mlTSLAMS ALFRED. A PATEIOTIC PLAY, MARTIN F. TUPPER, Author of " Proverbial Philosophy" &c. PRINTED, NOT PUBLISHED. WitBtmindtx : PRINTED BY T. BRETTELL, RUPERT STREET, HAYMARKET. 205449 J 13 PERSONS. King Alfred. Elswitha, his Queen. Bertha, his Sister. Edward and Ethelward, Boy Princes. Guthrom, the Danish Viking. Ethelnoth, Headman of Somersets. Hereward, Headman of Wilts. Wulf, a boorish Celtic Neatherd. Egga, his old vixen Wife. Sidroc, a Danish Jarl. The Chief Skald. English Lords. A Gaoler. Danish and British Soldiers, &c. Scenes laid in Wilts and Somersets : at Chippenham, Ethandune, Athelney, and Glastonbury. Dresses, Arms, Standards, Appointments, and Architecture of the Period. Incidents, chiefly historical. Time of Action a few days : including the 23rd of March, 878 : the victory of Ethandune having been gained on Easter Day in that year. The Overture to be exclusively English and national music : to commence with wailing Welsh or old British tunes, then to swell into marches and military Bardism, — thereafter to change gradually into other recognised national airs ; a well wrought cento of tunes, including (for example) " The Bay of Biscay," " Rule Britannia," and so forth, ending with " God save the Queen." The like music between the Acts. A C T I. SCENE I. A desolate heath near Chippenham Castle, — the wind sighing, and the roar of battle in the distance : a long pause: then a rout of flying English and pursuing Danes in the back of t lie stage ; with afterwards a wounded white horse, royally caparisoned, and ride) less, galloping across. After this a lull: and then hurriedly from opposite points, back and front, Ethelnoth and Herewakd run in, with mace and sword, bloody. Hereward (eagerly), Where's the King ? — where's the King ? — Ethelnoth. Alas ! alas ! I much do fear me dead : his milkwhite charger, Ever the very focus of the fight, Fell with him o'er a heap of dead and dying, And, madden'd by the arrows, broke away Leaving the King afoot. I saw him stand Surrounded by a jackal pack of Danes, The very lion at bay ; they crowded on, But still he slew and slew, heaps upon heaps ; I strove to reach him, but could not get nigh ; For, wielding his red mace like Thor himself Stoutly he cleft a narrow bloody lane Eight through their opposite host, — and then, as if Fell'd by some coward caitiffs from behind, I lost his gold-sphered head ! Hereward. Woe worth the day ! With Alfred's death, what hope for England's life ? Ethelnoth (desponding iy). What hope : — for Alfred is the soul of England Of free, brave, honourable, religious England, — That doth with an indomitable will What Duty hath determined shall be done : And, with him dead, alas, for England dead ! Seeing the days are evil, and her sons Through mammon-worship and the selfishness Of peace and quietness at any price Are thus degenerate from old country love. Why, friend, — our magnates, baser than their names, To save their rank, and still upon the poor To trample with a rich man's cruel heel, All, save our gallant few in Somerset, Have covertly gone over to the Dane, Worship his Kaven, call this Guthrom king, And in their quaking crafty avarice Pretending peace with all men, brotherhood, And universal love, — that poppy milk Of poisoned human kindness, — have deserted Alfred to fight for England all alone ! Hereward. Alone ? — nay, Ethelnoth, — for some stand with him. Ethelnoth. We will not boast ourselves, good Hereward, But of the nobler and the richer sort All else have been corrupted by the Dane, Flattered, — or frightened at his pirate fist Clutching their moneybags, — thus to stand back And leave our English Alfred all alone ! Hereward. Alone ? — yet are there millions with the King : O Sir, the country's heart, the country's strength, Her thews and muscles all are with the King. — The People are for England and the King, — And God with us, — then say not thou alone ! Ethelnoth. My noble friend, forgive, — and Heaven forgive That false and feeble word of fear, alone : O wise and good rebuke !— my vision clears, — Alone ? I see so many now with us, All that is honest, earnest, brave in England, And God Himself on our side for the right, That none but perishable evil things Would seem to be against us. Yet, ah ! dread Unspeakable, ruin past repair, If English Alfred with his battleaxe Hath hewed him out only a grave, — [Wulf the neatherd runs in, ridiculously frightened . — Stand back ! — Speak, sirrah, — leave thy gaping. Wulf. Mighty captains, How went the battle down in Wilts ? which won, Saxon or Dane ? there's plenty o' both about, Axemen and pikemen, sword and mace and bowmen, I'm so afeard at all o' them, — which side won ? Hereward. Art thou for Alfred, churl ? WULF. Nay, mighty captain, Art thou for Alfred ? I'm — for — you, great captains, — Is then the Saxon or the Dane my lord ? Ethelnoth. Alfred is ]ord and king above thee, churl. Wulf. Just what yon archer told me, — to the word : A wounded dusty relic of the fight Now biding at my hovel : when I asked Which side had won, and who was lord and king, — He quoth, quoth he, — Ethelnoth. Stop, sirrah : lead us straight To see this archer ; he may bring perchance Some tidings of the king : we'll to thy hovel. [they go out. SCENE II. The neatherd's hut. Egg a, the housewife, comes in, and busies herself about kneading dough, going first up to Alfred, who, disguised as an archer, mends his broken bow beside a hearth. Egga {angrily). Nay now, young man, but I heard thee amouthing and araving and tongue- clappering lustily ; and all about England's woes forsooth ! Why, yell scare my fowls : and there's the old grey hen asitting on thirteen eggs to hatch come Woden's-day : a plague on thy thriftless clamouring ! Alfred, {looking up, and feeling the point of an arrow.) Dame, I will hold my peace. 