Elf. O flinty Edgar,

What! will this penitence not move thee? Know
There is a rose-lipp'd seraph sits on high,
Who ever bends his holy ear to earth
To mark the voice of penitence, to catch
Her solemn sighs, to tune them to his harp,
And echo them in harmonies divine

Up to the throne of grace. Ev'n Heav'n is won
By penitence, and shall Heav'n's substitute,
Shall Edgar scorn—

Edg. Cease, cease, thou beauteous pleader! Ah far too beauteous! Wouldst thou gain thy suit,

Why glows that vermeil lip? why rolls that eye
Bright as the ray of morn? Why in each gesture
Such inexpressive graces, but because
They're native all, and will not be conceal'd?
Else sure each charm betrays him, and becomes
An advocate, whose silent eloquence

Pleads 'gainst thy voice, and foils its tuneful

power.

Traitor was this the face which thy false tongue

Profan'd as vulgar? This such common beauty
As the fair eye of day beheld each hour
In ev'ry clime he lighted? Base dissembler,
This instant quit our realm.

Elf. O stay thee, Edgar,

And once more hear me. At thy feet I fall
As earnest, and distrest a supplicant,
As e'er embrac'd the knees of majesty.
O spare thy country's guardian, Edgar, spare
Thy closest, surest friend. Let not one fault
Cancel his thousand, thousand acts of faith.
Alas! I fall to vainest repetition.

Grief, whelming grief, drowns all my faculties,
And leaves me nought but tears.
Edg. Rise, rise, Elfrida.

Elf. Shall he then live?

Edg. He shall, he shall, my fair.

If so he quit the realm within the space
Our sentence limited.

Elf. O stop not there;

That sentence will be death to Athelwold. Think, for thou know'st full well his gentle nature,

Can he support the rigour of this doom?

Can he, who liv'd but in thy gracious smiles,
Who'd pine, if chance those smiles a single hour
Were dealt him thriftily; think, can he bear
The infamy of exile?

Edg. Hear me, Athelwold.

Did I not show'r on thy much favour'd head
My thickest honours, and with gift so ready
As out-run all request? Did I not hold thee
Still in such open confidence of friendship,

Edg. Yet give me hearing. I repeat not this
To taunt or gall thee. On my soul, thy worth
Did o'ertop all those honours, and thy zeal
Kept pace with my best love. Nor till this
deed-

But such a deed! look there, look on that face.
Thou know'st me, Athelwold, hast seen me gaze
On a soft yielding fair one, 'till mine eye
Shot flames. Perdition seize me, if this heart
Knew love 'till now.

Athel. I see it plain, my liege,
Nor say I aught to lessen my offence.
No, here I kneel, Oh! cast but on my mis'ry
One kind forgiving glance; this ready sword
Shall expiate all.

Elf. Ah! will you? must he die?

Edg. No, stay thee, Athelwold, and sheath thy sword;

I never yet (save but this hour of rage)
Deem'd thee my subject. Thou wert still my.
friend;

And, injur'd as I am, thou still art such:
I do forego the word: to banish thee,
Or seal thy death, transcends a friend's just right.

Elf. Ah generous deed! ah godlike goodness!

Virgins,

The king will pardon him. Wake each high note
Of praise, and gratitude, teach Edgar's name
To Harewood's furthest echo. O my sov❜reign!
What words can speak my thanks-

Edg. Nay, check these transports,
Lest, if I see thee thus, my soul forget
Its milder purpose. I will leave thee, lady;
Yet first my lips must press this gentle hand,
And breathe one soft sigh of no common fervour.
Now on, my lords-Fair wonder of thy sex,
Adieu. We'll straight unto our realm of Mercia.
Yet first, as was our purpose, through this forest,
We'll chace the nimble roebuck; may the sport
More please us, than we hope. Earl Athelwold,
Thou too must join our train. Follow us straight.
[Exeunt EDGAR, &c.

Athel. I do, my liege. Elfrida, I have much For thy lov'd car, and have but one farewell To tell it all-And yet

Elf. Ah loiter not,

It may enrage. Farewell. Be sure, take heed
I come not in your talk; avoid ev'n thinking;
Check ev'n the sighs of absence. Haste, my earl,
O haste thee, as thou lov'st thy constant wife.
[Exit ATHEL.

ORGAR, ELFRIDA, CHORUS.
Org. Thy constant wife! ah, stain of all thy

race,

Degen'rate girl! Henceforth be Orgar deem'd
Of soft, and dove-like temper, who could see
A child of his stoop to such vile abasement,
And yet forbore just wrath; forbore to draw
That blood she had defil'd from her mean veins.
But sure thou art not mine; some elve or faye
Did spirit away my babe, and by curst charms

Org. What could'st thou hope, Elfrida? could'st thou think

I e'er would pardon his vile perfidy,
Or thine ignoble softness?

