knaves. — 
 
 [Exeunt Retainers. 
 Old man, why com'st thou here, to stir up strife 
 Among my people ? 
 
 Edw. Hear me, my good lord. 
 
 I did but crave your servant for some food, 
 To be repaid with labour of these hands, 
 (For yet I am not altogether weak,) 
 And with the account of some amazing arts 
 Practised in foreign countries, wherein I 
 Boast skill ; when he, this late prostrated rascal, 
 Branded me thief, which so unfroze my age, 
 I was a youth again.
 
 SCENE III.] EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. 91 
 
 Osr. Inhospitable boor, out of my sight ! [To Hoskold. 
 Shall my repute be climm'd for such as thee? 
 God knows how long, but yet the day's to come, 
 When to the wretched Osric bars his doors. — 
 Go, get thee in, old man ; supply thy wants. [Walks aside, 
 
 Hos. This be the plaister to my smarting skull ! 
 
 [Aside. 
 That mine eyes flash'd not to a soul that's dull: 
 Me with a feather my least babe subdue 
 Till I cry quarter, if this be not true ; 
 No old man knock'd me then. The sun hath shone 
 On many a disguise before this one. 
 I'll to Sii' Esmund, ere it be too late, 
 And show him Saxon written on my pate. [Exit. 
 
 Osr. Aid me, ye heav'nly pow'rs ! give me not o'er 
 
 [Aside. 
 To ruin in mine age : with sweat and blood 
 Mine honours were acquired ; let not another 
 Reap the ripe harvest of my painful youth. 
 
 Edw. This ancient man should be mine enemy : [Aside.
 
 92 EDWIN AND ETHELBUEGA. [aCT II. 
 
 I thought him uot so old. Time ne'er look'd on 
 A braver record : though his strength be fall'n, 
 The soul of dignity, o'erspreading him, 
 Makes ruin glorious. How with manliness 
 Is sweetness intertmned ! In his eyes glows 
 The setting majesty of world-wide honour. 
 An angry cloud mars his serenity ; 
 Something has ruffled him. 
 
 Osr. She loves him not, {Aside. 
 
 Or so she hinted ; further I'd not press her, 
 Lest my necessities should woo her, not 
 Her inclinations. God ! 'tis pitiful 
 That the estate and honours of a man, 
 The scant reward of toil and many wounds, 
 Should in his weak old age be reft from him 
 For a girl's whim. My fate's at Esmund's call ; 
 If he desert me at this pinch, I fall. 
 Heav'n's will be done ! Old man, why stay'st thou here ? 
 
 [To Edwin. 
 Go, get thee in. Ha! tariy : didst thou not
 
 SCENE m.] ED WIN AND ETHELBUEGA. 93 
 
 E'en now, upon a sudden spur of ire, 
 Level that swaggerer ? 
 
 Echv. He soiled mine honour : 
 Foul-spoken knave, vituperative cur ! 
 I would his lesson were to teach again ; 
 Under your pardon always, good my lord. 
 • Osr. Thou'rt wither'd, lame, old, seeming impotent : 
 Where gott'st thou strength for the puissant deed ? 
 
 Edw. In honesty, my lord, and th' unquench'd fire 
 Of soul, that tamely ne'er put up with wrong. 
 This, the reserve on which an old man draws, 
 In the decay of sinews and brute flesh. — 
 Have I your pardon for it ? 
 
 Osr. Oh ! fear not : 
 
 I thought not to reprove thee ; rather thou 
 Deserv'st esteem. — Oh ! I am moved by this ; 
 And it hath tum'd the tide of sorrow back, 
 Wherein my manhood lay a-perishing. 
 If slight occasion and a trifling cause 
 Can rouse such virtue in a beggar's limbs,
 
 94 EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. [act II. 
 
 Heavy and stiff witli age, whose soul, belike, 
 Ne'er knew the honourable exercise 
 Of one high thought by which t' inspire anew 
 The mther'd sepulchre of mortal strength — 
 Being fretted to the shadow of a shadow 
 By care and poverty, shall Osric whine, 
 When peril looks at him, because he's old ? 
 Crave aid because his hands are sinewless ? 
 And bend his proud knee to his own esquire, 
 For lack of other recompence ? Oh, wake ! 
 Awake, thou soul of Osric, and cast off 
 This chain of years, which doth environ thee. 
 Forget, ye limbs, that Time, the cormorant, 
 Hath prey'd upon your rounded manliness. 
 Ye fingers, ye must learn again to fight. 
 Brighten, ye aged eyes, with one last gleam, 
 And then be quench'd in honour. Hark, old man ; 
 
 [To Edwin. 
 How say'st thou ; wilt thou stay and serve with me ? 
 Edw. Full weary am I of my wandering :
 
 SCENE III.] EDWIN AND ETHELBUKGA. 95 
 
 My feet are sore with tracing countries far ; 
 So is my heart most sad and desolate 
 With measuring the vast unbounded sea : 
 Here gladly would I rest my feeble age 
 From the long sorrows of my pilgrimage. 
 
 Osr. Doubt not thy welcome. For thy first employ, 
 Go, seek the knave on whom thy roused hand 
 Scored salutation, and require of him 
 Mine armour, which bring hither. I am fixed 
 
 [Exit Edwik. 
 Not to ask aid I cannot recompense : 
 The love I bear to my true-thoughted squire, 
 Makes me to wish my daughter had as much. 
 Alas ! what tongue, though the sweet Attic bee 
 Flew from his thymy bow'r in the blest shades, 
 Or though Apollo spake, or lofty Jove, 
 Might, to her plain advantage, urge a woman ? 
 Yet, when the wooing's maddest to be heard, 
 Though priest and parent hang upon her gown 
 With weight of all their reasonable saws,
 
 96 EDWIN AND ETHELBUEGA. [ACT II. 
 
 Her heart is lighter to be borne away 
 
 Than vagrant straws upon a gusty clay. 
 
 But Heav'n so framed them, doubtless, with advice. 
 
 To force them to discretion, 'gainst their bent, 
 
 As raffian fathers do (whom God requite!), 
 
 Were as to build in sand, steer the wild wind, 
 
 Or on the ocean force stability. 
 
 God's blessing with her ! she shall please herself. 
 
 Brave Esmund hath my pity : I must meet 
 
 His sickness with employment. At the court 
 
 Of Norman Richard stands my cousin high. 
 
 Count Robert ; to his care I will commend him. 
 
 holy Odin ! can this be my annour ? 
 
 [Enter Edwin ivith armour, 
 Come, rusty mirror, let me look on thee ; 
 Show Osric his chang'd self. 
 
 Edw. It has lain by 
 
 For years. 
 
 Osr. For fall fifteen. Come, lace my greaves : — 
 Nay, 'tis too tight ; ah ! tenderly, I pray.
 
 SCENE ni.J EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. 97 
 
 Soh ! now my mail ; give 't to me in my 
 hand. 
 
 Edw. Let me support you, or you will not stand. 
 
