P R 5X02 V46C3 CASWALLON; ^-g^ THE "BHITOIS €miE¥. A TRAGEDY, IN riVE ACTS, BY C. E. WALKER, B. A, AUTHOR OF " WALIACK," A TltAGEDT. FIRST PERFORMED At THE THEA.TRE ROYAL, DRURY LANE, On Monday, January 12tb, 1829. PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY J. ROBINSON, Circulating Library and Dramatic Repository. 1829. i^sn^^'^ ¥4-4 DRAMATIS PERSONiE. Drury Lane, 1829. ENGLISH. Roger de Mortimer, . . Mr', Aitken, Sir Cecil Ormsby, "^ Knights in f C. Jones, Sir Hugh de Lacy, I the service J J. Fining: Sir Armyn Fitz-Ed- f of Edward ) ward, . . J n. L Coo/ier. Audley, Thom/ison. Harcourt, ; , . . . Z,ee. Officers — Messrs. T. Brown, Brady, Cowen, and Rayner. CAMBRIANS. C as wall on, Mr. Young: Caradoc, . 7 Chiefs of the C Mude. Hoel, . . S Insurgents. \ Cathie. Mador, (a Bard) .... Younge. Leaders. — Messrs. Walsh, Willing, Jones, and Tol- kien. Bards. — Messrs. Bedford, Bland, Robinson, Nelson, .. ..Sheriff, 8^q^ . , Eva'^.l •"'.•*•:/•*::• : • ■ : ♦' Miss Phillifis. doervyt,* *• C •*•%•• ••.* .* . . Curtis, Scenc.'J-AV.iP'cfnWay C^stl,e'," and ih thv^ Environs of .'*' 'I •'« '.' ' '.' Bi\owdon. PREFACE. The following brief extract from Hume's History of Eng- land may be said to form the ground-work of the present Tragedy. " Edward (the 2d), besides other disasters, was also infested with a rebellion in Wales, and above all, by the factions of his own nobility." The condition of tlie unfortunate Combro-Britons, after the conquest of their country by the first Edward, and the death of their last sovereign, Lewellyn, appeared to present to the Author a suitable field for the construction of a Dra- matic Tale, It must be observed, however, that the in- cidents are for the most part fictitious, although it is af- firmed by historians that Lewellyn left an infant daughter, of which fact the Author has availed himself, as it appear- ed best to assist his purpose. The circumstance of the massacre of the Bards will be remembered by all those who have read Gray's admira- ble Ode on that subject. So much for the basis on which the Play was built. The Author would now beg permission to state a few facts resj^ecting it. And first, he would observe, that *• Caswallon" was written nearly seven years ago ; that in the spring of 1823 it was read, and he may add ap- proved of, by several gentlemen connected with the Theatres, both of Drury Lane and Covent Garden ; and that it remains scene for scene, and almost sentence for sentence, as it was originally composed. This may be unimportant to the public, but it is mentioned, lest the work in question should be supposed to have encroached upon the time which the Author owes to his present pro- fession. In conclusion, he would turn to those, whose efforts, he must feel convinced, have so mainly contributed to the success of his work. But — what shall he say ? The terms of obligation on such occasions have been long ago exhausted. Let each and all therefore concerned either in the production or the representation of "Caswallon" accept the sum and substance of more lengthy acknowl- edgments, when he offers them his sincere and cordial «' thanks:* PROLOGUE. "WKITTEir BY A I.ADT, AKD INTEITDED FOll THE TRAGEDT. Too oft the votary of the Stage complains That deep-wrought Tragedy's neglected strains No longer vibrate on the listening ear. Rouse the high thought, or wake the silent tear. But sure your plaudits scarce have died away. Since on these boards ye hail'd a genuine Play : Since here the Muse, with true poetic fire, Struck the deep sorrows of th' heroic lyre; And deeds of vanish'd ages to rehearse In ail the majesty of English verse, Bade the dark portals of the tomb unclose. While, at her potent spell, Rienzi rose ! Though with such merit ill-prepared to cope. One claim to favour still supports our hope. From ancient Britain's rich historic page Our Author culls materials for the Stage; What time wide-conquering Edward's stern com' Spread desolation o'er a sister land : — [mand That land, whose minstrel from the mountain's side, Dared mock th' exulting tyrant's crested pride ; O'er his arm'd legions scatter'd wild dismay — The land that's hallow'd by the muse of Gray, And sure that public, who in earlier years Calm'd the first tremor of his boyish fears. Will greet the bard who strives once more to bind In chains of sympathy the captive mind: Who paints from feeling's unexhausted source Of strong contending ties th' opposing force. The sterner cares which patriot bosoms feel, The lover's anguish, and the subject's zeal. But to the test : — the expected scenes appear -»• Caswallon speaks — and generous Britons hear, CASWALLON, OR THE BRITON CHIEF. ACT I.f Scene I. — Exterior of Conway Castle. Enter Mortimer and Audley. Mort. Beshrew me, but the tidings that thou bring'st Are no less strange than stirring, my good Audley. The king in arms! — The soft, eifeminate Edward In arms ! A victor, too. — jlud. A healthful victor. — At Chester town he sojourns: o'er whose gates. Glaring in ghastly row, are now beheld The heads of his discomfited enemies. Mort So, to thy high built hopes a long adieu, Thomas of Lancaster,— whose daring arm First held the lighted torch of discord up That through so many darkling years hath blazed The beacon of rebellion. Yet, my friend. Though from its pierced shrouds the son of Edward Undimm'd appear to break, in mid-air still Hangs a dark cloud that shall not pass away. What though the bolts of Lancaster fell harmless. My thunders now shall sound. — -^ud. And may the shafts Thou launchest strike more certain. As I think. The king suspects thee not; but yet, to build His confidence upon a surer basis. Might not some specious act be straight devised—? 1* 6 CASWALLON, [Walker. Mort. Thou hast forestalled my speech, or I had told thee How, by despair or something like it prompted, The Cambrian here again hath risen in arms. Whom, as 1 cannot, from the hate that still Hath lived between us, tie him to our cause, 1*11 straight oppose, and with such furious zeal As shall destroy each doubt, if doubt indeed Of my fair faith have place, in Edward's breast. {A horn sounds) The warder's signal. See who come. — And. A troop That my hot haste outsped upon the road ; — Sir Cecil Ormsby, and Sir Hugh De Lacy, With young Fitz-Edward.— - Mort. How — Fitz-Edward here ! Audley, I hate that youth — that foundling slave, Who, not e'en worth a name, i' the monarch's smiles Suns his bright skin, and bears as haught a crest As though a line of emperors had produced him ! But hush — he comes.'^ — Enter Ormsby, De Lacy, and Fitz-Edward. Sir Cecil Ormsby, welcome.— And welcome, too, your gallant friends. — In sooth Our towers are much ennobled by the presence Of three so puissant knights. Orma. You do us honour—^ Mere, my good lord, in this your high report, Than our short stay will let us prove we merit. Mart. Mean you so soon to quit us ? De La. It must be. — We are hvX birds of passage, good my lord, That l)ece have lit to trim our rufHed plumes, Ere we take wing again. Orms. Yet first to do Our errand. What may we report to Edward Of thy hot neighbours h'ere—rough Arvon's sons ? Act I.] OR THE BRITON CHIEF. 7 Quelled is the testy spirit that inflamed To desperate strife ; or yet within their breasts Smoulders the living fire? Mart. I must confess, Not wholly hath the flame burnt itself out. This very morning, as our spies inform us, A band of armed mountaineers were seen To move towards Snowdon, - Fitz-Ed. Armed mountaineers Tow'rds Snowdon, said'st thou ? De La. Aye ? 'Tis time indeed then These sparks were trodden out, or ere they set Our realms a-blaze again. Mort. Doubt not my care : Nor think rebellion e'er shall hold its course Unchecked, while Mortimer commands at Conway.— But how P — Your partner heeds us not. ( Observing Fitz- Edward^ who is in deefi thought. } He seems Quite lost. De La. A common failing. — His thoughts now I'll warrant me are in some shadowy dell, Or lady's bower, perchance, — 'mid faltered vows — 'Mid fluttering hearts, clasped hands, and clinging lips. — Say I not rightly }—(To Fitz-Edivard. J— Hum. !— A sigh.— I'm answered, — Fitz-Ed. Did'st speak to me ? Pray pardon — but my thoughts Were wandering. C ^o Mortimer J — 'Tis thy pur- port then, my lord. To lead direct the gathered strength of Conway Against these wretched — ^^ Be La. Oh ! — I read thee now. — |!