9 Egg a. Ay, and it's pity too there's anything else abroad : why can't we all bide at peace, and hatch our chickens quietly, I should like to know. A plague on that quarrelsome king of ourn, says I ! Why can't he be peaceably disposed with these brave newcomers, — but fights and wars with the worthy gentlemen, to the ruination of all our crops ? A plague on the great king Alfred, says I, — and I only wish I had 'un here to tell 'un what I thought of 'un. Alfred. What ill could you say of him, Dame ? Egga. Ill ? O, a plenty, a plenty : who but he hinders us all from biding contentedly under any other outlandish king that wills to come and rule us ? Who but he exasperates your wealthy voyagers from Daneland, (rich gentlefolk hung about with links o' gold too,) driving them to burn down our homesteads and haply roast us inside, when they come to pay us a neighbourly visit, and find Alfred's England so little willing to be hospitable ? Who but this glory-craving king of our's, with his royal rights and revenues, his gracious grandeurs, that only signify a narrowhearted selfish Alfred. No, Dame ! he fights not for his single self But for his People, — for their liberties, Their laws, religion, — Egga, Stop you there, religion quotha ! What's your new fangled monk-worship to compare with grand old Thor and Woden, and Asgard and the Asen and the Valhal and Valkyrior, I'd like to know ? Ay, ay, young man, — the Skalds ha' taught us enough, and well enough, I wot. 10 Our old country gods be more terrible than your relics. And — as for laws and liberties, — Saturn save us from them both, and let us hatch our eggs peaceably. There now, mind thou well yon batch o' cakes, young man, and turn 'em on the hearth when they're a-browning : and I must go water the cattle, and feed the pigs awhile. [she goes out. Alfred, {alone, — rises slowly, and speaks mournfully .) Heaven grant me patience ! Can they sink so low And still be counted men and Englishmen, — That liberties are nothing, good laws nothing, Religion nothing, — so they may keep peace And hatch in shame and sin their golden eggs ! 0, this is bitterness : my noble people, With those false magnates leading them astray, Their true king lost, — my sheep without a shepherd, Infected with this rot of canting love To welcoming the wolves within their sheepfold ! It hath been something to have lost this day, And dared the scoff of craven by my flight : Yet did I dare it — even this — for England ! And I have hidden those my royal robes Hastily in the thicket, where I found One of my noble archers lying dead, — And so I borrowed these old gearn of his To clothe withal my shamed majesty. Yet, — all for such ! — if such can be true sample, — A nation like this boor and his old shrew, Who heed their crops but not the Mother-land, Loving their country less than they love cattle, Despising their great birthright liberty Ready to sell it for a mess of pottage, Scorning the grace of equitable laws, Scoffing in misbelief at true religion, 11 And for invaders leaving their fall'n king,— 0, this is bitterness ! — But no, no, no ! My People, England, — thou art not as these, — My generous noble dear devoted People ! Had there been only weapons in your hands True- as the hands that should have wielded them, These fierce sea-robbers never had set foot Upon our sacred shore, — or, once flung there As jetsam in a storm, had never found A grave beyond the beach ! Enter Egga /row behind. How now ? — what, amouthing again ! How's the man- chets ? — Whew — they're cinders ! — why, thou poor harlotry play-actor, be this thy way o' winning bread ? to burn the manchets, and all for a spell o : speech-making ? — Out on thee, thriftless ! [she offers to strike him. [enter Ethelnoth and Hereward with the neat/ierd. WULF. Here, this way, mighty captains, here's our archer, Ethelnoth. king, blessed hour ! Here ward. England's darling ! [they kneel: Egga, bustling up and peering at them all curiously. Egga. How ? be'st thou the king, — the great, the glorious, the good king Alfred ? Nay, nay, but we'll build thee up a throne ; hither, goodman, the bolster and the pillows ! (ye're an earl or an ealderman at the least, fool !) quick, fool, quick with the pillows. 12 Alfred [mournfully). Is any left with you to call me king ? Have any more of English blood escaped The murderous onset of the Dane ? Ethelnoth. O king ! We love thee, England loves thee, and thy name Is as a tower of strength : for God and thee All England lives ! Alfred. Yet, — have they not made peace, A shameful peace with this invading Dane ? Hereward. Only the rich and noble, for estates. Alfred. Headman ! the commons with this deadly taint Of loving peace instead of righteousness Are touched ; I know it, feel it bitterly. Ethelnoth {with warmth). It is another race, another blood Of alien feeling arid an adverse faith. Old England's heart is evermore with thee Her king, her best of kings, her longtime Darling ; We are for Alfred : but there is a folk That antedates the coming of our good And heeds of even thee as new and strange, Hating and plotting, though they cringe like serfs; Let such dream on. For England and for thee Are we, and (Heaven forgive us !) all good men, The generous common-people, honest hearts, The true, the sturdy, the keensighted class That midway judges England, and commands All higher and all lower to love Alfred ! 13 Alfred. Amen ! for God, and Alfred, God's poor servant : I will, He willing, live and dare and die For only England : but, my patriot friends, What sign is there of such a loyal spirit When not alone the lords fall to this Dane, But ev'n the commons he a trifle touched For merchandize and hatching of their eggs, What sign of hope, if thus the nation leans Against their liberties and laws and me ? Ethelnoth {vehemently). They hang on thee, great Alfred ! Never yet (And for a thousand years shall this be true,) Have Englishmen or England striven against The strong incline their Alfred sloped for them ! Thou hast invented Liberty for England ; Thou hast forged Law : thy veriest fantasies Have stood religious doctrines for all England : The twelve wellsworn that judge of life and death, The schoolread bishop, and the parish-priest, The unbribed judge, the prisoner's advocate, Lieutenants, sheriffs, bailiffs, constables, The coroners for innocence or crime, The watchers on the highway, and the wards Who feed the poor by largesse of the rich All are of Alfred : yea, and more than so, — Our armies levied by thy providence, — Our navies, that do sentinel the ports And guard (with angels in their tops) against Invading foemen, — these are all of Alfred! O King, we never can forget our Alfred ! Alfred (devoutly). To Heaven the praise, where praise is justly due. 14 And thanks to you, friends, for this timely comfort. Believe me, never shall despair of England Weaken this arm, or paralyse this heart Or cloud the brow of God's anointed. Listen ; {in a low voice) [Wulf and Egga have been whispering together, and are creeping out. We must hie hence at speed: yon Celtic serf Discerning his advantage in our need (Look how he mutters with his mate) forthwith Will sell us to the Dane,™ Ethelnoth. My dagger's point [drawing a dagger. Frees thee, and us, from danger ! Alfred {solemnly). Ethelnoth ! I do rebuke thee for that thought of shame; Put up thy murderous sting, and let them