 Osr. Is this the sword, Osric, thou didst wield. 
 And like Jove's angel flash'd o'er Saxon hosts ? — 
 Support me to yon seat ; I'll rest awhile. [To Edwin. 
 How happy wert thou in thy low estate, 
 Fellow, didst thou but know 't ! Within thy face 
 A lectui-e's writ, that makes the reader sad : 
 Alas ! how oft have I remark'd thine eye, 
 Wherein thy soul did manifestly sit. 
 Scan o'er these walls, ah ! feast upon the stones, 
 Till en\y with a sigh raised fi'om thy depths 
 Brimm'd o'er thy cheek in biine. I mai-vel much 
 How such a sordid and earth-hound desire 
 Inhabits stUl so reverend a man. 
 Couldst thou experience the cares of wealth ! 
 The painful bridling of licentious youth, 
 The ceaseless toil of still -pursuing manhood, 
 And then the terrors of infirm old age 
 
 7
 
 98 EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. [aCT II. 
 
 To be despoiled in his feebleness 
 Of all the winnings of his lustier years ; 
 Then haply wouldst thou bless thy poverty 
 That sings in presence of the highway thief. — 
 My helm ! Pull 't off, pull 't off ; I cannot breathe. 
 Edw. Some water, within there ! my lord is faint. 
 
 Enter Ethelbtjrga, with retainers. 
 
 Eth. saints and angels, what a sight is this ! 
 The water ! give 't to me. Keep back ; ye press 
 Too close about your lord ; give him more air. — 
 Sweet life, lift from thy bosom thy dear head, 
 And ope thine eyes again. 
 
 Osr. Ah, Ethelbui-ga ! 
 
 Eih. What evil, subtle, and designing man 
 (My worst ill wishes tend upon him still !) 
 Possess'd thee to affront those limbs, which nought 
 But reverence should clothe and soft attire, 
 With such a martial dress ? 
 
 Osr. Nay, prithee, cease :
 
 SCENE UI.] EDWm AND ETHELBURGA. 99 
 
 Child, art thou mocking me, that art thyself 
 Cause of this exhibition of my folly ? 
 
 Eth. What now you mean, I know not. 
 
 Osr. Ay, thou'i-t kind ; 
 
 So wilt be to thy life's end : when I drop 
 Into my grave, though thou hast help'd me there, 
 Thou'lt kindly cover me. 'Tis in the voice 
 And manner of some women, this deceit ; 
 But hath no more of kindred with their gi-ain 
 Than the rose colour on their cheeks. 
 
 Eth. My father. 
 
 Tell me, in what have I offended you. 
 
 Osr. Nay, hut in nought, my sweet and gentle girl ; 
 Forgive me, for my wits are wandering. 
 Know'st thou, a Saxon chief hath challenged me ? 
 
 Eth. No, not till now : what reputation has he ? 
 
 Osr. 'Tis young lord Edwin, son of Ethelwulf, 
 From whom I took this castle. 
 
 Eth. Why delays 
 
 Sir Esmund from his duty ? But to speak 
 
 7—2
 
 100 EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. [aCT II. 
 
 Of war was once to arm him ; e'en so swift 
 His sword flew to his thigh, his helm was on. 
 'Tis not his custom to be so remiss. 
 
 Osr. Cupid ! is the story still to tell ? 
 Girl, girl, where are thine eyes ? Alas ! he chose 
 Thy silly self for his divinity ; 
 And thou disdain'st him in the usual way 
 Of worshipp'd maidens. 
 
 Eth. He has left you then. 
 
 Osr. Why, wouldst thou have him languish in thine 
 eye? 
 
 Eth. And therefore you are arm'd, and these poor limbs 
 Are loek'd in bitter steel ? 
 
 Osr. No more of this. 
 
 Sweet Ethel, to thy chamber. 
 
 Eth. Oh, that e'er 
 
 So weak and trivial a thing as I 
 Should sever two such spirits, one my sire. 
 The other not being less than noble Esmund ! 
 Forgive me, sir, for I am much to blame ;
 
 SCENE III.] EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. 101 
 
 Yet pardon me, because I am a maid, 
 
 Whose privilege it is to be twice wooed. 
 
 Let him desire me in my humbler mood, 
 
 And I'll be changed. 
 
 . Osr. Thou heart without compare ! 
 
 Angel of mine, my dearest Ethelburga ; 
 
 Not while my lips have any breath at all ! 
 
 What, pretty fool, would'st thou deceive thy father, 
 
 These silent martyrs in thy face the while ? 
 
 Eth. How, sir? 
 
 Osr. Thine eyes are witnesses against thee 
 
 Of violence intended to thy heart. 
 Which therefore in her vvindows sets these tears. 
 Like melancholy peeping prisoners. 
 To tell the world of cruel wrongs within. 
 
 Eth. You are mistaken. 
 
 Osr. ^ay, not I, my child : 
 
 Think' st thou to 'scape a father's watchful eye ? 
 But come, cease weeping, and shine forth on me ; 
 Unfreeze my frosty vigour with thy snule.
 
 102 EDWm AND ETHELBURGA. [act II. 
 
 Ah ! thou'lt dissolve me, if I linger more. 
 
 Go, sweet, and in thy chamber cloister thee 
 
 From the rude clamours of shrill- sounding war. 
 
 Thy pure soul, having privilege of heav'n. 
 
 Thither I'll send thee, my ambassador, 
 
 To beg a ghostly legion to my aid. — 
 
 Old man, I had o'erlook'd thee ; thou seem'st feeble. 
 
 [To Edwin. 
 Edw. I'll be your henchman, porter, scullion, 
 gi'oom ; 
 Hew wood, di"aw water ; let me sweep your halls. 
 Only to live with you. 
 
 Osr. Fear not for that ; 
 
 I love thee, for the love thou show'st to me. 
 But be not ves'd, if I require thee not 
 To follow me afield : thou seest my daughter ; 
 Thy present service is to tend on her : 
 I charge thee, love her heartily. 
 
 Edw. My soul 
 
 Be forfeit, if I do not.
 
 SCENE III.] EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. 103 
 
 Osr. Then farewell. — 
 
 Come, soldiers all, attend me to the field. 
 
 [Exeunt Oseic and retainers. 
 
 Etli. Let me read o'er the Yolume of my heart : 
 
 [Aside. 
 Now on the first leaf is Sir Esmund writ : 
 Ah ! many a virtue is summ'd in his name ; 
 His valour, prudence, skill, shine forth in gold : 
 He loves me too ; — oh ! but he loves me deeply ; 
 Am I a woman, and not answer that ? 
 
 Edu\ Hear me, sweet lady. 
 
 Eth. ■ Can I see my sire, [Aside. 
 
 To whom my life is all in duty owed, 
 So brave, so feeble, so necessitous, 
 His white locks so with glory shone upon, 
 Totter all ruinously, and know that I 
 From 'twixt his fingers have pluck' d forth the staff 
 On which his life leant ? Shame, to stay so long ! 
 I'll close my heart's book and peruse no further, 
 Content to wed Sir Esmund.
 
 104 EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. [aCT II. 
 
 Edw. Madam, hear me. 
 
 Eth. Begone, begone, thou koublest me. — ^I'll read 
 
 [Aside. 
 No further in my heart, lest I meet that 
 Shall start me from my purpose, and cast loose 
 Me miserable. Ah, this love ! this love ! 
 That, like a cross wind in my soul uprising. 
 Blows ope the second page. Who was this stranger ? 
 Go to, false framing lips, to call him strange 
 Who dwells in my heart's heart ! What word was 
 
 that ! 
 Yet whosoe'er he was, one thing is plain, 
 That duty for his sake seems like a Gorgon ; 
 Turns me to very stone to think upon it. 
 But, dear youth, I do devoutly pray, 
 Thou hast not done my heart that injury 
 To lightly speak thy love. 
 
