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BY THE AUTHOR OF THIS VOLUME. 
 
 THE SONS OF GODWIN, 
 
 By WILLIAM LEIGHTON, Jr. 
 
 12mo. Extra Cloth. $1.25. 
 
 " It appears at the same time with Tennyson's poem upon the same 
 theme, and does not suffer by comparison T(^ith it; it "has more dra- 
 matic fire, and moves with brisker step, and "'has as sweet songs in it, 
 and as much poetry." — Louisville Courier- yournal. 
 
 " It has touches of genuine art. The plot is well sustained. The 
 characters are effectively drawn." — Boston Watchma7t. 
 
 " Mr. Leighton's drama is vastly more creditable to him than 
 ' Harold" to Tennyson." — Boston Christian Register. 
 
 " It is spirited in execution, clear and powerful in conception, and 
 the versification is something more than correct." — London Sati/rdiiy 
 Review. 
 
 " Almost subtle enough for Shakespeare himself." — Philadelphia 
 Eveni7ig Bulletin. 
 
 " It must be admitted, judging the two dramas solely on their own 
 merits, without regard to ' the glory and the notliing of a name' great 
 in modern literature, that the young American "has much surpassed 
 the experienced and maturer English poet ; his dialogue is more 
 spirited, his action more decided, his personal feeling stronger, and, 
 strange to say, his poetical expression at least as good." — Philadel- 
 phia Press. 
 
 *■-;:;* For sale by Booksellers generally, or will be sent by mail, post- 
 paid, on receipt of the price, by^- 
 
 J. B. LIPPINQPTT & CO., Publishers, 
 
 715 and 717 Market Street, Philadelphia. 
 
AT THE COURT 
 
 OF 
 
 KING EDWIN 
 
 A DRAMA. 
 
 BY 
 
 WILLIAM I^EIGHTON, Jr., 
 
 AUTHOR OF "the SONS OF GODWIN." 
 
 PHILAD ELPHI A: 
 
 J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO. 
 
 1878. 
 

 <6n 
 
 Copyright, 1877, by William Leighton, Jr. 
 
TO 
 
 MY FATHER AND MOTHER. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 When, nearly a year ago, "The Sons of Godwin" 
 was published, the almost simultaneous appearance of 
 ** Harold" seems to have led certain readers, who were 
 ignorant of the dates of the issue of these books, to 
 the supposition that the latter work suggested the 
 former. That such was not the case the author takes 
 this opportunity to declare. His volume had been 
 issued two weeks when ''Harold" was published, and 
 his stereotype plates were made when a newspaper 
 paragraph first informed him of the name and subject 
 of Mr. Tennyson's poem. 
 
 This fact is probably of little interest to the reading 
 public, as the celebrity and genius of the English au- 
 thor made his book at once an object of interest and 
 admiration, and may have placed the contempora- 
 neous poem on the same theme in the position of an 
 unexpected intruder. 
 
 To those who so view his book, the author has only 
 this apology: when he offered the work of his unprac- 
 
 7 
 
8 Preface. 
 
 tised pen he was ignorant that England's most hon- 
 ored poet designed to illustrate the same epoch and 
 group of characters with the power and grace of his 
 matchless verse. 
 
 Without intending an essay upon dramatic literature, 
 the author desires to say a few words in introduction 
 of the poem which occupies the following pages. 
 
 The announcement on the title-page is ''a drama" ; 
 but the work has been written without especial refer- 
 ence to the requirements of the theatre, and hence 
 will perhaps be found, in many essential respects, 
 unsuited to stage-use. When a dramatic piece is de- 
 clared unsuitable for the theatre, such unfitness has 
 frequently been urged against it as destructive of 
 literary value. In other words, it has been claimed 
 that a drama means a play for the stage, and is worthy 
 of consideration only when in theme, construction, 
 language, and situations it is adapted for successful 
 presentation in the theatre. 
 
 If such be the inflexible meaning of the word, 
 drama, the author has been unfortunate in its use, and 
 should have selected some such half-way term as dra- 
 matic poem for his title; but he has been led into 
 error, if error it be, by the belief that the broad title, 
 drama, covers more than the small area of the stage. 
 
 That drama means action, the derivation of the word 
 
Preface. 9 
 
 and its common use indicate ; yet there seems to be no 
 good reason why this "action" should be restricted to 
 the stage. Action, as applied to dramatic literature, 
 signifies the presentation and unfolding of character 
 and. events, which are brought about by the meeting 
 and intercourse of the persons of the story, and can 
 be shown as surely, if not as effectively, on the prijited 
 page as behind the footlights of a theatre. Dramatic 
 action may largely mean, not the actor's counterfeit 
 presentment, but the actual movement of plot or story 
 in the expression of thoughts, imaginations, peculiari- 
 ties of character, emotion, discoveries, and all the 
 circumstances that arise in the dialogue or soliloquy 
 of the dramatis personge. 
 
 The stage possesses, in its mimic illusions, wonder- 
 ful fascination, by the aid of which Drama has doubt- 
 less won her most brilliant successes; but, though 
 thus indebted to the theatre, must she, in gratitude, 
 yield herself, the thrall of glitter and tinsel, and know 
 no life beyond the boundaries of its painted scenes? 
 I think not so. Wherever peculiar and striking char- 
 acterizations, passions, and fancies of mankind are 
 exhibited in the dialogue of those who are them- 
 selves the personages whose thoughts, feelings, and 
 action make the chief interest, — there drama may be 
 said to exist : but if dialogue refer to persons and 
 
10 Preface. 
 
 circumstances not immediately connected with the 
 speakers, and excite no emotion in them, such con- 
 versation can scarcely be termed dramatic, even if it 
 take place on the most brilliantly-lighted stage; nor 
 can the complication of such speakers produce a 
 drama, though they relate events of great interest to 
 audience or readers. 
 
 The dramatic form of composition seems an obvious 
 method, suggested by nature, of illustrating its move- 
 ment. Its chief advantages over narrative consist in a 
 verisimilitude to fact, and the elimination of the au- 
 thor; success being largely dependent on keeping this 
 personage, like the manipulator of Mr. Punch in the 
 puppet-show, entirely out of sight. Whoever tells a 
 story mingles himself and his opinions insensibly or 
 purposely with what he relates in such manner that 
 his presence is apparent ; we see people and events 
 consciously through his eyes and thoughts, not with 
 our own ; and therefore the story is put further away 
 from us than when the characters appear to speak 
 unprompted their own opinions and feelings. 
 
 This brief explanation will serve to show what the 
 author believes to be the nature and capability of dra- 
 matic composition, and that he deems it a legitimate 
 method of reproducing historical or imaginative scenes 
 for general readers. 
 
Preface. 1 1 
 
 *' Another play unsuited to the stage" — this is 
 often the verdict of the critics upon the advent of a 
 new drama ; and those who render it, with others who 
 accept criticism in unhesitating belief, seem to imagine 
 that a drama, stigmatized by such verdict, is thereby 
 ostracized from literature; while many are ready to 
 explain the exact boundaries of stage-action, beyond 
 which frowns a bottomless pit wherein fall all who 
 exceed, or come short of, their prescribed limits. 
 
 Standing on the verge of this frightful abyss, into 
 which so many gay hopes, great ambitions, and glow- 
 ing fancies have fallen, listen to the faint whispers that 
 come up, and peer into the gloom for phantoms of 
 characterizations that flit above this, their yawning 
 grave — Dramas unsuited to the modern stage ! Out 
 of the shadows beneath come the agony of Prome- 
 theus, the chant of the old Greek chorus, the craze 
 of Gretchen, the despair of Faust, the mutterings of 
 dishonored Sampson, the poetry of gay Comus. 
 
 Suitability to the modern stage, outside of which 
 there is for the dramatist — nothing ! This is true if 
 he write only for the theatre ; but may not an author 
 present his story in dramatic form for the sake of 
 more vivid realization, and name his work, a drama, 
 even if he has chosen such scenes as are unsuitable to 
 the stage, and intends his book for general readers? 
 
AN ANTIQUE TIME. 
 
 Twelve centuries ago. — Trace back the years, 
 
 And count their spectres, as weird shapes arise 
 
 Out of old records — ah, how vast Appears 
 
 The long array to our bewildered eyes ! 
 
 But when we reach the dim and cloudy edge 
 
 Of history, lo ! mingling with the real, 
 
 Are strange, wild figures which those old times fledge 
 
 With the miraculous plumage of th' ideal. 
 
 Back in remembrance comes the storied scene 
 
 Of ancient legend ; fairy forms glide by ; 
 
 The dragon rolls his pictured shape between 
 
 The sage enchanter and the giant high. 
 
 Out of such times my drama takes a day — 
 
 A posy plucked out of an ancient May. 
 
 13 
 
DRAMATIS PERSONS. 
 
 Edwin, King of Deira. 
 
 Edilberga, his queen. 
 
 Enid, Princess of Gwynedd. 
 
 Penda, King of Mercia. 
 
 Brian, Prince of Gwynedd. 
 
 Blecca, Earl of Lincoln. 
 
 Paulinus, the queen's bishop. 
 
 CoiFl, high-priest of Odin. 
 
 Pellitus, the king's magician. 
 
 GoLDDiN, the house-thegn. 
 
 Dagbert, a jailer. 
 
 Rhyn, a Cymrian, the slave of Pellitus. 
 
 Captain of the king's guard. Deiran and Mercian lords, Christian 
 
 priests, priests of Odin, ladies-in-waiting and queen's attendants, 
 
 guards and king's attendants. 
 
 Date of the story, the seventh century. 
 
 Time occupied by the action, twenty-four hours. 
 
 Scene, the king's palace at York. 
 
 14 
 
AT THE COURT OF KING EDWIiN, 
 
 '5 
 
AT THE 
 
 COURT OF KING EDWIN 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I.— HALL-OF-WAITING IN THE 
 PALACE. 
 
 Paulinus and Coifi. 
 
 CoiFi. 
 I shall see midnight looks in many faces; 
 And low-born r:arles, whose heads have bent to me, 
 Veiling bold eyes in superstitious fear, 
 Will twist gnarled, stupid brows into black frowns, 
 Shake heads, and mutter at th' unfaithful priest; 
 While tliegn an^l ealdorman, with covert sneer, 
 May curl the lip, more insolent than frown. 
 
 Paulinus. 
 You must find solace in sweet Enid's eyes. 
 Payment for sneers upon her curling lip, 
 
1 8 At the Court of King Edwin. [act i. 
 
 And bear down vulgar gaze by the authority 
 Of kingly office. 
 
 CoiFi. 
 Ay, to be a king 
 Is better than, a priest ; but not so safe. 
 These Cymrian mountaineers are hard to rule, 
 As rough and tameless as hill-foxes, wolves; 
 They may refuse me utterly, and snarl 
 In harsh defiance of King Edwin's will. 
 
 Paulinus. 
 Refuse you? ay; but not your Cymrian wife, 
 Who bears in delicate veins the blood of kings. 
 King Edwin gives them back their ruling stock 
 Grafted upon the Saxon. If they snarl, 
 His hand will whip them to obedient smiles, 
 Making them bow before your vassal throne — 
 Vassal alone in name and in the help 
 That he, the great Bretwalda, lends. 
 
 COTFI. 
 
 But she, 
 The Cymrian princess that King Edwin gives 
 With Gwynedd's kingdom, loves me not ; perhaps, — 
 Yea, what more likely? — she may plot against me 
 To fill my place with one, her countryman ; 
 
SCENE I.] A/ tlic Court of King Edivin, 19 
 
 So, while I sleep secure, Murder's red hand 
 
 Will strike, and Edwin's power bring help too late. 
 
 Paulinus. 
 It is a risk that all must take who wed ; 
 There may be poison mingled with the honey. 
 
 CoiFi. 
 But there is honey j I will take the risk. 
 
 Aside. 
 This captive's wondrous beauty draws me on 
 As bears are lured by sweets until they step 
 On the frail twn'gs that hide a yawning pit, 
 Then fall, the hunters' prey. 
 
 To Paulinus. 
 
 Ay, tell the king : 
 I will give up my gods, declare them false, 
 Take in their place your Christ and holy saints, 
 And do his will ; so he fulfil your promise, 
 Giving me Enid and the throne of Gwynedd. 
 
 Paulinus. 
 He will do so. Although I buy your help 
 At price of fond desires, that, by such means, 
 
20 At the Court of King Edivin. [act i. 
 
 Many may come to know the larger life 
 
 I offer ; yet that life is not so bought. 
 
 It comes when Faith shall reach adoring hands 
 
 To Christ, the Saver — comes, a richer gift, 
 
 O Coifi, than delighting joys of pleasure, 
 
 Or dignity of kings. The soul of man, 
 
 If he shall win for it eternal life 
 
 In Christ's high kingdom, is a priceless jewel, 
 
 A sparkle of Divinity's pure light. 
 
 And all things else that he most covets here, 
 
 Wealth, pleasures, power, are feasting of his sense. 
 
 Garments and viands for a holiday. 
 
 Seek not then fiercely for inferior things. 
 
 Leaving the jewel, truth, to gather up 
 
 In eager haste by armfuls worthless dirt. 
 
 Will stain you now, and weigh you down forever. 
 
 Coifi. 
 My mind is dull to see what you would show ; 
 Perhaps my gods, in very jealousy, 
 Have filled my brain with clouds to hide your truth ; 
 For sometimes when I ponder on the things 
 You tell, and after, sleep; then, in a dream. 
 Will Odin come, and frown ; but all the while. 
 Knowing it is a dream, I fear him not ; 
 For, save in dreams, he stands as still as stone. 
 
SCENE I.] At the Court of King Edwin. 21 
 
 I marvel he should come to me in dreams, 
 Who, to each wakeful question, answers not ; 
 Nor seems more sensible than the poised blocks 
 Set up by Cymrians in their Druid-rings. 
 
 Paulinus. 
 He is a myth. It is the common foe 
 Of all mankind haunts you in Odin's shape ; 
 Evil can glide into each sculptured form, 
 And stir the inert stone or painted wood. 
 Scaring the world with hideous masquerade, 
 Affrighting men by making animate 
 The figures fashioned by their fear and folly. 
 Here is a cross ; wear it upon your breast. 
 And Odin will disturb your dreams no more. 
 
 CoiFi. 
 I do not fear him ; but will wear your cross, 
 Lest in his rage he send down Thor, the thunderer. 
 To strike me with his hammer. 
 
 Paulinus. 
 
 Myths ! brave Coifi ; 
 There is no Thor, but such as fancy shapes ; 
 His thunder, but a legendary fable 
 Born of the devil to stuff the brains of men, 
 
22 At the Court of King Edzvin. [act i. 
 
 Leaving no place to fill with honest truth ; 
 A noisy fable, stolen from the Greek. 
 
 CoiFi. 
 
 Ay, so you say ; and I must ev'n believe it ; 
 But if there be no Thor, no gods in Asgard, 
 Who did the deeds recorded of our ^Esir, 
 The sons of Bor, and the Frost-giant race ? 
 
 Paulinus. 
 
 They are delusions of the arch-enemy, 
 Old fables whispered down from sire to son 
 Until antiquity hath stamped the myths 
 With a traditionary blazoning 
 That flames like truth. 
 
 CoiFi. 
 
 I'll spend more thought upon it, 
 That I may come to see the ^sir race 
 Fly from the presence of your crucified God — 
 
 Enter Pellitus. 
 
 The wizard Pellitus ! Once more I promise 
 To be obedient to the king's demands. 
 Ho, Pellitus ! what say the stars ? 
 
SCENE I.] At tlic Court of King Echviii. ' 23 
 
 Pellitus. 
 
 My lords, — 
 
 Two of the arch-priests of the upper courts 
 
 Should better know each purpose of the gods 
 
 Than I can read it on this lower plain. 
 
 Paulinus. 
 'Tis true — your cunning tells for once the truth : 
 You are indeed upon a lower plain 
 Too far beneath the heavenly purposes 
 To catch their meaning. Break your wizard-staff; 
 Look on the stars as God's bright promises, 
 His lights that shine from mansions of the blest ; 
 The flight of birds. His lesson to the wise, 
 Telling how nature moves instinct with force 
 And harmony, breathed from a kindly heaven, 
 And bearing kindliness and love to life. 
 Your philters, incantations, spectres, spells — 
 I need not tell you what to think of these ; 
 You know your own machinery too well 
 To deem it truth. 
 
 Coifi, the gates of Truth 
 Are wide and bright : but many see them not ; 
 Open your eyes, and walk not in the dark ; 
 Think of my words; nor waste your time in talk 
 With this deceiver. Farewell to you, both. 
 
 Exit Paulinus. 
 
24 -^i the Court of King Edzvin. [act i. 
 
 Coin. 
 Magician, is your wand a useless staif, 
 To scare the ignorant ? I think it is ; 
 Or it would flame with wrath at him who scoffs 
 
 At it and you. 
 
 Pellitus. 
 
 Nay ; this proud priest doth tell 
 Of the humility and love he teacheth, 
 Sets up his image of a god of Peace, 
 And in its name makes war on all the world, 
 Forgetful, or regardless, that his faith 
 Hath gathered up the scattered elements 
 Of mild philosophies ; but shaping these 
 Into a presentation figure, on whose brow 
 Is haloed Love, would force this sad-faced god 
 Upon the world by intrigue and the sword. 
 Love and humility are only tenets. 
 Not active principles of this, his faith. 
 But wisdom long hath known a better policy 
 Than flaming wrath ; and, though I name it not 
 Love or humility, can still restrain 
 My magic slaves, and let this railer work 
 A wiser purpose than his vaunted *' truth." 
 
 COIFI. 
 
 You set your "wisdom" up against his ''truth" ; 
 
SCENE I.] At the Court of King Echuhi. 25 
 
 But truth and wisdom both are unseen things 
 The world must take on trust. 
 
 Pellitus. 
 
 Ay, for a time, 
 
 Until familiarity shall change 
 
 The trust to a belief, and call it faith. 
 
 Meantime I watch, and wait, and read the stars, 
 
 And summon phantoms from the darkest shades 
 
 Of nether Tartarus, — disembodied things 
 
 Whose reach of sight is forward, as in us 
 
 Memory goes backward on the track of years, — 
 
 Who map for me the filling up of time, 
 
 But oft with gaps and blank obscurities 
 
 That baffle certainty. There is success. 
 
 There is defeat — both written of this faith 
 
 Paulinus flaunts with such a lofty scorn 
 
 Of all beside. But, priest of Odin, thou 
 
 Art written down in my foretelling runes : 
 
 How thou wouldst sell, for Gwynedd's vassal throne 
 
 And Cymrian Enid, ancient Cimbric faith; 
 
 How thou wouldst bow thy purchased kingliness, 
 
 Unkingly, kneeling at Paulinus' cross — 
 
 Beware ! my messengers have whispered me 
 
 Of angry Odin's vengeance; and I see, 
 
 As in a picture, a huge, prostrate cross. 
 
 And one beneath it, crushed by its dead weight. 
 
26 At the dnirt of King Edzvin. [act i. 
 
 COIFI. 
 
 A picture built of words. Know, knave magician, 
 
 Not even Odin's self, if he could rise, 
 
 Splendid in all his panoply of arms. 
 
 And rail at me, would move me from my purpose. 
 
 Pellitus, aside. 
 If he could rise ! — this thick-skulled priest doth scoff 
 At superstition's might; — the world grows old. 
 