live. To slay our open enemies afield HotbJooded for the right in self-defence Seemeth necessity, though sore and sad : But thus to steal a march on Providence (That willeth only good and through good means) By sheer assassination in cold blood For selfish safety, is — with God, a crime, With men, an utter folly, Ethelnoth. No : we must hence at once, and secretly: My diadem and mace and royal cloak, Oerdic's own mace, and Egbert's diadem, We first, with backward step (to spoil the scent) Must straight reclaim from yonder tangled thicket; Thence, doubling on our track, to — Follow me. 15 Ethelnoth. Lead on, good King, we live to follow thee ! End of Act I. [The music between this Act and the Second may include the old English airs of " From merciless invaders," and " The brave men of Kent," dc. with perhaps the modern one of" Hard Times, come again no ?nore."] ACT II. SCENE I. The outer room of a cottage in the fortified marsh of Athelney. Alfred's harp hanging up ; and a time-candle on the mantel of a hearth, near which is a settle-like table and stools. Edward and Ethelward, the boyprinces, are making a toyboat, with a little bow and arrows near them and a paper kite, dec. : sordidly dressed, as in distress, and looking hungry : playing not for pleasure but for employment : perhaps one reading a missal, or writing on a board. Bertha discovered comforting Queen Elswitha, who is crying over a little curly headed S-y 'ear -old daughter : and a large mastiff in the room. Bertha. Dear heart, take comfort; hope for brighter days The likelier to dawn upon us now For this long night of sorrows, — nay, my Queen, My sister, do not weep so. Elswitha {sobbing violently). — For the children My Alfred's darlings, England's royal stock, 17 Mated with poverty, pale, hungerbitten, Bertha, Bertha ! Bertha. He will soon come back, — And bring back happiness and plenty with him ; He hath but gone a little while and way To get (and Heaven is kind) a little food, — And he had hope to meet some score of friends Some brave and worthy men of Somerset Who have got clue to us at Athelney : Cheer up, dear Sister-Queen, — Elswitha {listening intently). Hark ! that's his step, 1 know my Alfred's step among a thousand ! [she runs to meet him at the door, which is central. Alfred. How are the children, wife ? — what, crying eyes? Nay but I come to kiss the tears away : Love, — have no fears — for He who fed the ravens Careth for us, — lo now, wife, wine and bread ! A noble friend hath spared us from his need (A noble friend in own extremity Yet did I make him eat and drink himself) Hath spared me — (it was for the children's sake And yours', dear wife and sister) — bread and wine : Look, this half loaf and flask, — Thanks be to God ! Here, Edward, eat my boy, — drink, Ethelward, Take some, dear wife, dear sister, — Elswitha. Not until Thy precious lips have blest the precious food : Alfred, not I, but England bids thee take 18 All that her widowed poverty hath left To feast her King withal ! Alfred. One morsel, wife, For England's dearest sake and thine, — one drop. Now, feast, my darlings ! Nay — it was our bargain. And, Edward, hither ! hither, Ethel ward, — Come to the better bread, for starved in knowledge A man, an Englishman, is starved indeed : Come, pretty ones ; — see, I have found some nuts, A squirrel's hoard in an old hazel-stem, To share between my lads for doing well Their reading and their writing : — hither, boys. [he teaches them at the table : Elswitha and Bertha come to him with the bread and wine. Elswitha. Now, dearest Alfred, eat. Bertha. Come, king and brother, A little wine, for thou art very faint. Alfred. Well, an ye will, my treasures : [he eats and drinks a little. A knocking at the closed door startles them all. Bertha runs to see before Alfred has prevented her. Hark ! who knocks ? Stop, sister ! — the brave and venturous girl ! Bertha, (throwing the door open, and discovering a whiteheaded and picturesque old man.) It seems a poor old beggar, very old And very poor, and famishing, he says, 19 And praying in the holy name of Christ A bit of bread. Alfred. Here, sister, give him this. [Alfred gives Bertha the remainder loaf and flask. Elswitha {running up). What, this, this — husband ? all, our little all ? Think of the children and to-morrow, — this ? Why, this is all we trust to for to-morrow ! Alfred {looking upward). Wife, — for to-morrow I have trusted God ! He is our Help tomorrow as to-day ; And if to-day doth bring a duty close, We must fulfil it, trusting for the morrow. Here, my poor gaffer, eat, — nay, eat it — drink. [gradually, as he speaks, the backscene changes, and to Alfred's mute astonishment {no one else seeing anything of this, — for Bertha and Elswitha are taken up by watching Alfred's enhancement, and the boys are happy over their nuts and toys, &c.) " the Vision" comes, with distant supernatural music, shewing the old man changed into the Guardian Spirit of England blessing Alfred, but nothing said : only music. As it fades away, and the cottage wall comes back again, — Alfred {in an awed whisper). Is this a dream ? wife, O sister, speak ! Tell me, my boys ; who saw it, — and who heard ? Elswitha {earnestly embracing him). Husband, sweet Alfred, do not look so wild, — This is some feverish ecstasy of hunger 20 Such as St. Simeon and those eremites Took to be gleams of heaven. Eat, love, eat I Bertha, {runs to the door for the food, and in astonishment calls out,) O sister, what a miracle ! look, brother, The loaf is whole, the pitcher is abrim ! Alfred {slowly). Elijah, — David ! I do see in this Your God and mine ; I, the anointed King And Prophet of my people, take of Him The blessed food his mercy giveth me. [he eats and drinks, — as also do the children and Bertha and Elswitha, and they give pieces to the dog. Then Elswitha speaks. Elswitha. Dear husband, rest awhile, for thou art wearied And hast the eyes of one who seeth visions : Eest thee, and go to sleep, love. \a child cries within. There's the babe Calling me : Bertha, bring the boys away, [in a low voice. And let him sleep : — nay, thou canst leave the hound : Dear Gael, most faithful friend ! — there, lie thee down! To be our Alfred's royal bodyguard. [they go to the inner room at side door : and as Alfred is just reclined on a rude couch of skins, Ethelnoth and Hereward run in at centre door. He starts up. Ethelnoth. Good news, O King ! Five hundred at our backs, Noble, though lowly, patriot Englishmen, Armed as they best could make or muster weapons 21 But sturdily resolved to play the men Have found thee out with