 Edtfi. No, on my soul ! 
 
 Eth. How know'st thou that ? 
 
 Edw, I am his friend.
 
 SCENE III.] EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. 105 
 
 Eth. Whose, then ? 
 
 Didst tliou o'erhear me ? Man, how clar'st thou come, 
 And creep into my secret counsels thus ? 
 Begone, thou rev'rend subtlety ! — His Mend ? 
 But art thou now in very truth his friend ? 
 
 Edw. Ay, madam, I might say we were one flesh. 
 
 Eth. Tell me some news of him ; but first, his 
 name : 
 Is he not noble ? As men speak, I mean ; 
 For that nobility which nature makes, 
 His patent 's on his brow. 
 
 Edw. And dost thou love him ? 
 
 Eth. My heart were void of joy, could I say no ; 
 Yet to my sorrow must I answer, yea. 
 
 Edw. These sorrows, that do usher in sweet love, 
 Ai*e like the clouds and wat'ry mists that hang 
 Upon the bright cheek of a summer mom : 
 But when the hours biing forth the blessed Sun, 
 Through all this weeping, sad, funereal host 
 He darts the splendour of his midday beam,
 
 106 EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. [ACT II. 
 
 As enemies to his glad sov'reign state ; 
 
 Which soon being melted and dispersed to nought, 
 
 Then all goes happy, fair, and tranquilly. 
 
 jEJf/t. At least, I thank thee for thy prophecy. 
 But thou delay'st to give me news of him 
 Whose sight shall gild my sorrow. 
 
 Edw. First, thine hand : 
 
 He hath no older friend than I myself ; 
 This kiss is for his sake. 
 
 Eth. Hark ! some one comes. 
 
 Step hither with me, and say what thou know'st. 
 
 Enter Esmund and Hoskold. 
 
 Hos. Look, yonder stands the man of whom I spoke : 
 See, how securely the bold traitor smiles, 
 Engaging with my lady : look you now. 
 He takes her hand. 
 
 Esm. 'Tis strange, she lets him do it. 
 
 Hos. Kisses it, by St. Peter ! 
 
 Esm. So he does ;
 
 SCENE III.] EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. 107 
 
 And she, wliom I accounted Virtue's self 
 (For so she is to me), chides him as one 
 Who rather chid the manner than the fault. 
 Because 'twas not committed on her lips. — 
 Go, fetch a guard. — That fellow told me right : 
 
 [Exit HOSKOLD. 
 
 'Tis like, this man is the young Saxon chief. 
 Soul of my fathers ! can it be he loves her ? 
 But what imports that now he's in my pow'r ? 
 Ti'ansparent youth, how he shines through 's disguise ! 
 Can eighty years tread o'er the earth so light ? 
 To hands press lips of fire, with murmurs breathed 
 Upon the burning wings of deep-dra^vn sighs ? — 
 
 Enter Hoskold and retainers. 
 
 Release my lady's hand, thou counterfeit ! 
 But for her presence, I would strike thee dead. 
 
 Et.h. Sir Esmund, I'll not stay to quarrel with 
 thee. 
 This ancient man had from my father charge
 
 108 EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. [aCT II. 
 
 To tend on me : see, thou oppose him not. 
 
 Come with me to my chamber, good old man. [Eccit. 
 
 Esm. Stay yet awhile. [To Edwin. 
 
 Edw. Why wilt thou hinder me ? 
 
 Esm. To tell thee that I know thee for a spy. — 
 Arrest him, fellows : 'tis the Saxon chief, 
 
 « 
 
 Edw. Am I discover'd ? God and my lady, then !' 
 
 Esm. Lord Edwin, thou but runn'st upon thy death : 
 Yield up thy svv^ord to me, and thou shalt live. 
 
 Edw. To fight such odds were folly; here's my sword: 
 Heav'n and mine own just cause fight for me now ! 
 
 Esm. Go, fellows, bear him quickly to a cell ; 
 On peril of your lives if he escape. 
 
 [Exeunt retainers idth Edwin. 
 Upon his finger shines a jewell'd ring ; [To Hoskold. 
 Possess it while he sleeps, and bring it me. 
 
 [Exit Hoskold. 
 Since honourable means have fail'd their end, 
 I will seek out this chief's bereaved men : 
 They, doubting not the voucher of this ring,
 
 SCENE III.] EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. 109 
 
 Will gladly to his rescue follow me : 
 
 Thus shall I win the castle. But meanwhile 
 
 With certain desp'rate rovers will I treat 
 
 To ship Lord Edwin o'er the distant seas. 
 
 Most like his men (as sheep left shepherdless 
 
 Betake them to the wolf for government) 
 
 Will choose myself to be their general. 
 
 Thus shall this castle and its gem he mine : 
 
 Upon the guilty deed kind fortune shine ! [Exit.
 
 1 10 EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. [aCT III. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I. THE EOEEST. 
 
 Enter Hubert, Oswith, Theodore, and others. 
 
 Huh. Nay, sit thee down : why, boy ; why, merry 
 romp, 
 What's come to thee ? A song, sweet child ! a song ! 
 
 The. No ; I'll not sing. 
 
 Hub. But if thou knew how I 
 
 Am musically bent this afternoon ! 
 
 The. 'Tis not your wont; for when I sing to you 
 My prettiest airs, you talk, or make a noise, 
 Or move away, while I am singing best. 
 
 Huh. Oh, then I was not so inclined as now : 
 All pleasures have their season ; those we most ,
 
 SCENE I.] EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. 1 i 1 
 
 Affect, not being desired at present time, 
 Fall coldly on our spirits : who can brook 
 A merry tale, being busy, sick, or sad ? 
 Dainties delight us not when we are full ; 
 So sweetest sounds fall flat upon our ears, 
 That chime not with the passions of our souls : 
 But now mine inmost spirit is athirst 
 To di-ain the pleasures of sweet harmony. 
 
 The. I do not care for that ; I \vill not sing. 
 
 Osw. Will you not sit by me, boy ? Watch me now ; 
 I'm making arrows of the yew-tree wood : 
 See, how I shape them smooth and taperly ; 
 Head them with steel, and feather them so swift, 
 They'll overtake an eagle. 
 
 The. 'Tis all one : 
 
 I've seen you do 't before. 
 
 Osw. Not with this knife : 
 
 This pretty knife is quite unknown to thee. 
 
 The. I'll look at that : who made it ? 
 
 Osw. I myself
 
 112 EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. [ ACT III. 
 
 Carved out the handle from a huge stag's horn : 
 The blade was temper' d by old Thor, our smith : 
 The handle 's wrinkled like cook Frigga's face ; 
 The blade is sharper than her nose. 
 
 The. Ha! ha! 
 
 I love you when you say such funny things. 
 
 Osw. Why, sit thee down, and eat thy supper then. 
 
 The. No ; now I've seen the knife, I'll run away : 
 Maybe, Lord Edwin will return to night : 
 I'll climb the hill once more, and look for him. [Eont. 
 
 Osw. What ho, lad, stay ! 
 
 Hub. Thou'dst better let him 
 
 run. 
 Since my Lord Edwin to the castle went, 
 A prowling spirit has possessed the lad : 
 He is as restless as a little bird 
 That's wander'd from its nest : he will not eat ; 
 But frets about the forest all the day ; 
 While sorrow is so gather'd in his eyes, 
 Needs but another drop to swell it o'er.
 
