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BY MARY L. BOYLE. LONDON : HENRY COLBURN, PUBLISHER, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 1844. PHELAN TO GEORGE P. R. JAMES, ESQ., THE8E PAGES ARE INSCRIBED, BY HIS GRATEFUL FRIEND, MARY LOUISA BOYLE. Millard's Hill, Frome, March, 1844. 810810 Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2007 with funding from Microsoft Corporation http://www.archive.org/details/bridalofmelchadrOOboylrich ADVERTISEMENT. In the hands of a Poet competent to the task, the historical event on which this little work is founded, would form a magnificent theme for an acting play. To such high views the Drama now before us does not aspire : it is intended simply for perusal, and is at best but a feeble attempt to illustrate a favourite subject. With the exception of two friends, no one has yet seen or passed sentence on the " Bridal of Melcha;" the author's first essay in dramatic composition. Neither is the name which adorns the Dedication invoked as a guarantee for value, or a shield for imperfection, but is placed there, as a slight testimony of admiration, and gratitude. THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA A PAGE FROM THE EARLY HISTORY OF IRELAND. IJramatte ^etgona. IRISH. Cuthullin {otherwise Malachi), Titular King of Ireland. Feargus, a young Warrior, adopted by Cuthullin. Randal, his Friend, and Comrade. Donagh, Phelim, and Murtough, and others. Courtiers, Soldiers, and Attendants. Melcha, the King's only Child. Mora, Sister to Feargus, betrothed to Randal. Maidens attendant on the Princess. The first three acts are laid in, or near the Palace of Cuthullin. DANES. Thorgill (otherwise Tergesius), the Danish Conqueror, self- styled Colleague of Cuthullin, but in fact swaying with cruel and despotic rule, the whole Island. Sweno, an aged Bard. Harold, Starno, Alpin, Eric, and many other Courtiers, Attend- ants, and Guards. The last act is laid in, and before the Castle of Thorgill. Epoch, the Ninth Century. The time occupied by the Drama, is supposed to be one month. THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA ACT I. Scene I. — Room in the King's Palace, Enter Feargus and his Sister. Feargus. And trust me so far, sister, in my place You 'd feel as I do — act as I have done. The heart, whose beats are measured in your breast, Would flutter, stop, and then begin to knock Against its prison walls, and cry so loud 'Twould drown the feebler accents of your lips, Did they essay to speak, 'mid such a din. The will that would surmount all obstacles — The mind that would o'errule the destiny — Ay, that same eagerness which dances now In thy dark eye, and plays around thy lip — Believe me, Mora, all would be subdued, Deadened, and overpowered by such a presence. 2 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. ACT r. Mora. No, by my troth ! — by every hope I hold Of peace and freedom to the land I love, Were I a man, a lover as thou art, I 'd work another way : I 'd gain her heart With vows of faith, devotion, and the like — With praises of her beauty — which in vain You waste upon the wind, that does not care To waft them to her ear — with half the tales You lavish on your sister. Night and morn I 'd haunt her path : I 'd stand beside her door To bid her sleep in peace, or wake in joy : And when the envious walls concealed her form, My voice should follow though my steps were checked. Or I would send melodious messages Of love — of hopeful, daring, dauntless love ! Fear. Yet tell me, Mora, hast thou never read, — When for a few short years thy eager mood Was curbed and guided by the sisterhood Of Holy Oswald, — hast thou never read Some sacred legend of a spotless maid, Whose innocence and purity were spells To bind, and to unloose ? Beneath whose gaze The powers of earth fell down, and were dismayed — Before whose modest speech the babbling tongue Of eloquence was mute, while pious awe And silent wonder filled the minds of men ! Mora. Ay, that have T, in sinful Pagan days ; And they were heathens who confessed the power SCENE I. THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. 3 Of that fair Christian : they were wicked men, Bent on the saints' destruction. Such a sway Might Melcha wield o'er tyrant Thorgill's mind, Were he not lost to every sense of good — Were not his eyes impervious to the light That emanates from innocence — But thou, My noble, generous, single-minded boy ! My comely, faithful, gentle-hearted brother, Brave as thy sword, and polished as its blade — The soldiers' boast — the aged monarch's stay — The glory of thy friend — thy sister's joy — Thy country's saviour in no distant day ! Where is the woman shall gainsay thy suit ? The dull cold eye that could not read this brow ? The senseless heart that would resist thy power, Or spurn the privilege of weeping here ? [_She casts herself upon his breast and weeps. Fear. Why, what a passion 's this ? Fie, there are tears ! And one who loves thee will be here anon, To chide the brother who has called them forth, And envy him the task of thus, and thus \_He kisses her. Removing every trace of transient grief. Dearly I love thee ! dearly do I prize Thy counsels, and thy lectures — smiles and tears. Thou art so full of love, thy chiding springs From tenderness — thou wayward, eager child. Art not the same who, but a lustre back, b2 4 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. A CT I. Filled these old halls with shouts of careless joy, And challenged me — a man in my conceit — To plan such feats of mischief — to devise Such sports, such jests, such wild unfancied schemes — Yet even then, if any dared to love, Or praise the sister, at the brother's cost, With what a pouting lip, and flashing eye, Didst thou receive the incense ! I believe Thou wilt be chiding Randal, ere 'tis long, For prizing thee above his comrade here. Mora. 'Twas not of him I spake, it was of thee, My noble gallant brother ! Thou art poor In man's base gifts ; but valour, beauty, truth, And pride of birth, that leads to noble deeds, Binding the spirit by a grateful debt, To prove thee worthy of a storied name — These gifts are thine, by Nature's hand bestowed. Then wrong not thy beloved, and my friend, Or deem that Melcha's pure and spotless heart Would prize the boon of earth o'er that of heaven ; Or rank the dross that human hands may dig Out of the ground we trample as we pass, Above the gifts of God ! Fear. Thou read'st me wrong — Such obstacles as these, my gentle girl, Would never check me on the path of love : Such idle fears, when Melcha was the goal, SCENE I. THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. Would never hold me back. Enough, enough ! I cannot speak, nor couldst thou comprehend, The nature of that charm which at one time Attracts me, and repels. No ! Mora ! no ! This hopeless passion weighs upon my heart, But it exalts my spirit, and I feel The day is not far distant when her name, Shall be the watchword to her country's peace !- [He pauses abruptly. Mora. Say on, say on — nor turn away thy head — Why wilt thou pause when such a chord is struck, And check the words that fall upon my ear Like summer rain upon the thirsty earth ? Fear. I must be silent ; this is not the time Or place, or company — nay frown not, sweet, I am too well advised of what I say — And see, where Randal comes, with ruffled brow : Some storm is raised, some cause of new complaint Has stirred the lion in that noble breast. Give him a gracious welcome — these are times, When all the gentler fountains of the heart Should be replenished. Woman's hand alone Is fit for such a service of delight. Mora. Why does he come ? I had so much to say, To hear, to learn, to ask, to counsel thee I 'Tis ever thus : the idle jesting vein, The common daily subjects of discourse, 6 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. act i. May be pursued in peace, but when the theme Is one of deep and vital interest, The thread is snapped, that 's hard to join again. [She pauses. Why does he look so sad, and yet so stern ? Why do his eyes seek any aim but mine ? T was unkind to cavil at the sight Of one who seems oppressed with anxious thought. Enter Randal. [She advances. There is some burthen, Randal, on thy mind, And thou dost well to seek my brother here — He '11 give thee aid or counsel : and for me, I 'd gladly solace, if the power were mine. Ran. Now blessings on thee ! 'twil be hard in truth If darker thoughts dispel not at the sight Of such a smile of sympathy confessed, More gracious than thy wont ; and yet I fear That e'en the grateful hope, these signs awake, Will not subdue the shame — th' abiding shame Fear. What dost thou say — what is there now to goad Thy spirit into fury, and to grieve The souls of honest men ? Ran. Too much — too much ! Yet nothing new, perchance, 'twill seem to thee ; We have been slaves so long, we should have learned To wear our fetters gracefully, since he SCENE I. THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. 7 Who mocks us with the name of king, hath set The meek example ! He who should have placed The sword within our hands, and granted us The privilege to die — at least to those Who do account this world a prison-house, Beneath the tyrant's sway. With his own hand He tamely bound the gyve around his wrist, And dealt out foreign shackles to his sons — His friends, his children — comrades, countrymen — His fellow-freemen — brother islanders Fear. Pause, Randal, pause, in mercy to thy friends ! It is so hard to hear, so hard to bear Well-founded censure of a name we prize, To feel the heart, that swells with grateful love, Rise and rebel against those jarring words, While justice, truth, and reason bind the lips ; In timid indignation, murmur forth He is my friend — my old and valued friend ! And then to writhe beneath th' inquiring smile That asks, will that acquit him of the blame ? Will that grand title write him paragon ? Then to draw back, and feel, perchance, your aid Hath ill advanced the cause. Mora. No ! Feargus ! no ! To stand alone, when every voice is raised, To bear the brunt of disapproving looks, And to proclaim the culprit as your friend, 8 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. act I. Although you cannot but admit the charge — Trust me, dear Feargus, such an act will prove The man is somewhat worthy, who can bind Another by such ties : and when the theme Is changed, it will be marked, and noted down He has a friend — at least he has a friend. And oh ! with what a swelling, grateful heart, The censured, and the erring one will hear The tale in after times, and cry, " His voice Was raised in my behalf: I have incurred A debt, which I will pay with better deeds." Now shame on me, to play the moralist, When two, the wiser and the nobler sex, Are standing near me. Ran. I would never tire To learn my lessons from so dear a source ; Such homilies are grateful to my ear, And Mora 's in her gentlest mood to-day — Then, to content ye both, I must be mute ? Fear. Randal, we cannot choose, but love the king ; He took us, helpless orphans, to his home, And to his heart. He reared us as his own, And with his only child, we shared alike. There was no difference, no distinction made Between the two fair girls, who bloomed apace, Save that which grateful Mora ne'er forgot, The willing homage that she loved to pay. SCENE I. THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. f) And had your comrade, Randal, been the heir Of Erin's broad dominions, and the son Of him who is a father, but in name, Could tender watchfulness and generous love Have taken other forms ? Then spare thy friend This humbling passage in the monarch's life ; The one sad moment, when despair broke in, And found the soul unarmed — a single fault Should not obscure the brightness of a life. Ran. But the true soldier may not be surprised, And if he sleep, his sword is in his hand, His armour on his breast. Courage should rise, Not sink with danger — Mora, I have done ! Mora {impatiently). And time it is, methinks, to change a theme Distasteful to thy friends. Where is the tale That filled thy fancy but a moment past ? Has this rich burst of eloquence dispelled, Swifter than any influence of mine, The gloomy thoughts, whose cause is unrevealed ? Ran. Pardon, dear Mora ! it is hard to speak In words of tame submission, when the soul Is all on fire. But here 's the tale at length, In simple language : Thorgill, whom the king His colleague calls — and we his tyrant name — This mighty man hath made his pleasure known, To banquet in the palace here to-night : b5 10 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. act 1 He bids his brother — so he deigns to call The monarch whom you love, and he contemns — To feast him royally. But over all Mark this, young Feargus : 'tis the sovereign's will That all our maidens shall adorn the feast He comes — and in his insolence presumes To let us so far in his confidence — He comes, to judge betwixt report, and truth, To see if fame can overrate the charms Of Ulster's daughters — Ay, so I believed You, who a moment past, were all for peace, What say you now? How does it suit your will, That wanton eyes should revel in the gaze Of sisters, daughters, and of those we love With such a jealous passion, that we fret Because the breeze upon the mountain's side Dallies amid their tresses as they pass ? Mora and Feargus, speak ! Will ye submit To such a fiery ordeal ? Will ye bow To the king's will in this, if he presume To ask it at your hands ? Fear. In such a case Mora herself must act as seems her best — Strong in the thought, that she is strong in thee, And thy defence, and in her brother's arm. Mora (sadly). I am dismayed, I do confess I am, For all I speak so boldly — though I urge SCENE II. THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. 11 You both to deeds of daring, I 'm afraid, I am a foolish, timid-hearted girl. Yet Feargus — Randal — I've no choice to make. Alone by Melcha's judgment I abide ; Her clearer vision, unimpaired by doubt, Undimmed by terror, will discern the path In which we both must walk. I will proceed, Although my footsteps falter through my fears : The hour of peril were the last, not first, That should detach me from my Melcha's side. [Exit on one side, and on the opposite, exeunt Randal and Feargus. Scene II. — Melcha's Garden. She is seated at her Father's feet. Mel. My father ! — Yonder sunbeam on the grass Has travelled far, and spread its brightness wide, Since last we spoke together. This is strange ! There was a time, dear father, when the day Seemed all too brief for interchange of thought ; When Melcha put thy patience to the test, Drawing by childish prattle on the store Which love had rendered inexhaustible. Then in thy turn, wise lessons didst thou give, Clothed in the language that conveyed them best 12 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. ACT I. To infant fancy. Oh ! I well recall The kind hypocrisy of thy discourse, Hiding the teacher in the playmate's garb. \_He interrupts her. Cuth. Melcha ! dear Melcha ! speak not of those days, For thou wert then a child — a happy child — A merry laughing fairy — by my side, Or bounding gladsome on the onward path — But ever in the sight of him, whose heart Beat for the motherless, with twofold love. Oh, Melcha ! Melcha ! what a source of joy, A fountain-head of comfort, then wert thou Unto my widowed heart — there seemed no room For grief to linger where thine image dwelt In all its bright expansion, like a beam It settled there, and darkness was dispelled. Yes, I can see thee bounding on my path, And urging me to follow in thy steps, I can recall the sound of thy small feet, The echo of thy voice, the merry tones Of thy young laughter, when my brain I taxed In coining novel names to lure thee back. Thou wert my spirit then, my fairy queen, My imp, my elfin — or in loftier moods My dryad — huntress — lily of the vale. Betimes, a sudden pride, or felt, or feigned, Would claim the princess, from thy father's lips. SCENE II. THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. 13 Mel. And now those days are past beyond recall, And all my once loved titles are forgot, Or laid aside ? Cuth. Melcha, I raise my eyes And mark thy noble form, thy lofty brow, Thy stately, pensive, queen-like majesty, And then I smile, sadly perchance, to think How ill the name of fairy, or of sprite, Would now become thee. Mel. (gravely) Yet, there is a name Thou didst bestow upon me, with a right Divine, as that of kindred. Would not this Become the staid deportment, grief, and time, With all their weary changes, have enforced ? Father ! still I claim the name of princess — If but a name — an idle, empty name ! [She pauses. Alas ! could that be pride, which in those days Asked for the honour, with a laughing eye, An air of lurking mischief, round the mouth ? And can the feelings which oppress me now, By the same term be classed ? Then, then indeed, May the same feeling bear at different times, As changed an aspect, as poor Melcha bears, From when she flew along the path of life, Rich in her ignorance of worldly lore, Rich in the titles that her sire bestowed — But oh ! above them all, rich in the wealth Of his dear love, and boundless confidence. \_She weeps. 14 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. AcT i. Cuth. My child, my only child ! star of my heme ! The single light yet beaming on a hearth, Long dark, and desolate, in all beside ! What have I said, in what my thoughts belied, That thou shouldst thus misjudge me ? Grief and age Have dulled my senses. I have uttered words, I know not how — or when. I am amazed. It seems a monstrous thing, hard of belief That speech of mine should cause my child to weep. But thou hast still a resting-place, mine own ! Thou hast a haven yet, from every storm — A home, where thou from infancy hast dwelt ; Upon thy father's breast. Come, Melcha, come, And let thy lips write pardon on my brow. QMelcha falls on her fathers neck. Half kneeling -, she raises her head, and speaks. Mel. Yet tell me, plainly, clearly — I can bear And love the truth, however harsh it sounds — Can Melcha of the latter days, the staid, The silent, and I fear betimes, the stern, (A sternness that from conquered sadness springs,) Can she, my father, in no way replace, Thy former idol ? There is filial love, Remaining yet, by passing years increased, And sanctified by knowledge. There is power, To understand the workings of thy mind ; There is companionship, and sympathy, And there is deep devotion. Will not these Appease the shrine, on which I offer them ? SCENE II. TIJE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. 