us. Alfred. How didst thou find me ? We missed each other suddenly and strangely, Hunted and well-nigh taken : since that hour Hither escaped where I had stowed my treasures, I have lain close, for many foes are nigh. Lain close, and well-nigh starved : how did'st thou find me ? Ethelnoth. One that hath lately (and we found him dying) Shared his last loaf with England, seeing us And knowing us to stand for thee and thine, Told me — (it was his blessed thought at death) That he had saved the King ! he would not tell Alfred himself that he discovered him Lest that the King should seek elsewhere for safety ; For well the good man trusted, under God, This labyrinthine quagmired Athelney As Alfred's surest refuge : so he stayed, And never told the King that he was known. Alfred. A gentleman, a glorious Englishman ! Heaven give him rest, — didst thou not say he died ? But, but that passes. {with enthusiasm. England and five hundred ! Gideon had fewer men at Meroval ! — Is the foe near, the Dane ? Here ward. At Ethandune ; With scores, alas, of England's false great lords Playing the courtiers to King Guthrom there. 22 Alfred. How many seem the foe ? stand they prepared ? Hereward. I wot not : it were easy for the birds To oversee their strength, but beyond hope For us that creep afoot. Alfred {after a pause of thought). I am resolved. — Ethelnoth, rest thou here with Hereward, And those five hundred, — how are they provisioned ? Ethelnoth. Well : for we drove in herds of cattle with us. Alfred {earnestly). Non nobis, Domine ! — yes, Ethelnoth To know aright the blessedness of plenty A man must once have felt how hunger gnaws. Eor those five hundred, thank them heartily And bless them from their King : guard well my Queen, Guard the dear children, England's royal Princes ; And I the while will see and guage this Dane. Ethelnoth {falling on one knee). King, be sparing of that precious life In which all England lives, and with thee dies : 1 know thy countless courage ; well I know That thou against ten thousand would'st advance Alone, and in thy spirit battle down Their myriad host, — yet is the body something, This wretched, hungry, weak and crushable body, — O King, trust not to that. [Bertha comes in unseen and quietly through the side door. Alfred {raising him kindly). I trust in God : 23 And, under Him, in Mind, and in my Right. Hearken, good Ethelnoth : I have some skill In harping and our national melodies : And, with disguise, (this is no lie, but wisdom) [he takes down his harp. I will search out this Dane in his own camp, Will there discern his powers, judge my false lords Whose love of peace — the craven hypocrites ! — Hath betrayed England, — and will know the time When my five hundred shall recover England ! Hereward. A great good thought, and worthy of our King. For us, depend ; nothing in earth or hell, While one of us is living, shall do harm, Shall not do good, to Cerdic's royal stock : [Bertha retires. The Queen, the Princes, and the Crown are safe. Go then, great Alfred ! go, without a care And test the Dane : all blessing on thee there. [they all go out through the central door. — Scene SCENE II. The inner room : a humble nursery, Elswitha rocking a cradle. Bertha runs in. Bertha. He's gone ! — I wot not whither ; took his harp And spake of some disguise. Elswitha. Gone ? left us, sister ? 24 Bertha. In charge of yonder gallant gentlemen, — And he is gone alone to seek the Dane. Els with a. O brave, rash, noble deed ! — nay, let me go, I'll follow him, and guard him with my prayers His ministering angel under Heav'n, — Some ill might else befal, — Bertha. And leave the children ? Elswitha. Ah, sister ! when a mother and a wife Hath to elect between her little ones And him who made them hers, marvel thou not If in the wrestling anguish of her soul She choose her husband ! — Bertha, — let me go, — - Bertha. I, I will go : see here, I have my cloak, — And look, the baby is awake and wants thee ! Elswitha. My precious ! — Bertha, — nay, thou shalt not go, — Ah me, — my very heart is torn in twain ! Stay with the children ! Bertha. But the babe, dear sister, — Think of its asking mouth, its little face Pining with hunger, if thou wert away ; The path is perilous, and may be long, And those marauders — [she runs off. Elswitha {calling after her.) Sister — stay ! — Brave girl, 25 She's gone or e'er I was aware ; heaven, Shield her, and him, and these ! My precious babe, Dear Alfred's fairest, last, and best-beloved, — \_she sobs broken-heartedly over the cradle, and the Act ends. {The music between this Act and the Third, may include hints of the tunes, "Home, sweet home," and " There's a good time coming" dec.) ACT III, SCENE I. A wood. Enter Alfred in a brown cowled habit, with a white beard, and his harp. A good Welch harper close behind the scene must play to his pantomime. Some Danish outposts come along, and he pleases them with his martial bardic tunes, such as " Men of Harlech," and the like. After a tune or two he addresses them, in an old man's voice — Alfred. Is this the track to Guthrom's camp, good folk ? [one offers to take his harp, dec. Nay, friend, I've nought for pillage but this harp ; If thou canst play upon it, take it, — or My skill shall go along with it and thee, — Haply thy fellows there may like my songs. [he plags spiritedly to their great admiration, they crowd round him, and one of them cries out — Ay, bring him on to the camp ; come along, old bones. [they all follow, leaving the scene empty. Bertha comes in timidly. Bertha. I heard his harp : I'm sure it was his harp. 27 what a dreary place for evil beasts And evil men to lurk in, — God protect me ! [more marauders come in, meeting her tu- multuously : she, battling down fear, courageously addresses their gruff black- bearded chief. Bertha. Sir, did a harper pass thee ? Sidroc. Surely, pretty one ; — They've ta'en him with his harping to the camp : Curse all these fellows, — had I been alone — Bertha. Wilt take me thither too ? I sing with him. Sidroc. Ay, ay, come on with me. [the others crowd round, he eyes them savagely ; and they jeer him, saying — What ? all for one ? Ha ! ha ! No, Sidroc ! we are coming too ! Bertha {cheerfully). Thanks ! I can sing you many pretty songs, — One now, friends, if ye list, [she sings, to the tune of Codiad yr haul, or " the rising Sun," a well-known old British bardism, Corydon, Corydon, whither away ? Come along, come along, list to my lay, I can sing merrily Happily, cherrily I can sing merrily night and day ! Glad goes innocent cheerfulness, Walking unharm'd amid perils and