 SCENE I.] EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. 113 
 
 Osw. He's right; 'tis strange, Lord Edwin comes not 
 
 back. 
 Huh. 1 greatly fear, some mischief has befall'n. 
 Hark ! some one comes this way : — Ho ! who goes 
 
 there ? 
 
 Enter Esmund. 
 
 Esm. A friend of the Lord Edwin's. 
 
 Hub. Oh, most welcome ! 
 
 What news bring you of him ? 
 
 Esm. Art thou the man 
 
 Who, in his absence bears authority ? 
 
 Enter Theodore. 
 
 The. Just now one came this way. Oh ! there he 
 stands : [Aside. 
 
 His back 's to me ; but now he turns himself. 
 holy mother ! 'tis the wicked squire : 
 That villain has dealt fouly with my lord ; 
 But if he's still alive, I'll seek him out, [Exit. 
 
 8
 
 114 EDWIN AND ETHELBUKGA. [aCT III. 
 
 Esm. I liave a message to you from your lord ; 
 But, doubtless, first you'd hear some news of him. 
 
 Osw. Ay, that's the main ; first tell us, how he fares. 
 
 Esm. Unlucky are the lips that teach the crimes 
 Of Fortune wreak'd on spirits of great worth. 
 Would that another man of sterner mould. 
 Whose heart choked not the passage of sad truth 
 Might paint my dearest friend in misery ! 
 Briefly, the worst ; your lord in prison lies. 
 Ye know, beneath what weight of aged snows 
 Your lord had cover'd up his youthful fire ; 
 And how his honour and proud chivalry 
 Lay hidden in the base weeds of a Dane : 
 E'en thus he enter"d in Lord Osric's castle, 
 Who, like a courteous knight and gentleman. 
 Shot forth kind welcome on his suppliant. 
 By chance a knave was idling in the hall, 
 A shrewd, suspicious, snarling, saucy knave, 
 Who, coming near Lord Edwin viewed him close; 
 Till, spying on his finger this rich ring,
 
 SCENE I.] ED WIN AND ETHELBUEGA. 115 
 
 With lifted voice, Ho, ho, thou knave I cries he, 
 Is this the badge of thy great poverty ? 
 Where gofst it, thief I Whereat Lord Edwin's soul, 
 Through his poor habit flashing, gave him forth. 
 
 Huh. 0, who, by putting on a sordid di-ess. 
 Can hide the spark of proud nobility ? 
 AVhat garb can Brutus teach to play the slave ? 
 Ah, my dear master ! it has come to this 
 Because thou sett'st at naught old Hubert's love, 
 CaUiug him "preacher " with thy fiery lip 
 For moving thee to quit this rash design : 
 Oh, thou hast slain thyself! 
 
 Esm. Forthwith Lord Osric 
 
 Bade seize him, who resisted not, where no 
 Resistance had availed ; and so he was 
 Cast fetter'd into prison. 
 
 Osw. Tell us, sir, 
 
 How came you to befriend him ? 
 
 Esm. Thither I, 
 
 Proceeding secretly, conferr'd with him. 
 
 8—2
 
 116 EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. [aCT III. 
 
 He, of my love being satisfied (it sprung 
 From certain jars betwixt my lord and me), 
 We thus compounded ; — To Lord Edwin's men. 
 Making but thi'eat of arms, my influence 
 Should ope the castle gates, and (life apart, 
 Which to be spared) his should be all the spoil : 
 Upon which consummation, he should yield me 
 Lord Osric's daughter, to become my bride : 
 These terms consider'd, he consented to, 
 And wing'd me with this message hitherward. 
 Adding this ring for further testimony ; — 
 Look at it; 'tis your lord's. 
 
 Hitb. I know it well. 
 
 You have but to command, and we'll obey. 
 
 Esm. Why then, by all the love ye bear your lord. 
 And by the oath that ye have sworn to him. 
 Who now in darkness lies and fetters shai-jj. 
 Hung o'er, alas ! by cruel threat of death ; 
 Betake ye to your weapons, seize your bows. 
 Swords, battle-axes, pikes, or what ye have.
 
 SCENE IL] EDWIN A^S^D ETHELBURGA. 117 
 
 And set yourselves in my obedience, 
 For we'll attack the castle instantly. 
 
 Huh. Oswith, go thou that way, and sound thy horn : 
 I, on this side, will call our comrades to. — 
 In half an houi- we will be all met here. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCEISTE II. J^ PUISOIN'. 
 
 Enter Edwin. 
 
 Edw. If, to have come within the reach of joy, 
 To have talk'd familiarly and sweetly with it, 
 Have held it by the hand, and kissed it too, 
 Can, by comparison, aim present grief 
 With pang more keen and bitter to be borne, 
 Then am I truly to be pitied. ^ 
 
 I had esteem' d myself more of a man 
 Than to be so moved by adversity : 
 I have forewam'd my breast of troubles oft ;
 
 118 EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. [act III. 
 
 ProiDosed griefs to my fancy ; taught my heart . 
 
 To anticipate the loss of what it loved, 
 
 As friends, life, liberty ; and thought by this, 
 
 Being so admonish'd, when misfortune came, 
 
 'Twould find me adamant : but now I see 
 
 The seeming steel of this i^hilosophy 
 
 Pierc'd by the rude thrust of an accident ; 
 
 And myself, naked of all comfort, left 
 
 To the bleak pelting of the pitiless storm : 
 
 For, with what forethought we encase ourselves, 
 
 There's still some chink unthought on ; through the which 
 
 Misfortune creeps, and the defence is lost : 
 
 Nor can our sum of miseries be cast 
 
 Until experienc'd home, more just than he, 
 
 Who, standing on the comfortable shore. 
 
 Can tremble with the tossing mariner. 
 
 I have lived not unhappily ; yet deemed, 
 
 At any time, I could have look'd on death 
 
 With an indilf'rent, dry, and sated eye, 
 
 Nor held the grave more fearful than my bed.
 
 SCENE II.] EDWIN AND ETHELBUEGA. 119 
 
 Until one clay made life a blessed thing, 
 
 And the next brought my doom. God ! God ! 
 
 Thus to be snatch' d away so suddenly, 
 
 When life was fairest, and Hope at her noon 
 
 Made of this usual earth a festival 
 
 And paradise of sweets, where'er I tum'd ! 
 
 E'en in the sunny hour of maiden love, 
 
 And when my heaii, swoll'n high with too much bliss, 
 
 O'erflow'd this common world of things, that all 
 
 I touch'd, or tasted, heard or look'd upon, 
 
 Seem'd fi-aught with a new pleasure ! 0, 'twas hard ! — 
 
 But to my pray'rs again ! I have sinn'd much ; 
 
 Yet haply He, who judg'd me, may repent. 
 
 As once He did for erring David's sake : 
 
 Though let me, for my safety, take good heed, 
 
 I mock Him not with service of my lips. 
 
 Enter two Borers . 
 
 Who's there ? What are ye, who thus darkly break 
 Upon my meditations ?
 
 120 EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. [act III. 
 
 1st Rover. Hist, no noise ! 
 
 Speeches are cutthroats : not a word, sir thane ! 
 We come to take you hence. 
 
 Edw. Ha ! whither would ye ? 
 
 1st Bov. You'll know more certainly when you are 
 there. 
 
 Edw. I will not go with ye until I know. 
 
 1st Bov. Pinchcheek, thou hast the cord ; go, bind 
 the lord. 
 