|, Wiiat — fearful lest the tiger spring of war Should crush thy wild wood flower?-— Fitz-Ed. Pshaw! trifler — peace! Orms. f smiling. J De Lacy, you speak idly. — Mo7't. At the least 8 CASWALLON, [Walker. Obscurely. De La. What! thou hast not heard, and yet So near the scene of action ? Why, 'twas here He got his wound. — More. His wound ! Fitz-Ed, Nay — prithee peace ! De La. I "ay 'twas here the shaft transfixed him — shot Through loophole of a mountain-maiden's eye. A most incurable wound I — Why at this rate The King will soon be soldierless ! — Who now Would think that this same quintessence of sighs Was once a man ? — Aye and a brave one too — Whose mistress was the fiery-eyed Bellona — beauty of the embattled plain ! To see him now — like some sad stricken deer, Seeking out desert shades — the while to hear him. As with down-drooping head, and lifted arm He leans against some mossy old oak's stem. Sighing — *' Ah! hateful duty — direful day — That tore me from my tender love away ! " Oh ! fie on it! no words — reform — reform. Mort. Ha! Hal {smiling) Sir Hugh de Lacy still, I see ! A truce howe'er to jest — the banquet waits Within, and the red wine-cup chides our stay. Wil't please you enter ? — Nay for some short hours Our castle takes you captive;' — thence delivered, If ye will on with us tow'rd yonder hills. So — we shall hold us honour'd in your aid. Orms. Thanks, noble Baron — but it may not be — Ere the sun westers, I must hence. De La. And I — No — now I do bethink me — I'll remain — My spear-head's rough with rust, and my sword longs To fiash its brightness in the face of day. I'll e'en with thee — and tilt at these same rebels — Howe'er we'll taste thy cheer. Exeunt M0KT131ER and Ormsby — De Lacy lingers Act I.] OR THE BRITON CHIEF. 9 De La. (to Fitz-Ed.) Sir Melancholy » When thou hast puffed thy latest sigh from thee, Thou'lt follow to the feast ? Fitz-Ed. De Lacev ! DcLa. ' Well! Fitz-Ed. This is unkind — I did not think to meet These scoffs from thee — from friendship — Shall I speak Dy meditations? Ee La. Prithee do— I'll listen, Though to the wofuUest love-tale that e'er dimm'd A young girl's eye, or set old age asleep. Fitz-Ed. Oh! tis not that — these wretched moun- taineers 'Gainst whom thou goest to battle — 'tis of them That I would speak — these wretched and oppress- ed— De La Oppressed ! — the traitors ! Fitz-Ed. Nay— De La. The insolent— FitZ'Ed. Hold! They are my countrymen — reflect- ive La. 'Tis well Or rather — 'tis not well.— Now, on my life, I do believe thy heart's a secret rebel ! Fitz-Ed. You know it better — know there's none that beats In the wide realm more true, — yet, while I love (How could I not do so ?) the King, who trusts, Upholds, and honours me, 1 cannot see Unmoved his nobles' tyranny — nor shut My heart against the manifold injuries Of an oppress'd — because a conquer'd nation. De La. {affecting to weefi). Oh ! most sweet feelings! keen and just rebuke! — See if it hath not drawn to my sad eyes Th* unwonted water-drops. — Well ! well ! what 'tis To have a heart ! And think'st thou In this way To scribble o'er thy soul's true character, 10 CASWALLON, [Walker. And that I cannot read it ? cannot see 'Tis for thy bright-eyed maid alone thou fear«8t ? And in good truth thou hast some cause — your sol- diers Have piercing eyes — I warrant me, they'll beat Each bush and bramble, but they'll start the game. And if she cross me in my path — Fitz-Ed. Thou wilt Protect her — come, I've tried thee, and I'll trust thee This levity to those who know thy worth Is only as the river's sedgy top, Whose stream still glideth uncorrupt beneath. De La. Pshaw ! — I hate flattery worse than I do love : And so no more of either : fare thee well ! The wine-cup waits — did'st thou not hear ?— -and horn Of native hydromel; — Heaven help thy taste ! — ^ That dost prefer, after long travel too. To feed on air; — for me, who cannot boast That strange chameleon quality, I own A banquet has some certain charms; and so Not to neglect them, once again, farewell. r faith, I pity thee. — \exit, Fitz-Ed. He pities me ! Such pity might the untaught Indian feel For the rapt saint— he pities me ! — Oh Eva ! Had he beheld thee — prest thee to his bosom — Perceived, like me, thy sweet unclosing eyes As the glad consciousness of safety flashed From their full orbs, silently blessing him For deeds his arm had wrought in thy defence — But it escapes me — should their ruffian hands Again assail — and I not near to aid — I'll hence o' the instant : — seek yon hallowed spot Where yet thy footprints linger — where the air Yet breathes of thee, and every gentle gale, That stirs amid the waring forest, seems With whispering tongue to syllable thyname. Act 1.1 OR THE BRITON CHIEF. 11 My wretched countrymen — they too must hear My warning voice : I'll pierce to their retreat, Appriae them of the storm that's gathering round. And snatch them, ye hard tyrants, from your hate. Scene II. — 4 romantic Glen, — On one side a rude Hut,fiartly concealed by overhanging ti ees. Moun- tains in the back ground. — Mador is discovered, having sus/iended his harp, upon the branches of a large oak. Mad. Thou ancient Oak— that with outstretched arms Did'st welcome to thy friendly shade, the spent And homeless spirit of freedom — lo ! I hang My latest treasure on thee! — there abide, My harp — alas ! — how vain the hope that e'er I may again burst the sad spell that binds thee, Or wake thy tranced strings to any theme That speaks not Cambria's ruin ! — Where are ye. Ye spirits of song — ye souls of my slain brethren ? Hover ye yet around the land that once Reechoed with your raptures? — Sainted friends — Yours was the death of fame !— Hark! — heard I not A footstep ? — it is he— mine honour'd lord. (Caswallon descends the rocks^ as pursued ; still looking towards the side on nvhich he has en- tered.') Mad. Caswallon ! — whence this haste — these ire- ful looks — This wild demeanour? Cas. They have missed my track. Hark to their halloo in the distant vales! — And have I foil'd ye, hell-hounds ! Mad. Holiest Saints f Hast been perceived ? 12 CASWALLON, [Walker. Cas. Shame chokes my utterance — yes- Perceived, and forced to fly : — from crag to crag Chased like the mountain quarry. Yet thou know'st — But for the tie that binds me to existence — Oh, well thou know'st the shame of craven flight Had not been mine ; — that rather I had sprung Resistless, tiger like, upon their spears. And proudly died: — in death's last agony Grappling the foremost of my fierce assailants, And crushing the strong life from out his heart! Mad. TheHeav'nsforefend! — Ah! wherefore wil't thou thus Stray heedless o'er the mountains, even as though The merciless stranger sway'd not through the land. Nor set a price on thine attainted head! Cas. What should I do ? — Thou canst not estimate Th' impatient stir and throbbings of strong manhood, By the faint ebbs and flows in the heart.of age* Should I confine me from my native hills, Life were not life. I tell thee, dull old man- Pshaw ! — I am harsh — unthankful — petulant — I prate I know not what. — Forgive me, Mador — Oh ! *tis not thou hast anger'd me. — My country ? Mv wretched country ? — shall the violent stranger Lord it for ever o*er thy ravaged vales!— For ever fix upon thy mountain tops The watch towers of his strength and our despair! — • Is this Heaven's will!— What heard'st thou > Mad. Through the glen Advancing footsteps.— Fly — fly. — Cas. Again ! Mad. Delay, And art thou lost. Cas. Or, rather, I am found. — And be it so i—l stir not from this spot. Mad. Fatal resolve! — Yet think of her, my lord. If my tears fail to move thee—think of her, The tender flower that lives but in thy light. What were her fate, if 'reft of thee ! Act I.] OR THE BRITON CHIEF. 13 Cas, Forbear — Press not that theme : — it tortures — it subdues me ! — Do with me as thou wilt. \_exit into the hut. Mad. rU wait without ; And haply they may pass, as deeming me The lone possessor of this forest cell. Enter Caradoc and Hoel. Cara. 