tearfulness, 28 Steadily onward, in spite of its fearfulness, Trusting in Heaven as well she may ! [the rough Danes are enchanted, and raising her in triumph on their locked shields, four of them, they shout, A prize for the Viking himself, and worth a gold bracelet to every man of us ! [and so they carry her off admiringly and exult- ingly ; Sidroc following, looking Hack, SCENE II. A splendid perspective scene of the Banish encampment, with all characteristic appointments : in the distance is heard Alfred's harp, and acclamations. The Viking's magnificent pavilion at side, full of renegade English lords, Danish chiefs, and Guthrom throned in the midst. After a pause, the Danish marauders of last scene bring in Bertha on their shields in tumultuous joy, shouting — A prize for the Viking ! A goddess for the Viking ! Beautiful as Freja ! melodious as Iduna ! Guthrom {to Bertha, as she is set down at his footstool by the kneeling Da?ies.) If any one of these hath harmed thee, maiden, Speak fearlessly. Bertha. Not one, my lord, not one. Guthrom {to a Danish official), Chancellor, give them largesse handsomely. [he gives them each a gilt armlet, which they wear proudly. Now, maiden, canst thou sing some country song, To cheer and soothe us after all this fighting ? 29 Bertha, {hearing Alfred's harp, while he approaches midway up the scene). There is a harper yon ; I sing with him. Voices. The harper, the harper ! take him to the Viking. \they recognise each other, and sing together before the lords and Guthrom : tune, Codiad Yr Hedydd, "the rising of the lark:" Bertha sings to the harp music, Cease, cease, thou warlike stranger ! From thy red career of danger Best, Viking, rest ! My unhappy fatherland, thou loved and blighted shore, May kind Heaven s gracious hand Pour upon us peace once more, Son of Odin, let thy brand Soon be wreathed with olives o'er, — Best, Viking, rest ! [Guthrom looks and listens delightedly, as en- chanted by her beauty and singing : mean- while, it being full noon, a grand procession of skalds and priests with hideous blood- stained idols and the sacred Raven banner winds up the camp to Guthrom's tent : where with prostrations he offers incense to the Raven and other idols ; he then turns to Alfred and Bertha. Guthrom. Harper and maid, — a hymn, and bow the knee. Alfred. We may not kneel before thy gods, O Viking ; Ours is another faith, and thy great mind 30 Tolerant, as true greatness ever is, Will have respect to conscience : we dare not. Chief Skald. Dare not ? yet dare to disobey the Viking ? Kneel, or ye die. Alfred. Then will we die, not kneel. [Guthrom looks round at the English lords and whispers with them : the chief Skald approaches with a hieroglyphical scroll : he reads Chief Scald. The sentence in the Edda is distinct ; That men who will not worship Hilda's Eaven Be torn asunder by wild horses ; women, That they be burnt alive. Guthrom. Now, maid and harper, How answer ye to this ? Can your god save you ? Bertha. He can, He will ! we worship only Him. [to the tune of Ar hyd y nos, Bertha sings, Not to those thine idols gory Bend we the knee ; Only unto God the glory Thus render we ! Unto Him the whole creation Brings from every tribe and nation Glad and ceaseless adoration, Praised be HE ! [Guthrom is entranced more and more, but an English lord beside him says, The brainless fanatics, — why can't they kneel ? 31 Guthrom {turning on him fiercely,) Thou recreant to thy country and thy creed ! Be silent in these holy presences : I honour this young maiden, this old man, For honouring their god. Yet must they die For thinking scorn of our's. Maid, canst thou bear The fierce flame gnawing at thy living flesh A writhe in that terrific agony, And all to please some — let us say some god Like Hilda's Raven ? — Would I had such faith. Alfred. Viking, the God we serve created all things, He is the glorious Spirit of all worlds, Made thee, and me, and feedeth men and ravens ; We worship our Creator and our Judge. Guthrom {alarmed), Our Judge ?— Will the Creator be our Judge ? Alfred. All that is done on earth in thought or deed Riseth again for judgment: evil then Is doomed to endless dying, endless hate ; Good lives the life of everlasting love. Guthrom {musingly), These words are new, and of strange force. But, maiden, Canst thou endure the fire on this fair flesh, Thy body's utter anguish ? Ay, and first Endure like anguish of the feeling heart To see thy grandsire there torn by wild horses, Rather than bend the knee one easy minute ? Bertha. The pain is terrible I know, my lord ; And yet more terrible to see another 32 In extreme torment • yet, I will not kneel. [the priests and Skalds crowd round and lay hold of them: then suddenly and deter- minedly, as convinced after a struggle, Guthrom. Release them, Skalds and Priests ! — they shall not die : A constancy like this must have its root In a true faith : I will not tempt their god. Give them safe conduct through the lines. [Alfred and Bertha how to Guthrom, whose eye follows them with interest, as they are honourably escorted up the camp by the armletted party of Banes. The idol pro- cession goes away at side hurriedly and angrily ; then Guthrom. Who's here ? [Wulf the neatherd is dragged before the presence as a spy. Wulf. Ay, bring me to the king, I say : nay now, don't buffet me, mates : I'm no spy, but an honest true Briton, wishing well to everybody ; like those noble gentry yonder who are all for peace and good King Guthrom. He's the strongest now, so he's my king. Guthrom. Why this disturbance, fellow ? what's your errand ? [Wulf drops ridiculously on his knees, dumb- foundered, Guthrom. Speak, Sirrah ! — not this pantomime. Wulf. I can't. — 33 I had a speech o' my tongue, but I've forgot it, — I, I, — yes ! I'll tell you where he is, — He's hiding in my hovel handy to us, Or was there twelve hours back ; only my wife Thinking to get here first and clutch the gold (A thousand links — a thousand links, they tell me !) Lock'd me i'th' cowhouse, till I well nigh starved,- — — here she comes to tell us all about it. Guthrom. What means this dull buffoon ? who's in his hovel ? WULF. King Alfred ! — I, I — crave your royal pardon, Alfred, not king : — at least he should be there. [Egga, the neatherd's wife, is pulled in by the Danish soldiers. Egga. There now, adone, adone ! why the camp followers ha'been tumbling me about all night and morning, and I couldn't get anigh your great royalty to tell you sooner ; but its true, — he's a brownquilted archer and burnt my manchets. Guthrom. Go with this beldame, some of you, and