15 Cuth. Thou art my stay, my prop— the blooming plant That twines itself around this withered stem, Lending a spring-like verdure, to the dry And sapless branches. Melcha, thou art all That human fancy, in its wildest flight, Of virtue, love, and beauty, could conceive, And yet this day I beat my breast, and mourn Thou art a child no longer. Mel. Passing strange ! To thee, but now, it seemed a monstrous thing That thou shouldst wring the tears from Melcha's eyes ; To me, 'tis doubly strange, that speech of thine Should be so hard to fathom, or explain : Yet, if I pause, and think thereon, I fear To comprehend too soon, — to find a fault In conduct, which I fondly deemed the best, I could pursue. My father, wilt thou bear A little longer with me, while I speak Upon this selfish theme ? [She pauses, and then continues : Two years agone — When first I looked around me, and began To know myself, and ponder what was due From subject unto king — from child to sire — When I had reached the height, with hasty steps, And paused upon the summit, to look back Into the past, with all its childish joys, And onward, where the future lay in mist, 16 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. ACT u Then many an object, which had been o'erlooked By me — a hasty climber — lay revealed : Then first I saw how lonely thou didst stand, (Hurriedly.) (I speak not, now, thou know'st I rarely speak, Of public changes, which have chanced since then,) I pitied thee : a king without a prince, — A sire, without a son to bear thy name — Heir to thy fame — thy sceptre — and thy sword. To me, it seemed that thou wert childless. Cuth. Peace !— Hast thou forgotten all that I possessed, In owning thee ? Mel. In my own sight, at least, No treasure : but a bond to tie thee down ; And fetter thee to home — a household care To weigh upon thy spirit; and I cried, " Had he a son, to train to deeds of arms — To rear as soldier, and as patriot — A son — a prince — a man — in after years To be the pillar of his father's house : Then were he blest, indeed ! — then were his age Defended against weakness, for the strength Which he had once imparted, would return Reflected from the spirit of his son ! " In such a case, thou wert supremely blest ; Fenced round by filial love indeed, but of a kind That woman cannot give. Nay, hear me on — I pray thee, hear me, for a little space. SCENE ii. THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. 17 These sage reflections had their own results, And influenced my life. From that day forth, To curb a wayward fancy was my aim, To discipline my mind, and lay aside The lighter sportiveness, which seemed a part, And portion, of my being. My discourse, And my demeanour I controlled, to suit And fit me for companionship with thee. And though I could not follow to the field, Or stand beside thee in the hour of fight, Did I not love to buckle on thy sword ? — Did I not glory in my father's fame ? [She pauses abruptly. Alas ! alas ! I know not what I speak — I wander from the subject. I have erred, I thought, with all the strength I could command ; Not failing, in my modesty, to fill A brother's vacant place, and I have failed. Striving for vigour, I have been morose — Aiming at reason, dulness have attained. All graceful gladness — all vivacity — The charm of other maidens — laid aside, And none have prospered, through the sacrifice. Then well the playful child may'st thou regret, The smiling, breathing image, now replaced By still, cold, marble. Cuth. Look into my face, Melcha, thou art too noble for such arts, Or I should deem this were a plot, devised 18 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. act i. To pry into my heart, and count the store Of love, that is thine own. Art not aware That this affection, which I bear my child, Is termed idolatry ? That many raise Their voices 'gainst the man, who has forgot, (So they affirm) the monarch in the sire, The patriot, in the parent. Well for thee, If all the idle slander, deadly foes, And lukewarm friends, and rebel subjects speak, Hath never reached thine ear. Mel. {passionately.) Not reached mine ear ! Why, through the ear the poison was distilled, Down, down, into my heart, and there it spread, Mixing its noxious venom, with the springs Of young existence — withering up the flowers That bloomed beside my path. Not reached mine ear ! For those whose heart, or conscience is oppressed, The solitude of night is never still, And even silence can assume a voice, To mind us of our trouble. My young dreams — Through heaven's dear mercy, and my father's care — From dark remorse are still exempt, the worst Of fellow-watchers. But, alas ! it seems As if some other demon stood beside, Watching my slumbers, till they gained the point Where sweet oblivion comes ; and then — and then He breaks the spell, by muttering words like these : " Thy father sold his country, and his crown, SCENE ir. THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. 19 Himself, his people, into slavery, To save his daughter, from the tyrant's grasp. Thou wert the price of freedom, glory, power, And all that brave men prize." O speak, at once : I do entreat — I do adjure thee — speak ! — And with the lips, that never gave a vent To falsehood, or to subterfuge, refute The lie, that cowards coined to drive me mad ! [She clasps her forehead with her hands. Cuth. Peace, Melcha, peace ! this passion ill be- comes Thy gentle nature — wilt thou not be calm ? Thou art so changed, I scarcely know my child, My placid, gentle, Melcha. Be it so — Thou art my judge, and I will answer thee : After the last defeat, the winding up Of all the fearful odds in the account Against thy father, and thy countrymen — After long days of strife, and longer nights Of vigil — it behoves me now to speak — In which the monarch shared the toils, and pains, Perils, and hardships, of a common man — During which time, thy heart might beat with fear, But it would swell with pride, when I was named, (I had it from thy lips !) in that dread day, When Feargus, my adopted son, thy friend, And brother of thy friend, wrought wondrous deeds In our behalf, and gained himself a name 20 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. act With comrade, and with foe — in that dark day, When thou wert here besieged within thy home — Within thy palace — while we stood below Upon the plain, disputing every inch Of ground that led toward thee — when the God Whose ways must be unquestioned, hid the flame, Which in our hour of night he had vouchsafed, Changing the radiant pillar into cloud, And shedding light upon the Pagan camp — When victory was the recompense of vice, And rapine was triumphant — when around I saw my people falling like the leaves In latest autumn — hand to hand I fought With Thorgill, leader of the adverse host ! Fired by revenge and by despair, awhile Thou wert forgotten, in that deadly strife — But only for awhile — the miscreant knew Where he could plant the dagger in my breast, And thus with ribald words, I cannot speak To thy pure ear — (Oh, God ! I could not bear To hear them then, from those accursed lips) — He dared to broach thy name — he dared to pour His horrid hopes into a parent's ear. Melcha, the gates were all but gained — a breach Was yawning in the walls — another hour, And he had stood beneath the orphan's roof, Bathed in the blood of him who lived no more To stand between thee, and thy destiny ! SCENE H. THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. 21 Mel. (with eagerness.) Say on, say on ! I pray thee do not pause. For more than life is pending on thy words. Cuth. 'Twas then he offered terms: Freedom and life, To all who would lay down their arms ; the crown And kingdom should be mine, " his dear ally." The biting sneer, the mocking, ringing laugh, I marked not, heard not — passed them meekly by : I only heard what came at last to bless My senses with a hope, that seemed of heav'n, — He would withdraw his troops, he would be gone ; And thou my child, my only child — my joy — My pride — my treasure ! Melcha ! — thou that art More in my eyes, than freedom, glory, power — Would be restored unto thy father's arms, All pure, and spotless, as the saints in Heaven. [He smiles sadly, and then adds — Pronounce ! thou art my judge : had I demurred, What then had been thy lot ? Mel. I could have died As young Virginia did — Or wert thou slain, My own right hand remained to strike the blow ! Cuth. Ungentle girl ! Go ask the man who rears A simple flower, with anxious daily care, Suns it with smiles, bedews it with his tears — Go bid him break the stem, and bow the head — 22 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. act i. Warn him some ruder hand will rob the plant, Or yonder storm, that lowers above his head, Will rend his precious nurseling by the roots — Go sign the doom, stern girl, of steed or hound, That bore, or followed thee, lest others should Entreat thy favourites harshly — but at least In this, thy madness, do not image forth The thought of thee slain by a father's hand. Mel. Yet she who fell, was prized as Melcha is, Her father's only child. Who shall deny That was a blessed deed ? Cuth. Away ! Away ! He was a Pagan who could dare so much, And cruel in his valour. I to strike The blow myself? What ! with the hand that played Amid thy golden tresses — on thy brow, Rested in daily blessing — the same hand That thou hast oft imprisoned in thine own, And laughed to mark the contrast ? With this sword, Which thou hast girded by my side, or raised, Breathless withal, a mimic Amazon ! Melcha ! I tell thee now, if such be deemed A virtue, I have none ; if such be called Exalted courage, coward is my name. Yet this remember, what I did that day, I 'd do again. Ay, if I could foresee All that has passed since then — thou shouldst be saved, SCENE II. THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. 23 Despite thyself— despite the murmuring throng, Who would have been as loud to blame me then. No ! Melcha ! no ! That retrospect, at least, Will never bring repentance ; though, in truth, I little feared that thou, for whom I erred, (For so thou deem'st,) would'st join the clamorous crowd, And pass a sentence, which has too much weight From thy loved lips. . . . This ! this is hard to bear ! My stock of fortitude is low — I feel That I am old and nerveless ! \_He hides his face in his robe. Melcha casts herself at his feet. Mel. Father ! here — Here on my knees, that never knelt in prayer, Save to a Heavenly Parent, till this hour, Humbly and earnestly I do entreat For pardon, pardon ! Oh, I am a wretch ! A hateful sinner to afflict thee thus ! I, who believed my daily labour was, And ever would be, to console, and cheer Thy days of age and sorrow ! Canst thou smile Once more upon me ? Can thy generous mind Forget the words, which shame and grief have drawn From out the depths, where long they lay concealed ? Father ! my honoured father ! and my king ! I am a suppliant now — and well I know That few for mercy cry to thee in vain ! 24 THE BRIDAL OP MELCHA. act I. Cuth. Rise, Melcha, rise! thou canst not be to blame — The fault is all mine own. I branded thee As stern, ungentle, when by thy sweet voice The spirit of our race proclaimed itself. Thou art the daughter of a hero line, More worthy than thy sire to bear the name ! Melcha ! thou hast subdued, convinced me : hear And witness my confession — mercy then It will be thine to give, or to withhold. Thy father should have died, and trusted thee To deal with thy own destiny. He failed As man — as soldier, patriot, king, he failed : There is a lasting stain on my renown, I cannot wish effaced, beholding thee. Melcha ! they have a right to brand my name, And thou hast none to glory in thy sire : (Though to thy love, perchance he lay some claim,) Wilt thou go forth? Wilt thou desert me now? Or gaze on me with looks estranged ? Or speak In altered language ? Mel. No ! by yonder Heaven ! Athwart whose blue expanse no cloud hath crept, Or storm has gathered, since we first began To speak upon this theme — or I had learned All that this hour hath taught me. I am one Who deem that woman's sweetest duty lies In pouring balm, into the wounded heart. SCENE IT. THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. 2o Do not our earliest lessons teach the craft Of healing ? from our childhood we are trained To minister to pain — to dress the hurts Of wounded men, with patience, and with skill. But when we come to mark the deeper pangs Of mental anguish — when we probe the soul, And find the wounds that grief, or sin hath dealt, The labour is of twofold love, that strives With wholesome remedies to work the cure, Not healed too soon, not lulled in transient calm, But gently, firmly, with humility — For even those who minister are sick, And need a higher care. Where'er the voice Of lamentation shall be heard, the feet Of woman should be turned; enough to know That grief, whatever be the cause, is there : — Guilt to admonish — sorrow to assuage — Remorse perchance to rescue from despair — And lead upon the path, that Christians love, Beside the silent waters. Cuth. Ay, and when The tones of the lamenting voice are those Which ye have known, and loved through passing years ; And when the gen'ral scorn or hatred falls On one close linked by holy kindred ties ? Mel. Then duty and desire go hand in hand : Our soothing words breathed low into the ear, 26 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. act i. Shall drown the outward din ; our watchful care Shall shield the bosom, as a chain of mail From rude attacks of censure. What are we, If, in the hour of darkness, there 's no oil To trim the lamp of love ? Thou call'dst me now The Light upon thy hearth, there let me gleam In genial warmth, while tempests rage without ; And if the world forsake thee, let me be The world unto my father ! |_Mora breaks in, followed by Feargus. Melcha rises hastily. Mora here ! How now, dear Mora, whence this eager haste ? 'Tis not thy wont to break so suddenly Upon our converse. Mora. Thou must pardon us, Dear honoured lady, and must intercede If we have failed in duty to our king. But ye have long commanded us to share Our joys, and sorrows with you. We have heard 111 news, at least to me, with terror fraught — And even Feargus wears an anxious look. Mel. Say on, dear sister, tell us what has chanced To chase the colour from thy blooming cheek, And silence Feargus? Fear. Ask thy noble sire If we have cause to tremble. SCENE II. THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. 27 Mel. (smiles.) His reply Would be, that brave men know not how to fear — I hear it now, my brother. Such replies Are always made by soldiers : we the while Gain no redress for all our questioning. Perhaps it is a false report ; perhaps A subject which my father sees not fit To trust unto his child. I'll wait his time, For evil news they say hath speedy flight — 'Twill reach me soon enough. See, Mora ! see How I excel in patience, and belie The faults which they attribute to our sex. Cuth. My children, ere you entered, I had thought To speak of this new care, but it so chanced That more engrossing topics led the course Of converse, in another channel. Read, \_He gives her a scroll. My Melcha, read, and comprehend at length The sense of my mysterious words. Thy friends Will tell thee more, if aught remain to tell, Save that he comes this night. I have no mind To speak thereon — I should be ill advised To utter all — or half my thoughts. Farewell! Melcha, if thou should'st need me, do not fear To break upon my solitude. \_Exit King. Mel. (musingly.) To-night ! Fear. This very night ! this most unhappy night, He comes, with all his ruffian band, to feast c2 28 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. A( t i. Beneath thy rojal roof. These ancient walls, That long have echoed to the manly mirth Of honest soldiers, or the melody Of fair and lovely minstrels, now will ring With the harsh jar of riot. Thorgill comes, Armed with cold satire, and malignant pride, To make us feel our fetters — drag them close Around his slaves, and clank them in our ears. But not for this alone foul Thorgill comes : Thou seest his very words, and how he dares To show his purpose forth — He comes to feast His eyes, and those of his accursed crew, On beauty and on purity. To thee — The type of both — to thee our eyes are raised — On thee are Mora's fixed, for as thou dost So will our maidens do ; each girlish heart Within our province beats to know thy will ; From thy example duty to discern, And rest on thy decision. Mel. That is fixed : I see no choice of paths to lead me wrong. Mora. Then speak at once, dear Princess ! Melcha, speak ! — I hang upon thy words. Fear. Oh, rather pause, And count the cost, and dwell upon the loss That may accrue : I do conjure thee, pause — It is an awful moment for us all : SCENE ir. THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. 29 The news has spread, and filled the stoutest hearts Of men, and soldiers with alarm. Reflect What a high game is pla} 7 ed, when on the cast Of thy decision rests the future fate Of all thy sisters, (so thou 'rt wont to call Our maidens); think of all the homes they cheer — The parents — kindred— lovers Mel. Feargus, Peace ! Thy counsels and thy warnings are ill-timed : We must not pause upon the rightful way, Because the vision, that is seldom clear, Foresees a rugged road. The onward hill, That seems too steep for human feet to climb, Sinks into nothing, when we reach the base. Fear. Ay, lady ! but there are experienced eyes, Sharpened by sorrow, that discern aright The features of the land, on which they look. Mel. I '11 answer thee by questions : When the hour Of struggle comes — when face to face the host Of adverse armies meet — the trumpet sounds — The crisis is at hand — what wouldst thou call The man who cast his weapons on the ground, And fled for life and safety ? Fear. Well thou know'st ! — Coward, Deserter, Traitor, Renegade, Were all too good — 30 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. ACT Mel. This is our battle-hour : This, Mora, is the time when thou, and I Must prove the hero-blood within our veins — And we will stand the charge ! Mora. Alas ! alas ! I thought the same but now. I spake bold words. Yet, Melcha, we 're not soldiers, without arms, Or armour to defend us Mel. How ! no arms ? Are modesty and rectitude no arms ? — These are a virgin's weapons. Armour none ? Thou art ungrateful, Mora. Hast thou not A lover who adores ? A brother, too, Who would lay down his life, to be thy shield ? Have I no father— countrymen — or friends? Is there a maiden in our native land Who is so poor in love, she cannot find One manly breast to claim as her defence ? Oh, we were lost indeed, if Thorgill deemed His name so powerful. Fear. How wilt thou receive Th' invader of thy country ? How entreat Thy father's tyrant ? Mel. Feargus, thou 'rt too bold : Such language ill becomes thee : ill beseems It me to answer. As my father's guest, I shall receive, and shall entreat the man sckxe 1. THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. 