That brave old man?
Siw. The gallant RanulphEdw. Yes;
Edw. It is the will of Heaven, and must be My fellow captive.
The hard-fought field is lost; and here I am
A prisoner in my brother's camp: alas!
That fortune thus should guide me to a foe,
Whom most I wished to shun! We little thought
The troops, by Morcar led, had this way bent
Their ill-directed course: but Providence
Hath so ordained, perhaps, to heal the wounds
Of civil discord. Oh! unhappy Edwin,
For what art thou reserved? No matter what.
Since fate deprived me of my dear Matilda,
Whom I for three long years have sought in
vain,
Life hath been irksome to me: this, perchance,
May end it-for, who knows if nature yet
May live within the conqueror's breast, to plead
A brother's pardon! Yet he knows me not,
But soon he must-ha! who comes here? earl
Siward!
The second in command, to whom, o'erpowered
By circling foes, and fainting with my wounds,
I yielded up my sword. If fame say true,
He bears a mind too great to look with scorn
On the oppressed, or triumph o'er misfortune.
Siw. Stranger, whoe'er thou art, be comforted;
Thy fate hath thrown thee into noble hands,
Who know thy merit. May I ask thy name?
Edw. I am a poor abandoned wretch, the sport
Of fortune; one, whose last affliction is
To be a captive, and from every eye
Would wish to hide the story of my fate:
Too soon my name and sorrows will be known.
Siw. Respect is ever due to misery:
I will not urge thee further; all, I hope,
That generous pity could afford to soothe
Calamity, like thine, by my command,
Hath been extended to thee. Here, awhile,
You must remain a prisoner. But, ere long,
I hope to greet thee by a fairer name,
And rank thee as our friend.
Edw. Your generous orders
Have been obeyed, and I acknowledge it
With grateful heart. May I not ask the fate
Of him, who fought so nobly by my side,
Siw. He is safe and free.
Edw. Ha! free! Thank Heaven!
Siw. The generous Morcar, urged
By my entreaties, pardoned and released him, Though much our soldiers murmured, and demanded
His life and your's; a sacrifice, they said,
Due to the manes of their slaughtered friends;
But mercy has prevailed.
Edw. Whate'er becomes
Of an unhappy wanderer, like me,
For your kind treatment of the aged Ranulph,
Accept my thanks; it was a precious boon;
Morcar may find me not unworthy of it.
To-day I am his captive, but, to-morrow
May see me his deliverer: for, know,
My royal master, the victorious William,
With eagle swiftness, soon will follow me
With twenty times your force. As this shall
prove Or true or false, so deal with me; remember I warned you of it.
Siw. And remember thou,
That I with joy receive the welcome news:
Welcome to me, for I am William's friend.
Edw. Thou canst not then be mine, or Eng
With such a heart as thine, so nobly formed
To feel for the afflicted, satisfied,
For so thou seemest, of William's royal right,
What could engage thee in this foul revolt,
This base rebellion?
Siw. What, but the great bond
Of kindred souls, inviolable friendship!
The only solid bliss on this side heaven,
That doubles all the joys of human life,
And, by dividing, lessens every woe.
Edw. Who knows but this day's sad event
may prove
The happy means to heal a nation's wounds,
And soothe our jarring factions into peace?
Siw. Had Morcar thought with me, long
since that end
Had been obtained; but Morcar is
So I have heard, and therefore little hope
To change his nature. O! could he be wrought | For every loss-the gallant Ranulph.
To sweet oblivion of his wrongs; to bury
His deep resentment; mine should be the task,
A task, Heaven knows, I would, with joy, per-
form,
To reconcile offended majesty;
To soften all his errors, plead his pardon,
And give my sovereign one brave soldier more.
Siw. When next we meet I trust it shall be so:
Meantime, let me prepare him for the change;
Retire a while-ere long we'll send for thee,
For every moment I expect him here:
Thy freedom and thy happiness shall be
My first concern, for thou hast well deserved it.
Edw. Farewell! Be quick in your resolves; the
Requires it; and be wise ere 'tis too late.
[Exit Edwin. Siw. [Alone.] I hope we shall. This well-timed victory,
If rightly used, may smooth our way to peace.
Now, Morcar, all thy happiness depends
Upon thyself alone. Now, friendship, raise
Thy powerful voice, and force him to be happy.
He will, he must-he comes-
Enter MORCAR.
Siw. My conqueror, welcome!
Mor. Thrice welcome to my arms, my noble
Siward;
At length we meet in joy; the day is ours;
Thanks to thy friendly aid.