 CoiFi. 
 For your dark hints that teem with pregnant fate, 
 I hear them as I listen to the thunder, 
 A threatening noise that roars, but harms me not. 
 
 Pellitus. 
 Ay, like the thunder are my words ; they harm not, 
 But tell of powers that hover o'er our heads, 
 In whose great hands the little fates of men 
 Are like small motes of dust a great storm whirls 
 Tempestuously between low skies and earth. 
 You fear not thunder? When the mountains shake, 
 Is it but empty sound that fills the air? 
 When the forked lightning darts among the clouds, 
 Or leaps to earth to shatter a great oak, 
 You do not fear? nor doth the threatened oak, 
 
SCENE I.] At the Court of King Edwin. 27 
 
 Because its idle limbs and foolish leaves 
 Have no intelligence. Oh, we may shape 
 In our capricious minds forms wonderful 
 Of deity, and yet that deity 
 Is far more wonderful than wonder's shapes ! 
 Look ! I will laugh with you at Odin's form, 
 But not at Odin's self, if in his shape 
 You picture Him that thunders. 
 
 CoiFi. 
 
 That is Thor. 
 
 Pellitus. 
 Odin or Thor — the names are idle nothings ; 
 But there is That is greater than man's thought. 
 Vaster than he hath scope of picturing. 
 Though all his deities be blent in one. 
 
 CoiFi. 
 I am not wont to tremble with weak fears. 
 
 Pellitus. 
 Nor I to prate of gods. 
 
 I speak the truth ; my words are harmless to you ; 
 Nor have I enmity to poison speech 
 With ill ; let me bring help, not any harm ; 
 For I have that, born of my magic powers, 
 
28 At tlie Court of King Edivin. [act i. 
 
 Potent for good or ill as it is used, 
 Foreknowledge. Lo ! as on a burnished shield 
 I see the pictures of the future pass ; 
 I see you go, a fond, deluded fool, 
 Into a pit that yawns before your feet ; 
 Nor yet so blind as not to see the snare, 
 And yet so blind to fall into the snare. 
 
 CoiFi. 
 I will not hear it ; you have learned this thing 
 By common knowledge, and would fright me off 
 From what I would, for reasons that I know not. 
 One thing, magician, let me tell you here. 
 Lest they, your messengers, forget to tell it : 
 'Tis waste of words to picture threats to Coifi; 
 He may be blind, a fool, but not a coward. 
 There is my purse ; if you have meant me well, 
 My thanks ; if ill, I care not. So, farewell. 
 
 Exit CoiFi. 
 Pellitus. 
 
 Even this stupid priest of Odin scorns me ; 
 My footing stands upon a slippery ground 
 Unless I may control such minds as his, 
 Or if the beast-like courage of his heart 
 Can prove a talisman to mock my skill. 
 No, it is this : he hath been offered bribes 
 
SCENE I.] At the Court of King Edivin. 29 
 
 So great, their very greatness hides all else. 
 The Christian bishop hath a subtle mind, 
 Nor scorns the help of cunning and intrigue; 
 He buys a convert to set up for show, 
 As fowlers put a bird of painted wood 
 Within their nets, a lure to silly flocks 
 That flutter overhead, to draw them down. 
 Each day I feel his growing influence creep 
 About the king. He and the queen have made 
 A royal convert ; and he now hath won, 
 By promise of a kingdom and a bride, 
 This sordid, stupid Coifi to give up 
 His gods, and be a Christian, that the people. 
 By such example of their priesthood's chief, 
 May come beneath his cross. I like it not ; 
 For if Paulinus thrive, his rising star 
 Must surely dim my own. I'll cross his path 
 With threads of cunning subtle as his own. 
 And pull his plots awry. This plan of his 
 Would rob me of my princess. Oh ! what star, 
 Malignant to my fate, put this strange love 
 Into my breast? I, who have made my trade 
 In probing human hearts, to feel my own 
 Rebel against calm wisdom with a longing 
 For this fair captive, that I cannot quell ! 
 She is the bait that lures the priest of Odin 
 
30 At the Court of King Edzuin. [act i. 
 
 To sure destruction ; is she not a bait 
 
 To tempt me too into the same deep pit? 
 
 I see it yawn before me, but go on, 
 
 Drawn by her magic beauty — senseless fool, 
 
 To cry like a poor baby for the moon 
 
 Out of its reach ! I cannot have her love ; 
 
 She looks upon me with abhorrent eye, 
 
 And yet I sigh for her — nay, more : will have her, 
 
 If I lose all to do it. 'Tis a game 
 
 That I must play with "every chance against me. 
 
 Enter Rhyn. 
 Rhyn, hast thou done my bidding ? 
 
 Rhyn. 
 
 Ay, my master. 
 
 Pellitus. 
 Where is the captive princess? and what does she? 
 
 Rhyn. 
 Waits on the queen. 
 
 Pellitus. 
 Her lodging, learned you it? 
 
 Rhyn. 
 
 Ay. 
 
SCENE I.] At the Court of King Edwin. 31 
 
 Pellitus. 
 With the queen's bower-women ? 
 
 Rhyn. 
 
 Ay, my master. 
 
 Pellitus. 
 
 Watch her; watch all, even the silent mouse 
 That from a wainscot creeps for petty plunder; 
 Note how he thrives in his small enterprise. — 
 Do you know what I mean ? 
 
 Rhyn. 
 
 No little thing 
 Shall 'scape my eyes. 
 
 Pellitus. 
 
 Ay ;— go. 
 
 Exit Rhyn, 
 
 He's serviceable, 
 And safe as serviceable because he knows 
 I hold his life in keeping. Princess Enid ! — 
 Have I indeed spent all my life for this : 
 To be as foolish as half-bearded youth? 
 My toiling feet have traversed distant lands ; 
 My thoughts considered old philosophies 
 Of the dead Greek, of Egypt's older priesthood, 
 
32 At the Court of King Edwin. [act i. 
 
 The lore of Brahmin and the imagery 
 
 Of Persia's wealth of fervent mysticism, 
 
 That, out of all, I might raise up a god 
 
 Unto my soul, the power of intellect ; 
 
 Now must I cast that symbol from its place 
 
 To set upon its pedestal a shape 
 
 So common as humanity — blue eyes, 
 
 Arched brows, bright golden hair of a fair woman, 
 
 Smooth cheeks of beauty rosy-tinted like 
 
 A lily blooming in the shade, but touched 
 
 By sunlight peeping through the leafy screen. 
 
 And painted with a delicate flush of red ! 
 
 'Twas Helen's beauty broke the walls of Troy, 
 
 And Priam's daughter lost the son of Peleus ! 
 
 Here in this island Cymrian Merlin fell 
 
 By woman's art — lured by her beauty, fell ; 
 
 An age of wisdom sunk in the short hour 
 
 He took the soft enchantress to his heart ! 
 
 O, there was wiser thought in the Greek brain 
 
 That fastened round fair Venus' slender waist 
 
 Her cestus than my cold philosophy hath deemed ! 
 
 Enter Golddin ajid Brian disguised as a pi/grim. 
 
 GOLDDIN. 
 
 Master Pellitus, your servant. Shine the stars 
 Propitious? — stars — ha-ha ! — the stars. 
 
SCENE I.] At the Court of King Edwin. 33 
 
 To Brian. 
 
 Corae, sir; 
 
 This is the king's magician ; he will tell 
 
 Under what lucky planet you were born. 
 
 Brian bows to Pellitus. 
 
 Pellitus. 
 Who is this pilgrim? hath he not a tongue, 
 Good Golddin ? 
 
 GOLDDIN. 
 
 Master Pellitus, no doubt 
 
 He hath a tongue ; but it is vowed to silence — 
 
 Ha-ha ! — to silence — ha ! 
 
 Exit Golddin. 
 
 Pellitus, aside. 
 
 A pilgrim vowed to silence — under this 
 
 Is hidden mystery, and mystery 
 
 May hide a plot. I'll watch, and set on Rhyn 
 
 To find out who this tongueless stranger is. 
 
 Exit Pellitus. 
 
 Brian, putting back his hood. 
 It was the king's magician, him I seek. 
 Whose spells have been the brave Cadwallon's bane ; 
 I must be watchful ; one unguarded act 
 May bring upon me all this buzzing hive 
 
 3 
 
34 At the Court of King Edivin. [act i. 
 
 Of enemies. How shall I find my sister? 
 
 I dare not speak, save to the pompous house-thegn, 
 
 Nor much to him. 
 
 Etiter Rhyn ; Brian pulls forward his hood ; 
 aside. 
 
 A Cymrian, on my life ! — 
 A captured slave — I have a mind to trust him ; 
 I will. 
 
 To Rhyn. 
 
 Thou art a Cymrian. 
 
 Rhyn. 
 Ay. 
 
 Brian. 
 
 Of Gwynedd? 
 
 Rhyn, 
 Ay. 
 
 Brian, throwing hack his hood. 
 Slave of the Saxon, art so much a slave 
 To yield thy prince into his enemy's hand? 
 Here in the stronghold of his foes he stands ; 
 If, in thy heart, thou art indeed a slave. 
 Buy now thy betterment by his betrayal ; 
 But if thou hast a spark of that bold spirit 
 That bade thine ancestors, with naked bosoms. 
 
SCENE I.] At the Court of King Edivin. 35 
 
 Raise up a bulwark on the ocean's edge 
 
 Against the Roman, give me helping words 
 
 To find my sister, and destroy the sorcerer 
 
 Whose spells have brought thy country many harms, 
 
 Baffling the wisest plans of Gwynedd's king — 
 
 Speak, Cymrian ! 
 
 Rhyn. 
 You are Brian. 
 
 Brian. 
 
 Brian, thy prince. 
 
 Rhyn. 
 
 Your sister's with the queen. 
 
 Brian. 
 
 And Pellitus? 
 
 Rhyn. • 
 
 Beware my master j he is full of cunning. 
 
 Brian. 
 Is Pellitus thy master ? 
 
 Rhyn. 
 Ay, Prince Brian. 
 
36 At the Court of King Edivin. [act i. 
 
 Brian, raising his staff. 
 This will I match against his wizard-wand. 
 
 Rhyn. 
 Your stick's too little. 
 
 Brian. 
 Slave, it is the heart, 
 And not the weapon, makes a dangerous hand ; 
 But art thou such a traitor that would stay 
 Help from his land, or peril from its foe ? 
 
 Rhyn shakes his head. 
 Thou fear'st his magic ? 
 
 Rhyn. 
 
 Ay; his cunning, more. 
 
 Brian. 
 How shall I see my sister ? 
 
 Rhyn, after meditating. 
 
 Tell the house-thegn 
 To bring you to the queen — if so you dare ? 
 
 Brian. 
 Cymrian, thou hast some wit. I come to dare ; 
 
SCENE I.] At the Court of King Edzvin. 37 
 
 So shall I see my sister — ha ! away ! 
 
 The sound of many steps — again, to-night. 
 
 Exit Rhyn ; enter the king's guard, then the 
 King acco77ipanied by Earl Blecca, Coifi, 
 Paulinus, andj after the?n, Golddin ; Brian 
 muffles his head in his hood. 
 
 King. 
 We must consult with Pellitus to fix 
 A day auspicious. 
 
 Paulinus. 
 Nay, your majesty. 
 Deal not with devils ; if this Pellitus 
 Be not a crafty show of what he is not, 
 The slaves that serve him, and through him serve you, 
 Are wicked demons that will tempt you on 
 By giving what may seem like goodly service 
 Until you trust them much, and then betray. 
 What can be won from wickedness but ill? 
 Giving good service, is an act of goodness 
 The devil cannot do ; who trusts to him 
 Takes Folly's hand, and shakes the head at Wisdom. 
 
 King. 
 You give the dog an evil name, and then 
 Throw stones at him ; although my dog may bark 
 
38 At the Co 1 11' t of King Edwin. [act 
 
 Perhaps at Danger's shadow, yet his cry 
 
 Hath sometimes warned me well ; I do not fear 
 
 His magic creatures. Coifi, what say you? 
 
 CoiFi. 
 Between the fall of Odin and the setting-up 
 Of these new gods my wits are so turned round 
 Old things put on new shapes ; but Pellitus 
 Stands up- outside of both these faiths, 
 And hath no part of either; so his wisdom, 
 Refusing both, hurts both, or hurts itself; 
 I do not well know which. He hath been long 
 Your trusted counsellor, and given safe help 
 In many fortunes ; how his knowledge comes, 
 From stars or devils, is too deep for me ; 
 But help is help, nor would I fear his demons. 
 
 King. 
 'Tis a bold counsel, be it wise, or no; 
 What says Earl Blecca? 
 
 Blecca. 
 
 By Ella's magic sword ! 
 Coifi speaks truth. This wizard with his wand 
 Lifts up one corner of the mighty veil 
 That hangs between us and the coming days ; 
 
SCENE I.J At the Court of King Edwin. 39 
 
 Peers with keen eyes into the deeps beyond, 
 And tells how sweeps along the endless train ; 
 What evils come, and how far off they be. 
 We listen to him, doubtful, or credulous ; 
 If his foretellings come, we are prepared ; 
 If not, we laugh ; but are not hurt at all. 
 It may be, as the learned bishop saith, 
 The work of demons; but if serviceable 
 It is a sign that ev'n in evil things 
 May be a saving element of good — 
 Ay, there's no thing so utterly itself 
 It hath no touch or quality of another : 
 Night's pride of stars suggests the light of day ; 
 Day's secret caverns hold imprisoned night. 
 
 King. 
 True ! Blecca, usefulness in everything. 
 Had we the wit to find it. Honest Golddin, 
 Whom hast thou there so hid in pilgrim weeds ? 
 
 Golddin. 
 Your majesty, 'tis one who, for a promise, 
 Hath sealed his liips up close — close lips — ha-ha ! 
 
 King. 
 Pilgrim, if thou hast not another promise, 
 
40 At the Court of King Edivin. [act i. 
 
 To hide thy face, throw back thy masking hood, 
 And show thyself. 
 
 Brian bows low to the King, but keeps his face 
 covered, 
 
 Paulinus. 
 
 My son, if 'tis in penance 
 For some rash act, a guilt of burdened soul, 
 You go with covered face and silent tongue. 
 The king, at my request, will pardon you. 
 
 Brian bows again very low to the King and 
 bishop. 
 
 King. 
 Well, be it so ; I like an open face — 
 A face like thine, my Golddin, free of guile. 
 
 Blecca. 
 Your Golddin's face is like the sunflower's bloom, 
 That ever lifts unto the god of day 
 A bright, broad shape. 
 
 King. 
 Or like the sun itself, 
 Shining at morning through a misty haze ; — • 
 We borrow poesy from thee, my earl. 
 
 Blecca. 
 The eagle needs no song ; his lordly pride 
 
SCENE I,] At the Court of King Edzuin. 41 
 
 And majesty proclaim him, king of birds, 
 And make his piercing cry more fitting note 
 Than all the music of the woodland choir. 
 
 King. 
 Do you not think, Lord Lincoln, that this bird, 
 The kingly eagle, may grow tired of state, 
 Weary of kingliness, and so pride-sated 
 That when he hears the evening coppice thrill 
 With the soft notes of singing nightingales 
 His monarch-breast will heave with fond regret 
 He was not born a songster of the grove 
 To pour his heart out in sweet melody ? 
 
 Blecca. 
 I dare not say ; the fashion of my heart 
 Is like the nightingale's, and not the eagle's. 
 
 King. 
 Ah ! Blecca, much I doubt if majesty 
 Be to the eagle so much happiness 
 As eve's sweet carol to the nightingale — 
 My Coifi, beg this sweet-tongued nightingale 
 To sing for thee a song unto thy dove. 
 
 Coifi. 
 Not so, my king; the eagle's song for me; 
 If harsh his notes, he sings of victory. 
 
42 At the Court of King Edwin, [act i. 
 
 King, pointing to Earl Blecca. 
 What think'st thou, Golddin, of my nightingale? 
 
 GOLDDIN. 
 
 My lord, I think his feathers are too fine, 
 And that he is not shy enough — ha-ha ! — 
 Not shy enough. 
 
 Exeunt King, Earl Blecca, Coifi, Paulinus, 
 a7td king's attendants. Golddin is stopped 
 by Brian, who whispers with him. Exit 
 Golddin. 
 
 Brian. 
 
 Ay, I will kiss the queen's hand, paying homage 
 
 Unto the lady, not her sovereign power ; 
 
 So shall I see my sister — my poor Enid ! 
 
 How may her lone heart keep its native courage, 
 
 Here compassed round by enemies ? Brave sister ! 
 
 What a big leap her little heart will make 
 
 If I can signal it ! The Christian priest 
 
 Gave me good help ; I think this Cymrian face 
 
 Had startled them. The slave of Pellitus — 
 
 'Twas rash to trust a slave ; but not more rash 
 
 Than this rash undertaking; I have seen 
 
 The reckless win when the more careful failed. 
 
 Perhaps some spirit, unseen in the air. 
 
 Prompts the bold bosom to a perilous deed, 
 
SCENE I.] At the Court of King Edwin. 43 
 
 And helps its execution ; so I trust 
 
 My fortunes in thy hands, O guiding spirit, 
 
 That sittest throned above this desperate chance ! 
 
 How shall I name thee ? Fortune ? Ah ! not so ; 
 
 I would not have thee wear the fraudful smile 
 
 Of her, the common mistress of mankind. 
 
 Who with caressing fingers blinds our eyes 
 
 While her dark paramour, Calamity, 
 
 Steals silently upon us. Nay, fair spirit, 
 
 I will not slander so thy unknown name 
 
 To call thee Fortune. 
 
 Exit, 
 
44 ^^ i^^^ Court of King Edivin. [act ii. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I.— THE QUEEN'S APARTMENT. 
 The Queen, Enid, a?id ladies-in-waiH?ig. 
 
 Queen. 
 
 Who sang so sweetly 'neath our lattice window 
 
 At a late hour ? I woke to hear a song 
 
 Mingle with plashings of the fountain till I dreamed 
 
 Myself in fairy-land. Methought that Merlin 
 
 Had built a magic palace, and I wandered 
 
 In its delicious gardens, while my eye 
 
 Saw brightly glimmering tower, and portico, 
 
 And lovely flowers, and clumps of clustered trees ; 
 
 While over all the fairy moonlight streamed 
 
 With such soft radiance that its mellow flood 
 
 Made even enchantments glow more magical ; 
 
 And all the while such dulcet sounds were ringing 
 
 In my rapt ears I scarcely saw the flowers. 
 
 The sculptured porticos, the moonlit trees. 
 
 The glistening towers ; but felt them in my heart, 
 
 Blended with melody. 
 
SCENE I.] At the Court of King Edivin. 45 
 
 Lady. 
 The Lord of Lincoln 
 Sang to his harp last night beside the fountain ; 
 Your majesty hath heard him. 
 
 Queen. 
 
 Was it mortal ? 
 Sweeter delight to dream that Merlin's spells 
 Had fashioned for me an enchanted scene, 
 And filled it with the song of fairy-land ; 
 But this were sin perhaps : my careful bishop 
 Bids me beware of fancies so profane, 
 Delusions framed by man's great enemy 
 To hide the truth ; but in my infancy 
 I heard such tales from my old nurse's lips, 
 And they will haunt me ever with the,ir glamour 
 Of bright romance. Fair Enid, from thy land 
 Came these enchanted tales — but why so sad ? 
 