search : Bring Alfred back, — they shall have golden links ; But, if he have escaped through their contentions, They shall be hung, — their links will then be iron. [Egga is hurried out : Wulf remains in custody, looking ridiculously miserable ; meanwhile Guthrom. The fugitive must then be near us still ; I hoped him slain; but among all those thousands Narrowly as we searched, he was not found. So, seeing our camp, after this victory c 34 Is safe and fearless without one foe nigh, Captain, — proclaim a general holiday, That all our soldiers search the country round (Saving our royal body-guard alone) And so take two days license foraging. [great huzzaing in the camp, an ovation to Guthrom, and the Third Act ends.) (The interlude music to include Ci Hark, hark, the lark at heavens gate sings," and " Hearts of oak," dc.) ACT IV. SCENE I. The earthworks outside the royal hovel in the marshes of Athelney : ivith sentinels, and Ethelnoth with Hereward looking out : a sentinel, in the distance, calmly says, — I see a harper coming, — and a girl. Ethelnoth (with fervour) , Thank heaven ! it is the King ! Hereward (calling at the cottage window), Safe, safe ! the King ! [Queen Elswitha and the Children run out, and all are eagerly crotcding to the distant parapet, looking out, and waving hands ; the Queen kneeling, and looking up grate- fully. After a pause, Alfred mounts over the parapet, where hejlings off his disguise, and lays down his harp, — Bertha behind him. Alfred (exultingly) . Now give me my five hundred ! [the boys run up to him. Father ! 36 [and the Queen still on her knees. My husband ! [a touching tableau, Alfred in the midst : he looks up, and then affectionately round on all, and then speaks, tenderly. My wife, — my little ones, — my noble friends ! {they shout ) God save the King ! Ethelnoth {on one knee). thou art greater now, More glorious far, in this dark time of trial, Than even when on Ashdune's crimson field Thou stood st a conqueror crown'd ! Alfred. Hearken, my friends, — Good Providence, or He whose name that is, Hath sped me on my way; — and Bertha too, Brave sister, daring that most hideous risk, — Bertha. How gladly did I stand beside thee, brother; And, but that I had gone, Elswitha here Had even left the babe for love of thee ! Alfred. Dear wife ! Oh what a happy, tender name, When those who bear that name are such as thou ! Obedient, gentle, loving, sensible, — But, — Ethelnoth ! My soldiers ! Hereward ! This night, my Ethelnoth, this happy night, — Hereward, speak, — are my five hundred sure ? Hereward. All staunch and true ; men that have burning wrongs And pine to quench them, with inveterate hate, 37 Like hissing torches in the blood of foes, — Men that love thee and England, — Alfred. I could wish To hear the love of England and her King Set far before a craving for revenge, — But this may pass, good Hereward ; rny five hundred, Let them be ready at sunset, armed, provisioned, (They drove in cattle with them, I remember,) And, somewhile after midnight, from the Dane Secure, and scattered in the villages, As taking license after victory, We, creeping through the woodlands, will regain At Ethandune what Chippenham had lost. Take this, Friend ; [he gives to Hereward the Alfred jewel. Wear it as a badge of honour : Take this too, Ethelnoth ; — [he gives him a ring. Let it be an heirloom. Would I were richer to reward your zeal, — And soon I shall be, friends, and will remember. Bid my five hundred eat their fill, and sleep ; See to their weapons ; and anon will I Speak with them each, and thank them : now, away ! [they and the sentinels go out, leaving Alfred's family alone. Alfred. Queen, — since that sacred meal, the unbroken loaf, The empty pitcher marvellously abrim, And that bright vision seen of none but me, I have stood strong in hope, a hope assured That this right-hand shall yet recover England ! 38 To-night I take no leave of thee, dear love. Though I am off at sunset to the Dane, — For in the morning thou shall set the crown On my victorious head at Ethandune. One kiss : — and now to gladden my five hundred! [they all go out. — Scene changes. SCENE II. A narrow strip of country : enter stragglingly from loth sides a multitude of the English, variously armed, as to a rendezvous and bivouac ; they lie down in picturesque groups and talk and eat together : then one speaks to his mates. First Soldier. Ay, if our great ones only trusted England And weren't so jealous of us, so suspicious, We had been round five-hundred- thousand good And not this poor five hundred. Second. We're enow ! King Alfred well may reckon for a million. Third. Nay, hut it's bitter grief and burning shame They held us back, and would not let muster, And kept the arsenals close,. — when willing hands Good able hands with stout hearts at their root, — Had swept off clean this seascum of invaders ! First Soldier. Our great ones (how unlike the King himself, — He wears a heart !) are all too grand, too cold, 39 Too wrapt in phrases and in courtesies, Too hand-in -hand with other foreign great ones, Too deep in pleasures, or in politics, To feel for England's wrongs, or fear her peril. They muster troops, — we paying for their levy, — All to protect themselves, and tread us down ; And lest our indignation should break loose Against their shameful truckling to the foe They snub our patriot zeal, keep us disarmed, And give us over to the wolf like sheep ! But look, — the King ! \_they get up quickly and range themselves : Alfred enters, armed, with Ethelnoth and Here ward. Alfred. God bless you, my five hundred ! I come to thank you in His name, and England's ! I come to lead you on to certain victory, To help you win your rights, and quench your wrongs, Conquering Liberty once more for England ! friends, O countrymen, my band of heroes, "We now go forth, prepared and resolute men, Assured of one thing, — we must, — we will conquer ! (they shout) We will, we will, God save the good King Alfred ! Alfred. Yet, mark me : all must steadily obey, Each at his post. Ethelnoth, — Hereward, — That these my brave intelligent Englishmen May work our plan, they all must comprehend it : Confidence in my people is my generalship. Listen, good men ; more gladly then obey. The Dane, some eight miles off, at Ethan dime, 40 Bevels in gluttonous security, And all is heedless license in the camp. The full moon rises two hours after midnight And in the dead of dark, their drunken sleep, We will surround, surprise, and overwhelm them. Hereward, tell our men by fifties off, Ten companies : ye know your