31 With whom, (however brief the treaty be) We are allied in peace. Come, Mora, come, I Ve somewhat for thy ear. Feargus, farewell ; Be it your care my purpose to proclaim To all it may concern : All who desire To show their love and duty to the king, And to myself, will not absent themselves From this night's banquet ; neither by their looks, Or their demeanour will betray the fear, That would bring shame on us, and swell our foes With triumph and with pride. Once more, farewell ! \_Exeunt Melcha and Mora on one side. Exit Feargus on the other. 32 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. ACT II. SCENE I. Enter Randal and Mora. Ran. And thou hast promised to obey in this ? Mora, I fain would learn the magic power, With which the princess moulds thee to her will, Who art so wilful with thy friend. Some time I '11 play the list'ner's part, and gain by stealth, Her mighty secret. Mora. Randal, thou 'rt unkind ; And yet thy words are faithful. Melcha's power Is great indeed : the magic she employs Is that a master-mind may well assert O'er such as I am. Ran. Here I ask thy aid, So apt at explanations, seest thou fit To solve thyself; for truly I confess That thou art hard to read betimes. Mora. Agreed ! Know me for one who has the sense to know She 's little of her own ; who 'd rather trust Her heart above her judgment — yet not quite, SCENE I. THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. 33 For hearts are headlong counsellors they say, And apt to govern, rather than advise. I must observe on one redeeming point, And then I 've done : There 's nothing good or great I do not prize and honour, that 's the cause, My choice is blest in friendship and in love ! Ran. How cunning is thy answer to perplex And silence my complaint. Yet I will say So far at least, thy moods are apt to change, And somewhat suddenly. Mora. I 'm fickle, then — Unsettled, and unstable ? Ran. Wert thou so, I could not love thee as I do. Mora. Well, well ! I am to blame, no doubt ; I know I am ; I seem a changeable capricious thing. But by the surface judge not, Randal mine ; For, like a stream that wanders freely on, 'Tis coloured by the hues of passing things ; Yet not the less for that, lie deep within The names I love, embedded in the soil, Concealed indeed betimes, but firmly fixed. Ran. And when thou 'rt cold and stately, when I deem Thou canst not be the same, who yester eve Upon my bosom hid thy blushing face, c5 34 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. act ir. And whispered words of love and hope; whose hand, Close prest in mine, lay still, as if content To be imprisoned thus Mora. Well, Randal, well? Ran. How shall I read the change, how reassure The heart that never varies in itself, And finds it strange in thee ? Mora. Oh, thou art dull ! Thou hast no wisdom — no discernment. I, Who soon must vow to serve thee as my lord, What shall I learn of thee ? Man's wit, though small, Should of necessity exceed the dower His helpmate brings. What shall I learn of thee ? Ran. How dear thou art ! What springs of love and joy Gush forth within my bosom, at the touch Of thy divining wand. I have replied ; Wilt thou not answer ? Is the tyrant's part That, thou hast chosen on the stage of life ? Mora. A little space, a little breathing time, I ask of thee. Alas ! I know full well, Ere many moons have circled, thou wilt claim A sure revenge. I shudder, while I think How the meek wife will suffer for the faults And errors of the wilful girl who dared To have a thought — to lay presumptuous claim To any judgment of her own. Such sins SCfi.VE I. THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. 35 Will be severely visited ; and so, As punishment, at all events, must come, I '11 not enjoy my holiday the less. Ran. And I must wait till then, to know the cause, The reason of these changes ? Mora. Oh, for shame ! How ignorant thou art — how daring, too, To talk to me of reason ! Am I lost To every sense of duty to myself, And to the sex beside, that I should own A reason for my conduct? Ran. Thou hast none, Thus to torment me with evasive words, Except, ungen'rous girl, to show thy power. Mora. And thou hast none to chide me. Be advised It doth become man's nobler nature well, To have a reason for his every word, And thought, and deed. What if we be exempt ? The obligation is more strong on you. Ran. When I return, and find thee twice the height Thou wert when last we parted ; when the eye That but an hour before reposed on mine, Is seeking on the earth for plant, or stone Of nameless price, or fixed upon the sky As taking careful note, when such a star Will reach the zenith point, when the small hand Is busily engaged clasping the gem 36 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA, act II. That is not like to leave its resting-place Upon thy lily bosom, or upraised To smooth the locks that were no way disturbed ; When every other speaker but myself May claim a patient hearing — gain replies, In courteous language clothed ? Mora. Then, Randal, then ! How well thou know'st — how artful are thy snares To gain the truth, so humbling to my pride, So grateful unto thine — how well thou know'st How well I love thee ! How this poor disguise, With which from common eyes I strive to hide The treasure of my love, perchance deceives A few amid the crowd, who have not learned Affection's own diplomacy by heart — Those who have never known what 'tis to fear Lest vulgar footsteps desecrate the spot, Where all the holiest feelings lie enshrined. Ran. And so thou dost not love me less, although This sudden coyness, bordering on disdain, May cause the question to be whispered round, " Is that young Randal's bride — can it be true That those are plighted lovers?" Mora. Ay, indeed ! I do rejoice to hear it. Tell me now, Hast thou not watched the lapwing, as she lied With trailing pinions, and with ruffled breast SCENTE I. THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. 07 Across thy homeward path — a pious fraud, To lead thee from the spot where lay concealed Her callow brood, the treasure of her heart ? Look at the miser, who with care avoids The chamber where his coffers are bestowed, While any eye is on him— hear him speak Of dearth, and poverty. And shall I tell The common crowd where all my wealth is hid ; Less prudent than the niggard— less advised Than the poor trembling bird, whose instinct, love Has ripened into reason ? Ran. Oh, be still ! 'Tis ever thus with thee. I came to chide, I did rejoice to find thee here alone, Unguarded by thy brother's dragon care. I came well stored with harsh and cutting words — Rebuke, reproof, upbraiding — I 've no chance In such a strife with thee ! Mora. No ! no ! not yet. The time will come when I must bow the head, And meekly stand to hear, and to endure, Such sweet and wholesome lectures. Ran. Say — how soon — How soon, dear Mora ? Mora. Here I have no choice. Go ask my brother, sir, when he will spare His sister, and his housewife, from the house 38 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. act He will not call a home, when I am gone — At least he tells me so — and then I weep — And then he chides — I have a sorry time Betwixt ye both ! Ran. And thou wilt go to-night, And wilt not fear to meet the lawless gaze Of Thorgill, and his savages ? Mora. Who said, I should not fear ? Alas ! I blush to own I spake my fears to Melcha. Her reply Would banish fear for ever — so I thought At least while she was speaking — ay, from breasts More cowardly than mine. She asked me then How I could tremble, guarded by thy love, And by my brother's. I was mute indeed ; I felt convinced, it seemed I 'd injured thee, To dream of fear, while thou wert by my side, To cherish and defend me. Ran. Ay, through life ! If such a blessed lot, indeed, await One, so unworthy. Mora. Peace ! thou shalt not speak In slighting accents of a friend I love ! Ran. But will the other maidens there attend ? Will Ailsheen, Norah, and that lovely child The fair-haired Threena, whom her parents prize With fond idolatry ? Will Donagh risk SCENE I. TUE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. 30 His black-eyed bride in such a company ? Will aged Unlah spare her fairy band, Her gentle daughters, to adorn the feast ? Mora (smiles). It is enough ! thou need'st not heap new coals Upon the fire of jealousy : this burst Of eloquence will quite suffice for me. Yes, all our noble maidens will be there : There is not one among them who demurred, Or had to ask permission of her kin — For Melcha's wish is law. Ran. And do ye know What ye have dared — what ventured ? Is it wise To stand so hard a test? Do ye reflect That the barbarian's courtesy would seem Rude and revolting to your nicer taste ? And will you answer for yourselves to bear Th' unwelcome topic — or the coarser jest — The bold unshrinking gaze — or do ye deem Your countrymen so tied and fettered down By Danish tyranny, that they should brook An insult half implied by glance, or word ? — Will Melcha's magic spell be cast around Her friends, and foes till they are each subdued ? Mora. I '11 answer when I may. We are agreed To sit all silent, and to look unmoved ; Slow to perceive where an offence is meant, — 40 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. act II. If any should be ventured, when hemmed in By those who can, and will defend our cause, Should it be needful — but whose word is past To seek no quarrel, rather to delay The hour of reck'ning. Ran. {eagerly.) Till a better time ! That thought indeed might bid us sheathe our tongues, And keep our weapons idle by our sides : But what says Feargus, has thy brother sign'd His name to this strange compact ? Mora. He is pledged To be as passive — as he can — this night. Melcha, it seems, will play the foremost part ; And all who love her, will avoid with care, The least approach to strife, It is her aim To let this dreaded banquet pass in peace— But see where Feargus comes : now thou wilt hear His plans and projects, and canst learn of him To curb thy spirit for another's sake. THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. 41 Scene II. — Banquet in the Palace. Cuthullin seated : Thorgill on his right, Melcha on his left. Feargus beside the Princess. Randal and Mora also at the upper board- Below, a long line of Danes, and Irish ; among the latter, many Matrons and Maidens. Thor. A gallant sight ! a goodly, gladdening sight. Thou scarcely know'st, to such a heart as mine, So full of love fraternal, what a joy This scene imparts. Cuthullin, mighty king, And loving brother, I have been misled By ill report, (a fault, I must correct Some future day, this same credulity :) They told me — (pardon, if I show it forth, Now that the refutation lies before My very eyes) — they said thou wert distrest Through lack of fortune's gifts — they said the war (Which had so blest an ending for us all) Had drained thy coffers. Thou may'st well believe With what a lightened conscience I survey This blaze of golden vessels ! — this display Of gems, which ever and anon dart forth Their rays, as willing to compete the meed Of brightness, with the eyes that gleam around. Cuth. It is an ancient custom in our land, And one to which we cling with idle pride, That we entreat our guests, (and those, that seek 42 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. ACT n . Our gates, of their own will, especially,) With all the pomp and splendour we command. But your encomiums bear too high a tone : This, for a monarch's board, is plain enough, And very frugal : 'tis the best we have ; And when the offering made is of the best, It needs no blush, whoever may receive, Or give the boon. Thor. Wisely and truly said. Who would believe, to hear my brother speak, His life had passed within a soldier's camp ? A soil ungenial — so at least 'tis said — For wisdom and morality to thrive. Fear. A Christian camp is rich in such good fruits ; And he who deems that vice must dog the steps Of conquering armies — Thor. Well, young sage, say on. Fear. He is a tyrant, or an infidel ! Thor. {to Cuthullin.) This — I mistake not — is the gallant youth, Whom you have cherished as a son ? In truth, He learns his lessons aptly ; and bids fair To be your rival, brother, in regard Of saintly eloquence. He 's very young To teach such godly doctrine — and I'll own (My comprehension doubtless is at fault) But still to me, it seems his meaning lies SCENE ii. THE BRIDAL OF MRLCHA. 43 Rather too deep ; true — all your native priests Discourse in parables. Mel. {interrupts him.) Is it your will That the young minstrels, who attend my call, Should wait upon us now ? There are sweet tones, And voices of pure melody, among The youthful band that I have summoned here. Perchance, my father never cared to boast Ours was a land of song — that music dwells i Amid our rocks and valleys, like the home Of some sweet echo. Thor. No, alas ! Thy father, peerless maiden, seldom deigns To speak on such sweet topics, though 'twere time He knew my bent enough, to guess how well I love such gentle themes. Proceed, I pray — I do entreat, thou wilt proceed, for when I hear such music in thy speech, 'tis vain To doubt that Erin were a land of song. Mel. My lord, your courtesy is somewhat strained ; I am a soldier's daughter, all unused To nattering words. I do beseech you speak A language, I can answer. When you will, I'll summon them ; they have a choice of lays Suited to every fancy : joyous, sad, Stirring, or soothing, peaceful, martial ; more Than I can either number, or recall. 44 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. act Thor. Forgive, if I delay to need thy band. There 's that — I speak it truly — in thy voice, And in thine eyes, which tells me every mood Of melody that thou hast named, by turns Might make itself be heard. Am I at fault, Or does such radiant beauty blind my sense Of quick perception ? Cannot that sweet voice Cheer the sad heart, or add fresh joy to him, Who is already blest ? Ay, I will stake My life — the theme of war, and peace, alike Were melody from thee. Canst thou not chide, As well as soothe ? — Do not thy lips betimes, Keep pace with all the angry brilliancy That flashes from thine eye, e'en now, as if To prove my judgment right? — no other cause Could call up frowns, this moment, on a brow That would seem marble, but for these same signs Of energy, and life ! Mel. {aside.) Peace, Feargus, Peace ! Recal thy promise ere we entered here. My father, I conjure thee, be it mine To answer him. (Aloud). My lord, you do not well : Calling the attention of a motley throng Upon a single maiden. Pardon me, If I impart the customs of our land Unto a stranger— it is not our wont To hear the praises of our beauty ring SCENE II. THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. 45 Upon the air — to open listening ears, Till ev'ry neighbour deem it time to turn And give his notion of the sentence past ; — We cannot brook the bold, unshrinking gaze, That scans — Thor. True, lady, true, it is not thus That maidens can be won : we must speak low ; With eyes now downcast as their own — to prove Such beauty all too dazzling for our sight — And now in daring admiration raised, With glances more persuasive than our words. Oh ! we must bow and kneel, and cry, the while, Against the cruelty of her, whose heart May long have been our own — speak of despair, When we are full of hope ! Thou, that art formed By nature for a queen, and to dictate To happy subjects, I will learn of thee All things beside. But, Melcha, this at least : Experience and success, alike have taught To play the suitor's part. Cuth. {abruptly.) Enough, my lord, Of this discourse ; my child is all unused To speak so much, or to be made the mark Of public observation. She is pained — I pray you cease. Thor. Brother, it is my wish That this, your hospitality, prolonged, 46 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. act II. Will give me leisure soon to prove my words ; To show I have some skill in that same art Of wooing, and of winning. Until now, Ungenerous friend, you have lock'd up your stores, And hid them from my sight. Mel. Mora, 'tis time We should be gone, for we have trespass'd long Beyond the usual hour. Thor. One moment more, I do entreat your company. (Rises. ( To the Cupbearer) Fill high : E'en to overflowing — hosts and countrymen ! I pledge you, standing, with uplifted voice, And goblet raised on high, I pledge you all — Melcha ! the Star of Ulster ! is the bond That shall unite us ; and from this day forth A better understanding shall subsist Between the subjects, of two brother kings. [ They all rise and drink : the Irish maintain a profound silence. Loud shouts from the Danes. Fear, (rises and speaks eagerly.) Melcha ! the Star of Ulster ! may she prove A light to light us on our future path ! I drain the cup in earnest of the pledge, And echo ThorgilFs words : May we, e're long, Drown all the mem'ries of the past, and gain A better knowledge of our stranger guests ! Ran. And may we prove by deeds, not words alone, SCENE II. THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. 47 How we esteem the men, who this night crowd Around our monarch's table. [Cuthullin rises as if to speak. Then aside to Melcha : Cuth. Melcha mine, I should betray my thoughts. (Aloud) Hast thou no voice To speak thy gratitude. Mel. (standing.) Thanks ! thanks to all ! >Tis mine to hope, the wishes you express As coupled with my name, be not forgot Hereafter. It is time we should assume A new position — distance be removed — And as our guest but now express'd himself, A better understanding should arise Between the Danes and natives. . . . Mora, come. Father, thy blessing. Good, my lord, farewell ! \_Exeunt Melcha, Mora, and all the maidens. Thor. Well shall I fare, if such indeed thy will, Thou radiant beauty ! Art thou truly gone ? Thus does the moon withdraw her heav'nly light, And sudden darkness falls upon the scene A moment past all sparkling with her rays. Cuth. My daughter and her train have long delay 'd Beyond th' accustomed hour to take their leave, Willing to do you honour. Thor. Yet they 're gone, And we 're benighted now, for it appears 48 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. ACT . If . That in this latitude the planets, stars, And all the heav'nlj bodies set at once — There were some brilliant orbs I could have marked After the queen of night had left her place, And sunk below th' horizon. ( To Randal) Gallant sir, You had a lovely neighbour — lustrous eyes, And jetty tresses twining round her neck In close embrace ; though slow of speech, her eye Discoursed right rapidly. Ran. She is my bride ! Thor. {tauntingly.) Ay, so I deemed ; but calm thy jealous fears — Impassioned lover — for the lists are closed, And I 've no mind to enter ; though that look, That long last farewell look on thee bestow'd, Call'd up a yearning hope — But pray, be calm, These fears are far too nattering ; and for me, I must confess the fact, the charms I prize, Are of a diff'rent cast — the snowy skin — The golden tresses — the majestic form — And eye of blue serene . . . Fear. It seems, my lord, You judge but poorly of our powers of speech, Since your discourse has been this night confined To one sole topic. True we pride ourselves, Upon the modest charms of Ulster's maids, SOENK ii. THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. 