 Enid. 
 
 The smile that curls a captive's trembling lip 
 Mocks at an aching heart. Why should I smile ? 
 
 Queen. 
 Princess of Gwynedd, is thy lot so hard, 
 To wait upon a queen ? 
 
46 At the Court of King Edwin. [act ii. 
 
 Enid. 
 
 Nay, royal lady, 
 Not service, but captivity is hard. 
 
 Queen. 
 List ; in his golden cage yon feathered songster 
 Warbles his melodies as joyously 
 As he could do in his far distant home 
 Beyond the sea. 
 
 Enid. 
 
 He hath forgotten home. 
 
 Queen. 
 Why cherish memories that bring but sorrow? 
 
 Enid. 
 The heart is memory. A silly bird 
 May sing from empty heart gay joyousness, 
 Forgetting all except the golden sunshine 
 That glimmers down through flowers and rustling 
 
 leaves 
 To gild his cage with summer ; but my heart 
 Can see no summer in the sun's bright rays, 
 No pleasure in these robes of regal pride. 
 No beauty in this golden cage, your palace. 
 My thoughts are far away on Gwynedd's hills 
 
SCENE I.] At the Court of King Edzvin. 47 
 
 With my own people ; or they fly still further, 
 
 And follow Gwynedd's king and my brave brother 
 
 Tracing sad steps upon a foreign land. 
 
 And you would have me smile? O royal lady, 
 
 My thanks are due for all these courtesies, 
 
 This rich attire more splendid than my wont, 
 
 A royal lodging, servants to wait on me, 
 
 And costly equipage. If I were free, 
 
 And in my Gwynedd, my vain, woman's heart 
 
 Would beat with joy to have such queenly state ; 
 
 But here I am a captive, and this pomp 
 
 Seems to my heart an idle mockery; 
 
 Queen. 
 As much unto my royal lord, the king, 
 Thy thanks are due. Thou art a Cymrian princess ; 
 And his intent — not yet perhaps matured — 
 Will send thee back to thy loved land, thy Gwynedd, 
 In greater state than when he brought thee thence. 
 
 Enid. 
 To Gwynedd ? O dear lady ! when ? 
 
 Queen. 
 
 Nay, child, 
 I cannot tell ; the king hath plans of state. 
 
48 At the Court of King Edwitt. [act ii. 
 
 Enter Golddin. 
 
 GOLDDIN. 
 
 Your majesty — the king ! 
 
 Queen. 
 As ever welcome. 
 
 Exit Golddin. 
 Ladies, we will receive the king. Fair Enid, 
 Stay by my side. 
 
 Re-enter Golddin, usheriiig the King, Earl 
 Blecca, Coifi, Paulinus, and the king's 
 attendants. Exit Golddin. 
 
 Queen. 
 Good-morrow, my dear king. 
 
 King. 
 
 Sweet queen, thy subject. 
 
 Queen. 
 Good-morrow, lords. 
 
 To Paulinus. 
 
 My duty, holy father. 
 
 Paulinus. 
 Bless thee, my child. 
 
SCENE I.] At the Court of King Edwin. 49 
 
 Queen. 
 Earl Blecca, must we thank 
 Your loyalty for an enchanted dream 
 That your sweet music brought to us last night ? 
 Or were those magic spells of harp and song 
 Designed for our fair princess ? 
 
 Blecca. 
 
 Gracious lady, 
 My harp and song are loyal to my queen, 
 And to her court of beauty. Nay, my spells 
 May not be cast to work especial charm 
 Upon your princess. The Lord Coifi, lady, 
 Sits up all night, and learns to thrum the harp, 
 That he may be her minstrel. 
 
 Queen. 
 
 What? Lord Coifi! 
 
 King. 
 Dear queen, we shall expect much gratitude 
 For our good news. This worthy Coifi, led 
 By thy example and thy bishop's teaching, 
 Hath come to know the true God from the false ; 
 He hath awaked out of a troubled dream 
 To find those things are phantoms of his sleep 
 
50 At the Court of King Edivin. [act ij. 
 
 Which, while he dreamed, he fancied deities. 
 He will renounce the Norse gods, and with us 
 Call on the people to adopt thy faith. 
 
 Queen. 
 Most thankfully I bless the holy saints ! 
 
 Paulinus. 
 A light from heaven is shining on this land, 
 Whose pure, sweet rays, flooding the hearts of men. 
 Will wash away the stains of false belief, 
 And leave the truths, inherent in man's breast. 
 Faith, worship, veneration, homage, trust. 
 Cleared of the painting of idolatry, 
 To shine of their own crystal purity, 
 More beautiful than any artist tinting 
 Imagination's touch can put on them. 
 Here will we raise our church upon the site 
 Of Odin's broken altars, and the ruins 
 Of an old faith shall serve to build the new ; 
 For Truth sits ever on a past untruth, 
 More glorious that the thing she overturned 
 Was once deemed glorious. O great king and queen, 
 Your hands are blessed that ye can build this. church, 
 Can send an influence of example out. 
 Will bring forth harvest, as the fruitful seeds. 
 
SCENE I.] At the Court of King Edivin. 5 1 
 
 Sown by a careful husbandman in lands 
 Broken and fallow by a winter's frosts, 
 Bring forth abundance in the sickle-time. 
 
 King. 
 The land is ploughed ; thou hast the fruitful seed, 
 And April rains are near. 
 
 To CoiFi. 
 
 Put on thy apron. 
 My Coifi, for the planting. 
 
 CoiFi. 
 
 Your majesty, 
 The people cannot choose but take this faith 
 When I shall say the ^sir gods are dead — 
 Dead' of old age ; that Midgard's mighty serpent 
 And fierce wolf, Fenrir, both in silence perished. 
 Subdued, destroyed, when on their fierceness fell 
 The shadow of the cross; that Surtur's torch 
 Went out, and left the world unburned ; 
 While sun and moon, no more pursued by foes. 
 May calmly sail upon their radiant curves. 
 Or pause to shed more light upon the world 
 At His command, who hangs upon the cross. 
 
52 At the Court of King Edwin. [act ii. 
 
 Blecca to Enid. 
 
 Yuur Coifi hath eclipsed the fame of Thor, 
 Destroying Fenrir and the Midgard serpent. 
 
 Enid to Blecca. 
 
 My Coifi? 
 
 Ay. 
 
 Blecca to Enid. 
 
 King. 
 That all the world may know 
 How much we value Coifi's wise example, 
 We here proclaim that we will make him king 
 Of conquered Gwynedd, and will give its princess, 
 His royal bride ; so may he bring the land 
 To his new faith, and wear its majesty, 
 Subject alone unto our greater will. 
 Fair Enid, thus thy short captivity 
 Shall end in regal state. 
 
 Enid. 
 My lord, the king, 
 I cannot wed Lord Coifi. 
 
 King. 
 Why? 
 
SCENE I.] At the Court of King Edwm. 53 
 
 Enid. 
 
 My hand 
 Is promised to King Penda. 
 
 King. 
 
 Nay, fair princess ; 
 
 Tiie chance of fortune cast thee in our hands, 
 A captive ; yet we make of thee a ward 
 Under our royal will. The queen will tell thee, 
 Young maidens may not give their hands away 
 But by direction. We would give thy land 
 Back to its ancient line, so the blue blood 
 Of its old royalty may fill the veins 
 Of future kings ; but we must have a king 
 On Gwynedd's throne obedient to our will; 
 And we must have a Christian. Of old time 
 Thy land was Christian, and again it must 
 Bow down before the cross. Be thou content, 
 Princess of Gwynedd, to accept the hand 
 Of him thy royal guardians shall direct ; 
 Not pagan Penda, Mercia's warlike king, — 
 Reasons of state stand up 'twixt him and thee, — 
 But our King Coifi, to whose prudent care. 
 And thine, we give a kingdom. 
 
 Enid. 
 
 King of Deira, 
 
54 At the Court of King Edzvin. [act ii. 
 
 I am a captive, not a subject ; pray you, 
 
 If you will seize upon my uncle's throne, 
 
 Give it among your people, not to one 
 
 Who would not keep her kinsman from his own. 
 
 Let the Lord Coifi place a Saxon wife 
 
 On Gwynedd's throne, not the unfortunate Enid, 
 
 Who will lament in a more lowly place 
 
 Misfortune's rigor to her land and kindred. 
 
 King. 
 Princess, no more ; it must be as we will. 
 
 Coifi. 
 Fair princess, I would rather wed you than a Saxon. 
 
 Enid. 
 Thank you, my lord, for idle compliment ; 
 But my poor hand is pledged. 
 
 Queen, who has overheard Coifi. 
 
 What shall we think — 
 We Saxon ladies — of such choice, Lord Coifi ? 
 
 Coifi. 
 My sovereign lady, think that Coifi blunders. 
 Being unused to ladies, love, and court. 
 
 Blecca. 
 Think the Lord Coifi, most majestic queen. 
 
SCENE I.] At the Court of King Edwin. 55 
 
 Is like a child enchanted with a top, 
 
 And while he hangs above the whirling toy, 
 
 Forgets the world hath other toys than his. 
 
 Queen. 
 Ha ! my Lord Lincoln, art thou traitor too. 
 Calling thy queen a toy ? 
 
 Blecca. 
 Nay, nay, indeed ; — 
 Save as the sun, and moon, and shining stars 
 Are toys to children. 
 
 Queen. 
 
 Then is Coifi, child ? 
 
 Blecca. 
 True ! madam, just born to your Christian faith. 
 
 King. 
 Dear queen, this Blecca hath a subtle wit, 
 And claims beside to be a nightingale, 
 And calls our poesy an eagle's scream. 
 
 Queen to Blecca. 
 Traitor again ; defend thyself, my lord. 
 
 Blecca. 
 Lord Coifi's wit, great queen, defends me now. 
 
56 A^ the Court of King Edwin. [act ii. 
 
 Queen. 
 
 Lord Coifi's wit? 
 
 Blecca. 
 
 He saith, the eagle's scream, 
 Though harsh of note, is tuned to victory ; 
 Which makes the king a victor over song. 
 
 CoiFi, aside to Enid. 
 Princess, think not I rather prize the throne 
 Than you. 
 
 Enid, aside to Coifi. 
 My lord, I am a slave, a captive, 
 Alone amid my enemies; be noble, 
 Generous as brave, and help them not to crush me. 
 
 Enter Golddin and Brian. 
 
 GOLDDIN. 
 
 Your queenly majesty, a pilgrim begs 
 
 To kiss your hand, and kneel before your throne; 
 
 And — for he has a vow to hide his face. 
 
 And speak not — comes in silence — silence — ah ! 
 
 Paulinus. 
 It is in penance for a grievous sin 
 He hides his face, and comes with silent tongue ; 
 It shows a contrite heart to put aside 
 
SCENE I.] At the Cow't of King Edwin. 57 
 
 The shows and pleasures of the giddy world, 
 And expiate a fault. 
 
 Queen. 
 Sir Penitent, 
 We thank you for your courtesy, and hope 
 Your pilgrimage draws near an end. 
 
 Brian kneels, kisses the queen's hand, and pre- 
 sents to her a golden cross to ivhich is attached 
 a ring. 
 A cross and ring ! — my thanks. Take this, Sir Pilgrim, 
 And count your prayers upon its golden links. 
 
 The Queen gives Brian a chain from her fieck. 
 Exit Brian. 
 
 King. 
 When next I wish to win a lady's gifts, 
 I'll go in silence with a covered face. 
 
 Queen. 
 Not so, my king; with thee bare face will win. 
 
 Blecca, aside. 
 So the queen pays a barefaced compliment. 
 
 Queen. 
 See this strange ring, dear king — a dragon's head 
 On a bird's body. 
 
58 At the Court of King Edwin. [act ii. 
 
 King. 
 It is strange, fair queen ; 
 I know not what the quaint device may mean. 
 Earl Blecca, thou art learned in mystic things ; 
 Or thou, or Pellitus, must read this ring. 
 
 Blecca, after looking at the ring. 
 Nay, king, 'tis not a nightingale or eagle; 
 I cannot read it, yet the fashion seems 
 Somewhat to smack of Cymry ; it may be 
 The Princess Enid can decipher it. 
 Blecca gives the ?'i?ig to Enid. 
 
 Enid. 
 It calls up to my mind pictures of old — 
 My father's palace, in one hall of which 
 Methinks a shape like this was cut in stone 
 Above the doorway. 
 
 Gives back the ring to Blecca. Aside. 
 'Tis my brother's ring. 
 
 Blecca. 
 'Tis Cymrian, though perchance of so long past, 
 The thought once pictured in its curious shape 
 Is lost with the old thinkers who contrived it. 
 Gives the ring to Paulinus. 
 
SCENE I,] At the Court of King Edwin. 59 
 
 King. 
 What says the wise Paulinus ? 
 
 Paulinus. 
 
 'Tis a thing 
 Born of a pagan thought ; and doubtless comes 
 From far-off Egypt, land of worshipped birds 
 And monstrous beasts — ay, brought of old to Cymry 
 By some adventurous Druid who returned 
 From Eastern wandering to graft new gods 
 On the old stock of his idolatry; 
 But the graft failing, still the symbol lives 
 To mock idolatrous man above his doors 
 Or thus engraven on an ancient ring. 
 Gives the ring to Coin. 
 
 King. 
 I must entreat the queen to lend this ring 
 So mystically cut, and strangely brought 
 By unknown pilgrim, that my sorcerer 
 May mutter over it his magic spells 
 And bid his demons bring its history. 
 
 Paulinus. 
 Still will you tamper with the spirit of evil ? 
 O king, you seek the truth ; no truth can come 
 Of evil; truth comes out of Goodness, God. 
 
6o At the Court of King Ediuin. [act ii. 
 
 Of light comes light : the sun produces day, 
 And the night, darkness. So will you be led 
 Into a fatal snare by Pellitus, 
 And see his devils mock and gibe at you. 
 
 King. 
 There is no other way to read the ring ; 
 Thy angels will not help me ; I must try 
 His demons, or be left in ignorance. 
 As black a thing as are my wizard's imps. 
 If they would harm me, lo ! I have thy cross 
 To scare them back into black halls of night. 
 
 CoiFi, who has been examining the ring. 
 Perchance, O king, the bearer of the ring 
 May know its story ; and there is a way 
 To change his silence into eloquence. 
 
 Blecca, aside. 
 A barbarous — Christian that would murder romance ! 
 
 Queen. 
 Ah, king, I pray thee do not hurt my pilgrim ! 
 Thou wicked Coifi, half a pagan yet ! 
 
 King. 
 Fear not, my queen ; he hath a shielding saint. 
 
SCENE I.] At the Coun of King EdTvin. 6i 
 
 And none shall offer harm or insult to him. 
 Nor touch his mystery unless my Pellitus 
 Can pluck it forth out of thia antique ring. 
 
 Queen. 
 Thanks, my dear king ; all this is like a story 
 Which my old nurse would tell me long ago : 
 This pilgrim — mystery — and a strange ring ; 
 I'll dream of it, and picture in my fancy 
 That Merlin weaves a spell about our court. 
 
 Palxinus. 
 Rather, my daughter, learn to read the book 
 Sent by our holy father, and emblazoned 
 With pictured shapes of the immortal saints 
 And, on one cover in a silver glory 
 Set round with flaming crystal and with ber^l, 
 The Holy One, the Lord and Prince of Love — 
 The Lord of Love kneeling to bless the world. 
 So let imagination dwell on Him, 
 And banish these vain thoughts of paganism. 
 
 King. 
 Farewell, dear queen ; we leave thee to thy musings 
 Of fairy-land and Merlin, or of saints. 
 
 Exeunt. 
 
62 At the Court of King Edivin. [act ii. 
 
 SCENE II.— AN ANTEROOM OF THE QUEEN'S 
 APARTMENTS. 
 
 Entej- Pellitus. 
 
 Pellitus. 
 So ! so ! — this ample curtain will conceal me ; 
 Beneath its folds I shall be safely hid. 
 Charms may do well to cheat the credulous, 
 But for the wise there's naught like native wit. 
 So I risk all ; but desperate hurts are cured 
 By desperate remedies ; and this, my hurt, 
 Is past all cure save shrewd empiricism. 
 The garrulous house-thegn — whom I met but now, 
 And questioned of his errand — goes to bring 
 The pilgrim hither to a second audience; 
 Here is a mystery that I must solve, 
 A secret motive I must puzzle out. 
 Who hath the secrets of a human heart 
 Hath half the power of the divinity 
 That governs fortune — ay, the better half. 
 I ask no magic of more potent force 
 Than knowledge ; having which, my human wit 
 Can stay, or faster turn, blind Fortune's wheel, 
 And act the f:iteful god — a key to power ; 
 And power I must have, or look idly on 
 
SCENE II.] At the Court of King Edwin. 63 
 
 While she, the thought of whom inflames my bram, 
 Scorches my liver like a fierce love-philter, 
 Will fly beyond the reach of wit or charm— 
 Ho ! rustling robes — it is the princess comes; 
 So, while I wave my wand, I disappear. 
 
 Pellitus conceals himself behind a curtain. 
 Enter Enid. 
 
 Enid. 
 My brother's ring and — as it flashed upon me 
 Like glimpse of torchlight through half-opened door 
 When I beheld that token — the same height 
 And bold, free step. Brave brother, thou hast come 
 To set me free from this gay-painted prison, 
 Where danger masks in smiles and silken robes, 
 And bear me off to our free, native hills, 
 Where, through the heather, leaps the wild red deer, 
 And where the sky-lark sings a braver song 
 Than ever sung their love-sick nightingales. 
 Would he were come ! I must with watchful care 
 Keep down my heart, and school my prudent lips 
 To few, low words ; one word too loudly spoken. 
 And overheard, might bring down unkind fate. 
 What a wise brother to so give his ring ! — 
 Be still, my heart ; he comes. 
 
 Ejiter GoLDDiN and Brian. 
 
64 At the Court of King Edwin, [act ii. 
 
 GOLDDIN. 
 
 Fair princess, in obedience to the queen 
 I bring the pilgrim — what the ladies love, 
 A silent man ! — a silent man — ha-ha ! 
 
 Enid. 
 Thanks, my good Golddin ; thou art good as gold. 
 
 GOLDDIN. 
 
 To see your sweet face, is a purse of gold. 
 You are a stranger here, but all will serve you 
 For that same sweetness ; if you need a service 
 Golddin can do, count Golddin too your slave — 
 Your slave — ha-ha ! 
 
 Exit Golddin. 
 
 Enid, ru7ining to Brian. 
 O Brian ! 
 
 Brian, putting hack his hood. 
 Enid, sister ! 
 Enid throws herself in his arms. 
 Stay, stay thy tears, poor child — nay, nay, my sister ; 
 This heart, that flutters so upon my breast. 
 Seemed calm before the queen. Be brave, my girl ; 
 We must be brave to win us back to Gwynedd. 
 
SCENE II.] At tJie Court of King Edwin. 65 
 
 Enid. 
 
 My brother, hast thou come to take me back? 
 
 Brian. 
 
 Ay, if thou wilt ; but thou art fine, my sister, 
 Robed like a queen ; perhaps this finery 
 Hath won thy heart, and banished thoughts of 
 Gwynedd ? 
 
 Enid. 
 