 2nd Rov. Is he a lord ? The devil from his eye 
 Hangs a most ugly sign. 
 
 1st Rov. Pinchcheek, thou'rt sober : 
 
 I will report thee sober to our chief. 
 Where is thy valour, sir ? 
 
 2nd Rov. Thou hadst it last. 
 
 1st Rov. In verity, here 'tis, in my left pocket. 
 Drink ! drink ! 
 
 2nd Rov. Now, thane ; I fear thee not, not I : 
 Here goes to bind thee, thane. 
 
 Edw. My death's resolv'd on ;
 
 SCENE II.] EDWIN AND ETHELBUEGA. 121 
 
 And, by the God I serve ! I Mall die here : 
 I will not budge an inch, 
 
 2nd Rov. He will not budge. 
 
 1st Rov. Pinchcheek, another dram ! this time for 
 wisdom, 
 Because thou giv'st despair so little line. 
 The thane talks nature : who can root his feet 
 With willing heart out of his native land ? 
 Haply our children, climbing on our knee, 
 Have found the windows of our bosoms ope, 
 And, pretty fools ! crept in, and nestled there. 
 Or else our sad wife, standing on the shore. 
 With kerchief at her dim o'erflowing eye, 
 Weeping and waving at moist intervals, 
 Is like a sight of death to look upon. 
 Or else we leave a maid, om* sweet first love, 
 Our own peculiar and heart-doting treasure ; 
 With many a kiss sealing her constancy. 
 And oaths to double-lock her plighted troth. 
 So sail we forth upon the boundless sea ;
 
 122 EDWm AND ETHELBUEGA. [act III. 
 
 Beyond the blue horizon stretch we on : 
 But when we come again, when we return, 
 I say, when we come back : — what talked I of ? 
 Pinchcheek, the thread ! 
 
 2nd Eov. The cord ? here 'tis. 
 
 IstRov. Fool! fool! 
 
 I ask'd thee for the thread of my discourse. 
 
 Edw. Thou foolish drunken fellow, what's thy name ? 
 
 1st Ihv. Drawcork, an't please you, sir: was butler 
 once 
 To a monast'ry, and learn'd my letters there. 
 0, I can talk : — Pinchcheek, be evidence. 
 
 2nd Rov. Yea, thou'rt the opiate of the elements ; 
 I've seen the stormy wave, when thou harang'st, 
 Hang down his crested head, o'ercome with sleep, 
 And low'r it on his placid heaving bosom, 
 
 Edw. Away ! out of my cell ! ye trouble me. 
 . 1st Rov. Why then, come quietly. 
 
 Edw. I will not go. 
 
 1st Rov. 0, what a sweet simplicity is this,
 
 SCENE II.] EDWIN AND ETHELBUEGA. 123 
 
 "When moi-tals kick at sheer necessity ! 
 
 Thou, to that arm, Pinchcheek ; I'll carry this. 
 
 Edw. Let him attempt me, who's in love with death. 
 Weak knaves, ye weary me ! out ! get ye gone ! 
 
 [Driving them out. 
 
 1st Rov. Run, Pinchcheek, to the shore, and bring 
 more aid. [Exeunt rovers. 
 
 Edw. And yet, I do repent me to have fought 
 So hard agaiast the swift sure hand of Fate. 
 Am I a Hercules to laugh at armies ? 
 Or god, akin to the dire elements, 
 That, single-handed, thus I dare my foes. 
 'Tis said, the anticipation of an ill 
 Is th' ill itself ; nor has death any pang 
 But what we make ourselves by thinking on it : 
 Ay, could we lift our thoughts beyond this life, 
 And hold for nought the idols of our hearts ! 
 So, as I am a Christian, let me do it, 
 And purge my heart of earth : — farewell for ever, 
 Thou sweet delusion ; thou dear vanity !
 
 124 EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. [aCT III. 
 
 Thou momentary dream so fraught with bliss, 
 That, hov'ring but upon the verge of slumber, 
 Scarce show'd thyself most feir, and thou wast fled ! 
 Fair flowr of earthly hope, bom but to die, 
 Fall'n on a soil so all unfortunate ! [^4 lute outside. 
 
 Is this an angel, come to sing my dirge ? 
 The. (sings outside) — 
 
 A pilgruu stood witliiu the hall, 
 
 And spake this trembhng word, — 
 " Lady Margaret, I bring 
 
 Some tidings from thy lord." 
 
 " And is he well ? " in haste she cried ; 
 
 " O wilt thou never speak ? " — 
 " Ay, well ; though many a tale of woe 
 
 Is ^\Tit upon his cheek." 
 
 " And shall I soon behold my lord ? " 
 
 Her breath she quickly drew ; 
 For, from within the stranger's hood 
 
 A stifled sob came through. 
 
 She gazed : he tum'd the hood : she saw 
 
 Lord Stephen's noble crest ; 
 And swoon'd, and without motion lay 
 
 Upon her warrior's breast.
 
 SCENE II.] EDWIN AND ETHELBUEGA. 125 
 
 Ediv. It is my Theodore, my prettiest Greek ! 
 tliou disposer of all good, hast thou, 
 To warn me of thy near advancing grace. 
 Sent on thy smallest angel from the sky ? — 
 Hist, Theodore ! — Sweet boy, he cannot hear me ; 
 The casement is so small, and set so high. 
 0, for some means, to teach him where I am ! 
 See, here's a tile that's fallen from the roof; 
 My dagger's point shall be my pen for once : — 
 " Between the castle and the neighVnng shore 
 " Post, uith all speed, a dozen men at arms." — 
 My heart with thee, thou speechless messenger ! 
 Thou bear'st Lord Edwin's fortunes in thy flight. — 
 The boy has pick'd it up ; he waves his hand. 
 And kisses it to me : — run for thy life, 
 Thou pretty ling"ring fool ! — I think he hears me ; 
 So swiftly o'er the ground his light feet fly. 
 Hark ! I hear steps along the corridor : 
 I mil do what I may to draw out time.
 
 126 EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. [acT m. 
 
 SCEISTE III. J^ KOOM IIST THE C^STEE. 
 
 Enter Osric and Eeic. 
 
 Osr. Tell o'er tliy news again ; my soul abjures it : 
 Esmund, a traitor ! 
 
 Eric. Ay, within tliis hour 
 
 The scouts predict him here. Bear up, my lord ; 
 You take this news too heavily. 
 
 Osr. Esmund ! 
 
 I loved thee, Esmand ! rear'd my hopes on thee, 
 Leaned my infirmities upon thine arm. 
 Trusted thee with mine honour. Let the staff 
 Henceforth cast off its owner, and the ground 
 Under the superstructure yawn its grave. 
 Ungrateful man ! thou eat'st at mine own table ; 
 What secret of my heart held I fi-om thee ? 
 Or what possession thou might'st not have shared. 
 So near my bosom ? I am an old man ; 
 And my last words must be, all men are liars.
 
 SCENE III.] EDWIN AND ETHELBUEGA. 127 
 
 Heav'n pai'clon thee for this, thou cruel man, 
 To have deceived me so ! 
 
 Eric. We should not grieve 
 
 As though no man had suffer' d pain before ; 
 Or think, because we grieve, our fates di*aw on 
 Some solitary special-pointed curse. 
 Sorrow is such true link 'twixt man and man. 
 That oft we comfort and much solace draw, 
 By the remembrance of another's woe. 
 How many noble spirits, ere your own, 
 Pierc'd by the sharp point of ingratitude. 
 Have felt how deeply those they love can sting. 
 