country, mates, — Voices. Ay, ay, every track and byeway : every inch of it. Alfred. In single file wind through the devious woods, Avoiding villages, — and flanked by scouts. Each company, elect its separate leader, To follow and obey him, and keep silence. Now, Ethelnoth, take first your chosen fifty, Sweep widely to the north, and reach the camp Eastward! y just at midnight. Hereward, Take thou an opposite track through the morass, And just at midnight touch the camp full south. These other fifties, each at interval, Close north and west and every point between : And I, standing here last, will be there first To attack the nearest foe. Thus well arrived By steady combination silently, — Let all be hushed in eager readiness, Until ye hear my bugle ; then with shouts " Alfred and England," fly upon the foe ! [the bands march out, and as the last company is filing off they stop, — while Alfred prays, standing, O God of Christian England, hear her King : Spare, spare thy People, thine inheritance : ; ■ 41 Let not the heathen have his wicked will, — But help the righteous cause. Amen. Amen. [and so they go out ; and the scene slowly changes, all the stage being dark. SCENE III. Midnight : the camp of the Danes, all asleep at their posts after a debauch of wine : the balefires nearly out, and all dark; suddenly a sleeping Dane starts up, and calls to his comrades beside him. Askytal ! Hubha ! Why it was a dream — Is any wine left i' th' beaker ? — I 've been dreaming, And woke in a foolish fright : — give us the wine, — I dreamt that Alfred and his men were on us ! HUBBA. Coward ! to wake us up, — what if they were ? There, drain it, fool, — and off to sleep again. [slowly, through the darkness, from the back and sides, steal in Alfred and his Captains and their companies, quietly guard every tent and sleeping man, and especially sur- round Guthrom's tent, and the Lords and Jar Is lying about in different attitudes of sottish sleep, with beakers and flagons, dc. beside them. Then Alfred pulls aside Guthrom's tent- curtain, —a light hanging within shewing him asleep on a couch, — and suddenly blows an alarm on his bugle ! Instantly they raise the warshout, — " Alfred and England ;" there is everywhere con- 42 fusion, separate battles, all being over- powered, a picturesque military tableau, — and Alfred master of the position: he speaks. Alfred. Guthrom, — give order that they drop their weapons : We will not spare one man in arms against us, Nor slaughter the defenceless ! Drop that mace. Guthrom {unwillingly, and folding his arms). I yield me. — Captain of my bodyguard, — What, lying in drunken slumber ? Hew him down ! Thanks, Sidroc ! Lo, — great Alfred, we are thine. [they throw down their weapons in a heap. Alfred. Now, Viking, quick with us ; the morning dawns, I have a tryste to keep before 'tis day : Come on. For you, — you base English lords, — How despicable ! — bind them fast with chains, These Danish fetters handy, suitable, — Ethelnoth, see not one of them escapes : Hereward, — make our other prisoners sure : We will deal justice with the rising sun, Justice and Mercy. On, to Ethandune ! \as the moon rises over the empty camp, they all go out, leaving a bright picturesque desolation of weapons and beakers, and moonlit deserted pavilions, and so closes Act IV. {Interlude music to be suggestive of" Come if you dare," " The land, boys, we live in" or "See the conquering hero comes" dec.) AC T V. SCENE I. A dungeon, and Guthrom fettered, GUTHROM. Alone ! with crimes and conscience left alone ! And those Berserkir demons of remorse Hunting me like a pack of famished wolves, — And Death upon the threshold, — watching there Cold and deliberate with his serpent eyes, — Not as when in the glorious battle shock Exultingly I've dared him to the face, And on the torrent of my boiling blood Whiii'd him aside with scorn, — but waiting here Gaunt, grisly, dreadful : — and then, after death, What said that harper, Judgment ? — endless woe For evil ? — I am evil. [a long pause, while he paces about despairingly, and then clasps on high his fettered hands, Great Judge, Unknown, and angered by the thousand crimes Memory sees, a crowd of haunting ghosts, Fearful, inevitable, — Great Judge Forgive, if yet Thou canst, forgive, forgive ! [the rough Dane burst into a paroxysm of tears. 44 What, tears ! — Can Guthrom, this bloodthirsty Viking The scourge of nations, be a child again ? Ah me ! for once he was a little child Innocent, happy, — but the guilty man Hath never wept till now these thirty years : to be like that little child again ! [he paces about despairingly. Would I could have yon maiden's martyr-faith ! Not all the heroes of our whole Valhalla Had half the courage of that noble girl : She feared not death, sure of some better life, Nor shrunk from pain, — the speechless pain of fire — Because her wondrous god would quench the flame With rivers of supernal joy and peace. O faith, light, — when can ye come to me ? [he sits down, and covers his face with his hands. Enter the Gaoler. Gaoler. Prisoner, I'm come to knock your fetters off. Guthrom {resolutely). 'Tis well : unmanacled I march to death. Gaoler. The King is close at hand, and cometh hither, And none but traitors may be chained before him. [he knocks them off, Guthrom {musingly). And this is noble too : this generous Alfred, This type — (I do repent) — of generous England, Spared me, even me the ruthless brigand- chief, Spared, when he might have killed me in my sleep, And, now that I must die by law and right, 45 Comes like a man for equal speech with me. I'll meet him like a king — whom I have wronged. [Alfred in royal costume comes in alone, — the gaoler going away at a sign : Guthrom falls at his feet, Guthrom. I do not kneel to ask my life of thee, Great, injured, noble Alfred ! let me die At once, and cruelly, as I deserve : But I am bold to ask a higher boon, — Before I die, O King,— to be forgiven ! {suddenly enter Bertha, the gaoler preceding, and guards following. Guthrom exclaims in astonishment, The maid I the martyr-maid ! — Wast thou the harper ? Alfred. Yes, Guthrom : and we come to thank thee here, For that thy noble nature, under Heaven, Saved us so bravely in our utmost need ; Viking, I give thee life, and set thee free, — Kise, Guthrom ! Guthrom {quite overcome). Let me kneel ! Thy glorious creed That makes a man and woman more than gods O teach me, teach me ! It were life indeed To live, and be like Alfred ! Alfred (raising him kindly). Come with us, — For we will do thee good. Set forward, guards. [they all go out : and the scene changes. 