 Brian, they deck rae thus to make me queen — 
 The queen of Gwynedd. 
 
 Brian. 
 
 Thou, the queen of Gwynedd? 
 
 Enid. 
 Ay, Brian ; but they first would husband me 
 With the priest, Coifi, whom my heart abhors 
 With an unutterable loathing — ay. 
 Him would they set upon Cadwallon's throne. 
 And me, his queen. 
 
 Brian. 
 I understand it not — 
 Coifi, a priest, to rule our untamed people? 
 A priest of Odin may not carry arms. 
 
 5 
 
66 At the Court of King Edwin. [act ii. 
 
 Enid. 
 
 I had forgotten ; he is priest no more, 
 But hath become a Christian. 
 
 Brian. 
 
 Oh ! the bribe, 
 Thou and the throne of Gwynedd ; 'tis enough 
 To buy the fealty of a priest of Odin. 
 Now do I comprehend the speech I heard. 
 Of king and Coifi in the hall-of-waiting. 
 But we will mar their plans. Listen, pale girl. 
 While I shall call the color to thy cheeks : 
 King Penda comes to claim thee of King Edwin, — 
 Ah ! now the lily borrows from the rose, — 
 But Edwin will not give his captive up ; 
 His Mercian vassal is too strong even now. 
 And such alliance might unvassal him. 
 So, sister, thou and I must fly to-night; 
 I have my horses, stabled here hard by. 
 And friends at hand to help our enterprise. 
 At midnight meet me in the corridor 
 Outside these rooms, equipped for travelling, 
 And, ere the sun from saffron edge of hills 
 Springs to his daily journey, thou shalt be 
 Far from the perils of this gilded court. 
 
SCENE II.] At the Court of King Echvin. 6j 
 
 Enid. 
 What joy to breathe the mountain airs once more, 
 And cast this shining queenery aside 
 For my own garb of Gwynedd's highland princess, — 
 But Penda — shall I see him ? 
 
 Brian. 
 
 Nay, my rose ; 
 The Mercian king will ask thee of King Edwin, 
 Although he knows that asking is not having ; 
 Or he hath reasons why he asks in state 
 For that he knows state-reasons will refuse him; 
 So state puts on formality ofttimes. 
 And pompous question, when the answer's known 
 Before the question's asked. I have not seen 
 King Penda; but upon my journey hither 
 One of his court I met, and learned, the king 
 Will come in largest state to offer ransom 
 And claim the hand of Gwynedd's captive princess. 
 What out of this may grow, I cannot tell. 
 But not thy freedom ; so prepare to ride 
 With me to-night ; meantime another purpose 
 Must have my thought : hast seen the king's magician? 
 
 Enid. 
 Yea, Pellitus ; a man of wise, grave face, 
 
68 At the Court of King Eikvhu [act ii. 
 
 Thought in his eyes, and cunning in his tongue ; 
 He wears a wizard's gown, and bears a staff. 
 
 Pellitus, aside. 
 She paints my picture ; paint it handsomer, 
 Sweet princess — ha! what would the Cymrian? 
 
 Brian. 
 Enid, this man hath been thy country's bane. 
 
 Enid. 
 He ever looked most ugly to my eye, 
 Now will my thought give him a shape more ill 
 Than that he bears. 
 
 Pellitus, aside. 
 O Cymrian, thou diest for this ! 
 
 Brian. 
 Thrice hath Cadwallon sought to come again, 
 And, with good help of brave and trusty friends, 
 Set up his power in Gwynedd ; but in each 
 This cu.rst magician knew our secret plans ; 
 King Edwin's men opposed us on the shore. 
 And forced us back to sea. He hath a demon 
 Shaped like a sea-bird, black, with sail-like wings, 
 
SCENE II.] Al the Court of King Edwin, 69 
 
 That flaps along the coast, and out to sea, 
 Who, when he marks Cadwallon's glinting sails, 
 Hastes with wild cries to Pellitus, his master — 
 Yea, it is true ; I heard the fishermen 
 Tell of the uncouth bird, his gabbling screams, 
 And how the native sea-birds of the shore 
 Fly far, wild-shrieking, when his shadow casts 
 A spot of blackness on the bright, green waves. 
 Sister, for Gwynedd's sake the sorcerer's life 
 Must end to-night — nay, turn not pale, dear child ; 
 This is my work ; be thou in readiness 
 At midnight. 
 
 Enid. 
 Brian, Pellitus is wise — 
 Ay, wiser than thou deem'st ; guard well thyself 
 If this thing must be done. 
 
 Brian. 
 
 Fear not, poor trembler j 
 But rest thee well ; we shall ride hard to-night. 
 Now a farewell till midnight. 
 
 Enid. 
 
 Brother, farewell. 
 
 Exit Brian. 
 Brave Brian, how thy step belies thy garb ! 
 
70 At the Court of King Edzuin., [act ii. 
 
 Befriend him, powers unseen, that wait on men, 
 
 And shape the course of accident aright. 
 
 On what a little thread life hangs. 
 
 And yet so strong, a sea of circumstance 
 
 May dash upon it, and it will not break ; 
 
 Again, a careless word, a look, an act, 
 
 And, as a breath-puff tears a gossamer, 
 
 It is destroyed ! — Alas ! my brother's life 
 
 Hangs by such perilous thread. 
 
 Pellitus, coming forward. 
 
 You hold the thread 
 Of Brian's life. 
 
 Enid. 
 Oh !— Pellitus ! 
 
 Pellitus. 
 
 Ay, lady. 
 Your fair white fingers hold the shining thread 
 That reaches up from Brian to the stars. 
 
 Enid. 
 Mine? — mine? 
 
 Pellitus. 
 Ay, yours and mine. 
 
SCENE II.] At tJic Court of King Edwin. 71 
 
 Enid. 
 
 How mine? 
 
 Pellitus. 
 
 Thus, princess: 
 Content you Pellitus, and ''powers unseen" 
 Will hear the prayer your sweet lips breathed to them, 
 And lead your brother safe from every peril ; 
 Content him not, and they, the unseen powers, 
 Turning a deaf ear to your fondest prayers, 
 Will cast a snare for his unwary feet, 
 Falling by which, your brother's life is lost ; 
 The fowler, Death, will twist his neck awry, 
 As the bird-catcher kills the fowls he nets. 
 
 Enid. 
 But how content ? — 
 
 Pellitus. 
 Fair princess, by your love. 
 Although my head be crownless, and this wand 
 No jewelled sceptre dazzling the eyes of men 
 With show of power, I ask and offer love. 
 Sceptre and crown are symbols ; power is real ; 
 Man is but man beneath his majesty, 
 And kingly state oft covers feebleness ; 
 
72 A^ the Coin^t of King Edzvin, [act ii. 
 
 The while the energy that rules mankind 
 
 Hath oft no greater palace than a head 
 
 Uncapped by golden circle ; nor a name 
 
 More splendid than my title, wizard — wise-man — ■ 
 
 A title broader than the style of king. 
 
 Will you have gold? my gnomes shall bring you wealth 
 
 Enough to buy a kingdom. Life, a queen's — 
 
 What is it? — vexation, sorrow, waiting, weeping, 
 
 A flitting joy or two, perhaps, to make 
 
 Pain's tooth bite deeper — pain, a reality. 
 
 And bliss, a myth. Will you have this? or rather, 
 
 Instead of such a pain-enwoven fabric, 
 
 Sweet, magical enchantments, blissful joys 
 
 Beyond the fondest hope that ever thrilled 
 
 Young heart, beyond the most delicious dream 
 
 That ever made a passionate bosom heave 
 
 In the imaginative visions of sleep ? 
 
 Or, if you will, the majesty of power 
 
 Shall sit upon your brow : no queen in England 
 
 Shall have more noble state — a shining court 
 
 Whose gay magnificence the tongue of fame 
 
 Shall noise abroad. Fair princess, give me love 
 
 For this good dower. 
 
 Enid. 
 Let me be dowerless, 
 
SCENE II.] At the Court of King Edwin. 73 
 
 And banish from your thought a foolish girl 
 Who hath no love to pay for such great gifts. 
 
 Pellitus. 
 Princess, you mock me ; but my heart cries out 
 Against refusal. Lo ! the stars proclaim it ; 
 And in enchanted runes 'tis written down; 
 And spells and incantations promise it : 
 Fate interweaves our twisted threads of life. 
 
 Attempts to take her hand, which Enid refuses. 
 Nay, do not shrink. 
 
 Enid. 
 I cannot give you love. 
 
 Pellitus. 
 I offer much in payment for your heart. 
 
 Enid. 
 Who would buy love, insults the heart's clear purity 
 With such base proffer. 
 
 Pellitus. 
 
 What doth the lover offer 
 But barter of his heart of love for hers? 
 Lo ! this I offer you, and with a heart 
 
74 At tJie Court of King Edzvin. [act ii. 
 
 As fond, as tender as e'er lover offered, 
 Magnificence, dominion, wisdom, wealth. 
 
 Enid. 
 I cannot buy this richness. 
 
 Pellitus. 
 
 And your brother ? 
 
 Enid. 
 I pray you, save him, and accept my friendship. 
 
 Pellitus. 
 
 Nothing but love. 
 
 Enid. 
 
 I cannot give you love. 
 
 Pellitus. 
 Listen : your face hath grown into my brain 
 Till all my heart hungers to have your love ; 
 It is a passion, a consuming fire — 
 Look that you mock me not ! I am not one 
 To sigh at woman's feet. Give my heart food, 
 And I will heap your lap with precious things 
 Till Fortune in amaze forget her blindness 
 To stare with envy from wide-opened eyes — 
 And, with such gifts, a love more rich than wealth; 
 
SCENE II.] At tJic Court of King Edwin. 75 
 
 Repulse me, and you turn to direst ill 
 
 What, in your smile, were good. Ah ! can you love 
 
 The priest of Odin, in whose low-roofed skull 
 
 Thought lies asleep, while naught but animal instincts 
 
 Instruct the man ? or Penda, Mercian wolf, 
 
 Who knows but war, and worships his own axe. 
 
 His highest notion of a deity? 
 
 In all that makes a man better than beasts 
 
 Am I much nobler than these twain. 
 
 Enid. 
 
 O sir. 
 As you are nobler in a larger light 
 Of mind, be greater in your acts than those 
 Who know no purpose but to serve themselves : 
 Save my brave brother from his perilous chance. 
 Nor seek from me what is not mine to give ; 
 In place of love take bounteous gratitude. 
 And let it satisfy your hungry heart. 
 
 Pellitus. 
 I will not have it ; 'tis to show the famished 
 A painted loaf, a carven form of food — 
 Ho, gratitude ! a name, a gilded crown 
 The wise have made to top the head of Folly. 
 Lady, for the first time of all my life 
 
'J^ At the Court of King Edzvin. [act ii. 
 
 I have laid bare my heart ; you have refused it ; 
 There is no more but this : what you deny 
 I yet will have. Think not I speak in vain ; 
 'Tis not my habit, nor my use of words. 
 Look ! I will summon up all forms of power, 
 And work unseen, foreseeing what will be. 
 Farewell. Your brother — you shall hear from him ; 
 But do not hope to ride with him to-night. 
 
 Enid. 
 Spend all your wrath on me ; but spare my brother. 
 
 Pellitus. 
 
 Your love ? 
 
 Enid. 
 
 x\h, no ! 
 
 Pellitus. 
 All else is idle talk. 
 Pellitus is going. 
 
 Stay ! stay 
 
 Enid. 
 
 Pellitus. 
 For love ? 
 
 Enid. 
 No ! no ! 
 
SCENE II.] At the Court of King Edwin. yy 
 
 Pellitus. 
 
 Princess, farewell. 
 
 Exit Pellitus. 
 Enid. 
 
 My brother ! — O my brother, I have slain thee ! 
 
 What can I do ? may I not seek the queen. 
 
 And tell her all ? ah, still I slay my brother ! 
 
 Unhappy Enid ! how shall she escape 
 
 Or Coifi, or this dreadful Pellitus 
 
 Whose threats hang round her as the air were full 
 
 Of spying demons? Why delays King Penda? — 
 
 Reasons of state ! — while these state-reasons stay, 
 
 Enid and Brian both may be destroyed. 
 
 Why swells my heart ? what flashes on my brain ? 
 
 Ay ; — so at least I triumph over Pellitus, 
 
 And save my brother: — promise all he asks 
 
 When Brian shall be free, then with this dagger 
 
 Cancel rash promises. So shall I save 
 
 The richer of two lives ; — but I will see 
 
 No more my Gwynedd ; no more breathe the air 
 
 Blowing o'er heathery hills. So young to die ! 
 
 And Penda — will he seek another bride? 
 
 Or feel regret state-reasons lost him Enid? 
 
 Exit. 
 
yS At tJie Court of King Edwin. [act in. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I.— THE KING'S APARTMENT. 
 
 King. 
 The world outgrows beliefs : the boy becomes 
 Too big for last year's garments, slips them off, 
 And dons the new ; in which he feels at ease 
 Until he gains the size that these allow, 
 .Then they, too, pinch him. Truth is back of all ; 
 But truth, perhaps, would suit us quite as ill 
 As the man's raiment would a little child. 
 So we have grown beyond belief in Odin, 
 And legends suited to a former age. 
 Which cramp us now. For sea-king and his band, 
 Sitting around the crowded galley's edge 
 Behind the wall of shields, to sing of Thor, 
 Or Freya's love-songs, while the salt waves flash 
 With dip of oars, or while the sea-winds sweep 
 Over the ridgy billows in wild gusts. 
 And screams the osprey circling round the mast. 
 Scared by a music wilder than his own. 
 Suited an age of heroes ; — this is past. 
 
SCENE I.] At the Court of King Edwin. 79 
 
 Though still by war I widen out my rule 
 Till all this island come beneath my sway, 
 Yet would I wean the hearts of men from war, 
 Building foundations of a steadfast peace ; 
 And Odin's faith, that mocks at peaceful laws, 
 JNIust yield before the Christian. — Truth? — perhaps; 
 At least the change will give us present ease, 
 And that should satisfy our much-cramped souls. 
 With help of Coifi, who hath sold his gods 
 For a good price, I'll cast old idols down. 
 And build anew; so shall my people come 
 Into the garments of a larger faith. 
 Enter Pellitus. 
 This Pellitus hath wisdom, not belief; 
 Or what he hath, he hides. 
 
 To Pellitus. 
 
 Well, Pellitus? 
 
 Pellitus. 
 Your majesty, I bring you back the antique ring. 
 
 King. 
 O'er which your muttered spells have been in vain. 
 
 Pellitus. 
 What would you learn, O king, of this old jewel ? 
 
8o At the Court of King Edzvin. [act in. 
 
 King. , 
 
 First, I would learn from it of you ; and then, 
 From you, of it. 
 
 Pellitus. 
 
 My lord the king, this ring 
 Speaks with two voices : one, antique and weird. 
 Low whispering out of far-off halls of time ; 
 And one, a present voice, here in your palace. 
 
 King. 
 Each in due order. What says its old tongue? 
 
 Pellitus. 
 
 It is a legend of an olden king 
 
 Who prayed his gods to send him down a steed 
 
 From the bright team that draws the sun's hot car: 
 
 How the steed came, of monstrous size and shape, 
 
 Shining like burnished gold — a fatal gift ; 
 
 For from his flashing scales such fierce rays flamed 
 
 They burned to cinder king and all his court ; 
 
 Then the bright creature spread his golden wings, 
 
 And, meteor-like, flew back into the sun. 
 
 This ring was graven by an antique art 
 
 With shape like his in record of the marvel. 
 
 To show the figure of the wonderful steed, 
 
SCENE I.] At the Court of King Edwin. 8 1 
 
 And warn mankind to worship gods afar, 
 Not set them in their midst. 
 
 King. 
 
 An old nurse- tale, 
 But in its heart a truth. — Ah ! Pellitus, 
 May we not reach beyond the picturing 
 Of symbols to the truth ? 
 
 Pellitus. 
 
 The mind of man 
 Is fashioned so by Nature's cunning hand 
 It works with figures, and he builds him gods, 
 Wrought into shapes ideal, to satisfy 
 Desirings of his soul. 'Tis not the truth 
 Looks from his calm god's great, unwinking eyes. 
 Or mocks him in his symbols ; but a creature 
 Of his own fancies born, their picturing. 
 The wisest thought, searching the farthest back, 
 Ends with a picture. Life is a sliding row 
 Of pictures, bright and fair, perhaps, to one. 
 And rich with varied meanings that illume 
 Nature's broad purposes, and intimate 
 By subtle lips of beauty-breathing forms — 
 Process of mysteries — yet fairer visions 
 That lie beyond their shapes. Unto another 
 
 6 
 
82 At the Court of King Edwin. [act hi. 
 
 Life is a senseless line of doubtful figures 
 That tell him nothing, promise nothing — blanks. 
 What there may be beyond these pictures, king, 
 I cannot tell. 
 
 King. 
 So, then, your wisdom finds 
 No more than this ? 
 
 Pellitus. 
 
 The wisdom is to know 
 That these are pictures of the thoughts within us, 
 The lights imagination hangs above dark doorways, 
 But not outside of our humanity. 
 
 King. 
 Well ! of this ring : what is its second voice ? 
 
 Pellitus. 
 
 Its second voice is not an old nurse-tale ; 
 It says : King Penda cometh to your court 
 To claim the Princess Enid ; and it bids, 
 Pull off the pilgrim's muffling hood, and spy 
 The face of Brian. 
 
 King. 
 Brian, the Cymrian? 
 
SCENE I.] At tJic Court of King Edwin. 83 
 
 Pellitus. 
 Ay, king. 
 
 King. 
 
 What brings him here? 
 
 Pellitus. 
 
 He hath two errands : 
 The one, to snatch his sister from your court ; 
 And one, to slay your careful counsellor. 
 
 King. 
 You, Pellitus? why you? 
 
 Pellitus. 
 
 Because, my lord, 
 My watchful demon, flapping round the coast. 
 Hath spied Cadwallon's ships, and, warning me, 
 Marred every enterprise. 
 
 King. 
 
 Good Pellitus, 
 Call up the captain of our guard. 
 
 Exit Pellitus. 
 If this be true. 
 The wizard's demons are no idle help — 
 Demons ! nay, rather angels, thus contending 
 
84 At the Court of King Edzvin. [act hi. 
 
 With evil ; in themselves nor good nor bad, 
 But good or bad according to the wish 
 They help or mar, both good and bad at once 
 With two opposing wishes; 'tis to shift 
 Their quality from that wherein it should be 
 Into ourselves, if good and evil are 
 But in our estimation ; — humph ! the thought 
 Loses itself in puzzling sophistry. 
 
 Re-enter Pellitus a7id captain. 
 Captain, bring hither, under guard, the pilgrim. 
 
 Exit captain. 
 Ah ! Pellitus, throw off th' enchanter's mask : 
 Tell me in honest truth how learned you this ; 
 I doubt your demons. 
 
 Pellitus. 
 
