And feed the dying Lamp of Life within me;
But oh! when thou art gone, and my fond Eyes
Shall feek thee all round, but feek in vain,
What Pow'r, what Angel fhall supply thy Place,
Shall help me to fupport my Sorrows then,
And fave my Soul from Death?
Ethel. My Life! my Lord!
What would my Heart fay to thee!
Oh lift thy Eyes up to that Holy Pow'r,
Whofe wondrous Truths, and Majefty 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 fave befides?
Does not the Deep grow calm, and the rude North
Be hufh'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 fhould fear him, when Heav'n owns our Caufe?
That Heav'n fhall make my Aribert its Care,
Shall to thy Groans and Sighings lend an Ear,
And fave thee in the moment of Despair.
Ari. Oh! thou haft touch'd me with the facred Theme,
And my cold Heart is kindled at thy Flame;
An active Hope grows bufie in my Breaft,
And fomething tells me we fhall both be bleft.
Like thine, my Eyes the Starry Thrones pursue,
And Heav'n difclos'd ftands open to my View:
And fee the Guardian Angels of the Good,
Reclining foft 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 moft they seem to turn,
Joy in thy Joys, and for thy Sorrows mourn:
Thee, oh my Love, their common Care they make,
Me to their kind Protection too they take,
And fave me for my Ethelinda's fake.
[Exeunt Seofrid and Ethelinda at one Door, Aribert at the other.
The End of the Second Act.
Seof. WHAT is the boafted Majesty of Kings,
Their Godlike Greatness, if their Fate depends
Upon that meaneft of their Passions, Love?
The Pile their warlike Fathers toil'd to raise,
To raise a Monument of deathless Fame,
A Woman's Hand o'er-turns. The Cedar thus,
That lifted his afpiring Head to Heav'n,
Secure, and fearless of the founding Axe,
Is made the Prey of Worms; his Root destroy'd,
He finks 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 preferve 'em both, the Royal Brothers;
But if their Fates ordain that one must fall,
Then let my Master stand. This Chriftian Woman
Ay, there the Mischief comes!What are our Gods,
That they permit her to defie their Pow'r?
But that's not much, let their Priests look to that.
Were fhe but well remov'd-But then the King-
Why, Abfence, Business, or another Face,
A thousand Things may cure him-wou'd 'twere done,
And Head fafe
my
-That! let me look to that-
But fee the Husband comes! -ha!.
It shall be try'd at least.
My Heart inclines, ftill 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 Defpair?
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 fear'd.
Ari. How! nothing!— speak thy Fear.
Ari. The King!-Ok that's too much!
yet there is more, I read it plain In thy dark fullen Vifage like a Storm That gathers black upon the frowning Sky, And grumbles in the Wind —
Let the whole Tempeft burst upon my Head,
Let the fierce Lightning blaft, the Thunder rive me;
For oh 'tis fure the Fear of what may come,
Does far tranfcend the Pain.
Seof. You fear too foon,
And Fancy drives you much too fiercely on.
I do not say that what may happen, will:
Chance often mocks what wifely we foresee,
Befides, the ruling Gods are over all,
And order as they please 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 Beaft
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 Opennefs of Heart
That should deferve your Truft, I have my Fears.
What if, at fome dead Hour of Night, the King
Intend a Vifit to your weeping Princefs?
Seof. He may go, 'tis true, with a fair Purpose.
Suppofe her funk into a downy Slumber,
Her beating Heart just tir'd, and gone to Reft:
Methinks I fee her on her Couch repos'd,
The lovely, helpless, sweet, unguarded Innocence;
With gentle Heavings rife her fnowy Breasts,
Soft fteals the balmy Breath, the rofie Hew
Glows on her Check, a deep Vermilion dyes
Her dewy Lip, while Peace and fmiling Joy
Sit hufh'd and filent on the fleeping Fair.
Then think what Thoughts invade the gazing King;
Catch'd with the fudden Flame, at once he burns,
At once he flies refiftless on his Prey.
Waking she starts distracted with the Fright,
To Aribert's lov'd Name in vain fhe flies;
Shrieking the calls her abfent Lord in vain.
The King poffeft of all his furious Will
Ari. Firft fink the Tyrant Ravisher to Hell,
Seize him,
Fiends-
ye
firft perifk thou and I,
Let us not live to hear of fo much Horror.
The curfed 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 inceftuous Heart.
You should be mov'd, for fure the Thought is dreadful. But keep this fwelling Indignation down,
And let your cooler Reason now prevail,
That may perhaps find out fome means of Safety.
Ari. Talk'ft thou of Safety!-we may talk of Heav❜o, May gaze with Rapture on yon ftarry Regions; But who fhall lend us Wings to reach their height? Impoffible!
Seof. There is a Way yet left,
And only one.
Ari. Ha! fpeak
Seof. Her fudden Flight.
|