 Osr. Go, go ; I cannot reason with my giief ; 
 Could I but do so, I'd no giief at all. 
 When I'm in pain, what comfort is 't to think, 
 That Csesar suffer'd too ? What's he to me ? 
 Each heai-t 's a sep'rate world ; and feels no more 
 Another's grief than parallels can meet : 
 To think on Caesar's pain, soothes me as much 
 As Caesar consolation drew from mine.
 
 128 EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. [acT III. 
 
 Erie. Well, here comes comfort of another kind ; 
 And so I'll leave you, to collect some news. [Ecdt. 
 
 Enter Ethelbuega. 
 
 Osr. my supreme of cares ! God shield thee, child, 
 With stouter arm than mine ! 
 
 Eth. You call'd me, sir : 
 
 "WTiat would you with me ? but the tale that has 
 So drear a frontispiece, must needs be sad. 
 
 Osr. Ay, Ethelburga, thou must read with me 
 The book of sorruw. Ah ! my gentle girl, 
 When I did teach thee first thine alphabet. 
 How testy and how wayward didst thou seem, 
 Fighting at each step of my patient love : 
 How oft the tedious book was flung away 
 Blotted with tears, and torn with angry fingers ; 
 Thyself as sulky and as full of woe 
 As if the griefs of Niobe were thine : 
 With pictures would I win thee back again 
 To slip instruction through thy pleased eye ;
 
 SCENE III.] EDAYIN AND ETHELBUKGA. 129 
 
 And thus I wooed thee to the sweets of knowledge. 
 E'en such a childish and a fancied ill 
 Was bitter to thee, for thou wast a child ; 
 But now, to meet thy riper-judging eye. 
 Another volume is most sternly set, 
 WTiose dark realities no art can charm, 
 Nor kindliest tutor to thy taste commend, — 
 The sorrows and mishaps of human life. 
 
 Eth. Ah, sir ! give me the book ; thou'rt old to teach; 
 And I will be instructor in my turn : 
 Do thou but count thy sorrows out to me ; 
 And, for each sev'ral one, it shall go hard, 
 But I ^\ill match it with some comfort still. 
 
 Osr. First, Esmund is a traitor ; fall'n away. 
 And leagued wdth my foes : in him all men 
 
 Seem peijur'd, for I held no man as him. 
 
 Eth. Ah ! friends are still our shrewdest enemies ; 
 
 The shaft that strikes us from the hand we love, 
 
 Doth rankle in that sacred inmost part 
 
 Not all the malice of our foes can reach, 
 
 9
 
 130 EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. [act III. 
 
 And wound us beyond healing. Oh, 'tis pity 
 That nature, who frames heroes, yet should leave 
 Their tend'rest part unarm'd ! My words were boasts. 
 That promised comfort for an unknown ill : 
 Alas ! I have no balm for such a wound, 
 Unless it be this kiss. 
 
 Osr. The best of cures ! 
 
 Bruised heart no other salve than love endures. — 
 But come, my angel, thou must put from thee 
 The woman ; in an hour the traitor's here : 
 Heav'n guard th.e then fi-om his polluted hand ! 
 
 Eth. Thou wrong'st me but to waste a fear that way. 
 Virtue is virtue's safeguard ; many a queen, 
 Wanting that last defence, in peril stands. 
 Though tower'd in a nation's heart of hearts 
 And awful with their swords. 
 
 Osr. Brave girl, 'tis pride 
 
 To have been thy father. 
 
 Eth. Is there no resource ? 
 
 What has befallen to your soldiery ?
 
 SCENE III.] EDWIN AND ETHELBUKGA. 131 
 
 Osr. My men-at-arms are rebels to the core : 
 Esmuncl did train tliem ; they are all his creatures. 
 I have experienc'd, that he, who sleeps 
 On his own interest, to miu wakes. 
 E'en thus I found it, when I durst review 
 The men who call me, leader : mid the array 
 Mine eye did wander, and required still 
 Those old companions of my chivalry, 
 Those pillars of my heart, my nohle Swe}Ti, 
 Brave Edric, and his brother Ethelward, 
 Ivnute, Harold, Leofric and Heroman ; 
 And finding not, whom Death had ta'en away, 
 But in their stead new forms and faces strange, 
 As chill as old Deacalion's stone-bom brood, 
 I was enforc'd to turn aside, and weep. 
 
 Eth. My comfort's dumb : but say, what happeu'd then ? 
 Osr. What then? ^\Tiy, marry, that among these 
 knaves, 
 Authority is grown a standing jest : 
 A chief, who, in my youth, was half a God, 
 
 9—2
 
 132 EDWIN AND ETHELBUEGA. [acT HI. 
 
 Is now the whetstone for each boorish wit; 
 My person, arms, limbs, manner, motion, gait, 
 Yea, mine infirmities became their sport : 
 Saith one to 's neighbour, plucking him by th' aim, — 
 " This is a wizard, come to fee the moon ;" — 
 " A priest by 's heard," — the second knave replies, 
 " Where will he place him to command our march ? " 
 " Ship-fashion, at the stern,'' the fourth returns : — 
 Whereat being hotly moved, I drew my sword, 
 And smote one scoundrel to his native earth. 
 When instantly, — Oh, act incredible ! — 
 As thick as startled wasps they rush'd at me. 
 Bound down mine arms, removed my sword away. 
 And mock'd mine indignation with the shout 
 Of my supplanter, worthless Esmund's name. 
 With difficulty I released myself. 
 
 Enter Eric. 
 
 Eric. My lord, the traitor, Esmund is at hand, 
 With a strong force of Saxons after him :
 
 SCENE III.] EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. 133 
 
 Look not to be supported by your men, 
 For false as Judas is each sev'ral one. 
 
 Osr. Fly, Ethel, to thy chamber : — (juick, my sword. 
 
 Enter Esjiuxd cnitl followers. 
 
 Esm. Lord Osric, sheathe your weapon, and fear not ; 
 No thought of mine is levell'd at your life. 
 
 Osr. I do not thank thee for thy mercy, tractor ; 
 Thy thanks are rather due to these grey hairs, 
 If thou hast any mercy to bestow. 
 
 Esm. Sweet Ethelbm-ga, I would speak with thee. 
 
 Eth. Too well thou know'st I cannot answer no. 
 
 Esm. Nay, lady, thou hast scom'd me long enough : 
 Is this discreet, to frown and turn thy back, 
 Or, as thou dost now, through thy lifted eye 
 To show thy soul on fire with sparks of pride 
 At him whom Fortune has set o'er thy fate. 
 Yea, and the lives of those thou boldest dear ? 
 The haughty soul most suffers in the mire : 
 I should be soriT, to be forced to teach thee
 
 134 EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. [acT III. 
 
 The bitter lesson of humility. 
 
 Thou know'st, thyself hast forced me to this ^mss ; 
 
 Therefore do thou, without more siege of words, 
 
 Surrender, while my love's still courteous : 
 
 I could more roughly woo thee if I pleased, 
 
 Seeing thy person is my prisoner. 
 
 Eth. And of my better part thou hast her scorn. 
 
