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 ease it,
Thus far divided from your longing Arms?
"Twere better ne'er to part, than thus to mourn.
ARIBERT.
Oh Ofwald! is there not a fatal Cause? "Thou know'ft my Ethelinda
A Name by Saxons, and their Gods, abhorr'd.
To me her diff'ring 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 mysterious Truths;
Of Heav'ns moft righteous Doom, of Man's Injustice;
Of Laws to curb the Will, and bind the Paffions;
Of Life, of Death, and Immortality;
Of gnashing Fiends beneath, and Pains eternal;
Of tarry 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 ftill 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 perish;
Thou bring'ft his dreadful Image to my Thoughts,
And now he ftands 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 deepest 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?
But for a Cause 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 myself,
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 most faithful Service I've still paid you,
By Love, and by the gentle Ethelinda,
Be cautious of your Danger, rest 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 Reason, and be safe.
ARIBERT.
"Tis true, the prefent angry Face of Things
Befpeaks our coolest 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.
OSWAL D.
The War with Britain is a diftant Danger,
Nor to be weigh'd with our domeftic 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 Warriers 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 Sister.
"Twas made the firft Condition of their Friendship,
And fworn with all the Pomp of Priefts and Altars,
That beauteous Rodogune fhou'd be our Queen:
Then wherefore this Delay? The Time was fix'd,
The Feast was bid, and Mirth proclaim'd to all;
The Crowd grew jovial with the Hopes of Holy-days,
And each, according to our Country's Manner,
Provok'd his Fellow with a friendly Bowl,
And blefs'd the royal Pair; when on the Morn,
The very Morn that should have join'd their Hands,
The King forbad the Rites.
Nor has my Brother yet difclos'd the Caufe.
Laft Night, at parting from him, he stopt short,
Then catch'd my Hand, and with a troubled Accent,
With Words that spoke like fecret Shame and Sorrow,
He told me he had fomething to impart,
And wish'd that I would wait him in the Morning.
OSWAL D.
But fee, Prince Offa, and his beauteous Sifter!
The King's most favour'd Counsellor, old Seofrid,
Is with 'em too.
Retire; I would not meet 'em.
That Princefs, Ofwald, is efteem'd a Wonder.
To me the feems moft fair; and yet, methinks,
Doft thou not mark? there is I know not what
Of fullen and fevere, of fierce and haughty,
That pleases not, but awes; I gaze aftonish'd,
And Fear prevents Defire. -So Men tremble,
When Light'ning fhoots in glitt'ring Trails along:
It fhines, 'tis true, and gilds the gloomy Night;
But where it strikes, 'tis fatal. [Exeunt Ari. and Ofw.
Enter OFFA, RODOGUNE, SEOFRLD, and
By Woden, no! I will not think he meant it;
Revenge had elfe been swift. -So high I hold
The Honour of a Soldier and a King,
I wo'not think your Master meant to wrong me.
Let him beware, however!-jealous Friendship,
And Beauty's tender Fame, can brook no Slights.
What in a Foe I pardon or defpife,
Is deadly from a Friend, and fo to be repaid.
SEOFRID.
Whatever Fame or ancient Story tells,
Of Brother's Love, or celebrated Friends,
Whofe Faith, in Perils oft, and oft in Death,
Severely had been try'd, and never broke,
Such is the Truth, and fuch the grateful Mind
Of royal Hengift to the princely Offa.
Nor you, fair Princefs, frown, if Wars and Troubles,
[To Rodogune.
If watchful Councils, and if Cares, which wait
On Kings, the Nurfing-Fathers of their People,
With-hold a-while the Monarch from your Arms.
RODOGUNE.
When fierce Ambrofius leads the Britons forth,
Thunders in Arms, and fhakes the dufty Field,
It fuits thy wary Mafter's Caution well
To fit with dreaming hoary Heads at Council,-
And wafte the Midnight Taper in Debates.
But let him still be wife, confult his Safety,
And trouble me no more. Does he fend thee
With Tales of dull Respect, and faint Excuses?
Tell him he might have fpar'd the formal Meffage,
Till fome kind Friend had told him how I languish'd,
How like a Turtle I bemoan'd his Abfence.
Pardon, fair Excellence, if falt'ring Age
Profanes the Paffion I was bid to paint,
And drops the Tale imperfect from my Tongue.
But Lovers beft can plead their Cause themselves;
And fee, your Slave, the King, my Master, comes,
To move your gentle Heart with faithful Vows,
And pay his humble Homage at your Feet.
Enter the KING, Guards, and other Attendants.
KING.
But that I truft not to that Babbler, Fame,
Who, careless of the Majefty of Kings,
Scatters lewd Lies among the Crowd, and wins
The eafy Idiots to believe in Monsters,
I fhould have much to charge you with, my Brother: I ftand accus'd
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