 Doubt ! when the wind howls, 
 What stirs the elements to storm and rage? 
 What pushes over an invisible arch 
 The burning sun ? why doth the pale moon shine 
 With altering phase ? Do you doubt these, O king, 
 Because you cannot see th' invisible hands 
 That make each change? then wherefore will you 
 
 doubt 
 Of my obedient demons ? There are powers. 
 We cannot see, so subtle in their essence 
 
SCENE I.] At tJic Court of King Edzviii. 85 
 
 That human sight grasps not their images ; 
 
 But what they do, as sunshine, lightning, storm, 
 
 Is so apparent unto conscious matter 
 
 That even the torpid earth feels their strong hands 
 
 Upon her, and cries, midst tumults, or midst silence, 
 
 "Lo! the gods move me, and send down their demons 
 
 To mark my bosom with a myriad fingers 
 
 That push up grass-blades, clothe the great-armed oaks, 
 
 Loosen white frost-caps on high mountain-tops. 
 
 Heave ocean into billows, sweep broad plains 
 
 With the great besom of the hurricane, 
 
 Or launch destruction with the thunderbolts." 
 
 king, of a like subtlety, my demons 
 Mock at dull sight ; I show you their effects ; 
 If these be true, why not believe the rest ? 
 
 King. 
 
 1 cannot answer you. 
 
 Enter captain and Brian surrounded by a 
 guard. 
 
 Show me thy face. 
 Brian stands motionless. 
 Captain, unhood this ill-trained peregrine. 
 
 Brian throws back his hood, and looks boldly at 
 the king. 
 So we have found the face ; and now the voice? 
 
S6 At the Court of King Eikvin. [act hi. 
 
 Brian. 
 The voice is Cymrian, like the face, and speaks, 
 What the face shows, a dauntless Cymrian heart, 
 Content to pay the forfeit of a life. 
 
 King. 
 It is not much to take, but more to give. 
 
 Brian. 
 Not much to die. The meanest soldier gives 
 His life in battle ; why should I, a prince, 
 Deem mine a greater thing? The exile, king. 
 Sets no great store on life ; life is a thing 
 Of value, or of none, as it is stamped 
 By fortune or mischance; he holds it best 
 Who loves it not too much, nor doth despise 
 The good it brings. 
 
 King. 
 
 'Tis pity, Pellitus, 
 With him such wise philosophy must die ! 
 
 Pellitus. 
 One end meets all : Wisdom goes gravely to it. 
 While laughing Folly seeks it heedlessly ; 
 Pale Sorrow, in the midst of weeping, dies; 
 Anger calms not the bluster of his rage, 
 
SCENE I.] Al tJie Court of King Edzvin. Zj 
 
 Nor Jealousy forgets his haunting fiend, 
 In the last hour ; and he, the calm philosopher, 
 Who speculates upon foreshadowed doom, 
 And sees its paths — his own among the rest — 
 All merging in one common ending, death, 
 Run o'er his careful plots and maps of life. 
 While pondering of it, meets the common fate, 
 And drops, or bears away, his cloak of thoughts. 
 I know not if 'tis pity ; 'tis so common 
 That Pity, if she stand with streaming eyes 
 Weeping mankind, hath not one drop for each. 
 Though groans and wailing sound the symphony 
 Of death, this is but fashion of the world, 
 A loud lament for an imagined terror. 
 
 King. 
 Cymrian, what folly brought thee to our court? 
 
 Brian. 
 
 The folly, king, to have a heart to love 
 My sister and my country. 
 
 King. 
 
 Rather the folly 
 To plunge in perils as the flitter-mouse 
 Flaps into brightness of alluring flames 
 
88 At the Court of King Edzvin. [act hi. 
 
 That charm and dazzle his bewildered sight. 
 Ha ! shall we hang thee up upon our walls 
 As, on his door, the ploughman nails a bat 
 Caught flitting impudently abroad by day ? 
 
 Brian. 
 A noble trophy for a mighty king ! 
 
 King. 
 Captain, put this philosopher in chains, 
 And dungeon him, lest he commit more folly. 
 
 Exit captain and guard with Brian. 
 
 Pellitus. 
 
 king, give me this young philosopher; 
 
 1 ask him as a boon ; not for his life. 
 
 For that I care not, nor am moved by touch 
 Of plaguing sympathy ; but beg his fate 
 That out of him, as from his antique ring, 
 I may educe the plots, the unhatched schemes, 
 O'er which no doubt his friends now incubate; 
 So may I count the brood before they come 
 With ruffling feathers and their spurs full-grown 
 To crow, like chanticleers," before your gates. 
 
 King. 
 I care not, so he trouble me no more. 
 
SCENE I.] At the Court of King Edwin. 89 
 
 Pellitus. 
 My lord will trust me with his signet-ring? 
 
 King, giving his ring to Pellitus. 
 Ay, Pellitus; but bring not up this thing 
 To vex our queen. 
 
 Pellitus. 
 His silence shall be real. 
 Eiiter GoLDDiN. 
 
 GOLDDIN. 
 
 Your majesty, the King of Mercia comes 
 With his attendant lords to greet his liege — 
 Now just arrived — arrived to greet his liege. 
 
 King. 
 Ah, my good Pellitus, the ring tells truth ! 
 Golddin, who waits? 
 
 GOLDDIN. 
 
 My lord, the Earl of Lincoln, 
 Lord Coifi, the queen's bishop, doubtless more. 
 
 King. 
 
 Bid them attend ; call all our retinue; 
 We will receive King Penda. 
 
 Exeunt Pellitus and Golddin. 
 
90 At the Court of King EdzviTi. [act iii. 
 
 Mercia's king 
 Will chafe to lose his bride — then let him chafe ; 
 The needs of kingcraft smother sympathies 
 That else might blossom in a marriage feast. 
 Penda and Enid — were our promise clear 
 Of Coifi, none the less we must hold off 
 These twain, whose union might build up a power 
 Too great for vassalage. The King of Mercia 
 Holds his head stiffly, bends not with a grace 
 Before our throne ; this arrogance will grow 
 Greater, not less, unless we make him less. 
 So must we aim somewhat to prune his power. 
 Not to augment it with the strength of Gwynedd. 
 
 Enter the king' s attendants. Earl Blecca, Lord 
 Coifi, Paulinus, and lords; then Golddin, 
 ushering King Penda and his lords. 
 
 Penda. 
 Great king. 
 
 The tribute of my Mercia hath been paid 
 In deeds. 
 
 King. 
 And worthily, O valiant Penda ! 
 
 Penda. 
 From its far southern line of sea-washed coast 
 
SCENE I.] At the Court of King Edivin. 91 
 
 I come to give you Wessex, subjugate, 
 And bowing humbly to your royal hand ; 
 A conquest well begun when on the head 
 Of wretched Cwichhelm, its assassin king, 
 Fell my keen axe. The lesser limbs of war 
 Through his domain, back to the Cornwall hills, 
 Our Mercian arms have quelled. Save Kent alone, 
 All Saxon England bends beneath your sway, 
 And Gwynedd's kingdom, with rich Anglesey, 
 And wild Welsh marches to the banks of Wye. 
 In these last conquests of the south, O king. 
 And all adown the line of Cymrian hills, 
 Mercia's bold hearts have done untiring service. 
 
 King. 
 Most warlike Penda, well we know the worth 
 Of Mercia's help and thy heroic deeds ; 
 And, that we may show plainly to the world 
 How much we prize thee, we will bind thee to us 
 By the betrothal of our infant daughter. 
 The Princess Ethelfled, in the full hope 
 Thou wilt embrace the faith of all her kindred. 
 Leaving the broken idols of the Norseland 
 To bow with us beneath the Christian cross : 
 So shall this royal marriage one day bring 
 Unto thy sovereignty a third of England. 
 
92 At the Court of King Edzvin. [act hi. 
 
 Penda. 
 So great alliance, king, I may not have ; 
 My hand is promised, and my faith must be 
 That which my sires have held. 
 
 King, pointing to Paulinus. 
 
 Nay, here is one 
 Will teach thee better faith. 
 
 Paulinus. 
 
 The God of Love 
 Is greater than your god of battles ; this, his cross, 
 A braver emblem than the hammer of Thor ; 
 The courage that can suffer, grander far 
 Than the rough daring of invulnerable gods. 
 
 Penda. 
 Great king, I do not wish a better faith 
 Than my brave grandsire's, Crida's, who drew up 
 His stranded galleys on this island shore. 
 And from the din of Ocean's tumbling waves 
 Rushed amid Cymrian arrows to carve out 
 A throne in Cymry. Ay, the gods, that gave 
 That throne to Crida, yet are strong enough 
 To help his grandson keep it. Let me say. 
 King of Norse peoples, that my Mercians frov/n 
 
SCENE!.] At the Court of King Edivin. 93 
 
 And shake the head when flying rumor tells 
 
 Of a pale god set up above our Odin, 
 
 And his death-cross over our ancient altars ; 
 
 That the priests find amid the smoking entrails 
 
 Strange prodigies, and mutter gloomily 
 
 With hoarse, thick voices, ^'Lo, there comes disaster !" 
 
 Unto your arm hath Odin lent his might ; 
 
 The prize is won : will you forget your helper? 
 
 King. 
 We may not brook thy barbarous people's threats ; 
 The ^sir gods are tottering on their thrones, 
 And soon must fall. To their old home in Norseland 
 Let them return, and build again Valhallas 
 Upon their Baltic shores. Here will I raise 
 A palace unto Peace, and sheath the sword 
 To all but those who will not worship Peace ; 
 And war shall end. Our council sits to-morrow 
 Upon the question of a change of faith ; 
 If thou wilt speak, King Penda, in the cause. 
 We promise thee a full and patient hearing. 
 
 * Penda. 
 
 I come not here to wrangle with your talkers; 
 You have enough to battle in such cause — 
 Those whose best use is in their use of words ; 
 
94 At the Court of King Edwin. [act hi. 
 
 My strength lies in my axe, not in my tongue; 
 But I will hear your council, what they say. 
 
 Blecca. 
 Doth great King Penda offer royal compliment 
 To the poor Lord of Lincoln ? 
 
 Penda. 
 
 Nay, gay lord ; 
 We know your sword as keen as is your tongue, 
 Your voice in battle joyous as minstrelsy. 
 
 Paulinus. 
 In the best fight man wages, — when his soul 
 Battles with Sin's fierce demons, — words have weight 
 Greater than your bright swords. To hack and hew 
 The limbs of men, is not the largest purpose 
 That men can serve. 
 
 Penda. 
 The goodly bishop calls me 
 From thoughts of war. While in the south I fought 
 To make its conquest good, your arms in Gwynedd 
 Achieved success ; in conquered Worcester 
 The Princess Enid fell into your hands. 
 King, 1 would ransom her ; she is betrothed 
 
SCENE I.] At the Court of King Edwin. 95 
 
 To me ; my kingly promise pledged to her 
 Hath made me seem to slight your royal favor 
 And great alliance. If my wars have been 
 Worth any recompense, I ask but this : 
 The right by ransom to redeem my princess. 
 
 King. 
 King Penda, Gwynedd's princess fell to us, 
 The spoil of war ; we knew not thy betrothal ; 
 But have bestowed her on our servant, Coifi, 
 Whom we will place with her on Gwynedd's throne. 
 Our royal word is pledged. If the Lord Coifi 
 Will take thy ransom, thou mayst ransom her ; 
 But we may not. 
 
 Penda. 
 What should a priest of Odin 
 With princess? or with throne ? 
 
 King. 
 
 A priest no more : 
 He hath abandoned his idolatry ; 
 Hath cast off priesthood for a laity ; 
 And we, his king, give him a throne and princess. 
 
 Penda. 
 'Tis little honor now to be a king. 
 If priests wear crowns. 
 
96 At the Court of King Edwin. [act iii. 
 
 COIFI. 
 
 And wherefore not a priest ? 
 Your famed descent from Odin loseth rank 
 As Odin, his; thus you go down, priests up. 
 
 Penda. 
 A brainless fool ! 
 
 King. 
 
 Ha ! will ye quarrel, lords, 
 
 Before our throne ? 
 
 Penda. 
 
 I quarrel not, O king, 
 With this vain fool that wags his tongue at me — 
 King Crida's grandson bearded by a priest ! — 
 King, I have done you service, and for payment 
 You give me scorns ; are these the meed of service ? 
 To-morrow will I speak of this again. 
 If I can rule my tongue to measured tones, 
 For now my heart's too hot to coin cold words. 
 And time must cool it. 
 
 King. 
 Penda, though thy speech 
 Lack something of respect, we pardon it 
 For that hot temper urges reckless words. 
 And that we value worthily thy service. 
 To-morrow shall thy question have due audience. 
 
SCENE II.] At the Court of King Edivin. 97 
 
 Meantime, accept our hospitality: 
 
 Our queen would thank thee for heroic deeds 
 
 That fame hath heralded out of the south, 
 
 Noising thy glory ; wilt thou come to her? 
 
 Ourself will bring thee. 
 
 Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IL— A CHAMBER IN THE QUEEN'S 
 APARTMENTS. 
 
 Enid. 
 *'Pain, a reality; and bliss, a myth.'* 
 Are his words true? — Too true ! too true with me ! 
 How this dull gloom settles about my heart ! 
 I'll sing away its dull despondency 
 As the poor cageling sings : 
 
 Singing, 
 
 An ethereal spirit of the mountains 
 
 Loved passionately a maid. 
 
 But pitiful sorrowing laid 
 
 Full many a lingering trace 
 
 And cloud on his beautiful face, 
 
 For his shape was invisible to the maiden. 
 
 7 
 
98 At the Court of King Edzvin. ["act hi. 
 
 Though he hovered caressingly o'er her, 
 
 And whispered of love with fond word. 
 Her ear all-unheedingly heard 
 No voice as with gay heart she sang 
 Till evening's soft zephyr-airs rang 
 
 With her carols of youthful rejoicing. 
 
 Then he cried to the woodland and mountains, 
 
 " Alas and alas, she heeds not ! 
 
 How strangely unhappy my lot, 
 
 So near her, and yet far apart 
 
 In distance of heart from her heart, 
 And my tenderness never made known to her !" 
 
 " Mother Nature, why was I made loving, 
 
 And not of a visible form ? — 
 
 To feel all love's passionate storm. 
 
 And die for a beauty I see. 
 
 Yet, living or dying, to be 
 But a viewless and voiceless desiring !" 
 
 Ah, why do I remember such a song 
 Of loneliness, when I should sing gay notes 
 To drive away the sadness of my heart ? 
 Enter a lady. 
 
 Lady. 
 The queen will not require your presence 
 
SCENE II.] At tJie Court of King Edwin. 99 
 
 At evening audience ; but she bids me say, 
 She will desire you sing to her at later hour. 
 
 Enid. 
 I note a bustle in the anterooms ; 
 Is there a ceremony ? 
 
 Lady. 
 Ay, an audience : 
 The queen receives King Penda and his lords. 
 Our king and lords likewise. 
 
 Enid. 
 
 I thank the queen. 
 
 Exit lady. 
 They bar me from his sight while ceremony 
 Hath due observance. So the world goes on : 
 Formalities must pass, though hearts are torn 
 And lives are spent. Here is sharp agony, 
 And by its side the courtly bow and smile 
 And empty nothings, idle ceremony^ — 
 To kiss the queen's hand while they make of mine 
 A thing to purchase converts to their faith ! 
 Why should King Penda dally with court follies ? 
 While he procrastinates, quick fate comes on. 
 And gives me up to Pellitus, the priest, 
 Or death. Why asks he not to see his bride ? 
 
100 At the Court of King Edzvin. [act hi. 
 
 Is he, too, purchased by this gilded court 
 That smiles, and buys? It were an act of manhood 
 To tell them to their courtly, smiling faces. 
 He will have nothing at their hands but me ; 
 They would not dare deny him ; — but perhaps 
 Gay smiles of court beguile his thoughts of Enid, 
 A captive ; and her country conquered, spoiled. 
 He seeks a richer bride ; — alas ! no hope ! 
 Why should I strive with fate? ah ! why not yield 
 To either chance, and smile as the world smiles, 
 And see in life but hollow ceremony? — 
 N o my free, Cymrian blood disdains to flow 
 Along the sluggish lines of their court-usage : 
 I'll save my brother; then come Death between 
 The purchase and the payment — 
 Ejtter Rhyn. 
 
 A Cymrian face ! — 
 Who art thou that, with unknown features, 
 Bring'st back remembrance of my far-off home? 
 
 Rhyn. 
 I'm Rhyn, the slave of Pellitus. 
 
 Enid. 
 
 Alas, 
 A Cymrian and a slave ! My native hills, 
 
SCENE II.] At the Court of King Echuin. loi 
 
 Do you breed slaves to serve your Saxon lords ? — 
 What wouldst thou, slave ? 
 
 Rhyn. 
 
 My master, Pellitus, 
 Bids you come to him when the night's dark hours 
 Hush all in sleep ; or, ere the light of morn. 
 Your brother, Brian, dies. 
 
 Enid. 
 
 Where is my brother ? 
 
 Rhyn. 
 Deep in a dungeon, shackled fast with chains ; 
 And Pellitus, my master, wears his master's ring, 
 And holds your brother's fate. 
 
 Enid. 
 
 O ! tell me, slave : 
 Is there no way to save my brother's life ? 
 
 Rhyn. 
 
 Ay, if you please my master. 
 
 Enid. 
 
 Say : — I will ; 
 And come for me at midnight. 
 
102 At the Court of King Edzvin. [act in, 
 
 Rhyn. 
 
 Lady, ay. 
 Rhyn withdraws, stepping behind a curtain. 
 
 Enid. 
 A few hours more of rosy light will shine 
 On wretched Enid; then must come the night 
 Whose darkness will o'erwhelm her. While they laugh 
 In the queen's presence, king, and lords, and-^Penda; 
 Or the Lord Lincoln sings, and sweeps the harp-strings. 
 And Ceremony sits the queen of all ; 
 Here do I watch the fast-declining day. 
 Waiting for Night to wrap me in her folds, 
 And bear me off, sad, lost, companionless. 
 To ghastly halls of death ; where, clothed anew 
 In different form, — perchance uncouth or hideous. 
 Some creature that I now would shudder at,: — 
 My spirit will inhabit a new form, 
 And live unconscious of this thing I am. 
 And Enid be forgot. Will he laugh then. 
 When they shall hurry o'er my funeral rites? 
 Or will he drop one tear upon my grave ? 
 Or will he think of the more happy bride 
 They promise him ? alas ! I may not know. — 
 What if my hand should falter at the last ? 
 
 Takes a dagger from the fo his of her dress. 
 
SCENE II.] At tJic Court of King Edzvin. 103 
 
 No; rather a thousand times this shining blade 
 Than Pellitus !— 
 
 Rhyn adva7ices. 
 
 Rhyn. 
 
 Ho, princess ! will you slay 
 My master ? 
 
 Enid. 
 Slave, begone ! it is not midnight. 
 
 Rhyn. 
 No; I must speak : — a woman, dare you die? 
 
 Enid. 
 Ay, slave ; but, being a slave, thou knowest not 
 What such words mean. — Heed not this idle trifling; 
 * Tis fancy's fitful light that dances here. 
 Points to her head. 
 
 Rhyn. 
 Fancy? — crazed head? — The flashing of her eye 
 Is not the fire of weak or crazy wits. 
 Lady, I was a servant of your house, — 
 Ay, long ago, when you were but a child, — 
 And did a thing, for which they drove me forth, 
 And I became a slave. Though years have passed, 
 
I04 At the Court of King Edwin, [act iii. 
 