 Esm. Scorn is a weed that from neglect doth grow, 
 But love is the rich fruit of tender care. 
 Pray'rs are the gentle gales that quicken love. 
 And still 'tis nounsh'd by fast-falling tears ; 
 Till, to the eye of the glad labourer. 
 Who smiles to look, it spreads its timid leaves, 
 And, 'neath his sunny welcome growing bold. 
 Doth round his bosom fast entwine itself : 
 Thus love is quicken'd, foster'd, cherish'd, rear'd. 
 Soi, Ethelburga, let me tend on thee ; 
 Since to obtain the treasure of thy love, 
 Shall still be all the business of my life. 
 
 Eth. Eternity shall but increase my hate.
 
 SCENE III.] EDWIN AND ETHELBUEGA. 135 
 
 Esm. Then must I use a rougher argument : — 
 Look, Ethelburga, that thy filial hand 
 Pluck not my vengeance down upon thy sire ! 
 If the fierce tpanny of the icy north 
 But breathe upon the solitary leaf, 
 Thou know'st how soon it falleth to the ground; 
 E'en in so frail a balance stands thy sire. 
 By Heav'n, I will not shrink from any lengths, 
 To conquer thy submission ; so reach forth 
 Thy hand, in witness thou wilt be my bride ; 
 Or else, by all divine, thou shalt bring do^vn 
 Sorrows as thick as hail upon thy sire. 
 
 Osr. Fellows, I will have leave. Hear, daughter, 
 hear me : 
 If, to t\e siege of that abandon'd man. 
 Thou but unbarr'st thy silence of a tenn 
 That hints surrender : — if thou dost, I say. 
 But flatter him with one beseeching look ; 
 A father's pray'r shall post on wings to heav'n, 
 And sue a curse on thee and all thy line.
 
 136 EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. [aCT III. 
 
 Esm. What, am I conqueror, and bearded thus ? — 
 To your duty, fellows ! go ; away with him : 
 Go, all of ye, and leave us for awhile. — 
 
 [Exeunt all, save Esmund and Ethelburga. 
 Think, Ethelburga, dost thou well in this ? 
 What, wilt thou be thy father's murderer ? 
 
 Eth. To heav'n I do commend myself and him, 
 E'en to that power that breaks the lion's teeth. 
 And from the mortal snake can pluck the sting. 
 In God I trust, who will deliver me, 
 And turn aside tbe aims of wicked men. — 
 Base man, thou hast no pow'r to injure me. 
 
 Esm. Thou mak'st me mad, thou scornful girl, thou 
 dost. 
 I am not further to be trifled with : 
 Look on thy lover, or Death looks on thee. 
 
 Eth. Death be my choice, then, whom in sooth I love 
 Than guilty Esmund more. 
 
 Esm. Thyself hast put 
 
 The angel from my bosom, who till now
 
 SCENE III.] EDWIN AND ETHELBUEGA. 137 
 
 Hath been thy mute preserver : — enter, then, 
 Ye spirits of evil, and possess me quite ; 
 Inspire me, all ye devils ; — I am weary 
 Of gazing on thy beauty at arm's length : 
 A kiss, though it consume me ! 
 
 Eth. Help, heav'n ! 
 
 Enter Edwin, and a few followers. 
 
 Edw. Ruffian, let go ! Thou soul of treachery, 
 A second time hast thou deserved thy death. 
 And shalt thou live ? 
 
 Estn. Lord Edwin ! 
 
 Edw. That's my name : 
 
 I'll set my signature upon thy heart. 
 
 Esm. Ai-t thou come hither in the flesh indeed ? 
 Or, but a spirit, to call me to account ? 
 
 Edw. Too long a story for hot blood ! — die, traitor. 
 
 Es7n. Lord Ed^vin, stay ; a moment, stay thine 
 hand : 
 I own my life is richly forfeited ;
 
 138 EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. [acT III. 
 
 Yet to a dying man deny not shrift. 
 
 My soul dotli wallow on the ground with guilt : 
 
 Oh, let me lighten it, ere I go hence, 
 
 And wash it with some tears of penitence. 
 
 Ediv. Shoi't shrift, long cord would grace thine 
 
 actions best. 
 Esm. How thou cam'st hither to mine overthrow. 
 Against the fate I had contrived for thee, 
 The God of judgments knows, to pierce whose ways 
 Were vain. — I ask not this ; — besides my time 
 Is all too short to urge my penitence : — 
 Yet can it be, I am so swiftly fall'n 
 Who but a moment rode so royally 
 Upon the proud top of iniquity ? 
 shame, thou art sin's shadow : e'en so close 
 Thou foUowest upon the guilty man, 
 Pursuing him with thine uplifted mace. 
 That ere the wretch hath time to say, I prosper, 
 Thy blow, descending on the godless boast. 
 Shatters his brittle greatness to the earth.
 
 SCENE III.] EDWIN AND ETHELBUEGA. 139 
 
 Edic. Continue in these tliouglits, and tliou'lt be wise ; 
 Thou hast already mended half thy fault. 
 
 Esm. First, shall my knee contritely sue for peace 
 From her to whom I did intend most wrong : — 
 Lady, sweet lady, pardon, if thou wilt, 
 The guilty aim of this wrong-seeking heart. 
 
 Eth. All I can pardon is remitted thee ; 
 And, for a free gift, thou shalt have my pray'rs, 
 To fui-ther thee with heav'n. 
 
 Esm. Sweet saint, how does 
 
 Thy goodness, like a fair and shining light. 
 Set off the depths of mine impurity ! 
 Now could I wish to live, to leam to die. 
 
 Edw. Tell me, how thou wilt use thy liberty. 
 
 Esm. Not far from this a monastery stands, 
 That, from the reedy bosom of a fen 
 Uplifts its dark and solitary walls : 
 Croyland, its name ; for learning famed of old, 
 And od'rous memoiy of many a saint 
 Whose mortal bones emich its sepulchres.
 
 140 EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. [act III. 
 
 Thither will I, while yet the spring of life 
 
 Calls nature to rebellion in my blood ; 
 
 This martial vanity put from my side, 
 
 And all the pride and fiery lust of arms 
 
 Quench'd in the bosom of humility, 
 
 Retire with the sad burden of my guilt. 
 
 I'll change my name, that it shall be forgot, 
 
 And pass away, e'en as a leaf that's fall'n, 
 
 From the gay interchange of carnal men. 
 
 To be recorded in the book of life : 
 
 And thus, in sorrow, shall my years be told. 
 
 Till the sad tale have end.— All day, with pray'rs. 
 
 Strict meditations, and denying fasts, , 
 
 Will I be instant upon Holiness ; 
 
 But when the eye of night shall gleam on me, 
 
 I mil awake the fury of mine arm 
 
 To scourge the pride of this rebellious flesh. 
 
 That as a wall of sin parts me from God ; 
 
 Till mercy, peeping forth with piteous eye, 
 
 E'en from the bosom of the righteous Lamb,
 
 SCENE III.] EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. 141 
 
 Shall look upon my sincere penitence, 
 
 And di'op moist quittance on my sin's account. 
 
 Edw. Happy is he who so o'ercomes the world 
 That he can count it dross ; but few there be, 
 So sweetly temper'd to celestial things. 
 And with that heav'nly, glorious armonr dight. 
 That they can wage this war. Far, far beyond 
 All human laurels is that wondrous man, 
 Who, spuming the vain crowns of earth, aspires 
 To war against the flesh and its desii-es. 
 