Elf. Dearest father,

Frown not thus sternly on me. I would fain Touch your relenting soul, fain win your heart To fatherly forgiveness. For through life I've oft had pleasing proof how that forgiveness Stoop'd to my fond persuasion. But I fear Persuasion now has left me. My sad thoughts Are all on wing, all following Athelwold, Like unseen ministring spirits :-Pardon, sir, That frown shall check me, I'll not mention him; I will but plead for my own weakness, plead For that soft sympathy of soul, which you Deem base and servile. Base perhaps it might be, Were I of bolder sex. But I, alas!Ah pardon me, if nature stampt me woman; Gave me a heart soft, gentle, prone to pity, And very fearful. Fearful, sure with cause At this dread hour, when if one hapless word, One sigh break forth unbid, it may rekindle The monarch's rage-What has my phrenzy said? I've wander'd from my meaning. Dearest virgins, My rash tongue more inflames him. O assist me, Ye are not thus opprest with inward horror: Kneel, plead, persuade, convince

Cho. Alas, my mistress,

What may a servant's accents do t'appease
This furious earl?

Org. Ye well may spare them: maidens,
Know my firm soul's resolv'd, and be my heart
As base as Athelwold's, if it foregoes
The honest resolution. Think what I,
What Britain suffers from this traitor's fraud:
Had Edgar took my daughter to his bed,
Our British line, which now is doom'd to sink
In vile subjection, had again assum'd
The pall of royalty, with half its power,
In time perchance the whole. But this false Saxon
Shall with his life repay me. Here I'll wait
His first return, and in his own domain
Give him fair combat. I have known the time
When this good arm had hardihood enough
For thrice his prowess. What is lost through age,
My just cause shall supply; and he shall fall
As did the traitor Oswald, whose bold tongue
Defam'd me to king Athelstan: To the ground
My sharp launce nail'd the caitiff. [Exit ORGAR.
ELFRIDA, CHORUS.

Elf. Think, my lord,

Will Athelwold, will he enter those lists,

Where conquest would be parricide? Alas,
He hears me not. Go, thou obdurate man.
A daughter's tears will but the more provoke thee.
I will not follow him. No, poor Elfrida!
All thou canst do is here to stand, and weep,
And feel that thou art wretched.

Cho. Dearest mistress,
Restrain this flood of tears, perhaps-
Elf. Perhaps!

Ah! mock me not with hopes.

Cho. We do not mean it:

For hope, though 'tis pale sorrow's only cordial,
Has yet a dull and opiate quality,
Enfeebling what it lulls. It suits not you;
For, as we fear-

Elf. Do you too fear? Alas!

I flatter'd my poor soul that all its fears
Were grief's distemper'd coinage, that my love
Rais'd causeless apprehensions, and at length
Edgar would quite forgive. I do bethink me,
My joy broke forth too rashly. When they left us,
His safety was not half secured; my pleading
Was not half heard; I should have follow'd Edgar,
Claim'd more full pardon, forc'd him to embrace
My sorrowing lord.

Cho. We fear that sorrow more

Than Edgar's rage. We fear his fallen virtue.
Self-condemnation works most strongly on him,
Even to despondency. Even at his pardon,
No joy flush'd on his cheek; we mark'd him well,
He shew'd no sign of welcome. No, he took it
As who should say, 'To give me aught but death
Is a poor boon unwish'd and unaccepted.'
Too much we fear he'll do some impious act-
Elf. What, on his life? I thought I had ex-

plor'd

Each various face of danger: this escap'd me. How miss'd I this? It suits his courage highly; Suits too his fix'd remorse.-But yet he will not, No, Athelwold, thou wilt not kill Elfrida.

Cho. O may his love preserve him: may these shades

Receive him soon in peace. To this blest end
You sure should strive to calm your father's rage;
At least not suffer him, as now, retir'd

To brood o'er his revenge. For know, Elfrida,
Beneath the silent gloom of solitude
Though peace can sit and smile; though meek

content

Edw. Then hear that worst, Elfrida. Soon as the stag had left yon westward thicket, The king dismiss'd his lords, each several ways, To their best sport, bidding earl Athelwold, Lord Ardulph, and myself, attend his person. Thus parted from the rest, the monarch pierc'd A darkling dell, which opened in a lawn Thick set with elm around. Suddenly here He turn'd his steed, and cried, "This place befits 'Our purpose well.'

