Hengist, King of Kent, Son to Hengift Mr.. Booth..
the firft Saxon Invader of Britain.
Ethelinda, a British Lady, privately Mrs. Oldfield..
Priefts, Officer, Soldiers, and other Attendants.
SCENE in Kent, about Twenty Years after the first Invafion of Britain by the Saxons.
A PALA ̧C E.
Enter ARIBERT, and GSWALD.
ARI BERT.
UCH are, my Friend, the Joys our Loves have known,
So ftill to be defir'd, fo ever new,
Nor by Fruition pall'd, nor chang'd by Abfence.
Whate'er the Poets dreamt of their Elyfium,
Or what the Saints believe of the first Paradife,
When Nature, was not yet deform'd by Winter,
But one perpetual Beauty crown'd the Year,
Such have we found 'em ftill, fill, ftill the fame. ‚.
OSWALD,
Such grant, kind Heav'n, their Course to be for ever!
But yet, my Prince, forgive your faithful Oswald,
If he believes you melt with too much Tenderness;
Your noble Heart forgets its native Greatness,
And finks in Softnefs, when you languish thus;
Thus figh and murmur but for fix Days Absence,
ARIBERT
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Chide not; but think if e'er, when thou wert young, Thou lov'dit thyfelf, how thou west wont to judge Of Time, of Love, of Abfence, and Impatience. What! fix long Days, and never write nor fend, 4
Tho' Adelmar and Kenwald, faithful both,
Were left behind, to bring me Tidings from her:
How, Ethelinda! how haft thou forgot me!
OSWAL D.
Perhaps I err; but if the Pain be fuch,
Why is the Fair One, who alone can eafe it,
Thus far divided from your Tonging Arms?
"Twere better ne'er to part, than thus to mourn.
ARIBER T.
Oh Ofwald! is there not a fatal Caufe?
Thou know'ft my Ethelinda
A Name by Saxons, and their Gods, abhorr'd.
To me her diffring Faith imports not much;
"Tis true indeed, bred to my Country's Manners,
I worship as my Fathers did before me.
Unpractis'd in Difputes, and wrangling Schools,
I feek no farther Knowledge, and fo keep
My Mind at Peace, nor know the Pain of doubting;
What others think I judge not of too nicely,
But hold, all honeft Men are in the right.
Then know yet more; for my whole Breast is thine, Ev'n all my fecret Soul: I am a Christian. "Tis wonderful to tell; for Oh, my Ofwald,
I liften'd to the Charmer of my Heart.
Still, as the Night that fled away, I fate,
I heard her with an Eloquence divine;
Reason of holy and myfterious Truths;
Of Heav'ns moft righteous Doom, of Man's Injuftice;
Of Laws to curb the Will, and bind the Paffions;
Of Life, of Death, and Immortality;
Of gnashing Fiends beneath, and Pains eternal;
Of ftarry Thrones, and endlefs Joys above.
My very Soul was aw'd, was fhook within me;
Methought I heard diftinct, I faw most plain,
Some Angel, in my Ethelinda's Form,
Point out my Way to everlasting Happiness.
'Tis wonderful indeed! and yet great Souls,
By Nature half divine, foar to the Stars,
And hold a near Acquaintance with the Gods.
And Oh, my Prince, when I furvey thy Virtue,
I own the Seal of Heav'n imprinted on thee;
I ftand convinc'd that good and holy Powers
Infpire and take Delight to dwell within thee.
Yet Crowds will still believe, and Priests will teach,
As wand'ring Fancy, and as Int'reft leads.
How will the King and our fierce Saxon Chiefs
Approve this Bride and Faith? Had Royal Hengift,
Thy Father liv'd!-
"Tis on that Rock we perith;
Thou bring his dreadful Image to my Thoughts,
And now he stands before me, ftormy, fierce,
Imperious, unrelenting, and to Death
Tenacious of his Purpose once refolv’d.
Juft fuch he feems, as when fevere and frowning
He forc'd the King, my Brother, and myself,
To kneel and fwear at Woden's cruel Altar,
First, never to forego our Country's Gods;
Then made us vow with deepeft Imprecations,
If it were either's Fortune e'er to wed,
Never to choose a Wife among the Christians.
OSWAL D.
Have you not fail'd in both?
ARIBERT.
But for a Caufe fo juft, fo worthy of me,
That not t'have fail'd in both, had been t'have fail'd
Yes, Ofwald, by the confcious Judge within,
So do I ftand acquitted to myfelf,
That were my Ethelinda free from Danger,
On peril of my Life I would make known,
And to the World avow, my Love and Faith.
OSWAL D.
I dare not, nay, 'tis fure I cannot blame you:
You are the fecret Worship of my Soul,
To me fo perfect, that you cannot err.
But Oh! my Prince, let me conjure you now,
By that molt faithful Service I've still paid you,
By Love, and by the gentle Ethelinda,
Be cautious of your Danger, reft in Silence.
In holy Matters, Zeal may be your Guide,
And lift you on her flaming Wings to Heav'n;
But here on Earth truft Reafon, and be fafe.,
ARIBERT.
"Tis true, the present angry Face of Things
Befpeaks our cooleft Thoughts: The British King,
Ambrofius, arms, and calls us forth to Battle,
Demanding back the fruitful Fields of Kent,
By Vortigern to royal Hengift giv'n;
A mean Reward for all thofe Saxon Lives
Were loft, in propping Britain's finking State. s. OSWAL D.
The War with Britain is a diftant Danger,
Nor to be weigh'd with our dometic Fears..
Young Offa, chief among our Saxon Princes,
Who at the King's Entreaty friendly came
From northern Jutland, and the Banks of Elbe
With twice ten thousand Warriors to his Aid,
Frowns on our Court, complains aloud of Wrongs,
And wears a public Face of Difcontent.
'Tis faid he is offended, that the King Delays to wed his Sifter.
"Twas made the firft Condition of their Friendship,
And fworn with all the Pomp of Priests and Altars, i
That beauteous Rodogune fhou'd be our Queen:
Then wherefore this Delay? The Time was fix'd,
The Feaft was bid, and Mirth proclaim'd to all;
The Crowd grew jovial with the Hopes of Holy-days)
And each, according to cur Country's Manner, 1 but.
Provok'd his Fellow with a friendly Bowl,
And blefs'd the royal Pair; when on the Morn,
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