'Tis this way, then, he must have pass'd; Hoel. And lo ! Where the broad arms of yon outspreading oak Embrace a secret dwelling. — We will enter. — 'Tis haply here that — Mad. (advancing). Hold, rude man — nor tempt Mine order's curse. — What would'st thou ? Cara. Sire revered. We bend before thee. Mad. Wherefore have ye sought, From the far world, these desert shades ? — a spot Sacred to holiest solitude ; and e'en From the first birth of nature, unprofaned By sound of steel, or sight of armed men. Cara. Thy pardon, that we rudely dare to break Upon its privacy. — If known the cause, It surely might absolve us. Mad. Briefly tell it. Hoel, As briefly answer — Shrouds not yon lone hut The chief, Caswallon ? Mad. Whence hadst thou the thought To find him here ? Cara. He cross'd us even now. — > Nay, think not, holy Bard, we trace his steps With traitorous aim. — Too well we know the price That barbarous England sets on his brave head ; — And oh ! too well, what harlot charms hath gold, E'en in the eyes of our own countrymen. But with far other hopes v/e seek Caswallon. We follow him, to place within his grasp 2 14 CASWALLON, [Walker. The avenger's sword. — It now awaits his wielding. Let him but lead the way in freedom's path — And know, there are not wanting, through the land, Hearts prompt to dare, and hands to execute. (Caswallon here re-ajifiears at the door of the hut.) Mad. I hear thee, and am lost in strange amaze. — Mean'st thou, that Cambria, our poor bleeding coun- try. Hath dared again — ? Cara. To shake the tyrant's foot From her down trodden neck ! — I tell thee. Father, That did I blow but one blast of this bugle, The sound should summon forth from their retreat Two thousand armed Britons. — Hear'st thou that ? A band, that were Caswallon but to lead them, — Were he, who now is absent — Cas. {unable to restrain his emotion^ rushing for- ward.) No — he's here Here at thy side. — Thou heavenly messenger Of life and light, where all around was darkness! Oh, instant sound the trump — or take me hence To yon bright spot, irradiate with shine Of spirits like thee, and the last drop of blood In these full veins shall fall for them and freedom ! Hoel. Thou honour'd warrior, who for sixteen years Invisible to every eye hast been — Do we again behold thee ? Cas. And thou risest Beautiful in thy strength, my native country! And thou hast girded on thy sword of valour, And with the iron heel of indignation Hast spurned the spurner from thee ! — the loud sum- mons To liberty and vengeance has gone forth Amid thy mountains ! — Snowdon, the great king, Hath issued it — and Idris echoed back The inspiring sound 1— Aye, shout, ye hills !— high lift Act I.] OR THE BRITON CHIEF. 15 Your everlasting heads, and shout for joy ! — Ye shall be free ! — Ye shall again be free! Cara. Oh, be thy words prophetic ! — But 'twere good We now return'd to our expectant friends. How will the sight of thee, their gladden'd hearts Fill with new life ! — of thee, their chief and king. — For on thy head hath Cambria fix'd to set The regal crown. Cas. On mine P'—Oh, never, friends, That circling glory shall descend on me. — Never upon Caswallon's brow shall sit Another's right. Cara, Another's ! — Cas. Doth it wake you ?— What if a branch of Cambria's royal tree Had still escaped the blighting tempest's spite? A scion of Lewellyn's lofty stem? — What an I pledged myself to place before ye. Flourishing now in full maturity. His lineal heir? Cara. It were a blessed chance. It were to set a standard on our hills Round which the realm should range itself in arms. Cas Enough— -here break we off — at Snowdon's foot Together summon your brave bands; and there I'll join them. — There shall they behold — but haste, Time presses. — Be it thine, my faithful Mador, To bear these chieftains company, and share The glorious tale among them. — Fare thee well. — Anon I'll follow thee. [Exeunt Mador and Chiefs, Oh happiness! — If hitherto thou hast but transiently Glanced on my soul, like the brief lightning's flash Fading av/ay, ere I have felt thy presence. Now — now I have thee ! — now my raptured soul Basks in the full shine ot thy favouring beams ! Hoa!— Eva— hoa! 16 CASWALLON, [Walker. Enter Eva. Eva My father. — 'Twas his voice. — And thou'rt returned at last! — Fie on thee, loiterer! How long hast thou been absent.— But I'll punish thee. This truant disposition of to day Shall mulct thee of thy morrow's sport, mine hunts- man. Mark if it do not. Cas. Dearest child! E-va. If thus The chase should rob me of thy love — but ah I As now I gaze on thee, some strange emotion Seems to possess thy soul. — Thy changeful cheek Is flushed and pale by turns. — And yet a gladness Sits sparkling in thine eye. — If aught had happ'd It is of moment sure to move thee thus. My father, \vhat hath chanced > Cas. I cannot speak ! Our country — let that word declare it all.— And yet — ' Eva. Thou'rt pale, and shiverest : faint belike With thy long fasting — spent with exercise. Cas. Not that — it is not that. — Oh Eva hear me, I have a thing to say — a tale of wonder To pour into thy bosom — but I know Thy nature well— and thou wilt love me still. List to me Eva. — Eva. Love thee — love thee still! Thy words are wrapt in darkest mystery — But I do listen. — Cas, Now sustain me, Heaven! After that last great battle— that which fix'd The Saxon stranger in our groaning land. On Bualt's bloody plain I stood alone. The sole survivor of my slaughtered friends — Death had that day been busy with the best Of all our host — but still had fled from me ; And o'er the thick heaps of the trampled slain Act I. OR THE BRITON CHIEF, n I still was seeking him — when — horrible sight — The rich helm cleft upon his kingly brow, Before me, pale and bleeding, lay Lewellyn — ! J'^va. Our latest, noblest king! Cas. The great Lewellyn— Soul-struck I sank beside him — and his hand. As cold it lay upon the gory plain, Caught to my burning lips — the touch restored His fading senses — Oh ! and the wild joy That lightning like thrill'd through me, When I saw His eyes still shooting forth the fires of life. — I raised him in my arms — "And art though here? And hath heaven sent thee to my prayers?" he cried — Then pointing to his palace — " Haste and save " He added in a whisper, " ere the foe Has fired our dwellings — save my child " — Eva, * His child ! Said you his child ? — Cas. Upon the word, I sprang From earth — he smiling sank down at my feet, And — died! — I did not think to shed a tear At such an hour. ■Ex'a. Oh pardon — but the child— The helpless infant — ? Cas. *Twas a night of terror — I well remember it — and the storm-fires flash'd — And the wild thunders roll'd our dead king's kneil ! Oh ! but I bless'd their deep and drowning voices ; ^/fk For, ever in the pauses of their wrath, ^^ The fiercer foe's exulting shouts uprose. — And I was struggling on, glen after glen, And now had gain'd that topmost mount, where stood Our monarch's palace: — for a time, the child Thro' its deserted halls I sought in vain. At length within the chapel's sacred pale, Peacefully at the altar's foot enshrin'd, As who should say—*' Here I'm insafety sure" 2* 18 CASWALLON, [Walker. I saw it — the sweet sleeping one.- — From fire. And sword, and insult, storm, and wreck, and ruin, I snatch'd it — saved it! — as you see, e'en now The joy o'erpowers me. — Eva. And 'tis living still ? — Cas. Aye, I thank Heaven i— 'Tis living — bloom- ing. — Eva, That child art thou !— JLva. I ! — I that child ? — my father — Thou art my father — art thou not ?~- and this That I have heard thee say was but to try The depth of my affections. — Thou distrustful! To think the false lure of a royal birth Should so ensnare me. — Oh ! thou might'st have known I would not forfeit that transcendant claim To thy paternal love for all the wealth, Heirdoms, and honours the wide world contain Cas. Ha! — I had not expected this. — Oh pardon That 1 have dared deceive thee — dared usurp Even from thine infant — JEva. Am I not thy child i Cas. Thou art a princess, and the rightful heir Of empire — by yon conscious Heaven if swearW; — That in its infinite mercy made Caswallon Its instrument to save thee. — By the life That I have cherished for thy sake, the joys. And griefs, and fears that 1 have felt throughout ijff'hy rising youth — and by this last great hope ^^o see thee'stablished on thy father's throne. Thou art Lewellyn's heir ! — Jiva. And not thy child.— Oh ! fallen from happiness indeed ! — But thou, My father — for I still must call thee so, — Thou wilt have pity on me, and fast lock This hideous secret in thy silent heart. — Wilt thou not ?— Awful Heaven ! — he turns away. Then am I answer'd, and my fate is plain. — Most miserable outcast ! Act II.] OR THE BRITON CHIEF. 