 I feel the old love tugging at. my heart; 
 
 And if a thing so helpless as a slave 
 
 Can help you now, it may atone the fault 
 
 That banished me of old. I know not well 
 
 What I can do, but I will study it ; 
 
 And chance may help a slave to serve a princess, 
 
 Enid. 
 Forgive my unkind harshness, generous slave. 
 
 Rhyn. 
 Fair princess, may I kiss your royal hand ? 
 'Twill help me to a thought. 
 
 Rhyn kisses Enid's hand, then exit. 
 
 Enid. 
 Why doth a hope light up my desolate heart 
 With the slave's words? It is, his sympathy 
 Leaves me not all alone. What was the tale 
 My old nurse told ? — how once a little mouse 
 Gnawed at the strings that held a netted lion, 
 And set him free. Perhaps this is my mouse. Exit. 
 
SCENE I.] At the Court of King Edwin. 105 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE L— THE KITCHEN. EVENING. 
 
 Dagbert a?id Rhyn sitting at a table on which stands 
 a great beer-jug. 
 
 Dagbert. 
 We must consider it well, Rhyn ; for the conscience 
 be a tender thing, and easily scratched. I say often to 
 myself, " Dagbert, take care of thy conscience ; thou 
 be'st but a jailer, it is true; yet a jailer's conscience 
 be a thing to be cared for." If it hurts him, he turns 
 as uneasily in his straw, look you ! as the king in his 
 golden bed ; for this same conscience careth not what 
 bed he sleeps in. 
 
 Rhyn. 
 
 You speak shrewdly^ Master Dagbert ; and, because 
 you are known to have a wise head 
 
 Dagbert. 
 Ay, ay, Rhyn ; I be one that thinketn of many 
 things. \Takes up the jug afid looks into it.'\ This 
 
io6 At the Court of Kiiig Edzvin. [act iv. 
 
 talking be dry work, and the jug empty. I fear Master 
 Cook will not fill it again. 
 
 Rhyn. 
 I have here a broken penny which my master gave me 
 long ago ; I cannot use it better than for my conscience. 
 
 Dagbert. 
 No, by Neccus ! that be well said, Rhyn — [^Taking 
 the moneyJ\ Ay, a half-penny. 
 
 Rhyn. 
 I dare not go to Master Cook, for I broke a jug 
 sevennight ago, and he still looks black at me; but 
 he will look white at you, Master Dagbert, when he 
 sees the silver. 
 
 Dagbert. 
 
 The jug shall be filled, and thy conscience set right, 
 if there be any wit here. {Pointing to his head. Dag- 
 bert takes the jug, and goes out.~\ 
 
 Rhyn. 
 
 Another jug of beer will drown what wit 
 Yet flickers, like a storm-wet, smoking torch, 
 In his dazed head, and cast him in such stupor 
 He will not wake though P^aul, his Saxon demon, 
 
SCENE I.] At tlic Court of King Eihuin. 107 
 
 Shout in his ear; tlien will I have his keys, 
 And be Prince Brian's jailer. Let me think — 
 She said : I, being a slave, know not what thing 
 It is, to dare to die ; — well ! do I dare ? 
 I know not; but I feel a something here 
 That drives me on ; it may be it will push 
 So far as dying. Dare I plot to thwart 
 My demon master ? boldly match my little 
 Against his much ? To wind about his plans, 
 And cross their cunning, I should be more cunning 
 Than he whose quick eye, flashing in my face. 
 Will catch the coward thought I try to hide. 
 And flout it to my ear. In spite of him. 
 His magic, demons, spells, and sorcery, 
 I'll set my stupid brains against them all ; 
 And if I fail — ah ! it perhaps may be 
 I dare to die, and know not that I dare. 
 Here comes the jailer, drunker than before. 
 
 Enter Dagbert, with the jug of bec7', and singing, 
 
 Dagbert. 
 
 The king may sit in golden state 
 
 A golden crown to wear, 
 But what care I ? I am his mate ! — 
 I have no crown for my rough pate ; 
 
 But this shall lift me there. 
 
io8 At the Court of King Edwin. [act iv. 
 
 Beside the king — above the king — 
 This pot of beer that now I sing. 
 
 Rhyn, thou serving-man of Ochus Bochus, don't think 
 
 because I sing, I be drunk — no ; I sing for jollity — 
 
 ha-ha ! \_Futs the Jug on the table ^ and sitsT)^ Now 
 
 listen : if what old Ochus Bochus doeth be sinful, 
 
 and he be in danger of roasting for it, as our lady's 
 
 bishop sayeth, then thou, being his helper, shall be in 
 
 danger of roasting too; this be reason — plain reason, 
 
 look you, But to go deeper into it: \^Takes a long 
 
 dri?ik from the jug.~\ Ochus Bochus, being a wizard, 
 
 may by dry-craft get himself out of the fire ; but will 
 
 he pull out his helper ? — will he pull out his helper ? 
 
 [Drinks.^ That be the thing to be thought of. See 
 
 here : Ochus Bochus \_Dri71ks'] — Ochus Bochus — it be 
 
 all here \_Pointing to his head\ but twists round and 
 
 round so, by old Neccus ! I ben't able to pull it out 
 
 straight. 
 
 Rhyn. 
 
 'Tis dry work, pulling against a wizard. 
 
 — Master Dagbert, drink up the beer. 
 
 [Dagbert drinks y then staggers to his feet. '\ 
 
 Dagbert 
 
 I have it now \ listen ! — Ochus Bochus — Ochus — 
 
 ha-ha ! ha-ha ! 
 
 \IIe sings. '\ 
 
SCENE I.] At the Court of King Edivin. 109 
 
 Old Neccus, from thy cave 
 And thirsty salt-sea wave, 
 Come up ! come up ! come up ! 
 Old mei-man, here's to thee ! 
 Come, tip the jug with me ; — 
 Come ujD ! — come — up ! — come — up ! 
 
 [Dagbert staggers agamst the table : tries to 
 drink; oversets the jug, and tumbles on the 
 floor. Rhyn stoops over him, and searches in 
 his leathern sack for Iris keys, but fails to find 
 the7n.~\ 
 
 Rhyn. 
 
 I cannot find the keys ; his sack is empty — 
 
 Misfortune ! so to lose it, when I thought 
 
 This chance was safely won! — what now? — how? — 
 
 how? 
 Have they, my master's cunning demons, come, 
 Sliding unseen their thin shapes under shadows. 
 And stolen away the thing I would have stolen. 
 Snatched up the prize, and borne it to their master? 
 No ! no ! it cannot be. Ho ! drunkard, wake ! 
 
 Shaking Dagbert. 
 Wake ! wake ! 
 
 Dagbert raises himself on his elbow. 
 
 Your keys, good Master Dagbert, — keys ! 
 
1 10 At the Court of King Edwin. [act iv. 
 
 Dagbert. 
 Old Ochus — Bo-chus — come — up ! — 
 
 Rhyn. 
 Where are your keys ? — your keys ! 
 
 [Dagbert falls back, insensible. Rhyn shakes 
 him again and again, without result^ 
 He will not rouse. I thought to steal his keys, 
 Lead Enid to the dungeon, free her brother, 
 And, stealing from the palace, fly with them 
 Beyond this nest of dangers ; but my plan — 
 A good one if I had this drunkard's keys — 
 Is spoiled or e'er begun. What is there else? 
 O that my head had but a little wit 
 To make new plots ! — one chance, and that one lost 
 Without my master's stir ! I know no other. 
 Now do I think I am not all a slave ; 
 For, while I find no way to win by craft, 
 My heart grows big ; I feel my bosom heave, 
 Thinking what I must do : I am resolved 
 To strike a blow for her, though it must be 
 To rush, like famished wolf with open mouth, 
 On death. But wait; some chance may help me yet; 
 If not, what better end for Rhyn, the slave. 
 Than dying at a beautiful princess' feet } Exit. 
 
SCENE II.] At the Court of King Edzvin. 1 1 1 
 
 SCENE II.— THE DUNGEON. MIDNIGHT. 
 
 Brian chained. 
 
 Brian. 
 It cannot be his gods that heap his fortunes 
 High as the hill-tops, — yea, they grow so huge 
 This island gives its greatness but to him, 
 All other kings belittled, — for his gods, 
 And those of all his ancestry he scorns. 
 Seeking to cast them from their ancient thrones, 
 On which to set a cross. 'Tis Pellitus, 
 By stars and magic, lifts the King of Deira 
 Thus over all. Alas, my dear-loved land ! 
 I ventured all to cross a demon's path. 
 Against his spells opposed a zealous heart. 
 And so have lost. Nor for myself I groan ; 
 But much for thee, and something for my sister. 
 Who, proud but gentle, hating slavery 
 As water, fire, must be the gilded slave 
 Of this king's policy — no, not a slave; 
 Not all of England's power can break her spirit 
 Into a slave's obedience ; it will flash 
 Out of her free heart as the dark cloud gleams 
 
112 At the Cotii't of King Edzvin. [act iv. 
 
 With sudden fire, and scorch the ceremony 
 Would chain her to a bondage worse than this. 
 
 Raises his chains. 
 Lost Enid ! their vile schemes will ring thee round 
 Until escape is shut, and death alone 
 Can give a refuge. A soft woman's heart. 
 That quails at desperate act, is not the lodging 
 For a free soul in these dark days of peril ; 
 It should be set in some strong citadel. 
 Apart from danger, if the arm to strike. 
 The eye to look on perils, undismayed. 
 Are given her not. A man may laugh and die ; 
 But death hath greater terrors to a woman, 
 Frighting her timid breast. Oh, fie upon it ! 
 Where is the gracious power that governs life, 
 And loosens out the tangled skein of chance? 
 Is ill, not good, the thought that works the scheme? 
 Can it be so : that man is ruled by demons 
 With naught to check them ? then, indeed, his life 
 Is a poor thing, too worthless for regrets ; 
 And all the greater hopes, that heave his bosom, 
 Are misplaced here ; and I may hail the hour 
 Of death that sends me down the chain of being, 
 Haply to wear the various garbs of life, 
 And glide from shape to shape, nor ever find 
 One of less worth than this ! If life in each 
 
SCENE II.] At the Court of King Edwin. 113 
 
 Be overruled by evil, let me haste 
 
 To reach the end, if end there be — a scheme 
 
 Unworthy all the intricate adjustments 
 
 With which it moves before our dazzled eyes — 
 
 A tedious ladder, up or down whose steps 
 
 Demons may chase my spirit. Let me sleep, 
 
 And dream perhaps of greater things than life. 
 
 Pshaw ! thoughts of Enid make this dungeon-floor 
 
 A restless couch. Nay, but indeed I'll sleep. 
 
 Enter Rhyn, carrying a torch, then Enid. Rhyn 
 fixes the torch in a sconce on the wall, and 
 exit. 
 
 Enid. 
 Dear Brian, I could weep upon thy chains 
 Till the hard iron, melting with soft pity. 
 Dissolved in my hot tears. 
 
 Brian. 
 Ah, tearful Enid ! 
 The moisture of a dungeon eats these chains 
 But tardily; thy tears of tender loving. 
 Though full of alchemy for human hearts, 
 Will fall effectless on my stubborn gyves. 
 
 Enid. 
 
 If they have alchemy for jailers' hearts, 
 
 8 
 
1 14 At the Co2irt of King Edwin. [act iv. 
 
 Their floods shall pour like our own mountain streams 
 Fed by great storms. 
 
 Brian. 
 Nay, tears avail not, Enid. 
 I hojoed to take thee out of Danger's clutch, 
 And risked a life of little worth to me, — 
 Thou in captivity, and Gwynedd conquered, — 
 In the rash chance with glad enthusiasm. 
 Now, when that chance hath failed, my chiefest sorrow 
 Is that I cannot save thee from the toil 
 In which, poor bird, thy fluttering wings are caught. 
 
 Enid. 
 It matters less, my brother, what disaster 
 May hap to me, a useless, fluttering bird. 
 Fit only for a song of joy or sorrow. 
 Than thus to bring in peril thy brave life. 
 Rich in the hope of help to our dear country. 
 
 Brian. 
 I thought to help our Gwynedd, and help thee, 
 My sister ; but all fall alike the prey 
 Of Pellitus. O that this arm of mine 
 Were long enough to strike him from these chains ! 
 So would I deem I won in the exchange. 
 My life for his. 
 
SCENE II.] At the Court of King Edzvin. 115 
 
 Enid. 
 Thy life hath larger worth. 
 Brian, I come to give it thee again ; 
 For thou art dead in chains^ and freedom, life. 
 Although my tears may not dissolve these irons, 
 Yet can I free thee ; not indeed with weeping 
 Or sorrow, but with smiles. Thy life is dear 
 To Gwynedd; and I, ev'n I, a snared and trembling 
 
 bird. 
 As thou hast said, dear Brian, have the power 
 To give my Gwynedd a great boon, thy life — • 
 Prince Brian's life — his who will gather up 
 The fortunes of his land, drive forth the spoiler. 
 And wear, perchance, our ancient Cymrian crown. 
 Then Enid, though forgot by all but thee. 
 My brother, may, in thy dear remembrance held, 
 Share in thy glory \ for she breaks for thee 
 These dungeon chains that else, beneath their weight, 
 Had crushed down hope and life. 
 
 Brian. 
 
 Thou ravest, sister ; 
 Sorrow hath crazed thee, falling on thy spirit 
 As some strange phantom comes amid our dreams 
 To push aside all customary thought 
 With the improbable. 
 
1 16 At the Court of King Edwin. [act iv. 
 
 Enid. 
 Nay: — Pellitus 
 Is of my suitors; and, at my command, 
 Must touch these cruel chains with magic wand ; 
 His alchemy, more potent than my tears, 
 Will set thee free. Ah ! smooth thy brow, whose 
 
 frowning 
 Contends with wonder working on thy face — 
 Thou shalt not owe him aught ; 'tis I that free thee. 
 
 Brian. 
 I am amazed, and marvel not tlmt wonder 
 Traces its outward figures, for within 
 It fills my mind with frightful, grotesque shapes ; 
 This Pellitus stood by with sneering lip 
 When the king questioned me, and, by the looks 
 Which flashed between, discovered to my thought, 
 Who had denounced me. 
 
 Enid. 
 
 Ay, 'twas doubtless he; 
 He lurked, a spy, behind the drooping curtain ; 
 Watched us, concealed ; heard every word we spake, 
 And learned the purpose of thy hapless visit. 
 Not love of thee, but hope of better favor 
 With me, whose better favor he would have, 
 
SCENE II.] At tJic Court of King Edivin. 1 17 
 
 Shall work the help I bid ; but count no chance 
 Upon his mercy ; he is merciless, 
 Strong in his cunning, wise as pitiless. 
 
 Brian. 
 Sister, beware ! seek not to match this fiend 
 In cunning; as the serpent charms the bird 
 Till, with enchantment drugged, it, powerless, falls 
 In the wide jaws that gape for it ; so he 
 Will charm thee helpless. 
 
 Enid, aside. 
 
 Oh, protect me, Macha, 
 Mother of gods, from this most loathsome charmer ! 
 
 To Brian. 
 Nay, trust me, Brian, woman's wit will match 
 His wisest cunning, though with magic helped, 
 And spells of sorcery, the shine of stars. 
 And all the glamour of a conjurer. 
 
 Brian. 
 Nay, Enid, think not thus to play the masker. 
 Hiding thy thought beneath unmeaning words. 
 
 Enid. 
 Incredulous ! You will believe my power 
 When I strike off this weight of heavy chains. 
 
1 18 At the Court of King Edivin. [act iv. 
 
 Brian. 
 Enid, thy quivering lips mock such wild speech ; 
 Beneath the flicker of this smoky torchlight 
 I see the painful lines of high resolve 
 Stamped in thy face ; pray tell me what they mean. 
 
 Enid, aside. 
 I dare not tell him j and I wear my mask 
 So illy that he sees my pallid face beneath. 
 
 To Brian. 
 What can I tell thee? 'tis a woman's plot : 
 This wise magician — but not wise in this — 
 Is smitten with my face ; a woman's plot — 
 He seeks my favor, and I use his help, 
 Buying with idle promise thy dear life. 
 
 Brian. 
 What dost thou promise him? 
 
 Enid. 
 
 A little thing, 
 A woman's favor. 
 
 Brian. 
 It is a thing too great — 
 By far too great ; for its entanglement 
 Will close about thee as the fowler's net 
 
SCENE II.] At the Court of King Edwin. 1 19 
 
 Catches the bird that hath a pair of wings 
 To fly above the snare, but cannot use them. 
 
 Enid. 
 Brother, farewell ; I must not stay to hear. 
 And be affrighted from wise purposes. 
 When I shall send the keys to loose thy chains, 
 Fly from the precincts of this hateful palace. 
 And use the life, that I have given to thee, 
 For our dear land. I see a certain way 
 To slip between the meshes of the net ; 
 But think of me sometimes. Now kiss me, brother. 
 
 Brian, embracing Enid. 
 So now I have thee, sister, in my arms, 
 Thou shalt not go till thou hast told me all : 
 What is this mystery? what, the wise plans 
 With which thou think'st to baffle Pellitus, 
 A giant in the cunning use of craft ? 
 
 Enid. 
 Nay, kiss me, bi'other ; — if I hoped to win 
 By the straight line of an unchanging plan, 
 Thy wisdom should o'erlook the careful scheme; 
 But when a woman plots, her figures shift 
 Faster than fashion of dissolving clouds, 
 
120 At the Court of King Edwin. [act iv. 
 
 And every moment brings new policies. 
 
 So is she strong, because no reach of brain 
 
 Can tell her changes. Thou art helpless, chained ; 
 
 I dare not trust thy wit ; kiss me, dear brother, 
 
 And let me go. 
 
 Brian. 
 
 Thy heart beats hard, my sister, 
 Like the poor fawn's who sees the bounding dogs. 
 And hears the cry of all the noisy pack 
 Draw near — 
 
 Enid. 
 
 O Brian ! 
 Enid hirsts into tears ^ and sobs convulsively. 
 
 Brian. 
 Weep, poor child ; if tears 
 Can bring thee comfort, on their swelling flood 
 Let sorrow float out of thy sad, bruised heart — ■ 
 Yea, weep thy fill ; and when hot tears are done, 
 Tell me the thing thou vainly seek'st to hide. 
 
 Enid. 
 O brother, how unloving ! know'st thou not, 
 To lose thee from my sight, to be alone 
 With strangers, meet strange looks, and hear strange 
 voices. 
 
SCENE II.] At the Court of King Edzvin. 121 
 
 Are cause for sadness? and that woman's tears 
 Gush easily from loving eyes at partings ? 
 
 Brian. 
 Ah, Enid ! I had not believed this thing 
 Without such plain and manifest disclosings 
 As speak to me from ill-dissembling features 
 And voice unschooled to feign the thing that is not : 
 That thou couldst so have paltered with my love. 
 Hiding thy purpose under subtle seemings. 
 Did I not know thy crystal purity 
 Beyond the thought of question, I might deem 
 Th' intent dishonest, over which thou hold'st. 
 With so unskilful hand, a doubtful mask. 
 Enter Rhyn. 
 
 My master 
 
 Rhyn. 
 
 Exit Rhyn. 
 