49 Yet men and soldiers when they meet, may find Some other subject to command their thoughts, And furnish converse. Thor. No, young sir, not here : For at Cuthullin's court does silence reign Despotic ; the few shouts and joyous tones Which break the stillness of these ancient halls, Proceed from Danish lips : and here above, Save when my honoured host vouchsafed to speak, Or his fair daughter charmed my eager ear, I play the orator in solitude. From thee, good youth, and from thy comrade there, Dark looks, and scowling brows, and lips comprest As if to keep the tongue close prisoner, Are all the signs of welcome you have given ; Thy words are all too big to be restrained — Speak if thou dar'st, I challenge a reply. Fear, (fiercely.) Speak thou, 'twere past thy cun- ning to contrive A question to perplex me. Cuth. Peace, no more ! My lord, I do entreat ; such angry words Disturb our quiet, and disgrace the feast. Thor. Fear not, Cuthullin, for the bond of love That now unites us, is too firmly knit, To be dissever'd by a stripling's hand. 50 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. ACT II. {To Feargus) Come, answer me: an' thou wert set this night As sentinel upon thy monarch's guest? And if the Princess Melcha were consigned Unto thy special wardership ? I marked The swift discharge of angry glances when I dared approach the post — a post indeed That might be envied. Show the orders, sir ; I fain would know what such as thou canst be Unto the daughter of a king. Fear. Her friend ! Her brother ! Yes, despite that mocking smile, I claim the title Melcha has bestow'd, And with it claim the right to interpose When looks and language which befit her not, Are seen, and heard. Ay, Thorgill, 'tis the tone, Not words alone, that make the sense of speech ; And had I not been bound to silence, thou Shouldst long have heard the truth ! CuTH. {to Feargus.) Thou art too bold : Thy love and loyalty do lead thee on To speak thus bitterly. Thou hast forgot Her father's presence. {To Thorgill) Yet another cup — The wine is gaily dancing to the brim, As if to woo you. SCENB in. THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. 51 Thor. There 's one only name That I will pledge this night. (To Fearous, bitterly) Your sister, sir! [Feargus rises and drinks, without reply. Randal rises and addresses Feargus. Ran. Feargus, to both thy sisters, and thyself! Fear. My gallant friend, we 're wanting in our love And duty to our king. Fill high the cup, And let us deem the wine -juice is the blood Of hated foes, and drain it to the dregs. I pledge you all — guests, countrymen, and friends — The Father of his people — Erin's King ! Mingled shouts of the Irish and Danes. Scene III. — Apartment in the Palace. Enter the two Kings. Thor. Time ! time for what ? We are alone at length ; There is no further need to bow and smile, And call each other loving courteous names, When, on thy side at least Cuthullin, reigns The deadliest hate that ever filled the breast Of vanquish'd towards the victor. Well we played d2 52 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. A CT II. The part allotted; now we are alone, Disguise is useless. Cuth. Yet, hadst thou a child — An only child, thou couldst believe . . . Ah, no ! I reason idly — thou couldst never love As I have loved, and Melcha has no peer. Thor. In that thou sayest truly, she has none — The fitter then to be a monarch's bride ! Cuth. Hast thou no bride ? or does report speak false, That some kind spirit sways thy better hours ; And that the prayers of a fair alien oft Are raised in intercession for thy foes, My hapless people. Thor. What, and if there be ? Her youth and beauty long have past their prime ; And when I wooed her first, though Denmark rang In praise of Gundred's charms, it was that then Thy Melcha had not dawned upon the world, And beauty was unknown, till she appeared. Cuth. Thou hast dwelt long enough within the land, To learn what is forbidden by our faith ; To know an insult is implied by him Who dares to ask a Christian maiden's hand, Himself a wedded husband. SCENE HI. THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. 5.0 Thor. (smiles.) Tis not thus With thy allies ; a more convenient creed The Danes profess ; but so far will I yield To Melcha's scruples. Gundred's fate shall be At her disposal : if she care to have The daughter of a royal house, and one Who shared a throne, to wait and minister Unto her slightest wish, to stand beside As her attendant, menial, whatsoe'er My youthful bride appoint, then be it so. Or if her rival's presence should afflict Thy daughter's gentle heart, then, far removed, Gundred no more shall enter on the scene — Her very name shall be forgotten. Cuth. Hold ! Thy words are idle ; such ignoble terms, Cruel as base, Melcha would never hear ! Thou dost not know the spirit of m}^ child ; Thou hast but marked her beauty with thine eyes ; But, Thorgill, there 's a beauty of the mind, And of the heart, beyond thy mental ken. Thor. (bitterly.) This courtesy is scanty, noble friend ! But faithful lovers cavil not at praise Of her, they love, e'en at their own expense. The charms of which you speak, are not display'd In one short interview ; yet there '11 be time In the long years of both our future lives 54 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. ACT n That will be passed together, e'en for me, With my imputed dulness, to admire The qualities which you esteem above The features, and the form. Cuth. Thorgill, no more ! Command in aught beside, and I will yield Whatever I possess or prize — my child I cannot, will not give. Thor. Fool that thou art ! Dost thou not see, and know, I '11 have my own ; That all these well-set phrases, all this form Of speech, is needless, did I not vouchsafe In pity for thy fallen state to treat Thee, and thy child, as equals. Thou a king ! What art thou but a slave, a wretched slave ? And what is Melcha better than a slave ? One sentence from my lips would see the girl Dragged from thy very arms, and borne away A victim to my will ! Cuth. Bethink thyself— E'en were these sinews paralysed by age, And shame . . and grief . . and terror . . loyal hearts And stalwart arms, and swords already dyed In Danish blood, would rally round my child, And save her from thy grasp. Thor. Ay, would they so ! Tempt me no farther, if thou hast a care SCENE ill. THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. 55 For Melcha's destiny ! 'Tis well to speak Of what her countrymen would do and dare In her behalf; count up the martial hosts — Go call the muster-roll, and see what troops Would crowd around thy standard. Mighty chief! The train of my attendants on this day, Would challenge all thy armies to the field. Thy coffers are exhausted, and my name Rings like a knell throughout the land. No bribes Hast thou to make, and threats were vain with those Whom panic has already seized. Thou know'st I speak advisedly ; once more I set The choice before thee — shall I lead away My bride in pomp and honour, as befits A monarch's spouse, or shall I give the word, The one short word, that will consign thy name Unto dishonour ? Cuth. Softly, for she comes. Thou must be silent now ; thou wouldst not dare To speak insulting words — imply one thought That borders upon ill, when she is near. Thor. {musingly.) Her simple garb becomes her beauty well, Never were grace and modesty so linked In any human creature. Cuth. There 's no fear, For purity adorns her, like the crown 56 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. act ff. That played around the martyred Virgin's head, And cast its brightness on her murd'rers — Thou, Base, cruel, as thou art — e'en thou must catch Some portion of that light. Enter Melcha. Mel. Father, I come, Unbidden it is true, yet as I passed Some distance hence, the tones of thy dear voice Were borne upon the wind, and then methought In angry accents did our guest reply. It was not thus, my lord, you spake but now Together at the banquet — what has chanced — What theme have you preferred, to anger both ? Thor. Melcha, of thee we spake, the fault is thine, The torch of discord kindled at thy name. Mel. That is not well, a woman's name should be The harbinger of peace ; her feeble hand Should throw the warder down, when strife assumes A threat'ning aspect, and her words should fall Like oil upon the Ocean. Thor. Gentle sage ! Thy wisdom is convey'd in silver tones, But such, wilt pardon me, is not the code By which the sex is govern'd. Pause and say, Have ye not been the spring of woe and strife — Bloodshed and hatred — since the world began ? Are there not names — soft, sweet, melodious names, SCENE III. THE BRIDAL OF MELCIIA. 57 Whose very sound is feminine — that have Become a nation's war-cry ? Mel. Ay ! in truth 'Tis somewhat rash to mind us of our pow'r ! But good, my lord, in that I spake but now, It was of daily circumstance, of life, Beneath its common aspect ; there are times Which lend their spirit to the timid breast — Which nerve the feeblest hand, the faintest heart — ■ Which bid us quit the native air of home ! Thor. And then, Heav'n help your foes ! the sternest man, Whose name for cruelty has spread abroad, Is meek, and gentle, when compared with her Who lays aside her nature. Mel. {solemnly.) Woe to them Who thereunto compel her ! — those who urge Her footsteps o'er the threshold of her home, And bid her quit the gentler cares of life, 'Tis like enough her mercy will be small ! An even path is quietly pursued, But when a chasm lies before us, we Call forth our powers, and with an effort clear The yawning gulf — then oftentimes the spring Carries us farther, than we deemed. Thor. {To Cuthullin.) Thou 'rt right, Her mental charms are worthy of the form d 5 58 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. act II. In which they are embodied. Thou saidst well, And very truly. Cuth. (To Met,cua, with agitation.) Wherefore didst thou come. We did not call for thee ; subjects there are Of grave and stern importance, all unfit For a young maiden's ear. Away ! begone ! Thor. Nay, churlish father ! she shall not obey Thy bidding. That of which we spake, but now, Is destined for thy ear — thy thoughts — thy heart — I woo thee as my bride and queen ! I waive All mem'ry of dissension, I demand No dower with thee, no treasure but thyself. Melcha, I bid thee share the throne of him Who has subdued thy country, and in turn Is vanquish'd by thy beauty. Thou shalt be A monarch's bride ! but to thy lofty soul, Still dearer than the title of a king, A warrior, and a victor sues to thee. Cuth. (hastily.) Wilt thou stand there, to hear him speak such words ? Melcha, begone ! I tremble while I see The answer quivering on thy lip, the thoughts That swell thy maiden heart, and fire thine eye — He shall not stay thee ! Oh ! begone my child ! Have pity on thy father, and thyself! Speak not, I do adjure thee — for the tones SCENE III. THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. 59 Of pious indignation will expose Thine ear, thy modest ear, to hateful words — Wilt thou begone ? Thor. Does not her calmness shame Thy idle fury ? She has heard my suit, And Melcha will reply, in such a guise As shall disarm my bosom of the rage Her sire has raised. Mel. My lord, it cannot be ! Our creeds, our countries differ; there's no tic Of sympathy between us, and as yet Ambition never was a snare for me. Thou art a warrior, and a king, indeed, But still an alien, and the blessed faith In which I have been nurtured, doth forbid To yoke with unbelievers. Thor. Thou art rash, Melcha, to speak so calmly, with an air Of self-possession, that becomes thee not ; When every tone adds fuel to the fire Thy charms have kindled, thou art mad to brave My fury, with thy scorn ! Mel. And thou unjust ; For my reply was couched in courteous terms, And bore no signs of scorn. Thor. Calm were thy words, But bitter meaning lies within the smile — And every line of symmetry betrays 60 THE BRIDAL OF MELCIIA. act II. An inward indignation. Think not thus To stay the current of my passion. Thou Art doubly valued, being hard to gain ; And doubly beautiful unto these eyes, When towering with disdain. Thou haughty girl ! Is not one crown sufficient for thy head ? We '11 add thy father's then. Come, pause awhile, And be advised, now thou hast play'd the part, Which every maiden owes unto herself — And drest thy features in becoming garb — And uttered words which do belie thy thoughts — I 'm all thine own, there need no graceful wiles, To bind me in thy meshes. Mel. In good trutn You do misjudge me ; I 've no wish, nor power, To bind, or to unloose, and so, my lord, I trust you will forget, and pardon me — My coming was ill-timed. Thor. Thou art not gone, Thou shalt not leave me. No ! for thou art mine ! Ay, Melcha, thou art mine ! — there lives no power That shall divide us. Be content to hear A suit preferred in honour — for I take My gods, and thine, to witness, it were well The choice were quickly made. Dost thou believe That a few words from girlish lips can turn Me from my purpose ? I, who never swerv'd Throughout a conqueror's life in my pursuit ? SCENE III. THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. 61 Poor maiden ! 'twere as easy to arrest The headlong course of armies, by thy voice ! Recal thyself, it seems thou hast forgot With whom thou hast to deal ; the gentle mood I have assumed to humour thee, misleads And blinds thy fancy. Dost thou know me ? Mel. (with majesty.) Well ! Thou art the man who turn'd this fertile isle Into a desert ; made our freemen slaves ; And changed the crown of gold, Cuthullin wore To paltry tinsel. Thou art come to fill Brave men with fear, by striking those they love ; And gain a woman's heart, by coward threats ! [Cuthullin interposes between them. Cuth. Approach her at thy peril ! for the ground On which she stands, is sacred. Bow thine eyes That glow with lawless passion— none but thou Would be unmoved in such a presence. Call Thy slaves around thee — there will not be found One man to do thy bidding, when they look Upon my sainted child. Thor. (To Melcha.) Thy folly breeds Compassion ; yet once more I bid thee pause, Ere I pronounce thy doom. Dost thou not fear To have thy haughty spirit bowed below The common level — to become a thing For scorn, to point at. There are few degrees 62 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. act II. Between extremes, and ill-requited love May turn to bitter hatred. Mel. These are words Which ill become a suitor ; it were strange Thus to command affection. Thor. I offer thee My crown and kingdom, and a love too great For thy cold nature, to conceive. Reject My suit again, by gesture, or by look — Chill me once more with thy bright piercing eye — And in the very face of all the world, Thy father and his people — in whose sight Till now thou wert an idol— I will drag Thee forth, in shame. £Feargus rushes in, and stands before Melcha. After him Phelim, Donagh, and many others. Fear. Not while there beats one pulse Of life, within these veins ! Not while one man Survives upon this earth — that would be hell, If peopled with thy peers ! Melcha, look up. Cuthullin, let not words as foul as these, The breathings of a dastard, move thee thus. \_The Irish advance towards Thorgill with threatening gestures. Thor. Danes, to your monarch's rescue — treason here ! [Several Danes rush in, who range themselves by Thorgill. At the same time enter Randal and Mora. SCENE III. THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. 63 Mel. Thorgill, there is no cause for fear; my friends, Guessing my need of their protection, came To give me courage, not to injure thee. Fear. Speak but the word, Cuthullin ! Melcha, speak ! And we will bow the tyrant to your feet, And make him cry for pardon. Say the word, And we will dye the floors with Danish blood, And make his mother childless ! [Movement of the Irish and Danes, Cuthullin interposes. Cuth. On thy life — On thy allegiance — Feargus, sheath the sword, And let them pass in peace ! They are our guests, And in that name is safety. [Waves his people back. Thor. Hear me once Before I cross the threshold : Melcha's taunt, And her young champion's threats, I pass them by, They are beneath my anger — but beware Of this day's retribution ! (To Melcha) Wilt thou hear, For the last time, the terms I offer thee, Thy father, and his people. Mel. For myself I '11 yield a patient hearing ; but one prayer I earnestly prefer : let not your words Breathe rage, and fury, in the hearts of those 64 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. act II. Who stand around thee ; good, my lord, I pray, Put not their eager spirits to a test Which may be hard to bear. And you, dear friends, I do conjure ye all, let this our guest Speak unmolested. Thor. Wilt thou be my bride ? And from the throne which thou shalt share with me, Dispense thy blessings to the country round, And heal the wounds which war and rapine made, Within the land thou lov'st ? Wilt thou unite Two brave and warlike nations, with the bond Of lasting peace . . . and reign with gentle sway O'er kingdom, and o'er king ? Mel. Say on, my lord. If, with humility, I do reject This royal offer, what were the result To me, and mine ? Thor. Then — by the gods above — By every oath that 's binding to the soul — Whatever be the creed — I'll carry fire, And sword, throughout the land thou lov'st so well. That which has chanced till now, shall seem as nought Compared with all the carnage that 's to come. Thine be the guilt ! — no quarter for thy sake ! The cries of aged men, and tender girls — The smoke of ruined cities — shall arise As witness, 'gainst thy cruelty, to Heaven : scene nr. THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. 