19 Cas. Say not that. Thou shalt be great and happy an^ong princes, Cambria's acknowledged queen ! — but time is wast- ing. And I ibrgct—there are some certain chiefs That now at Snowddn's foot do stay for us. Small need of prep-i ration ; — we'll but take A hasty farewell of our forest home, And straight set on. Eva. A farewell of our home, Where we have lived thus long and happily — Ah ! — What thy purpose ? — spare me. Cas, Royal maid. It must not be. — Princess, a crown awaits — A kingdom cries to thee. — Nay, linger not. — My queen !— My child ! Erva. (throwing herself into his arms J — Aye, call me still thy child. And I will follow thee throughout the world ! lexeunt into the Hut, END OF ACT I. ACT II. OCENE I — ji rocky Vale^ivith Snowdon rising above. The Insurgents with Caradoc are discovered as waiting Caswallon's ajifiroach ; Mad or in the viidst. On either side are Bards, each standing with his harfi ufion a craggy eminence. Mad. Thus then ye men of Arvon, all is told.— . E'en now he comes, and with him that bright heir Of royalty, Lewellyn's living child. But first, as doth become this great occasion. Let us take up tlie strain of ancient days. Strike ye, my bardic brethren — ye that know To rouse the slumbering might of minstrelsy, iLtrike ! to Lewellyn's praise build the proud song. 20 CAvSVVALLON, [Walker. AN ODE BY THE BARDS. Chonie. Hear Lewellyn— rwhlle to thee We swell the tide of minstrelsy! First Bard, Still o'er Arvon fast and far Rolled the cloud of Saxon war: Still athwart its darkness played The radiance of thy battle blade : There where raged the thickest fig'ht Shedding fierce its vengeful light! Second Bard. Hark! an arrow hurtling by! — Hark ! a nation's anguish'd cry ! Who shall now afford relief? Fall'n is Cambria's stately chief: Ne'er his hand on battle plain, Freedom's sword shall wield again. Third Bard, Hold ! their lives in glory sped, Peaceful sleep the princely dead. Why prolong the notes of wo? Bid the strain of rapture flow : Let it to all distant ears Tell the joy that now appears. Chorus. She comes ! — she comes ! — let harp and voice Up to high Snowdon's peak rejoice ! — Enter Caswallon, leading Eva, Cas, Enough, my friends — aniazenrient I perceive Hath filled yt)ur hearts, for that Caswallon stands, Act II.] OR THE BRITON CHIEF. 21 After a separation of such years, Once more an armed warrior in your cause. Pass that — a higher, richer joy is here. (Leading Eva forward.) Chiefs, fellow-sufferers, friends and countrymen, I here present to ycu a princess, sprung From ancient Arthur's royal line, and heir Immediate of your dearly-loved Lewellyn — 'Twere long to tell how 'mid those earthquake wars. Which swallow'd kings and kingdoms, I preserved her: How I have bred her as mine own, nor yet From )^ear to year and heart to disavow That dearest claim upon her filial love : How she has been to me a more than child — Sweet solace of my solitude thro' years Which else I had not lived. — Let it all pass. I here resign her to your common loves, Cambrians — Behold your Queen ! Behold ! and ye That do acknowledge her now kneel with me, Your voices join with mine aloud to cry All hail Lewellyn's heir! (kneels), Cara. Hail Princess! — Mad. iJfc. Princess hail ! (all knell,) Eva^ Alas, my — lord my loving friends — arise. How should I thank you ? My heart's gratitude. That fain would find a passage from my lips, Flows from my eyes instead, and leaves me speech- less. Cas. Blest tears! o'erfiowing from the fount of love; Be they received as is the rain from heaven Upon a thirsty land ; sweetly reviving The blossoms of a nation's blighted hopes. Enter Hoel. Cara. Hoel — what means this haste ?— HoeL Where is the Chief? We have secured a Saxon spy, and wait To take his orders; — 22 CASWALLOI^, [Walker. Cas. Spies upon our councils ! Set him before us. — \_exit Hoel. ( To Eva) It were best, my Queen, Thou should'st retire, — these tumults might distract Thy unaccustomed spirit. — Eva» I obey ; — But thou wilt follow shortly.? — Cas. With all haste. Cshe retires attended by Mad or, iS^c.) And now ye warriors, who with willing hearts Have destined me to lead this high emprize. Draw out your forces. — We must hold ourselves Expectant of a daily, hourly blow. — Brave Caradoc and captains to your charge. Exeunt Caradog, i3'c. Reenter Hoel. Hoel My lord, the prisoner. — Cas Let me look on him — His friendly visit shall have fitting welcome. (Fitz-Edward is brought in guarded.) Cas. Good sooth — a gallant presence! it should speak Th' ambassador methinks, and not the spy. Thou com'st with message from our mighty masters: Doubtless 'tis 30 f — in sending thee they deemed That lofty carriage could not but suffice At once to fright us into good behaviour. Fair youth — thy noble pleasure ? Fiiz-Ed. Scornful man — I reck not of thy taunts, — who merits not May well despise them ; — but before 1 tell The purport of my presence here, resolve me — Art thou the chief of this insurgent troop — Or whom do I address ? Cas. Ask of thy country : — Ask at whose uttered name in times of yore The stoutest of her warriors shook with dread ; Whom even yet perhaps she chiefly fears. Ask who it is that still hath stood erect E'en in the midst of kneeling Cambria : ActlLJ OR THE BRITON CHIEF 25 Who still hath scorned her conqueror — disowned, — Despised, — spurned, — baffled hinn — and I am he ! — Fitz-Ed. Is't possible? — Caswallon! — Cas. Aye — Caswallon. What! doth it shake thee ? — is the gulf, that gapes Beneath thy tottering feet, at length revealed ? Thou art Caswallon's captive. — Fitz-Ed. Haughty lord !— Think not I stoop to deprecate your wrath. My life is in your hands : — I am unarm 'd. — Use your advantage as you may — I reck not — Yet — though the assertion now, I blush to think it, May somewhat shew like the device of fear — Yet truth demands my utterance to declare I did not seek your hills with hostile aim — I am not what you think me. — Cas. Ko ? and yet Thou art a Saxon ? — and thy coming hither — Doubtless i; was — Fetz-Ed. To serve ye — yes, to save. For think not that your rising is unknown : Or that the Argus hate of Mortimer Is slumbering 'mid your councils. — Wretched men ! 'Twas pity for your past, your present woes That brought me hither. — Oh ! it is most true Ye have had wrongs — Cas. Indeed ! — Fitz-Ed. And heaven's my witness That I have felt them to mine inmost soul. That I have ne'er forgot the ties that bind me To my dear native land, nor yet — Cas. Thy land !— Thine ! — did I hear aright ? — and thou art then — ? FitZ'Ed. E'en like thyself, a Cambrian. — Cas. He avows it! — Hear him ! — he heralds forth his own deep shame ! Prank'd in the trappings of his guilt, he comes To beard us with the boast — the very boast Of his apostate baseness! — 24 CASWALLON, [Walker. Fitz-Ed. Spare to chide Till thou hast heard my story. — I have fought Abroad beneath the banner, it is true, Of English Edward : — true, to him I owe My name — my knighthood — all that I possess. Since from my earliest years, while yet an infant Found after Deva's fight, I still have lived — Cas. That fight ! — oh name it not. (Covering his face, and then regarding Fitz-Edvmrd with softened looks.) Unhappy youth!— Art thou a sufferer too from that same fight .^ Yet do not tell me. — Oh, thou hast recalled Days of despair and images of horror ! — A murdered wife and son. — No more — no more — And thou wert ravish'd from thy parents, youth ^ So ran thy tale. — Fitz- Ed. 'Tis all I have to tell.— 'Tis all I know, that in the sanctuary Of a deserted convent chance reveal'd me Beside a dying mother. Cas. Heavenly Powers ! But this is strange — and stranger thoughts pro- vokes. — A convent ! — 'Twas to such a place — The time too Exactly suiting. — A deserted convent ! — The name ; — the name ? — Fitz-Ed. What can this mean > — Cas. (nvith imfiatient eagerness.) The name ? FitZ'Ed. I have been told — Cas. Was it St. Cybi's ?— Fitz-Ed. Ha!— You then have heard — Cas. It was! and I am wild With hope new-risen as from the vanquished tomb \ Enter Mador. Mad. My Lord, the assembled bands — Cas. I know. — Come hither. Dost thou observe that youth!*— his shape— his mien — Act II.] OR THE BRITON CHIEF. 