Siw. We must not boast;
'Twas hardly purchased, and has cost us dear: You followed them too close.
Mor. I own 'twas rash;
My youthful ardour urged the keen pursuit
Too far; and, but for thee, I had been lost.
In war thy arm protects me, and in peace
Thy counsels guide. O! how shall Î return
Thy goodness? Thou wert born to save thy
friend.
Siw. Away! I'll not be thanked. I've done my duty,
And if thou think'st thyself indebted for it,
Repay me not with flattery, but with love.
E'er since my soul with thine congenial met
In social bands, and marked thee for her own,
Thy interest and thy happiness have been
My first ambition; and when thou art blest
With all thy soul can wish for, Siward, then,
And then alone, will have his full reward.
Mor. O, unexampled faithfulness and truth!
But say, my Siward, is our loss so great?
Siw. The flower of half our troops. But 'tis
![[blocks in formation]](https://books.google.com.ni/books/content?id=GNUIAAAAQAAJ&output=html_text&pg=PA904&img=1&zoom=3&hl=en&q=meet&cds=1&sig=ACfU3U1-Vg3cKWwkGXNfRk46NvzFpDkYNw&edge=0&edge=stretch&ci=71,1275,438,161)
Matilda's father! then I'm satisfied.
The wily chief! by Heaven he shall repay me
For her unkindness: Give him to my rage,
To my resentment, to my injured love.
Where is he, Siward?
Siw. I have set him free.
Mor. Ha! free! Thy ill-timed mercy hath betrayed
Our cause. The tyrant would have ransomed
The lucky moment. When the generous mind
Is soothed by obligation, soon it opens
To the mild dictates of humanity,
And softens into sympathy and love.
Mor. O, Siward! could'st thou teach me but to win That lovely maid
Siw. The task is half performed
Already, and my friend shall soon be blessed.
One thing, and one alone, remains to fix
Her doubtful heart, if yet a doubt remains.
Mor. O! name it, Siward; if 'tis in the power
Of wealth to purchase, or of victory
In the fair field of glory to acquire,
It shall not long be wanting.
No price, but such as Morcar well can pay; No victory, but the victory o'er thyself,
And thy own passions-Give up thy resentment,
Make peace with William, and Matilda's thine.
Mor. Matilda mine! and must I purchase her
At the dear price of honour? with the loss
Of all my soul holds dear, my country's welfare?
My word-
Siw. Away! whilst prudence warranted
Our honest zeal, I was the first to aid
Thy just revenge; but valour ill-advised,
And ill-exerted in a hopeless cause,
Degenerates into rashness. You mistake
The pride of honour for the pride of virtue.
Mor. And would'st thou have me bend beneath
the yoke
Of ignominious slavery, quit the cause
Of heaven-born freedom, and betray my friends?
Siw. I'd have thee just and happy-We have
been
Successful, let us now be generous,
Whilst we have something to bestow; nor wait
Till fickle fortune from our brows shall tear
The blasted wreath, and leave us nought to give.
Too long already have we sacrificed,
At proud Ambition's altar, to revenge;
Now let us offer at the shrine of Peace,
And sacrifice-
Mor. To love, and to Matilda;
It shall be so-the struggle's past-away,
My Siward, haste, and tell her, I obey;
Her laws, her king, her master, shall be mine;
I have no will but her's, and in her eyes
Will read my duty-Yet a moment stay-
What will my brave companions of the war,
My fellow soldiers, say? Will they approve
This unexpected change?
In their obedience, and resolved to act
As you command-But I will see them straight,
And urge such powerful reasons as may best
Secure them to our purpose. Fare thee well,
Mor. Siward, thy kind anticipating care
Prevents my every wish-But say, my friend,
Where is the gallant chief whom we subdued,
Who fought so hardly, and so nobly fell?
Siw. In yonder tent, a wretched prisoner still; He counts the tedious hours; a heavy gloom Sits on his brow, as if some deep-felt sorrow Oppressed his noble mind-We must release him.
Mor. Thou know'st, my Siward, thrice we had
o'erpowered
His troops, and thrice his single valour turned
The fortune of the day: Since first I trod
The paths of glory, ne'er did I behold
Such deeds of valour wrought by mortal hand;
I almost envied, though I conquered him.
He wore his beaver up, nor could I trace
His features; but he bears a noble form:
Know'st thou his quality or name?
He seems industrious to conceal them both
From every eye.
Mor Some deity protects him,
As its peculiar care; for, as I raised
My sword against him, whether the soft passion,
That triumphs o'er me, had unmanned my soul,
I know not; but, bereft of all its power,
My nerveless arm dropped ineffectual down,
And let him 'scape me.