Elf. Purpose! what purpose, Edwin? 'Twas predetermin'd then, dissembling tyrant! How could I trust, or hope

Edw. Yet give me hearing:

Thus with a grave composure, and calm eye,
King Edgar spake. Now hear me, Athelwold;
Thy king has pardon'd this thy trait'rous act:
From all disloyal baseness to thy prince
Thou stand'st absolv'd; yet, know, their still re-
mains

Somewhat to cancel more. As man to man,
As friend to friend, now, Athelwold, I call thee
Straight to defend thy life with thy good sword.
Nay, answer not; defend it gallantly.
If thy arm prosper, this my dying tongue
Shall pardon thee, and bless thee. If thou fall'st,
Thy parting breath must to my right resign
Elfrida's beauties. At the word, both drew,
Both fought; but Athelwold's was ill-play'd pas-

sion.

He aim'd his falchion at the monarch's head,
Only to leave his own brave breast defenceless.
And on the instant Edgar's rapid sword
Pierc'd my dear master's heart. He fell to earth,
And, falling, cry'd, This wound atones for all.
'Edgar, thus full aveng'd, will pardon ms,
And my true wife, with chaste, connubial tears,
Embalm my memory.' He smil'd, and died.
Elf. Nay, come not round me, virgins, nor
support me.

I do not swoon, nor weep. I call not heaven
To avenge my wretchedness. I do not wish
This tyrant's hand may wither with cold palsies.
No, I am very patient. Heav'n is just!
And, when the measure of his crimes is full,
Will bare its red right arm, and launce its light-
nings.

'Till then, ye elements, rest: and thou, firm earth,

Ope not thy yawning jaws, but let this monster Stalk his due time on thine affrighted surface. Yes; let him still go on; still execute

His

savage purposes, and daily make More widows weep, as I do. Foolish eyes!

Why flow ye thus unbidden? What have tears

To do with grief like mine?

Cho. Help, help, my sisters,

To bear her to the castle.

ORGAR, ELFRIDA, EDWIN, CHORUS. Org. As I past,

Methought I heard a sound of loud lament; Elfrida, ah!

Elf. Is not my father there?

Withhold me not; I'll fall at his dear feet.
O sir! behold your child thus lowly prostrate;
Avenge her wrongs, avenge your poor Elfrida,
Your helpless, widow'd daughter.

Org. Widow'd daughter!

What, is he slain?

Elf. Inhospitably butcher'd;

The tyrant's savage self-Stand you thus cool?
Where is the British spirit, where the sire
Of Belin's race?- foolishness of grief!
Alas, I had forgot; had Edgar spar'd him,
That sword, to which my madness call'd for ven.
geance,

Ere long was meant to do the bloody deed,
And make the murder parricide. Have I
No friend to do me right?

Org. Thou hast, my child;
I am thy friend, thy father. Trust my care.
Edwin, a word. Retire, my dearest daughter:
Virgins, conduct her in.

Elf. My father, no.

What do you do? I must not be withheld.
I'll to yon bloody grove, and clasp my husband,
My murder'd husband. Why restrain me, sir?
Can
my sad eye dart fire through his cold breast,
And light up life anew?

Org. Go in, my child,
And seek tranquillity.
Elf. Tranquillity!

I know her well; she is Death's pale-ey'd sister;
She's now in yonder grove closing the lids
Of my poor Athelwold. That office done,
She'll bear his soul upon her gentle plumes
Up to the realms of joy.
I'll follow them:
I know he'd have it so: He'll not be blest,
Ev'n on his throne of bliss, till I am with him.
Cho. This way, my dearest mistress.
Elf. Hold, nay hold;

Crowd not around me. Let me pause a while.
Albina, thou alone shalt join my mis'ry;
I've much to utter to thy friendly ear.
Lead on, thou gentle maid; thy single arm
Shall prop my trembling frame; thy single voice
Speak peace to my afflictions.

[Exit with the principal virgin. ORGAR, EDWIN, SEMICHORUS. Org. On your lives,

Virgins, let no disturbing step approach her.
Say, Edwin (for I guess 'twas you that brought
These tidings hither) where was royal Edgar,
When late you left him?

Edw. At my master's side,
Repentant of the stroke.
Org. Comes he not back
To Harewood?

Chills the pale plain beneath him: mark yon altar,
The dark stream brawling round its rugged base,
These cliffs, these yawning caverns, this wide cir-
cus,

Skirted with unhewn stone: they awe my soul,
As if the very genius of the place
Himself appear'd, and with terrific tread
Stalk'd through his drear domain. And yet, my
friends,

(If shapes like his be but the fancy's coinage)
Surely there is a hidden power, that reigns
'Mid the lone majesty of untam'd nature,
Controuling sober reason; tell me else,
Why do these haunts of barb'rous superstition
O'ercome me thus? I scorn them, yet they awe

me.

Call forth the British princes: in this gloom I mean to school them to our enterprise.

Enter VELLINUS and ELIDURUS.

Ye pledges dear of Cartismandua's faith,
Approach! and to mine uninstructed ear
Explain this scene of horror.

Eli. Daring Roman,