25 Nay— look upon him : for by all nny hopes Here and hereafter, I do think that youth > To be the child of my Guideria, My long-lost, living son. MacL That Saxon knight Thy son ! — Fitz-Ed. (asidey) Amazement mocks my every sense ! — Why should he eye me with such altered looks ? — Haply he knew my parents. — Ha!— dread Chief — If aught, as thy demeanor doth denote, Aught of my birth thou know'st, I do beseech thee Declare it. — Have I — oh ! I fear to ask — Have I a father ? — thou art silent. — Speak. — Restore to me a father; — or if Fate Hath envious snatch'd him from these filial arms. Restore to me a name, and I will bless thee !— ~ Cas. Yet — yet, my heart, thou art too small to hold A tide of bliss so copious! — One word more.— Thou namedst an expiring mother. — Fitz-Ed. Struck By a chance arrow, as I since have heard, While flying with myself, her infant charge. From the victorious foe— to earth she fell : And from her arms, that could no longer hold, Unwilling gave me up — gave me to him Who led that day the assailant host, and now With sorrowing heart stood o'er her as she died. Cas. Go on — she spoke to him. — Fitz-Ed. ' She fain had spoken, But could not— could not thank him for his oath That nought should harm me, but with trembling lips Just breathed the name of Armyn, and expired. Cas. The name of Armyn !— I can doubt no longer. Off !-'-let me hold him to my bursting heart : My own - my living son I— Fitz-Ed. Mysterious Heaven ! Art thou my father!— thou art— -thy looks— 3 26 CASWALLON, [Walker. These clasping hands — all — all proclaim the truth. Oh ! let me kneel — Cas. {preventing' him.') No - to my bosom' ever.— And am I still a father ?— Haste thee, Mador ; Spread wide my bliss— thou know'st to whom 'twill be Most grateful.—- [exit Mador, My bold Armyn, dost thou weep > Fitz-Ed, A most degenerate softness that I blush at— But 'tis confessed— my heart is all too weak. Unmoved to stem this sudden surge of joy. Cas. Alas ! my son,— now, as I look upon thee, Past times live o'er again. The veiling mist That years have shed o'er my young manhood's morn Doth break away, and all its nopes and joys In shining prospect stand reveal'd before me. I see thee still an infant, as when last We parted ; when from off my brow I put Its dragon-crested terrors, and impress'd A father's hasty farewell or. thy cheek :— Oh ! then, amid her tears, thy mother smiled.™ Let from my thought what follow'd.— I have much, My son, to pour into thy listening ear, But moments now are precious. Go we hence. And on the way I will discourse with thee.-- Thy hand— Caswallon welcomes his brave son To the last sole retreat of Cambrian freedom. [exeunt. Scene II. — Interior of a Mountain Hut. Enter Eva and Mador. Eva. Yes, my good Mador, 'tis a tale indeed, That needs must turn the adoring heart to Heaven. Tliev come this way— the sire and son— ? Mad, I left them Act II.] OR THE BRITON CHIEF. 27 In the full flow and interchange of transport; But do not doubt that hither in all haste— And see--they e'en anticipate my speech- See, royal Lady, where the proud chief leads His young and gallant son. Eva. Alas ! the change ! I tremble now to greet whom some hours since I should have met with all a sister's love. Alad. Nay— droop not, Princess,— they are here — awhile Let me retire. — \_exit. Enter Caswallon and Fitz-Edward. Cas. There.— In that young sweet maid, The majesty of this thy native land Breaks on thy sight. Approach and pay thy homage. Fitz-Ed. Illustrious Princess! — ( App-roaching^ they recognize each other.) Eva!— Cas. ( Survey iw^ both with sur/irise.J How is this ?•— Ye are no strangers, it should seem. Fitz-Ed. (confused.) My lord— The Princess will explain. I think that chance— A service rendered once— Cas. (as suddenly recollecting.) The time, thou mean'st, That swooping kites had seized my truant dove.— And was it thou ?-»- Eva. It was.— Let me make answer: It was that noble youth, whose sword preserved me ; The first-— last— only time we ever met. Ca@. It v/as a deed worthy Caswallon's son, And well became his arm, who now prepares To draw the sword in freedom's mightier cause ; Swearing it never shall know sheath again, Till he have throned his country's queen, and writ Her title to that glorious eminence In the best blood that warms the Usurper's heart. Such was Caswallon's solemn oath, and such, My Armyn, must be thine. 28 CASWALLON, [Walker. FitZ'Ed. Alas ! my father — Thy words are wild. What would'st thou have me do? Cas. What would Ir*— Dash from its proud pe- destal The statue of thy country's shame ; avenge ' Her grinding injuries— her insults— tears- Dark ages of deep sufTering and despair! 'Tis this that I would have thee do. Uplift To its high ancient state and sovereignty The trampled standard of our fame ;— and, making Thy mother-land vaunt of thee for ever. From the mid-eyrie of her hundred hills. Shout loud defiance to her tyrant foes ! 'Tis this that— ha ! my son— but thou art cold — Thine eyes are on the earth, when they should seek— A scope congenial with the task that claims thee— The glorious and illimitable heavens!— How P —Whence is this?— Fitz-Ed. What should I answer thee ? Thou dost forget, my father, that to him. Against whose sacred breast thou bidd'st me draw The sword of rude defiance, I am bound By ties of strongest gratitude and love. Cas. Ha! ties — to whom?~'Twas as an icfe-bolt shot Into my heart that thought I To whom art bound ? FitZ'Ed. Even to him thou hatest — English Ed- ward ! Can. To Edward — thou! — Eva. To Cambria's fellest foe ? Thou ! Thou ! I'itz Ed. To him -let me not blush to own it. To him, that much abused and injured prince. Nay, thou must hear — to him who first from earth Raised me a nameless outcast — on my head Thick showered his royal gifts— and sent me forth A titled honoured knight — that late had been The scorn of peasant grooms.— Aye, this did Ed- ward — Act II-] OR THE BRITON CHIEF. 29 . •• And could I e'er forget it — oh ! I were The foulest ingrate, that hath yet made sick This earth with his rank presence. — Eva, (regarding Casnualloiiy who afifiears lost in the contemplation of Fitz-Ednvard and his words. Saints defend us ! — Thou look'st wild, my father — oh this deep Dead stillness more affrights than doth the storm. Cas. Is this my son ? — my long deplored — long lost? And better lost forever, than found thus ! Oh ! thou degenerate and unnatural ! That turn'st the deaf ear to a mother's cries — Dost thou not shame to stand beneath the shade Of these thy native mountains -* — dost thou not In their up-blackening and cloud-swathed brows Read the dark glance of scorn, thy best reproach ?— Now, by our Snowdon's trij)le head I swear. There's not a wind that howls around his side A torrent stream that down his rugged steep In thunders roars — or rock it rushes over. But should speak to thee with a parent's curse ! Eva. Oh spare him — spare the undeserv'd re- proach. — Think of the ties — Cas. I do — that he has sunder'd — The ties that knit him to his native land. FitZ'Ed. And say'st thou they are sundered ? — no, my lord — No—I dare look to Heaven in conscious pride- But I am dumb.— Cas. Hear then my final words. — Thou art— oh ! would to Heaven that I could doubt it— ! Thou art my son : — yet think not I will stoop To share a heart whose undivided love is mine by Nature's charter — or should be. — No — by my fathers ' — either thou forswear'st All league, and faith, and fellowship, with Edward, Or, clinging still to him art lost to me. — 3* 30 » CASWALLON, [Walker. FitZ'Ed. Thou dost not mean — thou canst not hope it from me. Renounce my benefactor! — ray kind father. When 1 was fatherless— sole friend when friendless ! Like the false snake i' the fable, fix a sting Into the charitable breast that warmed me! — Thou surely canst not ask it — Cas. (to Eva J Dost thou weep, My tender child f* thine eyes are wet with tears — My heart is droppin,^ blood ! ( To Fitz-Echvard tviih emotion.) I'm answered then? — *Tis well. — Reject an outcast's broken fortunes, And follow a more proud and prosperous fate. — Hold on thy gay career: for courtly honours Renounce all natural ties of kin and country, Disclaim thy sire, and live an alien's slave ! Fitz-Ed. Inhuman !