65 And widowed mothers, with their dying breath, Shall link thy name with curses — till it spread Into a hateful echo ! For thy sire — Oh, fear not for his life — that shall be spared — 'Twere well Cuthullin should survive to see, And know thee mine at last — mine, through the means Of sterner wooing, than I tried but now — I had forgot — I must respect thy prayer, And so I wait thy answer. Fear. Speak at once ; And tell him, thou art guarded by a love, That lends its godlike strength to feeble things. I will not speak of fear, for on thy brow Sits calm defiance— gentle courage. Thou — Whom all would die to save — shalt thou be made A sacrifice for us ? Believe him not ! He has no power to work his wicked will, Against the Lord's anointed. Cuth. Melcha, speak ! And tell him, we will die in thy defence, And in our country's service. Now begone : Thy cheek is pale — thine eye is all too bright ; Good Mora, bear her hence. Mel. I must reply ! — I 'm pledged to answer ! Such a change as this — So sudden, and unlooked for — will require Some intervening space. How long wouldst thou — 66 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. act ir. Between the wooing, and the nuptials — grant Unto my prayers ? Thor. The moon is at her full. Her rays upon my distant palace shine ; And the encircling lake this night appears A flood of molten silver. Melcha's path, Unto her future home, should be across That track of light. Till next the moon appears In equal lustre, I will wait my bride : But not one day beyond. Mel. I will be there ! Cuth. Hush, Melcha, hush ! thou know'st not what thou sayst — Thy reason is unsettled. Mel. Father, no ! I will not fail at th' appointed hour. One only boon I ask : I fain would have Companions in my exile — sister friends, Maidens, who speak my language, and with whom I may recal our distant home. My lord, A train of youthful beauties at your court, Could scarcely be unwelcome ? Thor. Dost thou strive To blind my sense ? Melcha, wouldst thou deceive Thy lover with false hopes ? SCF.NK in. THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. 67 Mel. I swear to thee, By all I hold most sacred, I will come Upon the night appointed ! until then, Leave me to finish, all that now remains Of filial duty. Thor. Danes, behold your queen ! Q Shouts of the Danes. 68 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. ACT III. Scene I. — Apartment in the Palace. Melcha seated. Mora is passing across the stage, but is arrested by the Princess's voice. Mel. Come hither, sister, tell me what has chanced, That Melcha should be shunned ? She, who for long Was made the mark and centre of a love — All undeserved indeed, but dearly prized — Tell me, dear Mora, has a moment robbed This treasure from me ? Mora. Ah ! what words are these ? The loss of love, at least, can never be Thy subject of complaint. Mel. Why am I shunned ? — Why are the footsteps, which once linger'd near, Turned far away ? — Why dost thou hasten on, Without a friendly word to cheer me ? I was wont To raise young Randal's jealousy betimes, Because I could detain thee from his side. Thy brother shuns my presence ; and my sire — But that I speak not of SCKNE I. THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. 69 Mora. Alas ! alas ! Thou, that know'st all things — thou canst well divine The cause of this estrangement. Mel. Pardon me, It is beyond my reach — I cannot grasp, A thing so marvellous. To me, it seems That the brief space, which now remains between Me, and my doom, might be beguiled by those Who never failed me — till my hour of need. Dost thou not think a friendly voice might raise My courage, if it fell, or cheer my heart, Or fortify my mind, or, at the least, Dispel the thoughts awhile, that are too prone To dwell on one dark subject ? Mora. But this time — It is an awful time — we are afraid To rob thy father, of his rightful claim, Upon thy numbered moments. Mel. Thou art wrong ; My father shuns me too — at least in speech — Although his eyes still follow ; and his gaze Fills my whole heart with anguish. He will sit Long hours in moody silence, till I fear That grief will vanquish reason, and I rise And leave his presence ; but he shortly comes — Asking why I have left him — with a smile That freezes up my blood. " Ere long/' he says, 70 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. act " I shall be childless, let me look on thee, While thou art here." And that is all he says — At least to me. It 's very hard to bear, And so I steal away ; and ofttimes wish For thee and Feargus, to dispel the train Of sad reflections. Mora. Princess — sister — friend ! Oh ! pardon us our faults, for we have erred. But, for my own weak self/I scarce can bear To look upon thee, or to think of that Which hangs suspended o'er thy precious head. I know not how I feel — I cannot sift Or analyse my thoughts ; but in my sight Thou art a martyr now — a holy saint, By base men sacrificed. I dare not look Upon thee as I did — I dare not speak Of common things to thee. The calm, still, grief That 's written on thy brow — the fixt resolve That dwells upon thy lip — inspire my mind With mingled dread, and awe, as if thou wert No longer of this earth — a thing apart From us, and our vain cares. Mel. Not yet, not yet ! Mora, my heart still lingers with you all ; And will, while life is lent me. All the change That I experience, is a settled calm, Which has not much in common with content, But seems the mere result of fixed resolve — scene i. THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. 71 The choice that wavers not — the remedy That has been chosen. Mora, I do entreat Let not the friendship, which I long have borne To thee, and to thy brother, be obscured When most I need its influence. Respect And admiration, are poor substitutes For sympathy, and love, and confidence. Mora. But thou art one, to sway, and to engage, By turns, each feeling of the human heart. And thou hast drawn a circle round the land— A spell of gentle magic — compassing Thy father's broad dominions. Thou hast raised Thyself into an idol ! Woe to us, Who crowd, like pilgrims, round the favoured shrine To see the holy image in the hands Of sacrilegious foes. What wouldst thou do ? — What, in thy fatal haste, has been resolved ? Canst thou believe that we shall bless thy name For yielding up the one we cherish most, Into the tyrant's power ? Thou hast no right To make thyself beloved ! — to coil and twine The love of others round thee, till thou art A portion of their being, then to strike The blow, which falls on many — not alone On thee — thou self devoted ! Mel. Mora, pause ! Thy eloquence and reason are ill matched. Confess, thy judgment wars against thy speech. 72 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. ACT ill. Mora. I will not pause ! — didst thou not bid me speak ? Didst thou not chide my silence ? I have gained New courage to address thee. Have a care : The sword that 's raised against thy breast, may slay More victims than thyself ! 'Tis thine to pause ; Lest the meek gentle graces, which become A Christian's practice, fleet and fade away Before this stern cold courage — this display Of Spartan virtue ! Mel. Thou art somewhat harsh In this thy judgment; yet forgive the smile Thy eagerness provokes — it is the first That has relaxed these lips for many an hour. Come, sit beside me — take my hand in thine, And I will strive to calm that ruffled brow. Thou, thou, at least, wilt ne'er belie the land That gave thee birth. The pure Milesian blood That mantles in thy cheek — the warm brown locks Reflected in the mirror of thine eye — The graceful freedom of thy movements ! — these May be the dower which partial Erin gives To her more favoured daughters : but they're not The test that proves thy nation — the sure sign That stamps thee Mora, {interrupting her.) Melcha, Melcha, thou dost speak Of trivial things, when heavy cares oppress Thy. heart, and mine. SCENE I. THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. 73 Mel. So do we all, by turns, And thou less rarely than thy friend. Confess, Is not the jest as sparkling on thy lips — The smile as beaming — and the eye as bright : Though grief, and fear, and doubt, and what beside Can vex our feeble natures, lurk within ? Those of the other sex, who from despite, Or through revenge revile us, ofttimes say We are enigmas — there's some truth, methinks, In what they mean for slander, when they treat Of such a true-born daughter of our isle, As lovely Mora, with her wayward mood, Her eager spirit, and her loving heart Less able to endure, than act — unfit For passive suffering, with a bound she clears The gulf, by many deemed impassable, Which severs mirth from sadness — oh, thou art A mass of contradiction — yet so well Blended, and tempered, that we could not wish Thee other, than thou art ! Mora. Princess, 'tis mine To hear these words in silence, yet I scarce Can guess to what they tend ; the glaring faults Which strike the common eye, can be no theme For thee to speak — for me, alas ! to hear From lips, whose accents will so soon be hushed. Mel. Thou dost not know, perchance, what has been said, 74 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. act III. Nor carest to recal, that first thy friend By thee was canonized — a holy saint, A blessed martyr, she appeared to thee — A few short moments more, and she was hurled From that high pinnacle within thy mind — And Melcha, with a heart as warm as thine, As womanly and tender, straight became A stern, cold, Pagan goddess ! I must smile To think on these extremes. Mora. And well thou may'st ! I know not what I say ; I scarcely know What 'tis I feel or suffer, save indeed It's more than I can bear. Oh ! it were vain To dream my idle words could work a change Upon thy purpose — 'tis my heart that speaks : As for my mind, it cannot comprehend, Or dwell on thy decision. Mel. That is fixed, Beyond persuasion's power ; yet these dear proofs Of true affection, cheer, and soothe, and nerve Thy sister's mind. Come, Mora, wilt describe Some path for me to follow — wilt devise Some cunning plan ? I will not pledge myself Indeed to do thy bidding, yet I fain Would learn thy views upon my destiny ; For, subtle as thou art, it would be hard To point a refuge out. SCENE I. THE BRIDAL OF MELCIfA. 75 Mora. 'Twere quickly done. Would that the gratitude which swells my breast, Might lend persuasive eloquence to words That will but fall unheeded on thy ear. There is yet time to violate a vow, Less honoured in the keeping — it was forced By terror and compassion from thy lips. Go, and rejoice thy father with the news Of this thy late repentance ; bless his ear With the assurance thou art still his child. He is a man, a soldier, and a king Advanced in years ; it is for him to judge What shall be done in this extremity. Give up thy cares to him, and to the men Who 'd rather wield the sword, than raise the voice In womanly lamenting. Mel. {sadly.) Blood enough, Has flowed in vain ; it is the fruitless loss Of human life that fills my soul with dread — The thought of noble beings, one by one, Cut down like grass before the mower's scythe, Without the hope that stays the patriot's soul Upon its flight to heav'n — the sweet proud hope That his dear country is avenged, or saved ! Mora {impatiently). Thou wilt not hear ; it seems I must not speak, Although 'twas at thy bidding, I began. 2e 76 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. act in Mel. (smiling.) Say on, dear sister, and I '11 strive to be As patient as thyself. Mora. Of thee I speak. If thou art beautiful —if on thy form And on thy features, Nature chose to spend All her best gifts of beauty, and of grace, So that men's eyes are bent on thee with love, And women feel that rivalry were vain — Is thine the fault ? thou, who hast ever scorned Attraction's petty snares, whose nobler mind Disdains the poor small arts, practised by those Who lay a claim to modesty withal — Is thine the fault if Thorgill be not blind As well as base ? Mel. Nay, Mora, I must break My plighted word — but this is not the theme Which I allotted thee. Mora. That — is to come. There are two sufferers here to be relieved, Thy country and thyself: and for the first, Be it thy father's care to find a balm For Erin's wounds. Oh, Melcha ! be content, And leave those sterner duties to the men, Whose lot it is to grapple with them. Turn, Melcha — I plead for thee unto thyself— SCENK r. THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. 77 Turn from such thoughts, cast all thy burthens down, And fly for solace Mel. {eagerly.) 'Tis a grateful word ! Where on this earth for solace shall I seek, Save in the knowledge that I run the course Of my apportioned duty ? Mora. In the thought That thou canst still the heart's impassioned cry For happiness . . . that thou canst give, yet gain ! That in the giving, thou hast gained thyself An arm that will uphold thee, be the path As rugged as it may— a manly breast Whereon thy weeping may be stilled— fond eyes To mirror back thy feelings — lips to check The sigh when it arises. Wilt thou learn, By sweet experience, where the secret lies That turns our grief to joy — that lends a charm To dire misfortune, and invests the world — The cold dark world we live in— with a light Borrow'd from heav'n ? Mel, {hurriedly) Nay, Mora, thou dost touch On things which do become the moment ill Wherein they are disclosed. — I pray no more — I cannot chide thee, for thy heart is full, And has o'erfiowed in words. 'Tis well for thee Thy lot is of thy choice— a rare event In this our weary pilgrimage below. 78 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. act ill. But once again I do entreat, be still, Our fates have nought in common. Mora. We are both Beloved by noble spirits ; we have gained The secret of that alchemy which turns To sparkling gold the common dross of life ! Mel. Thou hast forgot, such words are worse than vain ; I am the daughter of a king — there 's none To love me for myself! Mora. In that reply The noblest, warmest, truest heart is wronged, That ever beat within a hero's breast. Mel. What is thy aim, thy meaning ; to what end Are these strange words addressed, that are not like To soothe my ruffled spirits ? Mor. Thou must know ! In such a case a woman needs no aid, Her eye is keen enough ; and, were it dull, There is an inward consciousness that speaks Louder, than human voices. Mel. Not with me. Thou hast forgot — no matter, 'twere not well I should remind thee. Mora, speak at once, Who is the man that has been rash enough To love a thing so doomed ? What name shall be SCENE I. THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. 79 Remembered in my prayers, with some remorse, For adding yet another pang to those That are our common portion ? Mora. One I love Better than aught this world contains, save him That I have chosen from the world beside ; One who loves thee, beyond the power of words ! Beyond all things save honour, and the land — The peerless, hapless land — -that gave him birth ! Mel. Alas ! alas ! this is a heavy loss — A brother, friend, and counsellor at once. I never dreamed of this ! I never feared That sorrow from that quarter would approach ; It wounds me deeply. See thou tell'st him not That which has passed between us. Fare thee well ! I shall be calmer when we meet again — But this is very grievous. Pray be gone. If tears must fall, they should be shed alone, For there are springs enough in every breast. {Exit Melcha. Mora stands transfixed for some time, and then goes out in the opposite direction. 80 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. act ill. Scene II. — Before the King's Chamber Enter Feargus, Randal, Donagh, and many others. Ran. How canst thou hope to move him ? This last grief Has quenched the flickering fire of energy, And dotage has commenced. Don. Alas \ too true ! You 'd deem the few short hours that have elapsed Since Thorgill left the palace, had sufficed To do the work of years. He '11 sit and gaze Upon vacuity, and never speak Save to himself in broken sentences, Or to his daughter in a churlish tone, And yet he will not spare her from his sight. It 's piteous to behold. Fear. You are at fault. This sudden blow fell down upon the heart, And stunned the spirit ; be content awhile, And give the aged father time ... ere long, The monarch, and the soldier will resume Their wonted empire. Ran. I see not that. The abdication has been volunt'ry, And from the dust where he has cast himself, Cuthullin has no strength to rise again. SCENE II. THE BRIDAL OF MELCIIA. 81 Fear. In Randal's sight, all monarchs should be made Of other stuff than we, their fellow men. Does not the pinnacle on which they stand Expose each failing, to the eye of those Who are not slow to cavil ; while below Upon the crowded plain, their subjects pass, Escaping observation ? Kings are men, And therefore fallible. Ran. So far I grant. But for my part, I do esteem the man Whom high responsibility exalts In virtue, as in station. There are some Who 're carried here and there, by every breath, From the straight course, so long as their path lies In bye-way solitudes, sequestered spots, Where they (with erring judgment I confess,) Argue, it matters not, save to themselves, Which way their steps be turned. Once let the road Lead them on higher ground, once let them think They are observed of many Fear, {interrupting him.) And they prove, That the poor praise of man, the feeble tones Of human approbation, rank above The tribute of their conscience. Ran. Feargus, you must love Cuthullin well indeed, when you excuse His conduct to yourself, and all brave men. e5 82 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. A CT Iir. Fear. You shall not blame me, Randal, when he comes : I '11 then speak openly, with due respect, And deference, and affection, as becomes A subject, and a son. Heard you, last night The Princess had an audience of her sire ? What she imparted, what was then resolved, Whence both derived solace, and courage, too, Has not transpired ; but Melcha left the king (So Mora tells,) radiant with beaming looks, No smile upon her lip, but something there Brighter, and calmer, and her very voice Bespoke tranquillity. Ran. What of the king, After this kingly council ? Fear. He came forth Another man — his head erect — his step As proud and firm, as when, in better days, Cuthullin strode across the field of strife ; And, with a voice that sounded like the cry With which he led the charge on Tara's plains, He issued his commands ! Don. Cuthullin comes ? \_The doors are thrown open, and the King enters ; he is in complete armour, but bareheaded. Cuth. All peace be with you all. The messenger, Who, in the name of those here present, craved SCENE II. THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. 83 An audience, and a hearing, found your king Busied in sending summons far and wide, Including all the noble names you bear With honour to yourselves, and him. Fear. We hail This most auspicious omen. May it prove, An earnest of the future unity Between Cuthullin and his people ! Cuth. Ay ? It was my hope, my wish, and my belief, That we were knit together by a bond That e'en adversity could never loose. I was deceived, it seems, for Feargus' words, And the dark brows of some among you, speak Of hidden discontent I summoned ye To gain your counsel, and impart mine own ; But age should yield in eagerness to youth, And so, show forth your mission : let me learn The nature of your wishes, or complaints. Feargus, fall back awhile, I would not hear Such greeting from thy lips. Randal, advance, And show the errand forth. There was a time My subjects deemed I had a willing ear For all their grievances ; they do me wrong, Who say that time is past. Ran. Cuthullin, king ! I crave for pardon, ere I give thee cause. 