 Brian. 
 Enid, alas ! I fear thou art 
 Upon the brink of a great precipice 
 So high, I dare not look to its perilous foot ; 
 The while, perforce, I wear these pitiless chains. 
 And hug this wall. I see impending fate 
 
122 Al the Court of King Edwin. [act iv. 
 
 Above thy head, but cannot reach my hand 
 To stay it. As the spirit of man, set free 
 By death, may hover over those dear ones 
 He fondly loves, but cannot help, so I 
 Look on the face of dire calamity 
 Approaching thee, without the power to shield ; 
 And see : it comes — 
 
 Enter Pellitus. 
 
 Pellitus. 
 Fair princess, give me pardon 
 If I must rudely cut the tender endings 
 Of fond farewells. I would not bid you part 
 Too hastily; but in the night's deep sleep. 
 As in the noisy day, swift hours move on ; 
 And soon loud-crowing cocks and baying dogs 
 Will waken early stirrers. If to-night 
 We break these chains, and set a captive free. 
 He soon must be astir, ere curious Day 
 Pulls off the cloak of much-concealing Night, 
 Beyond the outlook of this busy York. 
 
 Enid. 
 It needs but one last word, and we will part. 
 
 Brian. 
 Why must we part ? If you will render service, 
 
SCENE II.] At the Court of King Edzvin. 123 
 
 Do it not piecemeal. Pellitus, I thought 
 No power could stay the hatred of my heart 
 And peril of my hand from you; but, lo ! 
 I offer to quench both, so you will give 
 My sister freedom ; nay, I proffer friendship 
 And honored place, — whatever you may choose, 
 Less than the crown, — to buy your magic help 
 For my dear Gwynedd. 
 
 Pellitus. 
 Still you squander time, 
 Seeking to purchase what is like the time, 
 Not upon sale : so shut the chapman's pack. 
 
 Brian. 
 Thus may you be to Gwynedd's valiant king 
 What Merlin was to Arthur, and your name, 
 A glory and renown above all names ! 
 Honored with a brave people's love and reverence, 
 Your life be filled with fame ; and after death 
 The years bear on your glory, fadeless still, 
 And by undying legend made immortal. 
 
 Pellitus. 
 You offer payment with a generous hand, 
 Dipping it deeply into future years, 
 
124 ^i ^^^^ Court of King Edwiji. [act iv. 
 
 And scattering images of glittering shine 
 
 Before my eyes. These are not yours, rash youth, 
 
 To offer. What ! do you think to startle me 
 
 By novelty? Know, I have pondered well 
 
 Fame's promises, and, weighing carefully 
 
 The future, found it hath not anything — 
 
 Nay ! in its sum of all, not so much value 
 
 To buy this flitting instant of the present. 
 
 I do not choose to bargain for a name. 
 
 Brian. 
 What can I offer for my sister's ransom? 
 
 Pellitus. 
 
 Nothing to me ; your own is all the question 
 That brings us here. 
 
 Enid. 
 
 And I — can I say aught, 
 Proffer you aught, the price of present freedom ? 
 
 Pellitus. 
 
 Not now ; I give you here your brother's life; 
 Nor dare I venture more, for weighty reasons 
 Importing much to me. I, whom he sought 
 To slay, give him his life and liberty. 
 
SCENE II.] At t J ic Court of King Edwin. 125 
 
 Enid. 
 How shall I know my brother hath good speed 
 After our parting? 
 
 Pellitus. 
 Do you doubt me, lady? 
 Here are his keys \ myself would loose the chains, 
 But, knowing well your brother's rash intents, 
 Fear present freedom may induce to folly 
 His headstrong youth. While I attend you, princess, 
 My slave shall be his servant to unlock 
 These fetters, and conduct him where a steed, 
 Saddled and bitted, waits a rider's spur 
 To give him safety, as quick-growing miles 
 Leave death and danger conquered by his feet. 
 Is this well, princess? 
 
 Brian. 
 Nay ; it is not well — 
 I answer, Sir Magician, for the lady. 
 I will not blindly serve dark purposes, 
 Although they lead to present liberty. 
 I came, as you haye overheard, to take 
 Your life for harmful spells your magic wrought 
 Against my Gwynedd ; I have failed ; my life 
 Is fallen in your power; take it, magician. 
 I will have naught of you — naught but the thing 
 
1 26 At tlie Court of King Edivin. [act iv. 
 
 I came for; failing that, will not receive 
 Thus doubtfully from hands of an enemy 
 My life. The stake is lost ; take it, magician. 
 
 Pellitus. 
 As winning gamester, throwing for a chance 
 Of larger ventures, lets his smaller stake 
 Remain unclaimed, so value I the fortune 
 That makes me winner of your life, a thing 
 As valueless, 'twould seem, to you, as me. 
 
 Enid. 
 Brother, from me — take life a gift from me ! 
 
 Brian. 
 So it would come from him by second hand. 
 I marvel, sister, that you give him heed. 
 And sully honest thought with so ill .converse. 
 I should despise myself, a tainted thing. 
 Soiled by his giving, if I could content me 
 To owe him life. 
 
 Pellitus. 
 The chances of the world 
 Make life depend so often on those things 
 We would not choose to rest our lives upon 
 If we had choice, or power to govern chance, 
 
SCENE II.] At tJic Court of King Edivin. 127 
 
 That, if we so could gather soil from others, 
 
 All were, as Ethiops, black ; and nature, foul. 
 
 Is the white lily's purity defiled, 
 
 Or the rose-blossom's perfume made less fragrant, 
 
 Because decay lies fetid at their roots? 
 
 This is vain Folly's lightest, idlest humor. 
 
 Which giddy youth mistakes for nobleness. 
 
 I know not why I cross your mad caprice 
 
 To say that folly's folly — 'tis alike 
 
 To me if folly bid you live, or die. 
 
 Enid. 
 I ask thee, brother : Brian, live for me ; 
 Nor, for a fancied harm, abandon life 
 To meet harm's dread reality — so, flying 
 Disaster's painted counterfeit, thou fallest. 
 Scared by a threat, into the yawning gulf 
 Of true calamity. We may repent 
 Of a wrong choosing, and repair the fault. 
 If we have life; but he, who chooseth death. 
 Cuts off repentance and a second choice. 
 Thou smilest, as to say, " The death I choose 
 Is easy for me" ; if it be indeed. 
 Then art thou choosing what is easiest, 
 Leaving to me the hard and painful task ' 
 Of battling with the world. If I could look. 
 
128 At the Court of King Edzvin. [act iv. 
 
 As thou canst, with untroubled eye on death, 
 Untrembling see the doomful gate swing back, 
 Closing behind me with its dread '* Forever," 
 Then would we die together ; but I cannot. 
 Take not away my only hope of help, 
 Throwing thy life disdainfully away — 
 Why ! this is cowardice ; it is true courage 
 That bids a great heart bravely dare to live. 
 
 Brian. 
 Ah ! sister, wouldst thou see a Cymrian prince 
 Loosed from his chain to fly like frightened hound 
 With racket at his heels ? Brave help to thee 
 A fugitive could give. No ; I will die 
 Here like chained bear pining for native wilds, 
 Or baited to his death by snarling dogs. 
 Sister, no more ; thou shalt not buy my life. 
 
 Enid, tJwowing her a?'ms round Brian. 
 Brother, my tongue hath tempted thee with lies : 
 I dare to die ; I will not part from thee ; 
 I thought to buy a richer life with mine, 
 And willingly — yea, willingly ! O Brian, 
 Keep me beside thee ; I will gladly die ! 
 
 Pellitus. 
 Excuse me, lady, but this may not be ; 
 
SCENE II.] At tJie Court of King Edwin. 129 
 
 I brought you here, to save a brother's life, 
 And not to die. If he will not have life, 
 The fault lies not with me, but with himself. 
 I cannot gwQ a longer waiting : princess, 
 Speak your farewells, and speedily, I pray. 
 
 Enid. 
 I will not go with you. 
 
 Pellitus. 
 
 Are you both mad. 
 That thus you heap one folly on another. 
 Mock me with idle caprice, changing moods 
 Absurd as fancies of a petted infant? — 
 By Juno ! lady, do not tempt me further, 
 Lest I forget respect for Cymrian princess 
 In the behavior of a heedless girl — 
 You will not stir? Princess, I bid you come. 
 
 Brian to Enid. 
 
 Enid, what wilt thou do? 
 
 Enid. 
 I will not go. 
 
 Pellitus. 
 By wing-foot Mercury, a pair of fools, 
 9 
 
130 At the Court of King Edwin. [act iv. 
 
 That cannot see they have no power to say 
 " I will" or " I will not" ! In place of Parcse, 
 I hold your threads, to twist them, or to break, 
 As I may choose. 
 
 Brian. 
 
 A frowning, angry Fate — 
 Enid, they will not load thy arms with chains, 
 But there are shackles, as I fear, whose chafe 
 Will cut as deep. I cannot help thee — go ; 
 And good, kind spirits guard thee ; go. 
 
 Enid. 
 
 Pellitus. 
 
 No ! no ! 
 
 Ho! Rhyn! 
 
 Enter Rhyn. 
 Bring me the lady hither, Rhyn — 
 Stay not a moment ; bring her here, I say. 
 
 Rhyn endeavors to bring aivay Enid, who clings 
 to Brian. Pellitus drags her away by force. 
 So wilt thou tempt me, princess? yea, thy touch 
 Sends the quick blood like fire along my veins ! 
 
 Enid. 
 Loosen your hands ; I'll go back to the queen. 
 
SCENE II.] At tJie Court of King Edwin, 131 
 
 Pellitus. 
 
 Bend not upon me such an angry eye ; 
 Is this the promised favor? By the zone 
 Of Venus, I will have a kiss ! 
 
 Enid. 
 
 Help! help! 
 Enid draws a dagger, but, before she can use it^ 
 Pellitus takes it fro?n her, and throws it 
 aside; Khyn picks it tip. 
 
 Brian. 
 O mighty Ogma, burst these cruel chains ! 
 
 Pellitus. 
 
 Ho ! lady, wilt thou scratch ? I swear by Venus, 
 It were a fault to leave thy lips unkissed ! — 
 A fault to Venus and her cooing doves — 
 A fault to beauty and its dimpled loves — 
 
 Enid. 
 Help ! Brian, help ! 
 
 Rhyn stabs Pellitus ivith Enid's dagger ; the 
 77iagicia7i releases Y.^\V), and, drawing a sword, 
 turns towards Rhyn, hit falls. 
 
132 At the Court of King Edivin. [act iv. 
 
 Pellitus. 
 The slave— oh, folly ! folly !— 
 To hold the chances fairly in my hand, 
 And lose them thus ! 
 
 Rhyn. 
 Where are his demons now? 
 
 Pellitus. 
 
 The slave, a Cymrian ! — stupid, fatal folly 
 
 To overlook this chance ! but chance is fate, 
 
 And fate is sure to meet us face to face 
 
 At last — is this the last ? how dark it grows ! 
 
 Why have you quenched the torch P^blood — so much 
 
 blood ! 
 Can this be death ? and life so quickly creep 
 Out at a little gap? The dungeon sinks — • 
 O Death, thy mystery ! — mystery ! — no more — 
 
 Pellitus dies ; Rhyn takes his keys, and unlocks 
 Brian's chains. 
 
 Brian. 
 Brave Rhyn, a royal blow ! 
 
 The chains drop from him. 
 
 Faint, faint, my sister? 
 Nay ! let me chafe thy hands. 
 
SCENE II.] At the Court of King Ediuin. 133 
 
 Eiitcr King Penda 77iiiffled in a cloak ; Brian 
 seizes the sword of Pellitus. 
 
 Who art thou ? speak ! 
 
 Penda, throwing back his cloak. 
 A friend, Prince Brian. 
 
 Brian. 
 
 Penda, King of Mercia ! 
 
 Penda. 
 The Princess Enid ! — this is strange indeed ; — 
 And a dead body, dabbled in its blood ! 
 Takes the hands of Enid. 
 Dear princess, thou art deathly pale, and shake 
 As if with ague. 
 
 Enid. 
 
 'Tis with fear, my lord, 
 And foolish fancies. 
 
 Brian. 
 Marvel not ; this riddle 
 Is quickly shown; but first, what brings you here? 
 
 Penda. 
 King Edwin's guest, I learned of your mischance. 
 
134 Af ili^ Court of King Edwin. [act iv. 
 
 And, under cover of this cloak and night, 
 Came secretly. 
 
 Enid. 
 Pray take me hence ! I tremble, 
 And shudder yet with fear ; while Fancy whispers : 
 " The dead magician may return to life, 
 With bloody hand beckon a frightful demon 
 Out of the shadows that the torchlight flings 
 Against these walls" — see ! see ! he moves ! — 
 Take me away, I pray ! 
 
 Penda. 
 
 Pale trembler, come. 
 
 Brian. 
 He only moves, my sister, in thy fears ; 
 This Pellitus is harmless now ; his demons 
 Forsook him at the last — Ay, we will go ; 
 And I will tell thee, more at leisure, Penda, 
 The night's strange chances. 
 
 To Rhyn. 
 
 Come, my friend ; to thee 
 We owe much more than thanks. Exeunt. 
 
SCENE I.] At the Court of King Edwin. 135 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE L— THE GREAT HALL OF THE 
 PALACE. 
 
 The King and Queen ifi chairs of state ; beside the 
 King, Earl Blecca, Coifi, lords, and Golddin ; 
 beside the queen, the Princess Enid, ladies, Paulinus, 
 and priests. In front King Penda, Brian disguised 
 as a Mercian noble, Mercian lords, priests of Odin, 
 etc. At sides and back, guards and attendants. 0?i 
 one side an armed figure representiiig Odin; on the 
 other, a great crucifix held by a priest. 
 
 King. 
 King Penda, we have shown thee more at length 
 Our purpose in this council ; and once more 
 We ask thy voice and that of Mercia's lords 
 Upon the question ; freely give full speech ; 
 Let every Mercian help us with wise words 
 Fairly to weigh our purposed policy. 
 
 Penda. 
 O king, we better know the ways of war 
 
1 36 At the Court of King Edzuin. [act v. 
 
 Than peace, the use of arms than sounding words ; 
 
 Myself and fellow-soldiers are more skilled 
 
 To swing the axe than wield an argument ; 
 
 For we have oftener heard swift arrows sing, 
 
 And javelins clash upon our ringing shields, 
 
 Than these word-battles : nathless will we hear 
 
 The wise opinions of your counsellors, 
 
 And give our own rude thoughts in ruder words ; 
 
 But, ere these larger purposes appear, 
 
 I ask again, great king, in modest guise, 
 
 My suit, the ransom of the Cymrian princess. 
 
 King. 
 We would desire, and grant thee, larger asking 
 With a glad heart, free hand ; nor scant thy worth 
 In word or deed. Unasked, we proffered thee 
 Greater alliance than a Cymrian princess ; 
 But so you name a thing beyond our reach 
 Unless we will revoke our kingly word. 
 And take again what we have freely given. 
 Which must not be; for kingly majesty 
 Shows kingliest when honor lights its acts, 
 And justice shines, the jewel of its crown. 
 
 Penda. 
 I turn from such stern judgment to the queen. 
 
SCENE I.] At the Court of King Edzvin. 137 
 
 And place my cause before her gentler court ; 
 If rough the advocate, not so the suit : 
 Must passionate pleading yield to cold decrees ? 
 Fair queen, reverse the judgment of the king. 
 
 King. 
 We are content the queen shall give an answer ; 
 Our sentence is not wrought of arrogant will. 
 But through its woven web shine golden threads 
 Of bright amenities. 
 
 Penda. 
 Must Mercia supplicate in vain, fair queen. 
 Your tenderness? Raise up a humble suitor. 
 And make his hopes as bright as your fair face. 
 
 Queen. 
 We thank King Penda for his offered tribute, 
 But florid compliment wins not his cause ; 
 For in my heart, as in the wise opinion 
 Of my lord's court, religion sits enthroned 
 In highest seat. Love lasteth for a day. 
 The soul forever. Kneel before the cross. 
 And you shall win yourself an advocate 
 More loudly voiced than are a hundred loves ; 
 But ask me not to give our captive princess 
 Into a pagan's keepirtg. 
 
138 At the Court of King Edzvin. [act v. 
 
 Penda. 
 
 Queen of Deira, 
 I cannot sell the ancient faith of kings 
 To buy my princess. Once you gave the keeping 
 Of a sweet princess to a pagan's hands; 
 And, lo ! the gift will prove a means to bring 
 The pagan to the cross. 
 
 Queen. 
 
 So might it prove 
 With you if wedded to a Christian wife ; 
 But not when both are pagan. Giving Enid 
 A Christian husband, gives therewith the hope 
 Of one day coming to her husband's faith. 
 
 Penda. 
 And my appeal hath failed ? 
 
 King. 
 
 Take wiser thought. 
 And ask a larger thing. 
 
 Penda. 
 
 What thing is nearest 
 The heart seems greatest, as an outstretched hand 
 May hide a mountain : I will have no other ; 
 Refuse me this, and you refuse me all. 
 
SCENE I.] At tJic Court of King Edzvin. 139 
 
 Mercian Lord. 
 Great king, our Mercia puts her claim for service, 
 Done in your wars, into King Penda's hands; 
 Denying him, your nay will coldly strike 
 The hearts that warmly beat with loyal zeal. 
 
 King. 
 Our nay is given. A royal pledge must stand 
 Against all murmurs. Let Mercia ask a thing 
 Honor may nobly give, and our great giving 
 Will show how rich we prize its loyal hearts. 
 
 Rising. 
 My lords, the present purpose of this council 
 Hath been set forth, and many well-weighed reasons 
 Beforetime given. For these recited reasons, — 
 Wherein the virtuous precepts of our queen, 
 And fair example, with the patient teaching 
 Of her most reverend bishop, have great place, — 
 And for a certain sign, directly shown 
 In a strange vision, from my heart I cast 
 The old religion of the ^sir gods. 
 But while I feel great hands of Supreme Power 
 Pushing Bor's children from their old-time thrones 
 Within my heart, yet do I challenge Awe 
 And this new Potency with anxious question. 
 We hold in royal hands a people's weal ; 
 
140 At tJie Court of King Edzvin. [act v. 
 
 And may not change, as doth a fickle mind 
 
 With a new thought, unless such change will bring 
 
 Our people good. So have I studied well — 
 
 As careful pilot looks on shore and sea, 
 
 On flying clouds that tell- how move the winds, 
 
 On the strained mast that bends with each wild blast — 
 
 The fortunes of my land. The lips of Odin 
 
 Breathe war in every legend of the past, 
 
 And tell the future glory of Valhalla 
 
 Filled with resounding arms. Must war prevail 
 
 Perpetual? and these valleys and green hills 
 
 Be but the camps of armies? No; my thought 
 
 Looks forward with the forecast of the seer. 
 
 And welcomes Peace, a goddess of bright hopes, 
 
 In place of blood-stained Freya — valleys, hills, 
 
 Melodious with the lowing of fat kine, 
 
 Fair towns, rich cities, built by port and stream. 
 
 And, yellow in gay meadows, waving corn. 
 