~but no — no — thou shalt not boast A triump.h o'er my better, nobler feelings. — The billov/s of thy wrath may beat upon me — They beat in vain! This heart may bendmay break — Beneath the o'erwhelming weight of thy unkind- ness — But to life's latest throb shall hold unshaken It's faith to Edward ! Cas. Then there rests but this — To cast away all clinging tenderness : — And thus — Eva. Thou shalt not speak it. — Oh I thy brow Hangs o'er him as the pregnant thunder- cloud : — Thine eye hath lingering in it ! Spare him — Spare him ! He is thy son! — Cas. Foe. — I disclaim, abjure him. — As an infected leper from my breast I shake him olt — I solemnly and utterly abjure him ! Act II.] OR THE BRITON CHIEF. 31 Eva. Heaven in its mercy ! — is thy heart of stone } Abjure him ! Cas. Aye ! as he hath done his country! — Enter Caradoc. Cara. To arms, my noble chief! — From yonder hill We can discern the coming foe — nor doubt Their purpose to invade.— Eva. Protect us, Heaven ! Cas. Fear not. — Their number ^ Fltz-Ed. (hastily J The united strength Of Conway and Caernarvon! — Oh! 'twas this I would have warn'd you to avoid. — Cas. Avoid! Eitz-FA. 'Tis not too late.— Upon your lives I charge you Meet not this coming danger — yet secure Within you mountain holds and fastnesses Remain — Cas. Like a poor timid herd of deer, Rousing at every leaf that rustles o'er us ! — No — instant to the fight ! C drawing his sword). (To Caradoc) Are the troops marshali'd ? Cara. They are at thy command. — % Cas. 'Tis well— lead on— I'll follow.— fe^ri; Caradoc.)— My sweet Eva, our first care Must be thy safety.— Dearest ! do not droop. — I'll see thee in thy tent ere we depart.— For thee— (To Fitz- Edward') with thy tame counsel and cold heart. Hence, if it please thee, to the foe— thy friends— Thy Saxon — Norman friends. — From this hour forth Thou art no son of mine— thou art no Briton ! \^exit. Fitz-Ed. My prayers are vain ! — I've warn'd them and they scorn me ! As though my father from his banning lips Breathed a contagious spirit— all — all reject me- ( Observing Eva.) Ah ! but thou still art here — An- gelic sweetness ! 32 CASWALLON, [Walker. That dicFsl with tender and compassionate aim Lift up thy pleading voice:— yet, what avails it ; Thou art thy country's Princess— and even thou Must with the rest despise me. — Eva. Heaven forefend — Despise thee! — Fitz-Ed. And thou dost not ! — And at least— =- All blessings light upon thee ! — there is one Who doth not quite abhor me— who reveres The claims of gratitude, and owns their forcer- Heaven, for this sweetning in my cup of gall, J thank thee! — Eva, Hear me, thou exalted youth,— Ere yet we part never to meet again. Hear, while I speak one last and hurried word.-^ There was a time thy providential arm Wrought me a signal service. — Out upon A most unworthy girl, who scarcely since Jiath profFer'd thee the bare return of thanks.— Fitz-Ed. Unworthy I — Princess — Fva. Nay, reply not now.-^ The minutes speed, and we must haste our parting. — Take then the only recompense, save thanks, 1§L grateful heart can make thee, this small chain ; And let it be to thee in after times. Mid happier scenes — a slight remembrancer Of one — who would not have thee — q uite forget her. ->• {throwing it over his neck. J Now — now — farewell — (turning aivay.) Fitz-Ed. Stay yet— thou heavenly maid? Trust me there needed not a link like this To bind thee to my bosom.— Since the day When, as some sweet presentment in a dream. Thy transient form first shot athwart my view. Here hath it lived— down — down tumultuous heart. — "What is it I have said? Forgive me, Princess — And yet, an hour ago — and I had deemed This might have been— Eva. I must not hear thee, — Act II.] OR THE BRITON CHIEF. 33 FHz-Ed. No.— *Twere madness now to think it. — Then— oh ! then It was no sin— no wild extravagant hope- But I have held thee, Eva, to my bosom- Have feltthy throbbingheart to mine— have pressed. Forgive the free ^xov^^l—C taking her hand )-~0TiX.\iy lips Have pressed — Eva. Release me.-— At a time like this Such thoughts are sinful. Fitz-Ed. The rebuke is just.— Go.— Go.— But we may meet again.^But leave me That blessed hope. Eva. It must not be.— Nay, deem me not, I pray thee, Thankless, or cold, or cruel ; but the slave Of hard imperious duty .--We must part. — But oh ! think kindly of me :— do not hate My n;emory— mid the gay and glittering scenes That now demand thy presence, give at times A thought to the lone v/anderer of the hills; Who in her constant orisons to Heaven Will not forget Fitz-Edward.— Fare thee well- Would that I were not forced to add— for ever! Exi:, Fitz-Ed. She's gone:— and nov/ I may defy thee, Fate- The latest arrow of thy wrath is sped! Hark ! 'twas the tramp of martial men. — They haste Headlong, with outspread arms, to clasp perdition. My father I|is there not a voice will warn-— A hand will snatch thee from the perilous verge W' hereon thou stand'st ? And thou, oh Eva, thou— A tender maid, mid clashing hosts exposed — But no -all guardianless thou shalt not be. Still, though unseen, I'll hover near thee, still Be as a shield of fire— far— far to scare Each ravening hound of war that would molest thee ! Exit, aND OF ACT II. 34 CASWALLON, [Walker. ACT III. Scene I. — J Valky interafiersed ivith Rocks, Eva and other iVoincni discovered variously disfiosed among them. Ctoervyl on an eminence looking out. Eva. No. — 'Tis in vain we listen. — Not a sound Save ever and anon the heron's scream, And murmur of the brook's perpetual flow. Goer. Hark!— Did mine ears deceive me? Kva. Heard'st thou aught? Goer. A shout uprising faint from yonder dell. — Didst thou not heed it, sister? (to a comfianion.J — Hark !— Again- Andlouder. jRva. They are met then ? Geor. Oh yes— yes. The conflict now is rife,— all signs evouch it. See from the hurtling fr«iy, where far aloft Flies the scared eagle.— IHva. Gorged e'en now perhaps With Cambrian blood!— Ah me!— Each thing I look on. Or sound I hear, strikes terror to my soul. There's not a rock-bird's shriek but mocks the cry Of human agony — there's not a wind That moans around the mountain but doth seem The last sad sigh of an expiring friend. Geor. Some one approaches.— By his azure robe One of our minstrel friends. Mad. (from without) Where is the Princess? Eva. 'Tis Mador's voice! —Here Mador— minstrel, here. Enter Mador. Mad. Oh !— My dear Lady— Eva. Do not pause— say on. How fares it with our friends?— Is all^^all lost? Act III.] OR THE BRITON CHIEF. 35 Mad. Question me not, but fly— this instant fly— The forest-depths of Snowdon shall alone Protect thee now— there is no tarrying here— This instant— JLva. Mador— does my father live ?— Mad. Ilefthim living-— hosts environ him— Spears bristle and swords flash around him— bat I left him livirtg. Eva. {resolvedly) Here I wait him then.— He did commend me to this spot when parting Mador !— I quit it not till he return. — Mad. Till he return >— Eva. If that must never be. — 'Tis terrible— but stirs not my resolve.— I can die here. Mad. Ah ! Princess— Eva, But my friends— My poor associates— Geor. Take no heed of us.-— Whate*er the issue of this fatal day, With thee we will abide it. Eva. Dearest! No— It were unsafe.— Our numbers may attract: Myself shall 'scape unnoticed. Geor. Do not think it ; Should v/e desert you —could we— ^? Eva. * Call it not Desertion — save yourselves, and you save me. Fly— fly— another instant— and it may be We are perceived— are in the foeman's grasp- Farewell— farewell ! \_exeunt Women (Shouts heard from without. ) Mad. Hal the war rolls this way; And with loud-summoning roar rebukes my absence. Oh ! I dare stay Tio\ox\gcv.— ( going ) Eva. (Catching him by the robe )—Ki\z\tT\\.vci\ And helpless! Wliither would'st thou? Mad. To yon height There, wheer my choral brethren are as6'embled ; 36 CASWALLON, [Walker. With all the fiercest force of minstrelsy Flinging their ireful curses on the foe. Oh ! I did cast my harp upon the earth. When, as I saw our reeling host give way, The thought of thy exposed helplessness Burst on my brain. Oh! then I tied to warn,— Winged were my aged feet by fear and duty : — That duty now is done— and I must haste— Eva» It shall not be — thou hastenest to thy death. Mad. Alas! Sweet Maid— 'tis nothing hard for hairs As white as these to strew the dust in death : When youth is trailing his dark glossy locks In war's red paths beside them.— On this head The snows of sixty winters had been pour'd, 'Ere thy young sportive fingers yet had learnt To twine them with its tresses,— I am old, And ask no better fate than this- to die In the dear cause of freedom ?