Siw. 'Tis most true; I saw
And wondered at it. When you left the field,
With desperate rage he rushed intrepid on,
And seemed to court his fate, till circling foes
Compelled him to resign, and yield his sword.
Mor. Away! I burn with ardour to forgive,
To free, and to embrace him: fly, my Siward.
Let him approach; he could not wish to meet
In happier hour the master of his fate,
For now, methinks, I could be reconciled
To every foe. Away, my Siward, haste
And send him to me.
Sia. Treat him like a friend,
He may be useful. Such distinguished merit
Must have its influence; he commands, no doubt,
The royal ear, and may procure such terms
As William may with honour yield, and we
Without a blush accept.
[Exit Siward.
Mor. Farewell! And now,
How stands the great account? Can I acquit
Myself, or shall I be condemned before
Thy great tribunal, all-repaying Justice?
But fair Matilda wipes out every stain;
'Tis she commands me to forgive, and she
Must be obeyed; I'm not the first apostate
From honour's cause the tvrant love has made.
My friend too urged the change---
Guards bring in EDWIN chained.
He's here-Strike off
Those ignominious chains-be has deserved
A better fate.
[Guards unchain him.
Stranger, whoe'er thou art, [Turning to Edwin.
Thy gallant bearing in the unequal conflict,
For we had twice thy numbers, hath endeared
A soldier to a soldier. Vulgar minds
To their own party, and the narrow limits
Of partial friendship, meanly may confine
Their admiration; but the brave will see,
And, seeing, praise the virtues of a foe.
Edw. [Aside.] O, powerful nature, how thou
work'st within me !
Mor. Still silent! still concealed! perchance
thou fear'st,
Knowing thy rank and name, I might recal
My promised pardon; but be confident;
For, by that sacred honour, which I hold
Dearer than life, I promise, here, to free
And to protect thee: Didst thou hide from me
My deadliest foe; should William's self appear
Before me, he, who hath so deeply wronged me,
So long opposed; nay, should I hear the voice
Of that adventurous, rash, misguided youth,
Whom yet I cannot hate-my cruel brother,
I could forgive him.
5 Q
Edw. [discovering himself.] Then-behold him
Mor. Edwin! Amazement! By what wondrous means,
Mysterious Providence, dost thou unfold
Thy secret purposes! I little thought,
| If such I ought to call that form divine,
Which triumphs here, who rules my every thought,
My every action guides. In yonder tent
A beauteous captive dwells, who hath enslaved
Her conqueror: She demands the sacrifice;
She would not give her hand to William's foe,
When last we met, what heaven-protected vic- And therefore, only, Morcar is his friend.
Escaped my sword.
Edw. With horror I recall
That dreadful circumstance. Throughout the battle
I knew, and carefully avoided thee.
Mor. O, Edwin! how, on this propitious day,
Have victory, fame, and friendship, fortune, love
And nature, all conspired to make me blest!
We have been foes too long-Of that no more.
My Edwin, welcome! Once more to thy arms
Receive thy brother.
Edw. Yet a moment stay:
By nature touched, the same accordant string,
That vibrates on thy heart, now beats on mine;
But honour, and the duty, which I owe
The best of kings, restrains the fond embrace
I wish to share, and bids me ask, if yet
In Morcar I behold my sovereign's foe.
If it be so, take back thy proffered freedom,
Take back my forfeit life: I would not wish
To be indebted for it to--a traitor.
Mor. Perhaps I may deserve a better name; Perhaps I may be changed.
For this I came, for this I yielded to thee,
To tell thee Williain's strength is every hour
Increasing: if thou mean'st to make thy peace,
Now is the crisis-
Mor. Edwin, stop! nor urge
Such mean unworthy motives as alone
Could thwart my purpose. Morcar cannot fear,
But Morcar can be generous: for, know,
Before I saw thee here, I had resolved
To sheath my sword, and be the conqueror's friend;
For, O! there is a cause
Edw. Whate'er the cause
The effect is glorious. Now thou art again
My brother. Here, let us once more unite
The long-dissevered cord.
Mor. And never more May blind resentment, faction, party, rage, Envy, or jealous fear, dissolve the tie! And now, my Edwin, blushing, I confess, Not to thy tender care for Morcar's safety, To friendship's council, or to reason's voice, Owe we this wished-for change. A female hand Directs and wills it.
Edw. Ha! a woman! Mor, Yes,
Edw. I could have wished, that this important change
Were to the hero, not the lover, due.
Mor. I am above deceit, and own my weak.