 Esm. Farewell, Lord Edwin : Godhathfought for thee. 
 Thou hast a heav'n on earth in thy sweet bride. — 
 Reach forth thine hand, sweet lady, that my lips 
 May bid the world adieu upon 't. Oh ! now 
 Farewell for ever to aU earthly bhss ; 
 Pleasure hath passed away in this last kiss. [Exit. 
 
 Edir. Peace go with him, and comfort him in time ! 
 I dare not for my conscience seek to wm, 
 From holy mother church a proselji^e : — 
 Forbid it, Heav'n ! — ^but 'twas a noble mind
 
 142 EDWIN AND ETHELBUEGA. [act III. 
 
 That should have flourish'd loftily, had not 
 The angry breathing of hell-heated passion 
 Swept o'er the buds of his ill-fated youth. — 
 Go, bring Lord Osric hither, some of you. 
 
 Enter Oseic. 
 
 Osr. Young Saxon, of his own accord he gi'eets thee ; 
 Thy foe, Lord Osric ; now, by fate of war, 
 Thy captive. But my heart is comforted 
 A little, by the thought of thy brave father 
 Whose life I spared, and whom, with thee, his son, 
 I freed from bonds; more, by thy looks, wherein 
 Nature hath set no stamp of cruelty ; 
 But chiefly, by thine actions, which have saved 
 My girl fr"om the lewd handling of a rebel : 
 All which assurances speak in me now, 
 When I beseech thee to restore my daughter. 
 That we may pass together from thy castle. 
 And live in vii'tue, if, perchance, to die 
 In poverty.
 
 SCENE III.] ED"^I]Sr AND ETHELBUKGA. 143 
 
 Ediv. What, am I favourite 
 Of Fortune to no end ? Ah, dear my lord ! 
 Is 't well, is 't right, to filch from victory 
 Its pith and kernel ? Trust me, I'll not yield. 
 
 Osr. My heart misjudg'd thee : welcome, then, the 
 worst ! 
 
 Edw. The worst thou'rt welcome to, if thou mean this. 
 That I restore this castle back to thee ; 
 If this content thee, I've a giving mind. 
 I see suspicion crowd into thine eye : — 
 What, ho, my men ! attend to what I say : 
 Into Lord Osric's hands, I, -with this ring. 
 Consign your duty and obedience. 
 
 All. Lord Osric ! we desix-e no better cliief. 
 
 Osr. What means this riddle ? 
 
 Edw. But for this choice part 
 
 Of Fortune's favour ; even for her who makes 
 All riches cheap ; this gift vdW I retain, 
 And with my life defend it, 
 
 Osr. Dost thou love her ? —
 
 144 EDWIN AND ETHELBUEGA. [aCT III. 
 
 What say'st thou, Etlielburga ? Mute ? Yet so 
 Looks not a maid when she wouki answer no. 
 
 Edw. What, not a word ? Oh, then thou lov'st me 
 not. — 
 Am I a child again, that will not read 
 The characters my very soul doth know ? 
 ecstasy, that dims mine eyes, to trace 
 All Cupid's volume writ in one sweet look ! 
 
 Osr. When I was young, I too could read that book. 
 
 Enter Theodoee. 
 
 The. A prodigy, my lord ! a prodigy ! 
 
 Ediv. What, Theodore ? come hither, bird, to me : 
 Sure, heav'n ne'er pack'd an angel closer ! How 
 Shall I reward thee ? Oh, no way but this, 
 My love shall wipe the debt out with a kiss. 
 
 TJie. 0, hadst thou seen his sides all white with 
 foam, 
 His parch'd tongue lolling from his gory mouth, 
 That dewed the ground ; so stiif, so feeble too !
 
 SCENE m.] ED WIN AND ETHELBURGA. 145 
 
 So meek with sorrows and so gaunt with years, 
 Withal so gentle ! Yet I weep for him ; 
 For he is dead : oh, would he were not dead ! 
 
 Edw. Why, silly child, what art thou telling me ? 
 Wilt thou persuade me thou hast seen a ghost ? 
 
 The. Hubert and I stood by the castle gates, 
 And look'd toward the forest. Twilight grey 
 Under her mantle dark had stol'n the trees 
 To sleep with nature, while all sounds reposed ; 
 When, fi'om his covert in some secret glade, 
 Advancing feebly o'er the misty plain. 
 An aged wolf crept slowly into form. 
 Stiffly he paced, for he was old and gaunt ; 
 Yet proudly, as he were the forest's lord : 
 At times, pent sighs burst from his shaggy sides ; 
 And in his eye, methought were human tears. 
 So thick the drops coursed down his hairy cheeks ; 
 While oft he bent his muzzle to the ground, 
 And snuffd the dubious scent : but when he came 
 Within an arrow of the castle gates, 
 
 10
 
 146 EDWIN AND ETHELBURGA. [acT III. 
 
 He stood stock still, and mutely look'd to us. 
 
 With wonder moved at such a prodigy, 
 
 Together shouting at the beast we ran, 
 
 And thought to scare ; but lo ! the brute stood still : 
 
 We struck him hard, and still the beast stood stock ; 
 
 Only upon me he uptum'd an eye 
 
 So meek, so pitiful, so wobegone, 
 
 That round his hairy neck I flung my arm. 
 
 Then onward to the castle gates he moved, 
 
 Though now for weariness his head hung low, 
 
 While many a foamy flake bedew'd the ground ; 
 
 Till, being come within the gate, one set 
 
 A little water to the animal ; 
 
 Which wistfully he eyed, and dipped his tongue ; 
 
 Then stretch'd himself upon the earth full length, 
 
 And with a gasp expired. 
 
 Edw. Is here a man 
 
 Skill'd in divining ? If there be, let him 
 Come forth, and say what means this prodigy. 
 
 Eric. Now is my time to speak, lest heav'nly signs
 
 SCENE III.] EDWIN AND ETHELBUKGA. 147 
 
 Shine to the eyeless. — Look on me, Lord Edwin ! 
 Canst thou not recognize these lineaments ? 
 
 Ediv. Eric, my father's henchman ! 
 
 Eric. Even so. 
 
 My life has been prolong'd to see this hour. 
 That I may be the interpreter of Heav'n. 
 The wolf is guardian of your noble house ; 
 For ages in this castle has he couch'd, 
 Fed by the hands of your famed ancestors ; 
 But from the shadow of those evil days, 
 Back to the woods he fled, and ne'er was seen, 
 Until the sunshine of this blessed hour. 
 Oh, truly, in this pregnant happy sign, 
 Heav'n's voice doth whisper in no parable 
 The gracious promise of her bounteous truce ; 
 Therefore, be happy, lord, for thou hast leave : 
 Only be virtuous, lest thou ofi'end. 
 
 Edw. thou who look'st o'er all, shine in me now, 
 And teach my heart to sing its gratitude ! 
 
 Osr. Well beai's he fortune who thus pays his thanks. 
 
 10—2
 
 148 EDWIN AND ETHELBUEGA. [acT III. 
 
 Edw. The noble wolf is in his halls again ; 
 The log doth crackle on his ancient hearth ; 
 With ruddy welcome smile the hoary walls 
 Upon Lord Edwin, and upon his bride. 
 Spread forth the board, and let the cup be raised 
 With ruby flowing to the crystal brim : 
 Shout, hearts ; be merry, all ; the man, who's not, 
 Stains this white day with an unseemly blot. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 London : Printed by Smith, Eldee and Co., Little Green Arbour Court, B.C.
 
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