46 SCENE II. A narrow strip of a wood. Enter slowly and ruefully Wulf and Egga. WULF. Why, I'm all over weals and bruises, old 'ooman. Egga. Well, an't that better than hanging ? I'm sure I never thought they'd ha' let us off so lightly. Ugh, — but they've battered me too, and it's worse to bear than the rheumatics. Howsomdever, it's a comfort to think one isn't hung. Wulf. Ha, — there's a twinge, — bide a bit, won't ye ? — I can't budge quicker than this : wheew ! but how my back aches : and I don't know which foot to put before the other ! 0, how those heavy little whips did cut round, to be sure : why, I'm ringed and spotted all over my body like a snake : Ha, — that we'd never meddled with that archer,- — Ugh — Egga. But it's a comfort too, to think they didn't hang us, and so, goodman, — [they slowly creep out. The scene changes. SCENE III. The terrace- slip of a garden with flowers. Enter the Princess Bertha, gathering a nosegay and conversing with Guthrom, ivho is splendidly apparelled, hut not as hitherto in his war costume. Guthrom. And thou hast given me life, as from the dead, For hope is life, — this wonderful new hope 47 That even I, Heaven's bitterest enemy. The fierce destroyer of this beautiful world, The very curse of men — can be forgiven ! What thanks, what thanks to pay thee ? — \]ie kneels. Bertha {raising him). Not to me, — Rise, gentle brother, (for thy new-born faith Giveth thee that new name,) kneel not to me, But worship only Him whose name is Love, Whose nature Mercy. Guthrom {earnestlij). Yet will I thank thee too, — And, if I may not worship, let me wonder Whether an angel can be good as thou Or half so loveable ! Bertha. O noble sir, I am myself but a young Christian maid, And cannot teach thee as another might, Arguing doubts, disputing controversies, There be some holy men, our learned bishops — Guthrom. Save me from holy men, and learned bishops ! Save me from doubts, disputes, and controversy ! I am all faith ! what could another give me Thou hast not giv'n ? my heart is lit at thine, My spirit is in bliss when thou art nigh, Thou only be my teacher! — thou alone Art unto me the beauty of holiness, Thou art the better angel of my life, And from thy blessed lips — Forgive me, Princess ! {suddenly checking himself. 48 My traitorous tongue hath overta'en my heart, I spake but as a little child might speak In all the artless utterance of affection, I am not what I was, — forgive me, Princess ! [she gives him a Jiower, smiles on him and walks away, he following admiringly. Guthrom. Ah, — might I dare to love thee ?— sweet, sweet rose. [he kisses the Jiower : and goes off — Scene changes. SCENE IV. A narrow passage scene : these scenes serving to give time and space for the splendid elaboration of the last: a number of the English and Danish commonalty and soldiers pass along and talk together : among them Sidroc and theFLRST and Second Soldier of Scene 2, in Act LV. First Soldier {addressing Sidroc). I suppose we are all bound alike toward Glastonbury, stranger ? Sidroc (gloomily and surlily). Ay, ay — I take it we be ; though it's pity and shame to some of us. When Eegnar Lodbrok hears o' this at Asgard, how 'twill ruffle the old seaking'"s spirit ! A Viking of Daneland to cast off his country's gods ! Second Soldier. I should n't like it any better than yourself, good way- farer, — if they were gods at all, — and if in casting off his old skin, Guthrom didn't find a better under it. He's as changed a man, folks tell me, — as a butterfly might be from a caterpillar : quite tame and kindly like, in lieu of the bloody pirate. 49 SlDROC. None o' your hard names, stranger : however, I'm dumb, for all you've got the mastery again, and it's no good arguefying. Let's on to Glastonbury together, and see the show. First Soldier. It's like to be a rare one. The Princess Bertha, with our good King Alfred himself, they say, will answer for the Viking at the font, and he's to drop his ugly Danish name for a better. Sidroc {gruffly). None of your hard Second Soldier. It '11 be a rare show any how : come along. {the scene changes. LAST SCENE. The interior of Glastonbury Abbey, very splendid: just after Guthrom has been baptized by the name of Athelstan. A magnificent spectacle, with Alfred, Elswitha, and all the court on one side, several being 'pardoned E?iglish lords and Danish Jar Is ; and on the other Guthrom habited in white and silver, with Bertha near him and others grouped about the Archbishop. Crowds of Banes and English, as in amicable union of the two nations, their flags and emblems mixed. After a pause, Alfred in royal robes speaks from the throne. Alfred. This blessed chrism, brother Athelstan, (Eor thy new nature claimeth a new name That Guthrom may forget his former self,) H ath made the^-consecrate henceforth to Heaven, D 50 A worshipper of Him who made the worlds : Live as will best become that holy state. And, for I know how well she loves her convert * Even as thou rejoicest in her teaching, That our dear sister Bertha still may teach thee, We give her to thee, Athelstan, to wife. [he joins their hands, the Archbishop blessing. Guthrom-Athelstan (with astonished delight.) Gift beyond price ! bright and blessed day ! Thou wondrous harper, that hast thrilled my heart, Touch'd with rare skill its every trembling string, Tuned all its discords to melodious love, And made me all athrob with ecstasy, — And thou, so beauteous, — yet more good than beauteous, More loved than either, — my high noon of bliss, Princess, great King, — what shall I say ? My evil is so overcome of good And all my happiest hope more than fulfill'd 1 scarce can think it other than a dream, — All new and strange, yet all so gladly true ! Praises to God, — and to his servant Alfred, And sweetest thanks to thee, most dear, most noble, — My martyr ! — I will be confessor now And stand the witness for thy God, and thee ! [he takes her hand, she smiling on him. Alfred. So shall we heal all woes, uniting nations. As for these English lords, sometime beguiled, But now themselves again, a little ashamed, I have forgiven them, — England shall forgive, If thus, ye my noble People round me, 51 You will take pattern by your English King ; And, while you battle down invading foes, Can welcome a converted enemy. Rise, Queen ! tomorrow will we set these nuptials. [as the royal procession goes out, the curtain falls slowly to the National Anthem. THE END. WESTMINSTER: PRINTED BY T. BRETTELL, RUPERT STREET, HAYMARKET. Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 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