But thou shalt see her-Yes, my Edwin, thou
Shalt bear the welcome tidings to my love.
Thy presence will bear witness to the change;
Thy freedom, and the joyful news thou bring'st
Of our blest union will confirm it to her,
Wilt thou, my Edwin?—
Edw. Do not ask me what
I must refuse. I would do much to serve
A friend and brother; but a task of joy
Ill suits a soul oppressed with griefs like mine.
O! I could tell thee-but 'twould be unkind,
When thou art entering on the paths of bliss,
To stop thee with my melancholy tale.
Mor. Whate'er thy griefs, I pity, and hereaf
May find the means to lessen or remove them;
Mean time, this tender office may divert
Thy sorrows; nay, if thou deniest me, Edwin,
I shall not think our union is sincere.
Mor. I'll send a trusty slave,
That shall conduct thee to her.
To follow thec-away-begone and prosper.
But, O, my brother! if thou hast a heart,
That is not steeled with stoic apathy
Against the magic of all-conquering love,
Beware of beauty's power; for she has charms
Would melt the frozen breast of hoary age,
Or draw the lonely hermit from his cell
To gaze upon her.
Edw. Know, thy fears are vain;
For long, long since, by honour's sacred ties,
United to the loveliest of her sex,
Edwin, like Morcar, is to one alone
Devoted, and my heart is fixed as thine.
Mor. Then I am blest. Thy sympathetic soul,
With warmer feelings, shall express my passion,
Waked by the fond remembrance of thy own.
Go, then, thy kind returning friendship prove,
Go, plead with all the eloquence of love,
And, as thou dost thy brother's anguish tell,
Still on thy lips may soft persuasion dwell!
Urge my fond suit with energy divine,
Nor cease till thou hast made the lovely captive
mine.
SCENE I.-MATILDA's tent, with a distant view of the camp.
MATILDA and BERTHA.
Mat. O, Bertha! I have had such frightful dreams!
They harrowed up my soul.
Ber. It is the work
Of busy fancy in thy troubled mind;
Give it no heed.
Mat. O! it was more, much more
Than fancy ever formed; 'twas real all;
It haunts me still, and every circumstance
Is now before me; but I'll tell thee all.
Scarce had I closed my eyes, to seek that rest,
Which long had been a stranger, when methought
Alone I wandered through a mazy wood,
Beset with thorns and briars on every side;
The mournful image of my wretched state:
When, from a winding walk, the beauteous form
Of my loved Edwin seemed to glide across,
And ran with haste to meet me: But, behold!
A tyger rushed between, and seized upon him:
I shrieked aloud.
It is my Edwin-Save me, Bertha! O![As he enters, she faints.
Edw. What do I see? Matilda here! she
Am I deserted, then? abandoned, lost,
Betrayed by her I love! She breathes, she lives! But not for me for Morcar! for my brother! Mat. [To Bertha.] Where is he? O! it was delusion all;
The form deceived me. Had it been my love, He would have flown with rapture to me—See, He stands far off, and will not look upon me. Edw. I dare not.
Mat. Is it thus we meet again?
Is this the kind, the tender, faithful Edwin?
Edw. Art thou Matilda? Speak-for I am lost In wild astonishment. It cannot be. In Morcar's camp! Is this the lovely captive, That I should meet?
Mat. All-seeing Heaven,
Bear witness for me: If, from that sad hour
When last we parted, this devoted heart
Hath ever wandered, ever cast one thought,
Or formed a wish for any bliss but thee,
Despise me, Edwin; slight me, cast me off
To infamy and shame.
Believe thee; yet 'tis strange-when thou shalt know
From whom I came, and what my errand here.
Thou wilt not call me cruel or unkind,
When I shall tell thee I am come to claim
Another's right-O heaven! another's right
To my Matilda! to request thy hand
For Morcar.
Mat. For thy brother!
Edw. Yes, even now
We parted. Here, he told me, I should meet A beauteous captive; little did I think
It was Matilda, whom he long had wooed;
Whose generous heart, he hoped, would now ac
A convert made to loyalty by love;
She only waited for that blest event, With mutual ardour to return his passion. Can it be thus? Alas! thy presence here Confirms it but too well.
Mat. Appearance oft,
By strange events and causeless jealousy,
Confounds the guilty with the innocent.
But sure my Edwin's noble mind disdains
To cherish low suspicion; 'tis a vice
Abhorrent to thy nature, and Matilda
Will never practise it on thee. True love
Knows not distrust, or diffidence, but rests
On its own faith secure, and hopes to meet
The truth it merits.
|