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From Pride, from Wealth, from Business, and from
Loathing he flies, and seeks the peaceful Village;
He seks the Cottage in the tufted Grove,
The russet Fallows, and the verdant Lawns,
The clear cool Brook, and the deep woody Glade,
Bright Winter Fires, and Summer Ev’nings Suns.
These he prefers to gilded Roofs and Crowas;
Here he delights to pair the constant Swain,
With the sweet, unaffected, yielding Maid;
Here is his Empire, here his Choice to reign,
Here, where he dwells with Innocence and Truth,
Rodo. To Minds which know no better, these are
But Princes, sure, are born with nobler Thoughts.
Love, is in them a Flame that mounts to Heav'n,
And seeks its Source Divine, and Kindred Stars;
That urges on the Mortal Man to dare,
Kindles the vast Desires of Glory in him,
And makes Ambition's facred Fires burn bright.
Nor you, howe'er your Tongue disguise your Heart,
Have meaner Hopes than these.
Ari, Mine have been Aill
Match'd with my Birth; a younger Brother's Hopes.
Rodo. Nay more; Methinks I read your future Great-
And, like some Bard inspir'd, I could foretel
What wondrous things our Gods reserve for you.
Perhaps, ev'n now, your better Stars are join'd;
Auspicious Love and Fortune now conspire,
At once to crown you, and bestow that Greatness,
Which partial Nature at your Birth denyd.
Enter the King, Guards and other Attendants.
King. She must, she shall be found, tho' she be funk
Deep to the Center, tho' Eternal Night
Spread wide her fable Wing, to made her Beauties,
And shut me from her Sight. But fay, thou Traytor;
Thou that haft made the Name of Friendship vile,
And broke the Bonds of Duty and of Nature,
Where hast thou hid thy Theft? So young, só false
Have I not been a Father to thy Youth,
And lov'd thee with a more than Brother's Love?
And am I thus repaid? But bring her forth,
Or by our Gods thou dy ft.
Rodo. What means this Rage?
Ari. Then briefly thus: You are my King and Brother,
The Names which most I reverence on Earth,
And fear offending moft. Yet to defend
My Honour and my Love from Violation,
O'er ev'ry Bar resistless will I rush,
And, in despight of proud Tyrannick Pow'r,
Seize and affert my Right.
King. What thine! thy Right!
Riddles and Tales.
Ari. Mine by the deareft Tie,
By holy Marriage mine, she is my Wife.
Rodo. Racks, Tortures, Madness, seize me! Oh Con
Ari. I see thy Heart swells, and thy faming Visage
Reddens with Rage at this unwelcome Truth;
But since I know my Ethelinda fafe,
I have but little Care for what may happen.
To Morrow may be Heav'n's or yours to take,
If this Day be my last, why farewel Life;
I hold it well bestow'd for her I love.
Rodo. May Sorrow, Shame and Sickness overtake her, And all her Beauties, like my Hopes, be blasted. [Aide. King. So brave! But I shall find the Means to tamo
To make thee curse thy Folly, curse thy Love,
And to the dreadful Gods, who reign beneath,
Devote thy fatal Bride. She is a Christian;
Remember that, fond Boy, and then remember
That facred Vow, which, perjur'd as thou art,
Prostrate at Woden's Altar, and invoking
With solemn Runick Rites, our Country's Gods,
Thou mad'st in Presence of our Royal Father.
Ari. Yes, I remember well the impious Oath,
Hardly extorted from my trembling Youth;
When burning with mifguided Zeal, the King
Compelld my Knee to bend before his Gods,
And forc'd us both to swear to what we knew not.
King. Now by the Honours of the Saxon Race,
A long and venerable Line of Heroes,
I swear thou art abandon'd, loft to Honour,
And fall’n from ev'ry great and godlike Thought.
Some whining Coward Prieft has wrought upon thee,
And drawn thee from our brave Forefathers Faith,
False to our Gods, as to thy King and Brother.
Ari. Tis much beneath my Courage and my Truth, To borrow any mean Difguife from Falfhood. No! --'tis my Glory that the Chriftian Light Has dawn’d, like Day, upon my darker Mind, And taught my Soul the nobles Use of Reason; Taught her to soar aloft, to search, to kaow The vast eternal Fountain of her Being; Then, warm with Ladignation, to defpife C 2
The Things you call our Country's Gods, to scorn
And trample on their ignominious Altars.
King. 'Tis well, Sir, ---impious Boy! --- Ye Saxon Gods ;
And thou, oh Royal Hengift, whose dread Will
And injur'd Majesty I now affert,
Hear, and be present to my Justice, hear me,
While thus I vow to your offended Deities
This Traitor's Life; he dies, nor ought on Earth
Sayes his devoted Head. One to the Priests;
[To the Attendants.
Bid 'em be swift, and dress their bloody Altars
With ev'ry Circumstance of Tragick Pomp;
To Day a Royal Victim bleeds upon 'em.
Rich shall the Smoak and steaming Gore ascend,
To glut the Vengeance of our angry Gods.
Rodo. At once ten thousand racking Passions tear me,
And my Heart heaves, as it would burst
Oh can I, can I hear him doom'd to Death,
Nor stir, nor breath one single Sound to save him ?
It wo'not be and
my fierce haughty Soul,
Whate'er the suffers, ftill disdains to bend,
To sue to the curft, hated Tyrant King.
Oh Love! Oh Glory !---- Would'It thou die thus tamely ?
Is-Life so small a thing, fo mean a Boon,
As is not worth the asking? Thou art filent;
Wilt thou not plead for Life?.
Intreat the Tyrant,
And waken Nature in his Iron Heart.
Ari. Life has fo little in it good or pleasing, That since it seems not worth a Brother's Care, 'Tis hardly worth my asking.
King. Seize him, Guards, And bear him to his Fate.
[Guards seize Aribert,
Rodo. Yet, Hengit, know,
If thou shalt dare to touch his precious Life,
Know that the Gods and Rodogune prepare
The sharpest Scourges of vindictive War.
Fly where thou wilt, the Sword shall ftill pursue
With Vengeance, to a Brother's Murther due.
Driven out from Man, and mark'd for publick Scorn,
Thy ravish'd Scepter vainly shalt thou mourn.
And when at length thy wretched Life Mall cease,
When in the filent Grave thou hop'st for Peace:
Think not the Grave shall hide thy hared Head!
Still, Aill I will pursue thy fleeting Shade;
I curs'd the living, and will plague thee dead:
King. On to the Temple with him: Let her rave,
And prophesie ten thousand thousand Horrors:
I could join with her now, and bid 'em come;
They fit the present Fury of my Soul.
The Stings of Love and Rage are fix'd within,
And drive me on to Madness, Earthquakes, Whirlwinds.
A general Wreck of Nature now would please me.
For oh! not all the driving wintry War,
When the Storm groans and bellows from afar,
When thro' the Gloom the glancing Lightnings fly,
Heavy the ratling Thunders roll on high,
And Seas and Earth mix with the dusky Sky;
Not all those warring Elements we fear,
Are equal to the inborn Tempeft here;
Fierce as the Thoughts which mortal Man controul,
When Love and Rage contend, and tear the lab'ring
( Exeunt. The End of the Third Ad.