84 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. act ill. I know my nature well : I am too sure The barrier of my lips will not suffice To check the eager spirit, which is wrought Almost to fury. I can not controul Or qualify my words, on such a theme As that which now compels me to demand Redress, and reparation for our wrongs. Cuth. Your wrongs, my son ? what wrongs have you to bear But those we share in common — wrongs imposed By the hard hand of Denmark ? None can say His wrongs, or his afflictions, do exceed The burthen of his king. Ran. Yet thine the fault ! Thou art the man that might have stepped between Thy people, and their fate, who might have stood, Like him of old, to stay the plague that spread Over the land — this fair and fertile land — The land we love so well — the island home In whose defence we asked thee leave to die ! Cuthullin, call that fatal day to mind, When the full pulse of liberty swelled high In every stripling's breast — when the young heart Expanded in its iron vest, until The boy that left his home, perchance with tears, Grew to a hero ! and the man-at-arms, The common soldier in the ranks, became SCENE II. THE BRIDAL OF MELCIIA. 85 A patriot \ when the coward might have gained Courage, and vigour from the startling thought, That on the issue of the battle hung All that gives charm to life. We were but few, But the whole band were heroes . . . 'tis no boast To say as much ; we fought like desperate men, And every Irish soldier hewed himself A pedestal of foes whereon to stand — An avenue of corpses as a road To ThorgilFs life. Then came the fatal word — The hateful order, which condemned us all To shame eternal, and bowed down the neck Below our tyrants' feet — which made us slaves — We, and our children yet unborn. For me, I do confess, I do proclaim that I — Ay, and young Feargus, thy adopted son — We did dishonour thy commands ; we strove To urge our soldiers forward, but the men Whom danger never tamed, were panic-struck ; Through shame and disappointment, they cast down Their weapons on the ground — they cried aloud Upon their monarch's name, and said 'twas he, Not Thorgill, who had vanquished them. Cuth. No more ! Randal, you do presume upon my state, My fallen fortunes, to address me thus. I am your king — it is not meet that I Should pause to hear such words. 86 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. ACT Iff. Fear. Yet, yet, awhile, Bear with us all. Cuth. {sadly.) Is Feargus in the league ? Will his familiar voice be raised, to heap Contumely on his king ? Fear. Cuthullin, no ! Twofold allegiance binds my heart to thee ; Yet, I've a duty to perform this day, And must not fail. Believe, we come not now As murmuring subjects. We're assembled here, To plead our common cause before our king. Oh ! give us some redress ; for we are men, And yet we sit inactive on the hearth Denied by Danish footsteps. Soldiers, too, And yet our weapons rust upon the walls, When every hour with insult is prolonged ! We are thy subjects, and we see our king Bearded within his palace ; the sweet peace Of home, his only refuge, is assailed. We're brothers, fathers, husbands, lovers— yet, We see the holy ties that bind us, loosed, By savage hands ; we 're Christians, yet we watch The sanctuary polluted ! Cuth. Feargus, pause ; I cannot blame thy ardour. I esteem An eager spirit, in a youthful breast ; And thou hast spoken truly, save in this : SCENE II. THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. 87 Thou hast implied, and Randal has affirmed, The spring of all this evil lies with me. Ye do me wrong, my sons I Fear. Ah ! no ; my liege ; I will not bid thee look upon the past — The gloomy past — but rather turn thine eyes Upon the future, which is all our own. It is a fertile field ; oh, bid us reap A glorious harvest ! Let me plead with thee For us, thy country, and thyself. Arise ! And grapple with thy destiny. Arise ! Gird on thy sword ; burst the ignoble bonds That long have bound us. Raise the banner cry That once bore terror to advancing hosts ; Rally thy people round thee, they who chafe, And fret, and fume, beneath the tyrants' yoke. Give us one day to prove our loyalty — To try the metal of our swords. Lead on, And let us meet our tyrants face to face ! Fond eyes will be upon us, gentle prayers Will find their way to Heaven, and we shall stand Beneath the holy shadow of our homes ; Our feet upon the soil, that we dispute, Spurred onward by the smarting sense of wrongs, Fired by the hero's, and the patriot's hope. Who shall withstand our might ? We will not pause, Nor draw a rein, nor slacken in the work, Till we can turn, and hail thee King, once more, 88 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. act lit. King of thy native land, and of the men Whose homage may be prized, because they're free ; Because they've cleansed the stain on thy renown, And traced their names in characters of blood, Upon the roll of fame ! £Feabgus kneels amid the acclamation of his comrades, the King raises and embraces him, placing his hand on the youth's shoulder, he addresses the others. Cuth. You've chosen well and wisely. This is he, Who should be advocate in honour's cause, For courage with humility combined, And strength of spirit with a gentle heart, Convince, while they persuade. Look up, my son, And be content; the prophecy's fulfilled, And there is unity in our desires. For that, ye came to ask 's already given. This day, the royal mandate has gone forth, To levy troops — to place them under arms — To cause the sovereign's pleasure to be known, That every man and youth, whose years, and strength, Fit him for active service, shall attend Upon the day appointed. The appeal Is one that will be heard, and answered. Yet, The strait to which we are reduced, demands That all our measures should be secret. We Must bear a peaceful aspect, show no signs Of this, our smouldering vengeance, till it burst, Like heaven's own bolt, on the devoted heads. scene ill. THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. 8 And now, farewell. We'll meet again ere long, For I have separate orders for ye all, And posts to grant, and duties to enforce,, Which will, I trust, content ye. Ran. Good my liege, We leave thy presence lightened of a load Of care, and shame, and sorrow ; with a hope That in itself is joy ! I do entreat Thy gracious pardon for my hasty speech. Cuth. Let but thy deeds obliterate thy words, And we will ne'er recal them. Once, again, All peace be with you. I have pledged my word To meet the Princess now — but half a moon, And she will quit us all. What times are these, When neither rank, nor age, nor sex, exempts From peril, and misfortune — Fare ye well. SCENE III. Melcha alone in her Garden. Mel. How fair and peaceful ! I will linger here. And strive to imbibe the calm, that makes its home In this sequestered spot. Here, where the hours Of every childish holiday were passed, And where, despite the destiny of her 90 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. act in Who rambles still amid its solitudes, Each passing year contributes some new gift. The bowers grow more luxuriant, and the flowers Increase in beauty, while the singing birds Rejoice to bring their little helpmates home To such a leafy shelter. Who would deem, In gazing forth on such tranquillity, That crime and bloodshed on the threshold stand, And all the world's worst passions storm without ? It is a spot where we might almost still Our griefs, and memories . . . are they not the same, In melancholy meaning? — for a time — Where we might rest, and breathe a little space, Having outstripped our thoughts. Alas ! they rush Full-mouthed upon us, when they find us out : We pay escape too dearly. This retreat Is like the presence of a well-tried friend, Grateful in every mood ; if transient hope Bear up my spirit, here I love to dream Of brighter days to come : if sorrow press With double force, 'tis here I strive to gain New vigour to endure, where the fresh breeze Is wafted from the mountains. When my mind Is torn, and harassed, far beyond the power Of human sympathy to bring relief: Yet here the smiling images of peace, The soothing sound of water, and the notes That swell upon the air, with the sweet breath SCENE iir. THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. 91 Of mingled perfume — these will steal their way Down to the heart, and lull it with a sense Of healing balm. Ah me ! since last I stood Beneath the shadow of this spreading tree, I've added to my store, my dower of grief. [She pauses. I know not why, it should not be, and yet, The thought of meeting Feargus fills my soul With something too like dread. What, if I fail ? What if my courage should forsake me now ? Ere I have entered on my long campaign Of peril and distress ! I'll school myself, Although I fain would speak some kindly words : That's not the course, if I would wean his heart From a misplaced affection. 'Twill be hard A cold and distant bearing to maintain, With one I long have cherished as a friend. Perhaps he may not come — that would be well ; And yet I'd rather meet him once again, Although 'twill put my firmness to the test, To see him suffering, and to know myself The wretched cause. He may have loved me long, For aught that I can tell ; and then, if so, His bearing will be that of every day. [She listens. Those footsteps are too rapid for the King, Too firm for Mora's fairy tread. 'Tis he ! [Enter Feargus. 92 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. act III. Fear. Princess, 'tis long ere I have trespassed thus, And yet a gracious boon was once bestowed, And never cancelled. Mel. Thou art welcome, here : We've scarcely met of late. Fear. And Mora said, That royal Melcha had vouchsafed to mark, And wonder, at my absence. Mel. She said true, And yet I spake but idly, for I know My countrymen have duties to perform, Which should employ their moments. 'Tis more strange Her visits have been rare, for we should be Companions, as we're friends. Fear. And your discourse Was long, and very eager ? Mei.. {smiling.) When your sister's there, Can it be otherwise ? Did she disclose The subject of our converse ? Fear. But in part : She was forbidden, so she said, to speak Of that which passed between you ; but so far Mora in me confided, and with tears Told how she vainly strove to turn your mind, From this projected sacrifice. 'Twas she SCENE ill. THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. 93 Who bade me seek you here, and, Princess, add My prayer to hers — 'Twere idle to suppose That words of mine could sway in your resolve. Mel. Feargus, I pray no more. It is enough. My father's honoured wishes had prevailed, If human power could shake me. It is done — I have resolved. In such a time as this, It is incumbent on us all to act, And so perchance the hardest task of all Falls to my portion. If it were for this You sought to speak with me, 'twere better we Discoursed no more : it is a gloomy theme, And one on which I do not care to dwell. Fear. Ah, speak not thus in cold and distant tones, That sound all unfamiliar from those lips. I have no right to counsel, or to ask — No claim upon thy hearing — yet I came Emboldened by the thought of by-gone years, And childish friendship, to thy dear retreat. Ah, Melcha ! look around — there are the flowers Which we together planted — there 's the bridge Which I so proudly kept, and guarded long, Though Mora led thee on to the attack, And ye were both so valiant — that 's the rock Up which I climbed, to pluck a crown for thee, And flung it on thy head, whilst thou below Wert weeping at my prowess — that 's the brook 94 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. AC t nr. Whose prize of water-lilies was deposed Before thy feet — across whose rushing stream, ( We called it torrent then,) I Ve often borne My sister and thyself, and lingered long With the last burthen — it was strange indeed How many obstacles delayed my course, When thou wert in these arms. Mel. Why, Feargus ! why Recal those days ? the thought of happiness Unnerves the mind, that should put forth its powers, In such a time as this. Fear. True, Melcha; yet I only strove to yield thee some excuse For my intrusion, and the swelling thought Of those dear days, with overwhelming force Rushed back upon my mind. I must not speak Of thy decision. Yet, it is not strange, I should desire to see thee once again, To meet thee face to face, to hear thy voice Address'd to me once more. Hast thou forgot, Two weeks alone are left us ? Then this spot Will be a desert ; yonder fountain hush Its liquid melody through loss of thee ; And in the palace halls, thy sire will sit A childless man. Mel. (with displeasure.) My wishes have no power To bind your lips ; they are forgot as soon As I have uttered them. > • scene in. THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. 95 Fear. Yet, pardon me, I have so much — yet nothing, to impart, I would prolong this interview, although To you it may be irksome, and for me 'Tis somewhat painful. It may be the last — The very last — Oh, Heaven ! in such a thought Lurks the whole wasting misery of years. The last ! the last ! 'tis hard to bid farewell, For the last time to a familiar scene : To mount a steed — or to caress a hound — For the last time. But when the one we leave Has been our Playmate — Sister — Friend ! Mel. No more ! Feargus, it is a cruel act to strike At the small stock of courage, I have gained Through many a struggle. T should learn of thee To bear myself with calmness, be the mind Disturbed. . . Fear, (hurriedly.) Ay, it were well to gain Lessons of reason, from the raving lips, Of frenzy. In meek tones address despair . . Or cheat the fevered tongue with draughts of oil ; But speak not thou of calmness, to the man, Within whose breast thou hast implanted seeds Of madness ! and despair. . . Mei . Ah, Feargus, cease — This is too terrible. Fve not deserved 96 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. ACT III. To be upbraided thus. Let me depart ; We '11 meet again, and take a last farewell — A kind and gentle parting — which will live Better in both our memories, than a scene So full of passion. Fear. Wilt thou not remain ? I'll be as gentle as thyself. I '11 crouch, And lie down at thy feet, like the tamed beast That pious Una led . . . I '11 tune my voice To softer tones ... I '11 guard my very looks, Lest they should trouble thee. But, go not yet. . . Ah ! go not yet. It is an awful thing, To see the one we love go forth, and ask That question of the heart, which makes it sink, With doubt, and dread ! Mel. My Brother ! I entreat Fear, {with vehemence.) Not by that hateful name, which once I prized, Above thy father's title ! — not by that Shalt thou adjure me ! Call me by my name. I have a name, when uttered by thy lips, It strikes upon my ear with a new sound — A sweet mysterious music. Mel. Feargus — then, For Mora's sake, and mine, I do entreat That thou wilt hence depart. SCENE ill. THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. 97 Fear. Why Mora's sake, Why any name, but thine ? Thou art the star That rules my destiny, and from above Shines on in brightness, though to me, its light Be dimmed by my own tears. Thou art the saint, Through whom my prayers might be convey'd to Heav'n — Mel. (with dignity.) Can I believe these words, or can I trust Such vain professions ? when my earnest wish, The oft-repeated boon that I have claimed, Is waved aside ; when common courtesy Is outraged in my presence, and my voice Is rudely silenced ! Sir, I do command That you will hence depart I '11 be obeyed — I am your Monarch's daughter. \_She pauses and then adds abruptly : Feargus ! friend — 1 grieve to speak these words : the fault is yours — But there are duties which I owe myself. Fear. Say it once more, and I am gone. Once more, And it shall be for ever ! In that tone And with that air of majesty, point out The gulf that yawns between us. Say thou art The daughter of a king, and then imply That I am one, who from my low estate, Should never dare to raise his eyes to thee. 98 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. act hi. Mel. Feargus, forgive ! I knew not how to stem The torrent of thy passion. 'Twas not thus In brighter days, for then I strove to quell All mem'ry of distinction. These sad times, Which shake the basis of my father's throne, Produce unworthy thoughts, or at the least Words which belie my nature. Fear. Wilt thou hear ? Wilt listen while I speak, for the last time ? For this is our farewell. Wilt thou deny A hearing to the man, whom thou wert wont To call thy friend, and brother? Are the ties, The long long ties of childish friendship, snapped . . Because, with rash rude hands, I drew them close And closer round my heart? Is this a crime That woman cannot pardon ? Thou that art Gentle and pitiful in aught beside — Thou who hast never marked, with eye austere, Another's failings — Is my love for thee To be declared a crime — a love as pure And holy as its object. Melcha, hear What yet remains to tell . . . Nor turn thy head, Nor wave thy hand, nor look as if I were A thing to dread and shun. I was thy friend, I am the brother of thy friend. Mel. Say on ; But Feargus, if my earnest prayers prevail, SCENE III. THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. 99 Or weigh with thee, thou wilt command thyself, For Melchuis sake and thine. Fear, {very sadly.) Oh, fear me not ! I'll be as calm as mountain torrents are, When chilled by winter's hand ... as yonder lake, (Thro' which the river rushes madly now) Beneath its icy case. I'll look serene, As quenched volcanoes do, so that I gain Thy hearing for a time — 'tis all I wish, Or ask, or hope — Melcha, hast thou not heard That those who dwell, as we have done, beneath A common roof, whose intercourse has been As free and unrestrained as if indeed Fraternal bonds united them, live on Throughout their lives, without a thought beyond That peaceful friendship ? So, perchance, it fares With many, or with most ; but when the love Of calm and gradual growth, blooms and expands, And ripens into passion : then, oh, then ! What is the sudden fancy of an hour, The hasty kindling of the flame, compared With all the long sweet retrospect of years — The thousand guileless memories, which wind, And twine themselves around the heart — the forms Which love incipient took, unrecognized And unsuspected, till the truth at length Burst forth ! As on my mind two years agone, F 2 100 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. act hi. Yes ! two long years in secret have I loved. Urged on by Mora's counsels, and impelled By the loud cry within my breast, to speak — To pour my sorrows forth — confess my crime, And tell thee of a love devoid of hope, And therefore not a crime . . . Yet, day by day, Thy gentle majesty, thy friendliness And absence of reserve, — all, all, imposed The task of silence. Ay, perchance the fear Of hazarding thy friendship, the sole boon I could expect — this, and another cause, Which hath a wider range. My lips were sealed. Mel. Why, Feargus, why, were they unclosed at last, To grieve me so profoundly ? A few days, A few more hours of self-command, and thou Iladst not exposed thyself, or me, to this. It cannot yield thee comfort, and, in truth, It makes my trial harder to endure. Fear. Melcha, thy words are coldly kind, they prove, Thy ignorance of that which fills my breast. No comfort, said'st thou ? Ay, but there is joy, And that is more than comfort ! Watch the bird Whose prison gates are opened, see him wing His rapid flight towards heav'n ; look, how he soars Upon the pinions that were cramped so long ! A moment more, and doubtless he will pay His freedom dearly. Cruelty and death scene in. THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. 