 This cannot Odin bring ; the clash of arms 
 
 Makes barren fields, and towns and hamlets burn 
 
 Upon the track of War. You know me well : 
 
 I am no coward, trembling at the flash 
 
 Of gleaming steel, that thus I find a thing 
 
 Better than war. From the rough northern hills 
 
 Beyond the Tweed, where roam wild, native tribes, 
 
 Down to the Cornwall coast, my sword hath won 
 
SCENE I.] At tJic Court of King Edwin. 141 
 
 A sovereignty; I now would sheathe its edge, 
 And cherish, not destroy. When long ago, 
 A homeless boy, I dwelt at Cadvan's court, 
 And later, when the murderous Ethelfrith 
 Hunted me forth as dogs drive out a wolf 
 From shelter of his den, my mind would dream 
 Of a glad time, far off in future years, 
 When, lord of this wide land, I might lay down 
 My victor sword, and bid sweet Peace arise 
 To spread enchantments as the sun pours light 
 Brightly upon broad realms. That hour is come ; 
 Cast down the warring Odin, and seek Peace 
 With me beneath the shadow of the cross. 
 
 Queen. 
 Sweeter than sunshine doth that shadow fall, 
 And the glad earth, marked by the holy sign. 
 Smiles with delight ; the little grass-blades smile, 
 And lovely flowerets wear more delicate tints, 
 Kissed by the shadow of the crucifix. 
 
 To Paulinus. 
 Stand forth, my holy father, and declare 
 Unto these lords the mission of our Christ. 
 
 Paulinus. 
 O king and lords, the throne of the Most High 
 
142 At the Co2irt of King Edivin. [act v. 
 
 Is set above the great blue vault that domes 
 
 The wide-spread earth : where with a shining host 
 
 Of angels, seraphs, cherubim, dwells He, 
 
 The Lord of all. Creator of the world. 
 
 Man is His creature, with a bodily form 
 
 Shaped by His hand, a consciousness of soul 
 
 Fashioned in faint resemblance of His own — 
 
 Man is His creature, by His boundless love 
 
 Encircled as a green and lovely island 
 
 Is held in fond embrace of the caressing sea. 
 
 But man knew not this love ; his feeble sight 
 
 Turned upward, lost in azure depths of space, 
 
 Reached not the throne of Heaven ; but in the gleam 
 
 Of sunshine, light of stars, the glimmering sheen 
 
 Of ocean, breath of meadows rich with perfume, 
 
 Murmur of insects, smiles of hill-sides 
 
 Glad with harvest, merry songs of birds. 
 
 Tumult of tempests, impress of haunting dreams, 
 
 Chances of war, disease, shipwreck, and death, 
 
 He felt the power that mocked his reach of sight. 
 
 Then artist Fancy fashioned curious myths. 
 
 The progeny of legendary wonders 
 
 Descended from the past ; and in their hands 
 
 Placed the great sceptre of the God of Heaven. 
 
 But He, above, looked down with pitying eye 
 
 On man's rude fancies and absurd beliefs; 
 
SCENE I.] At iJie Court of King Edivin. 143 
 
 As He had given His creature being, now 
 
 He gave a richer gift, the light of Truth. 
 
 Descending from His throne, in human shape 
 
 He came to be man's teacher, and His theme — 
 
 Whispered beforetime by the voice of nature. 
 
 But to deaf ears — was His unbounded love. 
 
 To seal that love, and bridge the abysm of space 
 
 Between His throne and earth with human sympathy, 
 
 He took upon Him man's infirmities. 
 
 And gave His body in sharp agony 
 
 To perish on the cross. Behold the sign ! 
 
 Points to the crucifix. 
 What better token of a love divine? 
 What purer teaching than a scheme of love? 
 See ! from His cross, this God looks down on you; 
 O turn from worship of your cruel Odin 
 To the sweet face of Christ, the crucified ! 
 
 Queen, pointing to Odifi's statue. 
 See how dark Odin frowns with angry brow. 
 
 Turns to the c?'ucifix. 
 While love beams forth from Christ's angelic face ! 
 
 Penda. 
 If pitiful Love ruled in the hearts of men, 
 Your god should sit o'er all ; but tell me, queen, 
 
144 -^^ t^^^ Court of King Edwin. [act v. 
 
 When we have cast aside our warlike arms 
 Who shall protect us from the northern tribes, 
 Or from our viking cousins, o'er the seas, 
 Who know not this high sovereignty of Love, 
 But put great faith in Odin, god of battles? 
 
 Paulinus. 
 
 When foes assail, upon the breast of Peace 
 Hanging War's panoply, ye may go forth 
 And conquer in the name of blessed Peace. 
 
 Penda. 
 
 If it be name alone, and you can change 
 Your white Christ to a warrior, let us try 
 To teach our Odin how to be a saint. 
 And keep our ancient faith. . 
 
 King. 
 
 No saint of Odin 
 Can come of teaching. Odin is only war, 
 A breathing of the spirit of savagery 
 Born of the stormy North. Gay Lord of Lincoln, 
 Tell us : the life of man, must Odin rule it? 
 Or may we govern our brief staying-here 
 And going-hence by this new creed of love? 
 
SCENE I.] At the Court of King Echvin. 145 
 
 Blecca. 
 O king, this life of man is a strange marvel. 
 Amid the whirl of days that bear us on 
 Tiirough ruined years, events leap up, and cry, 
 *' Lo, this is life !" but while we listen each 
 Wild cry grows faint, and dies. We seek to look 
 Beyond the present, peer with curious eyes 
 Among vast shadows; but, beholding naught, 
 Ponder on pictures of an endless time 
 Stretching — we know not where. From such huge 
 
 shapes 
 Turning bewildered, we come back again 
 To our to-day, nor less bewildered, ask, 
 ''What is this life?" — O king, it is a scene 
 In your great hall at the mid-winter feast — 
 From a heaped pile of burning logs the flame 
 Roars in the chimney ; cheered by genial warmth 
 Sit king and queen, your thegns and ealdormen ; 
 Here there is light and heat, but out-of-doors 
 The fierce storm raves, and whirled by howling winds 
 The snow drives wildly to the snow-piled earth. 
 Lo ! through the door — opened by careless groom 
 To note if winds abate — flies in a bird, 
 A waif of nature, homeless in the storm. 
 With frightened wing it circles round the hall, 
 But quick is gone again into the night 
 
146 At the Court of Ki7ig Edzvin. [act v. 
 
 Through the rent casement's gap — gone into night, 
 
 And seen no more. This sparrow is man's life. 
 
 While it is here it feels not freezing winds 
 
 Dash storm and darkness on its weary breast ; 
 
 The blazing fire is flashing in its eyes, 
 
 And warmth and comfort rather mock its flight 
 
 Than mark its stay, while fear and destiny 
 
 Hurry it forth into the stormy night 
 
 Where it is lost. We saw it here, a thing 
 
 Little to us ; but, to its own scared heart, 
 
 A mystery of greatness. Whence it came. 
 
 Or whither gone, we scarcely may conjecture ; 
 
 Out of the black, tempestuous night it came. 
 
 And back returned ; a moment fluttering here. 
 
 And then no more. Though doubtless ere it came 
 
 It had a history, and afterward 
 
 A fate accomplished in the howling night. 
 
 Yet what they were, we know not. This is life; 
 
 And we, such night-lost birds. 
 
 Queen. 
 Poor bird ! poor life ! — so it is pitiful. 
 
 Blecca. 
 Tell me, O priests, if you have heard it whispered 
 By rigid lips of great ones in some hour 
 
SCENE I.] At the Court of King Edwin. 147 
 
 When they have broken through accustomed silence 
 
 To prattle with you as companions talk, 
 
 Or as the wise give lessons to green youth ; 
 
 Or if 'tis written in your sacred runes; 
 
 Or lives, the moral of some ancient legend ; 
 
 Or muttered down from priestly lip to lip : 
 
 Where hath my soul been wandering ere this life? 
 
 Or whither flies it when death's winter night 
 
 Shall hide it from your eyes? — Odin tells not; 
 
 Nor, as I fear, your Christ can answer this, 
 
 Save in vague pictures, unrealities, 
 
 That dimly show an unsubstantial seeming. 
 
 If all beyond this life be but a blank, 
 
 If forward, backward, both ways end in night, 
 
 To me be given the laugher's merry creed, 
 
 And let me flutter my gay wings in light. 
 
 And shun the tempest, and avoid the night. 
 
 If I must choose or War, or gentle Peace, 
 
 A frown, or smile, I rather choose the smile; 
 
 Count me a convert to the god of Peace. 
 
 Queen. 
 Ah ! Lord of Lincoln, in my dreams to-night 
 I shall behold gigantic shadows chase 
 Thy night-lost bird, fluttering on failing wings, 
 Into a black and shunless destiny. 
 
148 At the Court of King Edzvin. [act v. 
 
 Paulinus, pointing to the crucifix. 
 Here is a refuge in the heart of Love 
 From storm, and night, and death. 
 
 King. 
 
 Wise Lord of Lincohi, 
 Beneath thy painted mask of poetry 
 And skilful picturing of words appears 
 Question too great for our philosophy : 
 The ceaseless wash of nature's waves, the years, 
 Laves with uprising crests our solvent lives. 
 With sinking ebb bears off a part of us 
 Lito the sea of time. Afar that sea 
 Looks smooth as summer lake, more near in storm 
 It breaks on man, a billowy dash of spray 
 And so wild tumult of mad agonies, 
 That death is rest and haven from its rage ; 
 But storm or rest, a constant menstruum 
 Of human life — that life, for briefness, like 
 The fleeting moments a spent swimmer keeps 
 His head above the vast and pitiless flood : 
 Then shall we see, in death, a hand of Love 
 Stretched upward mid the boiling waves to save ? 
 Or some huge kraken that ail-hungrily 
 Sucks us adown to its insatiate maw ? 
 
SCENE I.] At the Court of King Edivin. 149 
 
 Penda. 
 A nobler picture, if so brief be life, 
 A javelin's flight : it sings along the air 
 From Odin's hand, and, crashing through shield-rim, 
 Dies there, blood-drunken; to be caught anon 
 Out of pierced shield, and wing again its flight. 
 But, to my mind, this life hath space enough 
 For largest honors : if my hap to fill it 
 AVith glory such as Crida greatly won. 
 Then glory shall assume enduring shape 
 Like lordly palace builded to the skies. 
 Speaking from lips of sculptured blazonings 
 Valor's great acts ; its shining pinnacles 
 Neighboring the stars ; its fame enduring ever 
 While love of glory stirs in hearts of men. 
 Nay, it is idle prattle of life's shortness ; 
 Life is too long if filled with idleness; 
 Quite long enough for Valor's high renown 
 And thoughts and acts that live renewed in breath 
 Of minstrelsy, immortal in a song. 
 Lo ! in the hall, the hungry feast is over. 
 And kitchen-knaves bear off the empty platters, 
 While warriors loosen belts, and cry aloud, 
 To fill the horn, and send it gaily round. 
 Then while bright drops are sparkling in each beard 
 The king calls up his minstrel, bidding him 
 
150 At the Court of King Echvin. [act v. 
 
 Pour forth the soul of glory on the flood of song. 
 
 Now while he sweeps his harp, all bend intent 
 
 To catch sweet notes ; but when in swelling tones 
 
 He sings of glory, lo ! the warriors rise, 
 
 Push back huge benches ; from bright baldrics pull 
 
 Their great swords out, and while the torchlight flickers 
 
 On flashing blades, shont till the oaken roof 
 
 Sends back, each rib reverberate with din, 
 
 A great response to glory. Life is short? 
 
 Nay, it is great and deathless when it lives 
 
 On minstrel lips, thus summoned back again 
 
 From hollow vase, sea-cave, rich, marble tomb. 
 
 Or the rough cairn that marks a hero's grave — 
 
 Ay, deathless through all fortunes save the chance 
 
 Of glory's death in man's degenerate heart. 
 
 What is the tame existence of dull years 
 
 Though stretched by magic through unending time. 
 
 Crawling from bed to food, from food to bed, 
 
 Compared to life eternal in the breath 
 
 Of song? 
 
 Queen. 
 So would you drown each gentler note. 
 That Peace may sing of sweet affection's joys, 
 In drums of battle. Pray, most warlike king, 
 Why do you seek a queen? a carven thing 
 Cut of white ivory, and crowned with gold. 
 
SCENE I.] At tJie Court of King Eihvin. 151 
 
 Would fill your chair of state. O, set not there 
 A woman of warm heart, to feel that heart 
 Crushed in such iron keeping, if you know 
 No dearer yearning than a victor's hope, 
 No fonder thrill than comes of glory's song 1 
 
 Penda. 
 My picture hangs with others on the wall ; 
 What time hath frightened bird, or a spent swimmer, 
 To dream of love? Turn your reproachful eyes, 
 Fair queen, on him of Lincoln and the king ; 
 Perhaps my heart hath pulse of love as great 
 As either. These are only pictures, lady, 
 And mine no more reality than theirs. 
 
 Coin. 
 I see not why we trifle thus with pictures 
 When great realities come face to face 
 With idle fancies, pushing these shadows forth 
 Out of our hearts. Too long have worshipped pictures 
 Held our obedience. Look, how Odin stands. 
 Picture of might ! If he were might indeed, — 
 Not hollow seeming, empty, shining armor 
 Set up in fashion of an armored man, — 
 Would he not leap from marble pedestal 
 To smite our sacrilege ? I long have served 
 
152 At the Court of King Edzvin. [act v. 
 
 This idle god; liave set before his face 
 
 The fairest things ; upon his altars burned 
 
 Gifts of great price ; the blood of slaughtered captives 
 
 Poured at his feet : but yet he stood as now, 
 
 Only a picture ; and the power, I dreamed 
 
 Shut up in his mailed bosom, never once 
 
 Gave me a sign ; yet still I served, and worshipped, 
 
 Until the light of this new faith shone down, 
 
 And day dawned in my soul. Then I beheld, 
 
 In place of deity, an empty figure, 
 
 A shell of form and nothingness within, — 
 
 Nor like a shrivelled acorn with a germ 
 
 Of future life, — while prayerful at its feet 
 
 Knelt many nations offering sacrifice, 
 
 Burning rich gifts, and shedding human blood. 
 
 This sight, so strange, awakened my contempt ; 
 
 I laughed at it, and, filled with scornful ire. 
 
 Snatched the great lance-shaft from his nerveless hand, 
 
 And beat his helmet till the roof-tree rung 
 
 With noisy clatter, and the dinted brass 
 
 Bent with my blows. O lords, is this a thing 
 
 To worship, this dull god that may be beaten 
 
 Like any drunken slave ? 
 
 Penda. 
 
 Blaspheming dog ! 
 
SCENE I.] Af the Court of King Edivin. 153 
 
 Doth the round moon heed every snarling cur 
 That yelps at his great disk ? 
 
 A Priest of Odin. 
 
 Hear me, O king ! 
 Nor deem great Odin's sleep, the sleep of death : 
 Worn with long vigils, at his mighty foot 
 I slumbered ; waked to hear an awful voice, 
 Deep as the thunder, — while blue lightning played 
 About his helmet, — bid me bring his shield, 
 The sculptured stone a hundred men in vain 
 Might strive to move ; I marvelled, but obeyed ; 
 And when I touched the ponderous block, it stirred 
 As light as gossamer, that there I hung it 
 On the left arm of Odin ; then he cried, 
 *' Sleep on," and at his word I fell asleep; 
 But when I waked, looked upward tremblingly 
 Where on the arm of Odin still there hung 
 The carven stone — Then I cried out; at which 
 It fell with frightful sound as'if the wind 
 Split into tatters an enormous sail ; 
 And I beheld tlie marvellous shield roll back 
 To where I took it up ; and many heard 
 The great stone fall, came hastily, and saw 
 The form of Odin shake, blue tongues of fire 
 
154 At the Co7irt of King Edwin. [act v. 
 
 Still flaming round his helmet, while I lay 
 In terror at his feet. 
 
 CoiFi. 
 
 A stupid dream ! — 
 This god is moveless, voiceless, powerless. 
 Behold, I wage my arm against his might ! 
 Give me an axe, and I will smite this image ; 
 If it be not the senseless thing I say. 
 Let it smite back ; but if I cast it down. 
 And stand unharmed, I have dethroned the god. 
 
 King. 
 Give him an axe. 
 
 One of the sohiiers of the king's guard gives an 
 axe to CoiFi, who advances to the statue of 
 Odin. 
 
 COIFI. 
 
 So fall the ^sir gods ! 
 'IFI raises the axe to strike. 
 
 Penda. 
 So Odin strikes ! 
 
 Penda, with a sword-thrust, kills Coifi, who 
 falls at the feet of the statue of Odin. 
 
 King. 
 O traitor ! — Ho ! my guard ! 
 
SCENE I.] Al the Court of King Echvin. 155 
 
 The lords of Deira draw their siuords, and, 
 ivith the king' s guard, press forward ; the 
 Mercian lords close about their king with 
 drawn swords; tvhile King Edwin advances 
 in front of Penda. Brian leads Enid among 
 the Mercians. 
 
 Penda. 
 
 Here at your feet, O Christian king, I cast 
 
 My vassalage. Set up your cross of Peace 
 
 In Deira; Mercia knows no gods save those 
 
 Our fathers worshipped — "Traitor," do you say? 
 
 Nay, I am true unto my ancient faith. 
 
 And will not serve a traitor. There lies one 
 
 {^Pointing to the body of Coin.) 
 Whose purchased hand presumed to soil his god 
 With its vile touch — one, you would make a king 
 For treachery ; he was unkingly ever. 
 And past your kingly power to crown him now. 
 
 King. 
 Thy head shall lie as low ! 
 
 Penda. 
 
 Then shall these halls 
 Be red with slaughter. I have filled your court 
 With Mercians, and will cut a bloody track 
 
156 At the Court of King Edwin. [act v. 
 
 Back to my land. I ask nor peace, nor war ; 
 But stand prepared alike for either chance. 
 
 King. 
 A monstrous rebel ! 
 
 Queen. 
 Dear my lord, I pray thee, 
 Turn not thy court to a wild battle-field ; 
 Because I am no warrior, swords affright me ; 
 Let the fierce Penda and his Mercians go. 
 
 King. 
 Let it be so. 
 
 To King Penda. 
 We give thee safely forth 
 To Mercia; there full well defend thyself; 
 For, by yon crucifix, we swear to plant 
 The cross in every village of thy land ! 
 
 Penda. 
 Red will the soil of Mercia grow, O king,- 
 About your plants. I take this offered truce ; 
 And for the Princess Enid, who will go 
 With me to Mercia, will return the price 
 Of a king's ransom. 
 
 King. 
 Nay, we give her thee. 
 
SCENE I.] At the Court of King Edzvin. 157 
 
 All ransomless, in payment of past service ; 
 
 We would not owe an enemy so much 
 
 As is thy due ; and thus we cancel it. 
 
 So, having paid old scores, we now may feel 
 
 The only debt we owe is present due 
 
 Of bold rebellion. Go; the path is clear 
 
 That leads to Mercia. 
 
 Penda. 
 
 Mercia, by my hand, 
 
 Now breaks her chains ; no recreant to the gods 
 
 Shall claim her service. For this courtesy. 
 
 Your gift of Gwynedd's princess, 'tis set down 
 
 As a new debt to courtesy ; all debts else 
 
 Cancelled, my country oweth naught but this. 
 
 Now, King of Deira, Penda, King of Mercia, 
 
 No more a vassal, giveth his farewells. 
 
 He gaily bids you to his wedding feast, 
 
 You and your court — a welcome unto all ; 
 
 Or choosing rather war, come with your hosts. 
 
 And still he promises a kingly welcome. 
 
 Exeunt. 
 
 THE END. 
 

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