Abbildungen der Seite

And feed the dying Lamp of Life within me;
But oh! when thou art gone, and my fond Eyes
Shall seek thee all round, but seek in vain,
What Pow'r, what Angel fhall supply thy Place,
Shall help me to support my Sorrows then,
And save my Soul from Death?

Ethel. My Life! my Lord!
What wcuid my Heart say to thee! -but no more
Oh lift thy Eyes up to that Holy Pow's,
Whose wondrous Truths, and Majesty Divine,
Thy Ethelinda taught thee first to know;
There fix thy Faith, and triumph o'er the World:
For who can help, or who can save besides ?
Does not the Deep grow calm, and the rude North
Be hush'd at his Command ? thro' all his Works,
Does not his Servant Nature hear his Voice?
Hear and obey? Then what is impious Man
That we should fear him, when Heay'n owns our Cause?
That Heav'n fhall make my Aribert its Care,
Shall to thy Groans and Sighings lend an Ear,
And save thee in the moment of Despair,

Ari. Oh! thou haft touch'd me with the facred Themez And my cold Heart is kindled ar thy Flame; An active Hope grows bufie in my Breaft, And something tells me we shall both be blest. Like thine, my Eyes the Starry Thrones pursue, And Heav'n disclos'd tands


And see che Guardian Angels of the Good,
Reclining soft on many a Golden Cloud,
To Earth they seem their gentle Heads to bow,
** And pity what we fuffer here below;
But oh! to thee, thee mot they seem to turn,
Joy in thy Joys, and for thy Sorrows mourg:


to my



Thee, oh my Love, their common Care they make,
Me to their kind Protection too they take,
And save me for my Ethelinda's fake.

[Exeunt Seofrid and Ethelinda at one Door,

Aribert at the other.

The End of the Second Ad.


Enter Seofrid.

seof. W


WHAT is the boasted Majesty of Kings,

Their Godlike Greatness, if their Fate depends
Upon that meanest of their Passions, Love?
The Pile their warlike Fathers toild to raise,
To raise a Monument of deathless Fame,
A Woman's Hand o'er-turns. The Cedar thus,
That lifted his aspiring Head to Heav'n,
Secure, and fearless of the founding Axe,
Is made the Prey of Worms; his Root destroy'd,
He sinks at once to Earth, the mighty Ruin,
And Triumph of a wretched Infect's Pow'r.
Is there a Remedy in human Wisdom,
My Mind has left unfought, to help this Evil ?
I would preserve 'em both, the Royal Brothers;
But if their Fates ordain that one must fall,
Then let my Master stand. This Christian Woman
Ay, there the Mischief comes ! -What are our Gods,
That they permit her to defie their Pow'r?


[ocr errors]

But that's not much, let their Priests look to that. .
Were she but well remov'dBut then the King
Why, Absence, Business, or another Face,
A thousand Things may cure him-wou'd'twere done,
And my Head Safe

That! let me look to that
But see. the Husband comes!. ha! not ill thought
It shall be try'd at least.

Enter Aribert. Ari. Still to this place My Heart inclines, still hither turn my Eyes: Hither my Feet unbidden find their way. Like a fond Mother from her dying Babe Forc'd by officious Friends, and Servants Care, I linger at the Door, and wish to know, Yet dread to hear the Fate of what I Love. Oh Seofrid! Do'st thou not wonder much, And pity my weak Temper, when thou seeft me Thus in a Moment chang'd from Hot to Cold, My active Fancy glowing now with Hopes, Anon thus drooping; Death in my pale Vilage, My Heart, and my chill Veins, all freezing with Despair?

Seof. I bear an equal Portion of your Sorrows,
Your Fears too all are mine. And oh! my Prince,
I would partake your Hopes; but my cold Age,
Still apt to doubt the worst-

Ari. What do'ft thou doubt?
Seof. Nay! nothing worse than what we both have

Ari. How! nothing!-speak thy Fear.
Seof. Why nothing new.

that's all.
Ari. The King!--Oh that's too much!


The King

And yet


yet there is more, I read it plain
In thy dark fullen Visage like a Storm
That gathers black upon the frowning Sky,
And grumbles in the Wind. But let it come,
Let the whole Tempeft burft upon my Head,
Let the herce Lightning blaft, the Thunder rive me;
For oh 'tis sure the Fear of what may come,
Does far transcend the Pain.

Seof. You fear too soon,
And Fancy drives you much too fiercely on.
I do not say that what may happen, will:
Chance often mocks what wifely we foresée,
Besides, the ruling Gods are over all,
And order as they pleafe their world below.
The King, 'tis true, is Noble-but Impetuous;
And Love, or call it by the courfer Name,
Luft, is, of all the Frailties of our Nature,
What most we ought to fear; the headstrong Beast
Rushes along, impatient for the Course,
Nor hears the Rider's Call, nor feels the Rein.

Ari. What would'st thou have me think?

Seof. Think of the worft,
Your better Fortune will arrive more welcome.
To speak then with that Openness of Heart
That should deferve your Trust, I have my

What if, at fome dead Hour of Night, the King
Intend a Visit to your weeping Princefs ?

Ari, Ha!

Seof. He may go, 'tis true, with a fair Purpose.
Suppose her funk into a downy Slumber,
Her beating Heart just tird, and gone to Reft:
Methinks I see her on her Couch repos'd,
The lovely, helpless, sweet, unguarded Innocence;


With gentle Heavings rife her snowy Breasts,
Soft steals the balmy Breath, the rosie Hew
Glows on her Cheek, a deep Vermilion dyes
Her dewy Lip, while Peace and smiling Joy
Sit hufh'd and silent on the deeping Fair.
Then think what Thoughts invade the gazing Kings
Catch'd with the fudden Flame, at once he burns,
At once he flies resistless on his Prey.
Waking she starts distracted with the Fright,
To Aribert's lov'd Name in vain The Alies;
Shrieking the calls her abfent Lord in vain.
The King poffeft of all his furious Will

Ari. First sink the Tyrant Ravisher to Hell,
Seize him, ye Fiends —firft perifk thou and I,
Let us not live to hear of so much Horror.
The cursed Deed will turn me favage wild,
Blot ev'ry Thought of Nature from my Soul
A Brother! I will rush and tear his Breast,
Be drunk with gushing Blood, and glut my Vengeance
With his incestuous Heart,

Seof. It is but just You should be mor'd, for sure the Thought is dreadful But keep this swelling Indignation down, And let your cooler Reafon now prevail, That may perhaps find out some means of Safety.

Ari. Talk'it thou of Safety! - we may talk of Heario, May gaze with Rapture on yon ftarry Regions; Bur who shall lend us Wings to reach their height? Impossible!

Seof. There is a Way yet left,
And only one.

Ari. Ha! speak
Seof. Her sudden Flight.

« ZurückWeiter »