101 Await him on all sides ; yet he has gained One hour of liberty ! Bethink thyself, Of that which tempted me : I could have borne To see thee day by day, to know the pray'rs Of holy sisters had prevailed — at length, To hail thee spouse of heav'n ; and once I deemed I could have stood amid thy bridal train, Beside the sacred altar, while thy lot Was linked to that, of one as worthy thee, As mortal could aspire. I did believe Courage and virtue would have lent themselves For that short struggle ; but it is thy fate That has unmanned me (mite, to know thee doomed To misery and shame. Ay, I must speak ! I cannot curb my thoughts : they must have vent Or they will lie too heavy on my brain, And that were worse for thee, and me, indeed, For then they would be frenzied, and no power Would keep them down ; and then my words would sound Savage, and strange to thee. Mel. Talk not of shame ! Will it be shame if I fulfil the task My father in his love has left undone ? Will it be shame, if, like the Grecian girl, I mount the altar with unfaltering steps, A willing sacrifice ! 102 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. ACT III. Fear. Ay, unto death ! Bat thou wilt live . . . Speak, Melcha, speak at once — What is thy purpose ? Daring as thou art, To mset the worst that fate could offer thee, There's that thou couldstnot brook — oh, speak at once ! I have a hope, that 's kindled at the light, The pure chaste flame that's beaming in thine eye. Tell me thy purpose . . . 'tis a boon I crave, The only recompense thou canst bestow On one, who gave thee all he had on earth. Is thy choice fixed on death ? The grave is calm, And in thy sight must seem the gate of heav'n. But ThorgilPs threat of fury on the land Will not be thus appeased ; a pale cold corpse Is not the bride he woos ! Mel. I've heard thee long And very patiently, and ere we part, I too have that to say which must be said. Yet we will meet again ; for on the eve Of my departure, 'tis my earnest wish, That my immediate friends should meet me here. The prayers and rigid fasting I observe Will give me strength, so I devoutly hope To bear myself with calmness — then my words Will be address 'd to all, and they'll be few — And therefore . . . now . . . before we part this day, I'll speak of that, which weighs upon my mind, And ask my friend's forgiveness. Well, I know, That I have injured thee. SCENE in. THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. 103 Fear. No voice but thine, Should utter words so false and strange as these, Within my hearing, Mel. (interrupts him.) I have injured thee, Unwillingly indeed ; it was my lot To cross the path where thou wert bounding on, With heart as buoyant as thy step. Awhile Our journey lay together, side by side, And thought with thought united : the same cloud Or sunbeam was above us, the same flowers Blossomed beneath our feet, and the same breath Of summer air was playing round our heads, As we passed on together. Thy warm heart, Thy generous manly bearing, and the truth Which spake in every tone and glance, endeared That time to memory; now our steps approach The cross way where the paths divide, and I Raise my dim eyes to bid thee part in peace. Thou that hast called me cold, couldst thou conceive The pang, the agony, with which I look Upon my work, with which I read, that I — Who owe thee gratitude, and give esteem, And feel a tender interest in thy fate, Which will endure till death — Oh, God ! that I Should bring a cloud upon thee ; should obscure The face of nature to thine eyes, and bow That youthful head with sorrow . . . This is called The triumph of our sex ! See, Feargus, see ! 104 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. act III. I look to thee for pardon, through my tears. What can the woman be, who deems this joy, Who finds a cause for pride, when she herself Has been the baneful cause of woe to him . . . The man, whose only fault is loving her Too dearly, for his peace ? Fear, (with tenderness.) It was thy thought ; But now to check, and chill me, with that air Of sternness, and with tones severe and cold, Showing but little knowledge of the heart With which thou hast to deal. These few last words, Uttered in thy own voice, and spirit, these Have calmed me, or subdued — no matter which : 'Tis thine to mould and bend me, to thy will. Melcha, believe, kindness and gentleness Should mark the sway of woman over those Who love her (with a true and worthy love,) Whatever be her bent. Thou hast regained Thy wonted empire, having cast aside The bearing, but assumed. I will depart, Or will remain ; I will be mute, or speak . . . According to thy pleasure, and my gaze Shall not recal the blush upon thy cheek, Although it might enhance the memory Of thy last look ... as these few kindly words Will sanctify this hour, until the time — The happy hoped-for time — when life, and grief Will have an end for me ! SCENE in. THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. 105 Mel. Ah ! speak not so, Remember what remains for thee to do ; And wish not thou for death ; — the coward's hope — Because this hope, that is the least of all, Has been denied thee. Live, for Mora's sake ! Would she not mourn thee, with a breaking heart ? Fear. Ah, no! ah, no! her tears would soon be dried Upon her lover's bosom. Mel. But the King . . . Who calls thee son : Fear. It is an empty name, And when thou 'rt lost, his grief will be too great, To mourn for aught beside. Mel. There 's something still To bid thee cling to life. Feargus, I know That thou hast loved another. When it 's past, And I am gone from hence, thou wilt return To that, thy first allegiance. Fear. Art thou mad, Or only cruel, to deride me thus ? Mel. Dear Mora, when she told (for I confess Thy sister spake of this,) with sighs and tears, She told me of thy love, and then she said There lurked a stronger passion in thy breast. Fear. Or she is mad, or thou art mad, or both — How can I trust thy words, or hers ? Perchance 106 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. act ill. My brain is turned, I do not hear aright. . . ( With a bitter smile) Where is thy rival ? Say . . what is the love That shares my bosom, with one thought of thee ? Mel. Thy country, Feargus ! thy dear native land, That, like a widowed mother, sits and weeps, And calls upon the remnant of her race For justice, and for vengeance, on the men Who, with their steel-clad feet, have trodden down And trampled on our heritage — laid waste Our fertile valleys, and imbued the ground — Fair Erin's boasted verdure — with the blood Of her own children. Feargus, call to mind Thy filial duty — for thou wert a son Before thou wert a lover. Go, fulfil The high and noble part allotted thee — 'Tis mine to suffer, but 'tis thine to dare ! Go, and forget the sorrow I have caused ; Go, and remove my image from its shrine, And place thy country's there ; and be thou blest In every struggle, every enterprise ! And let the distant fame of thy great deeds Cause my fond heart to swell with pride. . . Oh ! then I '11 cry indeed with triumph, This is he Who fixed his love on Melcha ! Fare ye well . . . Dear Feargus, fare ye well . . . and think upon My last injunctions. No, no ! not the last — SCENE in. THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. 107 I said we 'd meet again. Did I not say The eve of iny departure . . . Fear, {seizes her hand.) Melcha, speak ! There 's that which tells me — oh ! for such a hope — For such a present — I would stake my all, Of future, and of past. Beloved, speak ! Mel. I must be gone — it is beyond my strength. . Feargus, farewell ! this shall not be the last. [^She moves forward with faltering steps. Enter Mora hastily, who throws her arms around, and supports her, in her exit. 108 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. ACT IV. Scene I. — Banquet Hall in Thor gill's Palace. The King, in a peaceful garb, is presiding at the feast ; he is crowned with flowers, as are many of his courtiers. In the foreground, an aged Bard is singing to his harp. The moonlight streams in, through the open casements. All hail to the victor, the warrior, the king ! The nations around with his glory shall ring ; And bards yet unborn of his prowess shall sing. All hail to the monarch — the high-crested Dane ! The print of his footstep is fresh on the main — Yet his standard is flutt'ring o'er mountain and plain. And beauty, and valour, and wisdom bow down ; And each hour, as it flies, adds a gem to his crown ! All hail to the victor ! In whom we can find The power of the thunder— the speed of the wind — And the courage of Herrman, and Odin combined ? Whom Eagir * the mighty, hath sped on his way — Whom the merciless Nomas f so meekly obey ; And the Valkyrs^ have singled in vain for their prey- To whom valour, and wisdom, and beauty bow down ; And each hour as it flies, adds a gem to his crown ! All hail to the victor ! whose conquests extend Over monarch, and slave — over foeman, and friend ; And who knows the proud spirit of woman to bend * The sea god. + The fates. $ The choosers of the slain. SCENE I. THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. 109 Love, mingled with terror, awakes at his sight : For his brow, like the sun-god's, is beaming with light ; But his frown is as dark as the ocean at night ! And valour, and beauty, and wisdom bow down ; And each hour as it flies, adds a gem to his crown ! Thor. No more ! no more ! I fear that swelling voice May rouse the slumb'ring echoes round the lake, And yield a churlish welcome to our guests. Good Sweno, thou hast scarcely chosen well On such a night ; a sweeter, softer lay, Would better suit the aspect of the scene, The peaceful garb we wear, and th' event Which calls us here together. Woman's ear Is tuned to flattery, and another's praise May jar discordant on her finer sense, If this, thy loyal tribute, should o'ertake Our brides upon their way. Sweno, forgive This rude requital of thy minstrelsy ; Thy largesse shall be one of Melcha's smiles, And thou wilt be repaid : a little while, Such strains may be resumed, but for to-night Let thy harp vibrate to a softer theme ; Thy voice in plaintive swelling accents rise, For thou shalt be our advocate in love, We '11 woo them by thy song. Say I not well ? — Speak I your mind, good friends, shall we entrust Our suit to Sweno ? HO THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. act iv. Harold. Ay, 'tis wisely thought, For liquid verse, with melody combined, Finds the straight road, through many winds and turns, Unto the female heart. Starno. And, good my lord, Brave Harold deems that Sweno's harp may gain The power, which Orpheus exercised of old, Over the fierce, and savage, of the earth, And tame these wilful beauties, against whom His courage is not proof. Eric. Oh let us fight With our own weapons, if we'd gain the day; I 'd never trust another's tongue, or sword In love, or war — but least of all in love ! Thor. (smiles). That was a lover's answer. Thy fond heart, Led captive, by thy fancy, I presume, Is fixed on charms ideal. Eric. No, my lord, You do me wrong ; I was the first to draw The happy lot that gave the foremost choice ; Nor do I care to doubt that your commands Will have due weight with your submissive bride, And that her friend, the lovely dark-eyed girl, Who at Cuthullin's banquet sat beside Her royal mistress, will attend her here, The fairest in her train. SCENE I. THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. 1 ] 1 Thor. I give thee joy Of this thy daring project ! it were well To speak of tongues as weapons ; yet beware ! 'Twill be a sharp encounter. Well I marked That flashing eye ; the spirit well discerned That fed its brilliancy. Star, (laughing.) Oh, be advised, Dear Eric, be advised ; the king's first thought Was prudent in its wisdom. 'Tis the means To gain a patient hearing — think on that ! It is a fortune that befalls few men, To play the speaker's part. Thor. Hark ! heard ye not A strain of fitful music, borne along Upon the evening breeze ? By heav'n, the moon That shone so brightly till the appointed hour, Is now o'ercast, and clouds are gathering round. There is a storm at hand ! Hark ! nearer still — They '11 reach the shore in safety, for I hear The plashing sound of oars. It is my bride Courtiers, resume your places, and recal Your king's injunctions ; let no voice be raised, Or step advanced, until — you know the sign. 112 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. THE SONG OF THE BRIDAL TRAIN. Across the stream of molten light, Her way the swift bark cleaves, For Melcha, with her maids, this night The home of childhood leaves. A weeping bride, the moon appears, Wrapt in her silv'ry veil, But fairer far — despite her tears — The Star of Innisfail ! Like yonder orb, her early hours Were tranquil and serene : But darkness now round either lowers, And storms will intervene. Lo ! through the clouds of adverse fate The queen of night looks pale, And no less pensive, calm, sedate — The Star of Innisfail ! For grace and favour, at her hands, The vanquished victor pleads, Beneath whose sword her native land, Her hapless country, bleeds. And Melcha's plighted word is gained — Such wooing must prevail — The stranger has a bride obtained : Sweet Star of Innisfail ! She comes, a silent, pensive bride : But soon her fame shall rise, Like beacons, spreading far and wide, And kindling to the skies- scene I. THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. 113 While Erin, hapless, and forlorn, Her Melcha's name shall hail, Upon the breath of ages borne — Sweet Star of Innisfail ! Onward we come — a faithful band, Devoted to her will : She leads us, with a gentle hand, To future good or ill. The goal is gained — the voyage is o'er, We furl the snowy sail, Our lovers wait us on the shore — Sweet Star of Innisfail ! [_The music ceases. A loud clap of thunder is heard, and a vivid fash of lightning is refected on Melcha, and her Train as they enter- She advances, followed, at a little distance, by Mora ; the rest, closely veiled, remain in the background. Thorgill advances to meet the Princess. Thor. Oh, deem not, lovely Melcha ! all my vows Shall be thus ill observed. I promised thee A silver path unto thy future home, And lo ! the thunder burst upon thy head ; The moon has vanished, and the rain descends In angry torrents. Mel. (sternly.) When the breast is torn By inward tempest, we rejoice to find Some sympathy in nature. Pitying heaven, Seeing my utmost need, hath lent me, tears. Thor. Mine be the grateful task, all trace of grief, All cause of sorrow, to remove. And yet 114 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. act I v. I do confess, it grieves me that the storm Should spring up at my door, to welcome thee In such harsh tones. Mel. All powerful as thou art, I never deemed thy empire could extend Beyond this earth, or exercise controul Over the elements. Thor. Melcha, this night Thy wishes are fulfilled, for we have each Assumed a new position ; and the Danes, So lately branded with the tyrants' name, Are now in turn subdued, yes, we are slaves, Right willing captives, to the twofold power Of beauty and of love. Oh, thou art come, Thou gentle victor ! on this glorious night, To plant thy colours in the heart of him Who has surrendered long, and tendered thee His crown, and kingdom. Mighty as thou art, Clad in a panoply of youthful charms, And armed with grace — (he pauses) — Must I not speak the truth, The common truth, which every voice repeats Throughout the land ? Dost thou not care to know How beautiful thou art — or does it vex Thy nicer taste, to hear the harsh rude words That mark a soldier's suit? Mel. Thorgill, I mourn Over this fatal dower — this baneful gift SCENE I. THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. 115 Of comeliness, which is the spring and source Of dire misfortune to myself, and all I hold most dear in life. It seems my fate Diff'reth in little from the destiny Which set its burning seal on Erin's brow, And gave her up to sorrow. She is fair, And fondly loved by those, whose birth, and creed, Warm heart, high spirit, beauty, courage, truth, With mercy tempered, make them well deserve The highest recompense. Alas ! alas ! Her hands are bound ! the hand that should reward Is bound in chains, and she can only mourn With feeble lamentation, for her charms Have caused, that she should be desi.ed of those Beneath whose hateful yoke she struggles still — The tyrant — alien — infidel — whose power Is based in cruelty, whose title-deeds Are traced in guiltless blood ! Thor. Melcha, no more ! Too meekly have I heard thee ! Look around — Recal where thou art standing, nor presume To tempt my fury by such idle words, Before th' assembled court. What is thy aim, In braving one, into whose power this night Thou art delivered ? Mel. (with majesty.) Thorgill, I am come, The messenger of truth. My feeble voice, 1 1 6 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. ACT IV That pleaded vainly in a selfish cause, Shall advocate a higher theme to-night. Think not thy menaces have power to daunt : What should I fear — what is there left on earth For me to dread ? There 's nothing like despair To teach the timid, courage ! I '11 not yield In fearlessness to thee, though 'twas thy hand That sowed these seeds of daring, in my breast. [_She pauses, and then adds : I had a country, at whose name my heart Swelled high with pride, till the destroyer came And humbled both. Thorgill, I had a king, Who learned his lesson from the king of kings, Beneath whose sway was peace. I had a home, A calm and holy refuge from the storm Of sorrow and of sin, that raged without. I had an aged father ... in whose sight I was as cherished as the poor man's lamb — And thou hast spared thy wealth, to take of his. Thorgill, I had a lover, in whose soul The noblest qualities that could adorn A hero and a man, had made their home ! The hateful vow that bound me, bound my lips To silence — and I heard that noble suit Thor. {bitterly.) As well became a monarch's pro- mised bride — In silent indignation ? Well, proceed ! SCENE I. THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. 