— fare thee well. One last adieu, and— (^oin^ to kneel^ she prevents him) Eva. Oh ! Thou must not kneel — Dear good old man !— 'Tis I should bend to thee. Mad. Thy pardon if I dare to disobey thee— It is my first transgression, and the last. — {kneeling and kissing her hand) — Farewell, dear Princess! Cease to weep for one Whose earthly sufferings are so near a goal: Breathe thou a prayer for mine immortal weal, 'Twill surely find acceptance from thy lips. And be my passport to abetter world. — Now— now ye spirits of my slaughter'd friends, I hasten to rejoin you ! — Now, my harp. One strain of triumph more in freedom's cause. Then sleep thy strings forever. lexiU Eva. Noble heart ! If prayer of mine may aught prevail on high. Thou surely shaltbe blest!— All's hushed again.— It is that terrible quiet that precedes Act III.] OR THE BRITON CHIEF. iY The burstings of the thunder-storm ! — Anon, Another and a louder crash will follow. — Oh ! if the bolt fell on no brain but mine. Here with unblenching — ( Shouts from ivithout) Ha! it breaks! it bursts! And I stand here — alone — exposed — defenceless ! Where are my maiden friends! Oh now — oh now I do repent me that I sent them hence — I do repent me that I went not with them, — But they are safe, thou selfish heart? ( Shouts and noise very near J — Again! It comes upon me, and I cannot fly — ft will o'erwhelm me I {rushing to the farther side of the stage and calling violently) Help! My father! Mador! Help! help? Cas. (from without ) My child ! (^//e rushes in, Eva, ivith a shriek, running to him, throws herself on her knees and clas/is his rode,) Eva. Ah! Heaven! It- is himself. Cas. In vain we combat — glen by glen, and rock By rock I have disputed it, and still They rush upon us! Aye — Swell on ! Swell on! Thou tossing and tumultuous sea of slaughter ! Here I'll await thee! — Threat with all thy waves. They shall not wash me hence! Eva. (rising) And thou wilt stay To spend thy heart*s blood at my very feet! Is that thy horrid purpose? Oh away. While yet thou livest — linger not. — Cas. (Gazing on the side from ivhich he entered) Distraction ! See there ! — the wretched remnant of our friends Cut down and trampled by the spurning foot O' th' insolent conqueror ! — Off. — Let me haste To save — avenge — Eva. Thou but wilt lose thyself. Cas. Is not all lost ? 4 38 CASWALLON, [VValke.-. Eva. No — for thou still art living. Delay not — let us hence. Cas. (fiointing ojff^ ) Look there ! Eva. C turning aivay J I dare not. Away — away. Cas. Oh, Heaven ! my wretched country ! (She draws him off ; his eyes still Jixed on the scene without.) Scene II. — 4 rocky Landscape, Drums from without. — Enter Mortimer, De Lacy, and Soldiers, asfrcv? the battle. Mart. Pitch we our pennc i here. — Yet not the less Upon them, and pursue, Their leader lives. Till he be slain or taken, nought is won. {To De Lact.) Sir Knight, how fares it with thee? De La. Well, my lord. Though I'll not boast, — my helmet went to shivers In the very first onset : though of temper'd steel, It did not care to 'bide the shattering mace Of that same sturdy Welshman — my head sung, Like the jarr'd strings of some crack'd instrument, Beneath its numbing force. Mort. 'Twas a hard day. De La. I know not of the day — but for this head- Well— we'll not speak of that. — Did any see Fitz-Edward in the conflict ? Mort. I did mark him. When first the baltle join'd ;— he stood aloof On a hill's side — nor through the whole encounter. As I believe, vouchsafed his knightly aid.— Enter Audley. Now, Audley, is he taken ? — is he slain — The master mover of this mad revolt — .> Act III.] OR THE BRITON CHIEF. 39 Aud. Neither, my lord Though hard we press'd upon him. His knowledge of the mountain mazes foil'd Our nimblest footsteps: — like a roebuck fleet He ran — he flew along the mountain's edge, Though in his arms supporting, as it seem'd, A drooping female. De La. Aye — their Queen, belike, Of whom that grey-hair'd man, the minstrel, spake, As, at our feet expiring, he pray'd Heaven To speed and save her, Mort. And has she escaped? — Perdition to the feet that vainly follow'd ! — Where did ye lose the quarry's track ? Jud. Amid The intricate windings of a woodland glen, Into whose dusky bosom — Mort. Instantly Beset each pass — plant troops at every turn. — E'en yet they may be ours. — (AuDLEY g'ives directions to an Officer, who goes out.) Mort. Audley, do thou Lead to the eastern hills some twenty swords. Myself will guard the passes south of Conway. Come, let us on. — Till this wild quarry's ours, Ne'er may I justly say that we have conquer'd. (Drums beat.) Exit Audley on or^e si«^e, Morti- mer and Dk Lacy on the other. Scene III. — 4 nvild and mountainous Pass ; in the back ground a Caver7i. Shelving Hocks on to the Stage. Caswallon descends, leading Eva. Cas. So-— cheerly my, sweet Eva! — we have 'scaped 'he hunter's toils -and here at least are safe 40 CASWALLON, [Walker. From present peril. Rest thou on this bank, And giveth)' breath free vent. The way was rough And toilsome for thy hurrying feet to tread. Eva. Nay, let us hence — Cas. Anon we will — but wherefore Wanders that backward and enquiring eye^ Eva. It might be fancy— but methought a step As of one following, fell upon mine ear. — Nay, more than once, as hurriedly we cross'd That dusky glen — I scarce could be deceived — A warrior figure caught my glance, as though Tracking our course. I saw his armour gleam A moving light along the mountain's side, Cas. Trust me — the phantom of distempering fear. No more. Eva. Return we, father, to our home— Our dear, deserted home amid the hills i* — Or whither go we now? Cas. To seek again Concealment in those fastnesses were vain. Far, far from hence must be our course. Eva, Alas ! And whither } Cas, To yon island of the Dane : — ^Tsle of Man.'] The only refuge left to us. — Ere while Its sovereign was thy father's firmest friend — And will not now refuse, in this dark hour, A shelter to the child of him he loved. — Fear not. — I know each cleft and ocean cave Shall shroud us in the day time, and at night The moon shall light us on our lonely way. — When once at Douglas — ah ! thou'rt very pale — These tumults have o'ercome thee. Eva. (faintly) No. — I can— I think I can proceed, {^growing weaker.) Cas. It must not be. — There's day-light yet contests it with the moon. — Act III.] OR THE BRITON CHIEF. 41 It were unsafe to trust the Menai's shore At this so early hour. — Lo ! here — a cave, Where we may rest us, till the stars are up. Come, let us enter — a short hour of rest Will repossess thee of thy strength and spirit. There — cheerly — lean on me. {leading- i.er in^ Enter Fitz-Edward, having observed them. Fitz-Ed. I've traced them. — Ah ! — And is it there, ye desolate wanderers — there. — Within a damp and loathsome mouniaiii den, That ye are fain to shroud your houseless heads? — Quick let me snatch ye from the wo- \''t, how To front a father who rejects— denies me! — Submission ! — Well I know his haugluy h.oal Will ever scorn it. — Still I'll speak wich him — Essay the gentle eloquence of prayer. — If he do cast me off -but I'll not tnink it. — All*s hushed within — {He is entering the cave, when Caswallon a/i/ieart at the mouthy with his a/iear op/iosed to prevent Mm.) Cas. Who seeks to enter, dies! — ^fF.— I have strength in this unwearied arm — (j ecognizing his soUy and coldly turning away^ HaJ is it thou.f* Fitz-Ed. Turn not away .—One word.— Upon my knees I beg it. ^ Cas. Let it be A brief one, then.— What would'st thou? Fitz-Ed. Oh, my Father! — The tempest that my slighted speech foretold, Hath it not burst upon thee I — Cas. And 'tis this— To tell me this, that thou art here— to vaunt Thy skill in divination?— Fitz-Ed. No. — I come To break thy commerce with ths niidnight wolf— 4* 42 CASWALLON, [Walker. To pluck thee from the lair where foxes litter : — Restoring thee to all those social joys That flow from man's communion with his kind; — To place thee once again — Cas. Beware — beware. — If I thought that— ih-ow know'st my temper— hence, Nor urge it farther. Fitz-Ed. Oh, I must, and thou Must hear me, too.— Enough of constancy — Enough of valor hath thy heart display'd. — We are a fallen people. — To contend With fortune now, were desperate vanity. The sceptre hath departed trom our land : — The kingly sway — Cas. Patience — oh, patience, heart! — Fitz-Ed. Nay, hear me on. — Is not all lost? — and thou— Dost thou still singly labour to oppose The common doom ? — Oh, idle all.