117 Th' oration must conclude : the longest day Will have an end, and when the evening storm Hath burst upon our heads, we have good hope The night may close in beauty. Well — say on : For these stern charges would apply to all Those daring spirits who invade a land, To reap its choicest fruits, or rob a home Of its bright ornament, to cheer his own. What are the gifts I offered in exchange For all these early joys ? Mel. {proudly.) A stolen crown, Struck from Cuthullin's head ; a hand, Red with the blood of countrymen, and friends; And a foul passion, which thou dost presume To christen Love ! Thor. {angrily) 'Tis enough, enough! What, if I let thee flutter in the net, Before I lay my hand upon my prize ? It is that in these struggles thou art fair, And that I love to mark thee ; yet beware ! For all the fowler gazes calmly on, He is thy captor, and this feeble wrath, Which cannot set thee free, may weary him Beyond endurance. [Eric has stolen round to Mora's side, unperceived of the King. Eric. Beauty, thou art mine : Wilt learn to love me ? 118 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. act IV. Mora. Ay, indeed will I ! As Melcha Thorgill loves ; as lambs love wolves ; As conquered freemen on their tyrants doat — And Irishmen on Danes — maidens on those Who play the suitor's part, as yonder man Who stands beside the Princess. Eric. That is— well. Oh, you are hard to please ! see how he takes Her hand in his — with what persuasive looks He gazes on her face. Mora. Yes — with a fire I That, like earth's lurid flames, will soon be quenched, Before the pure chaste brilliancy, that shines From eyes so holy. Thor, Courtiers, now advance ! In order as agreed. Melcha, beware, Nor tempt my patience further. — Thou lov'st power: Command thy silent band to lay aside The veils that closely shroud them. We would see How thou hast kept thy faith, for thou wert pledged To choose the fairest in the land, to mate With Denmark's chivalry, to grace our court, To warm the hearts and to rejoice the eyes Of the young ardent spirits, who till now Controlled their eagerness — but, like their king, Will not be tried too hard. Then, Melcha, then, I '11 turn my thoughts to joy, more selfish still ! \_He takes her hand, she turn* her head and addresses her attendants. scene I. THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. 119 Mel. Beloved companions ! throw aside the veil : Your Danish lovers will not brook delay. Will ye confess such eagerness can scarce Compete with yours ? See how they crowd around ! Stretch forth your hands to greet th' expectant throng. Unveil the faces which have never yet Had cause to blush at gaze of mortal man ; Trample the flowery wreaths beneath your feet, For laurel crowns sit better on such brows. Off with the vain disguise ! my word is pledged, And I've fulfilled my trust. King Thorgill, say, Are not thy Danes, the flower of all thy court, Proud Lochlin's * chivalry, well matched this night, By Melcha's bridal train? \_As she concludes, they advance, throw off the long veils and crowns, and appear young warriors lightly clothed, and armed, Feargus and Randal at their head. The former attempts to reach the King, the latter Eric, to rescue the Princess, and Mora. General melee and confusion. Fear. Death to the Danes ! Erin and Melcha ! Strike ! No mercy will we give, or ask, but death ! Erin, and Melcha ! Strike ! [He endeavours to reach Thorgill,'&w£ is borne away by the press. Thor. (grasping Melch a fiercely by the wrist.) Ha! Traitress, ha! Thou, thou, at least shalt dearly pay the cost ! * The ancient name for Denmark 120 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. ACT IV . Treason without ! let the alarum sound, Arouse those slumbering guards ! Close up the doors ! Fly, Harold, to the postern-gate, and line The shore with warders. Starno, is there aught On earth, you claim at ThorgilPs hands, now, now, Do me good service, and preserve your life, To be rewarded ! Sta. {grappling with Donagh.) But my Lord, in vain I strive to reach your side. Alpin is free ! Thor. Young Alpin — bear her hence unto the tower, And let her be secured, for now, indeed, I prize her life far, far, beyond my own. Accursed cowards ! has a panic seized Upon ye, one, and all ? Half of my crown, To him, who saves my bride ! Q Alpin darts forward, but is intercepted and cut down by Feargus, who attacks the King. Fear. That will I do, I will preserve them both, thy crown, and her Who ne'er shall be thy bride, and yield them up Unto Cuthullin in thy very sight. [_He rescues Melcha, Fly ! Princess, fly ! Take Mora hence, you know the signal well, The pine-torch blazes at the open door . . . Another moment it may be too late. SCENE II. THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA 121 Thor. Starno — on your allegiance — Eric, guard The open door — cut off their flight — strike down The men who guard them ! two such hostages The day may yet be ours. Stand, cowards, stand ! Are your arms palsied ? are ye not four men To every foe ? or are two trembling girls Less scared than you ! Fear, (to Melcha.) Fly ! fly ! our fears for thee Distract us, and unnerve . . Mel. Come, Mora, come ! Thou'rt free ; thy hand in mine ; Randal has cleared The path, and Donagh now the entrance guards. Our duty is not finished — Courage, on, I will support thee — I am strong indeed, Tho' my heart sickens at the flow of blood ! \_Exeunt hastily. 1*22 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. Scene II. — The exterior of Thorgill's Palace. Sounds of strife above, and figures seen moving at the window. The Moon is shining on the Lake, a Boat at some distance ; on a small rock by the shore Melcha has planted the torch and stands beside it with Mora. Fires are blazing on the surrounding hills. Mora. Oh God ! I cannot bear this dread sus- pense. Why, Melcha, didst thou drag me from the spot Where I could gaze on both ? with sick'ning heart, And eyes made dizzy by the gleaming swords ; Yet I could watch them. Oh ! I never knew, At least — I never thought, what awful work ! What horrid ghastly sights ! what fearful cries ! Went to make up the sum — when we exhort The men we love, to daring deeds, misled — Caught by the empty glitter of the name : Melcha, we do forget that glory 's built On broken hearts, and mangled forms. Mel. Be calm — Be calm, dear Mora ; 'tis an awful time, And we must look beyond the present hour, To nerve our spirits. Mora, {distractedly.) Melcha, it is well For you to speak — you, in whose breast the love Of country has usurped all nearer ties ; SCENE II. THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. 123 You look upon the future ; I, alas ! Hang on the present — that 's the only sense, That 's left me unimpaired. I have the power To grtisp the present, and to know, and count All that is staked upon the issue. Thou ! What is't to thee if Randal's blood be shed, So Erin be avenged ? if Feargus' life Be sacrificed for freedom ? Woe is me ! I cannot lull my woman's heart to rest, With such heroic strains. Mel. {soothingly.) I did not look For this wild terror. Mora, until now, Thou wert so fearless, or at least so calm. Mora. As calm as thou wert, Melcha, till 1 saw, A thousand deaths, like demons hov'ring round Those cherished heads. 'Tis easy to be calm. When all we love are safe. Mel. Oh ! trust their care Unto the heaven that smiles above us ; read Good omens in the placid sky ; the storm Has passed away ; the moon is shining fair Upon my father's bark. Mora. I will return, Melcha, I will return ; what care I now, If the whole way be carpeted with blood, And strewed with ghastly corpses ? I shall know If they be living yet — if aught remain To make me cling to life ? g 2 124 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. ACr iv. Mel. Thou shalt not go ! Do I not need thee ? Dost thou not believe That I have fears to combat ? Sister, thou Art scarcely just. No matter — I require Thy aid to keep my courage yet awhile. See, dearest, see ! the vessel nears the shore, My father will be here to comfort us, And bring our friends relief. Look up ! I heard Thy brother's voice but now, and Randal's form Was seen distinctly but a moment since. Mora. Now we are lost indeed ! Canst thou dis- cern Where three dark figures issue from the ground . . Some secret mine ? they move with stealthy steps, We are their prey ! Oh ! call on those we love . . I have no strength . . Mel. The wind, alas ! is high, And sets another way ; those on the lake Would never hear my cries — the shouts above Must drown our accents ! Feargus ! Randal ! help ! [Thorgill, followed by Starno and Eric, approach ; the King attempts to seize Melcha, who clings to the rock ; Mora Jails senseless, as Eric advances. Thor. I have thee now ; at length thou 'rt truly mine ! Eric, thy part was bravely played, and thou Hast thy reward. Ah, Melcha ! didst thou know, SCENE II. THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. 1'25 When love and vengeance meet in close embrace, The bliss of such an hour. What are the lives Of a few countrymen, compared with all The rapture and the triumph that I feel, While thus I twine my arms around thee ? Ha ! Why dost thou tremble ? there 's no cause for fear, And nothing daunts thee ! Thou, who art so brave — Oh, how I love thee ! hast thou not deserved The love I freely offer ? Come with me ! There is a place of refuge for us yet — Eric, bring on thy senseless captive. I Will claim good Starno's aid, to bear away This living booty ! Mel. {still grasping the rock.) Father! where art thou ? Wilt thou not save me ? Feargus ! Randal ! Friends ! Is there no hope ? Thor. {bitterly.) Does it not dawn for thee, In thy fond lover's eyes ? Hark ! how they strive, And chafe, and fret, above, and little know The man they have not missed from out the strife, Is conqueror here below. Mel. {raising her head.) I fear thee not ! Thou art beneath my fear. 1 do despise — I do contemn — I do abhor thee so — There is no room for fear. What, if I fall A prey to dastard cruelty ? My name Will still be honoured ; 'tis not in thy power 126 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. AC T IV. To bring abiding shame . . Posterity Will be my judge ; and grateful Erin's tears Efface the transient stain on Melcha's fame ! Thor. This strength is more than human. Drag her down ! Upon the rock, our footing is not firm. QMelcha with a violent effort extricates one hand, with which she seizes the torch, and throws it into the lake. Mel. Virgin, to thee ! a helpless virgin cries ! Mother of Heaven have mercy ! QThorgill and Starno drag her down ; exit Eric, bearing Mora. The vessel nears the shore; Cuthullin, with many followers, springs on land, and strikes down Starno. Cuth. Thou art saved ! Let go thy brutal hold. QMelcha is rescued. Look up, my child ! I 've lived to save thee. Mel. Phelim, Murtough, fly ! By yonder secret path, pursue with speed ! Mora was carried hence. Hark ! hark ! above Our friends are hardly pressed. Cuth. {to his soldiers.) Haste to their aid I They 're but a handful to a host of Danes. Go and conclude the work they have begun, And be the castle fired. Leave me to deal With Thorgill here alone. It is my will. [Exeunt Irish Soldiers. The Kings fight. SCENE II. TE1E BRIDAL OF MELCHA. 127 TfioR. Thou hast a long arrear of gratitude. A moment more, thou hadst incurred a debt Which even strokes like these could never pay. Cuth. Melcha, fear not, my child ! the spirit's strong, Altho' the arm be weak. [He falls ; re-enter the Irish, headed by Feargus. Mel. Too late ! Too late ! Ah, woe is me ! Feargus, my father 's slain ! Fear. Fear not, a passing hurt, he will revive, To joy in our success — the day is ours ! And not one Dane survives to bear the tale, Or warn his countrymen to shun the fate, Prepared for all invaders ! (He perceives Thorgill) save indeed, Th' accursed spring of all. Load him with chains — Disarm him of the sword, he never drew, But in a hateful cause. [Z/is orders are obeyed. Speak, speak, my liege ! And cheer your daughter's heart. Thor. (utterly.) Oh ! let me speak; My heart swells high with joy, and must o'erflow. I am avenged ! that was a mortal wound, And my good sword hath done the service well. What care I for your fetters ! What are now, Life, safety, kingdom, crown, or fame to me ? 128 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. act I do defy ye all. I am avenged On Melcha at the last ! I hoped indeed To bow that lofty head with shame — to quench The vestal fire within those brilliant eyes, And stamp eternal blushes on her cheek : Next in succession to this thwarted hope, Comes the delight of planting seeds of woe, And dark remorse, that will bear endless fruit Within her breast. This, Melcha, is the end Of thy grand enterprise ! Nay, droop not thus ! Remember what thou art — what thou hast done — 'Tis but another life — an old man's life. Look round upon the flames that circle thee ; Think on the ghastly inmates of my home ! This is thy work ! this is my recompense — Who would believe, in gazing on that form, It held a soul so masculine ? but thou, Oh ! thou art one to dare and do; for whom All that is terrible in woman's sight Hath charms, so thy great purpose be fulfilled. I give thee joy ! thy name will live beside The Roman Brutus — thou hast sacrificed Thy father to thy country. 'Twas thy hand, Not mine, that orphaned thee. Melcha, look up ! Raise thy head proudly ; dry the tears that shame An Amazon ! Cuth. Ah— heed him not, my child, My blessed child ! Let not his impious words scene il. THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. 129 Have power to wound thy spirit. Weep no more ! Dost thou not see he glories in thy tears ? On his devoted head the curse will fall. Thou, who wert ever gentle, till he came And woke the hero spirit in thy breast, Ah, weep no more ! How should he know the calm, The peace, the joy, that fills thy father's breast ? Art thou not saved ? Is not our country free ? What now remains for me to do on earth ? The sun performs his task, runs his career, And then below th' horizon sinks — and thus I vanish from this world, to rise again Upon another . . Feargus, come thou near, For I have that to say which must be said. My life is ebbing fast. Is Mora saved ? Oh Heaven ! could I forget in selfish fears, The fate of that fair child ? QMora, who during the scene has been brought in by Randal, to whose arm she still clings, looks round. Mora. Blest be the power That did preserve me, and the arm that saved. I closed my eyes on hateful, glaring looks — Upon a fearful scene, and opened them To find myself at home ! Cuth. Blessed change ! Yet far more blest my destiny will be, If, in the Christian's hope, I close my eyes 130 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. act iv. To open them in Heaven. Melcha, my child, Feargus and Mora, and brave Randal too, Draw nearer yet, I would my words were heard By all alike — e'en by the cruel man, Who, 'mid the ruins of his fortune, finds Solace, in all the sorrow he has caused. It is my wish his life be spared awhile, To prove — to all still smarting from the wounds His cruelty has dealt — the wolf, at last, Is taken in the toils. My friends, the work Is now completed : for the Danish homes Are flaming to the skies. We've burned their nests — 'Twas Thorgill's* counsel once — our country 's free ! And Melcha's bridal night will long remain A landmark in her annals — a bright page In Erin's proudest records . . I am faint, And weary, overmuch . . Melcha, my child, I never strove to school thy heart, or bend Thy wishes to my own, yet it would cheer My parting spirit, did I know thee bound To one who'd cherish — one who would protect Thy youth and beauty — in whose matchless love Thy sire were better spared . . Feargus, my son, 1 know thy heart — there 's none on earth but thee Worthy to wear my crown, and win my child ! * Alluding to the advice Thorgill had given the King, to rid himself of some birds of prey, that built near the palace, by burning their nests. SCENE II. THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. 131 Fear. Oh, speak not thus, my liege ! Such words as these — Dear as they are — must bow me to the dust, Beneath a sense of my unworthiness : Oh, speak not thus, lest Melcha should bestow — From filial duty, or from gratitude, (Of which she spake without a cause but now), — That which I spurn, from either source : for love Like mine, can only be repaid by love ! Fear not, I '11 be her friend ; I will resume The place of brother, till her choice be fixed On one more blest ; and then I will be gone. Melcha, I do adjure thee, veil not, now, Thy real feelings to thyself or me ; Nor let th' emotion — which has merely sprung From the prolonged excitement of the hour — Assume the form of love, to dupe both hearts A little space. It would be worse to dream, And then awake : to find that we were bound By every tie, save that of sympathy. Oh, I would rather lose thee from my sight For ever, than to see thee day by day, And know thee all mine own — except in heart. Speak to thy father, Melcha, let thy words Be true as ever — 'twere an awful thing To answer falsely to a dying man. Say, Melcha, canst thou love me ? 13*2 THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. A CT IV. Cuth. {feebly.) Thou art blind To call for words. Ran. Ay, blind indeed ! Wouldst thou be answered, clasp her to thy breast, And gaze that earnest question in her eyes ! Then Feargus, trust me, all the fault is thine, If those bright mirrors do not give thee back The image, that 's engraven on the heart. Thor. Oh, cruel beauty, thou art hard to win ! Yet thou must yield at last ; and by this choice, Prove thyself all superior to thy sex — Their weakness — vanity — ambition ! Thou, Thou must prefer this foundling — this poor youth — This man at arms — before a monarch ! Fear. Peace ! Wert thou not chained and fettered, like a brute, I'd strike thee to the earth ! Dear Melcha, speak — It would be cruel mercy to deceive — Confirm this blessed hope : or say, at once, Thou canst not love me ! QMelcha, w>Ao has been bending over her father, raises her head with a look of indignation, at Thorgill's speech. Mel. Yet . . I pray forgive My tardy answer. Feargus, here is death — 'Twere hard to think of joy. SCENE II. THE BRIDAL OF MELCHA. 1 33 CuTH. (in a dying tone.) Ere 'tis too late For thy fond father to conceive thy words — Melcha — reply. \_She looks round, observes Thorgill's mocking glance bent upon her, and starting up, she casts herself on Fearous's bosom. Mel. My life shall answer thee ! QCuthullin raises his hands, as if to invoke a blessing, and then fulls back into the arms of his soldiers. At the same moment the fames burst from the castle ; and Feargus is urging Melcha to embark as the curtain falls. THE END. TRINTKD BV WILLIAM OTLCOCKSON, ROLLS BUILDINGS, KKTTKR UXE. RETURN CIRCULATION DEPARTMENT TO— ^ 202 Main Library LOAN PERIOD 1 HOME USE 2 3 4 5 6 ALL BOOKS MAY BE RECALLED AFTER 7 DAYS Renewals and Recharges may be made 4 days prior to the due date. 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