— There now Is left thee but one way to save thyself: — But one — and I must speak it, howsoe'er It grates against thine ear — it jars within Thy bosom — I must speak it — 'tis submission. Cas. Heav'n ! — are thy thunders idle .'' — and thou, Earth, That yet endur'st his tread ! — thou wilt not part Beneath him, and deep hide his infamy! — No — thou disdain'st that such a rank pollution Should rest within thy bosom .'—This to me! — Submission! -Breathes the recreant to confront Caswallon with such counsel .'* — Yes — behold him! — There— with the utter'd wish—the hateful hope Fresh reeking from his lips, he stands before me — Endless disgrace ! — a Cambrian, and — my son ! Fitz-Ed. Yet — yet I will be patient. Cas. No — thou blot On the pure 'scutcheon of thy noble fathers — Thou shalt not plume thee in my fall, nor shew me A humbled spectacle to swell thy pride Act III] OR THE BRITON CHIEF. 43 With — *• Lo ! my work, and there the untameable! '* — I read thy heart's deep purpose. Fitz-Ed. Dreadful thought ! — 'Tis not within thy hate's extremest bound To think me so immeasurably base, — —^h, these hot stinging tears ! — I am a fool To let it move me so — Away, weak heart !— In upright conscious honesty, I stand — And shake thy loose aspersions from my soul, As lightly as the falcon from her wing The dews of evening.— Yet one effort more, — Yet think, however reckless of thyself. On her, the tender partner of thy toils. — Befits it thus a delicate maid to roam With the wild wolf — to chamber with the bat — To struggle with — ? Cas. I will not hear thee — Hence. Fitz Ed. Obdurate man, bow thy proud spirit down. If ta'en, thou diest.- Submit, and thou shalt live : — Thou and that sweet young maid. — ( Imfilnringly ufion his knees J Beloved father ! By Heaven's whole host, I will not see thee lost ! — (starting ufi resolvedly.) No- if thou scorn to yield, I '11 instant hence, And to the troops that now beset thee round, Reveal the secret of thy lurking place. Cas. Reveal ! — betray me to— .^ But no — thou art ' Caswallon's son, and thus far he will trust thee. Fitz-Ed Oh, agony of heart! Cas. (going.) Nay, follow not. Attempt to stay me, and a father's curse Cling to thy soul, and hold thee lost for ever ! [Ejcit. Fitz-Ed. Hark! — are there thunders crashing in the air? Or what is 't stirs my brain ?— a father's curse ' — - It fell not — 'tis not i/iat that rages here. That misery still is spared me. He is gone: 44 CASWALLON, [Walker. And now there's no alternative — *t were vain To think on't now, — There's ytt a way to save hinfi. Edward will grant my suit — will surely grant To a son's tears — I dare not doubt ; 'tis Heaven Inspires the thought, and Heaven will prosper it. JRe-enter CASWALLOi:i with YaV A. Cas. You had been dreaming, then when that wild shriek Smote on mine ear? Eva. A hideous dresm : and yet ' Tjrelude was so sweet — it seem'd, my Father, 7 I.. it we were wandering at iltf dead of night Amid our native mountains. Even as now, The soft moon shed her sober i^eams upon thera — They never look'd more lovely : at our feet The.e rippled on a gentle stream, that made ' Harmonious answer to my wakeful lute: For I was playing, as it appear d, the air That thou didst ever love. Cas. {s?nilin^ afft'ctionatehj) Even in thy dreams Studious to please me. Eva. Oh, out hear. — Anon A change o'erspread my vision : all things strange Were round us, Pud we stood i knew not where. Aye, and about us i lien were flashing swords. And furious faces, and grim armed men. And yet amid these evil forms, methought There shone a spirit of such radiant aspect, That I was taking comfort at his presence. But thou, my Father, though 1 knew not why. Didst lower upon him with an eye so stern, Hope sank beneath it — Oh ! and then there rose Such clamours! — I look'd up, and lo! an axe Shimmering above me — and 1 could not move.— And now 't was raised on^high; — and now — I 'waken*d, Even as the stroke descended. — 'Twas so sweet To find myself in safety ! Act III.] OR THE BRITON pHIEF. 45 Cas. A mere dream : Dismis it from thy thought, and there it ends. Come, let us on. — ()*er every mountain path Hath night extended now its silent shade ; Obscuring, yet not veiling quite; for see Where Heaven, as though designedly to guide us, Is hanging out its store of golden lamps. The Menai may be gain'd within an hour. And then — ^ud. {without) On, soldiers, on, — Eva. The foe ! — Cas, No matter. Quit not thy hold on me. — I will protect thee To the last gasp of life ! Enter Audley tuith soldiers. Aud. Lo ! where he stands. — Yield, rebel. Cas, Aye, my life perchance I may. When ye have wrenched this good sword from my grasp: But not till then, be sure on 't. Let me pass; Or with this precious burthen in mine arms, I'll hew me out a passage o'er the necks Of your strewn numbers. Back I say. Aud, Beware. It is thy capture, not thy death, we want. Nay, an he seek to pass — Soldiers, strike on. {They are advancing, ivhen Fitz-Edward rushes forward, wrests the sword from Audley, who is foremost, and places himself so as to protect Caswallon) Fit z Ed h must be through my heart then I Dastard hinds! Did ye not heed the charge I gave? — Retire, And wait my further word. Cas. {who at the appearance of Fitz-Edward has staggered back.) Thou ! — thou!— in mer- cy swear it was not thou 45 CASWALLON, [Walker- Who leddest hither — oh impossible ! I will not think it. Fitz-Ed. Think the worst: I am Most guilty — if to have preserved thy life Be guilt. — The service I have done the state In making thee its captive, shall at least — Cas. The deed was thine, then? Now may every curse — Fitz Ed. {throwing himself upon his knees) Oh strike me with thy sword, not with thy breath. Behold — I bare my bosom to the blow ! Strike — stab — but curse not. — Cas. Strike? and I would do it, Did not a nobler office claim my sword. — Take thyself hence. — Fitz Ed. No. — Here immoveably Plant I my foot to bar thy further progress — Thy rushing on destruction ! — if thou still Art bent to pass, it must be o'er my corse! Cas. Ha ! — tempt me not. — I'm desperate. F'itz-Ed. So am L Strike! — strike! — thou shalt not pass. — Cas. I've warned thee. Ficz Ed. Strike!— Cas. Nay, thus then — {he is raising his sword^ when Eva's voice arrests him.) Eva. Hold ! — upon my knees I fall. Hear me, if not thy son. — That lifted sword, Think on whose head it is about to fall I Thine Armyn's. — Spare him, save him, and submit? Heap net more woes upon me — As thy child. Whom may's thou live to cherish, I invoke thee — I charge, conjure thee {seeing him still inexorable^ and determined to rush on, she rises from the ground, and ivith an air of majesty) Nay then, as thy Queen I do command thee ! — Mercy ! — mercy ! mercy ! {He drofis his sword. — She throws herself on his bosom; while Dudley signs to the soldiers to secure the?n.) Act IV.] OR THE BRITON CHIEF. 47 ACT IV.— Scene l.—J Court in Conivay Castle, Enter Mortimer, De Lacy, and Audley. De La. Faith, 'tis a valiant heart! A nobler one Ne'er beat within the breast of man. Didst mark. As silently he strode along, the scorn That sat 'twixt smile and frown upon his visage ? And then his eye — how lit with indignation — Till upon thee it rested, and its fires Had waned into contempt. Mor. I did not heed it. De La. Oh no, my Lord; I had forgot, your eyes Were on the maiden fixed: — your every sense. Your soul seemed lost in her approach. I mark'd The awe, the rapture — ah ! bevvare, my Lord, How you become your captive's prisoner. You have your duties — Mor. Sir, I shall perform them. De La. I' faith I doubt thee; but farewell, fare- v^ell. I must to horse o' the instant. Thy prompt zeal In quelling this wild effort of rebellion Shall not be lost upon the King at Chester. Mor. I shall feel honour'd in your fair report. A prosperous stirrup to thee. Exit De Lacy. Audley, no — Thou wilt not wonder that my soul was stirr'd, When in our blooming prisoner I beheld The very form that struck me 'iiiid the wilds Of Arvon. j^ud Her thou mean'K whom young Fitz- Edwaicl Wrench'd from thy followers' 'V-''isp. Is it not said She is of royal birth ? Mor. And truly said : Let us not doubt it; 'tis a chance may much Assist our projects. She is young and fair; That *s nothing : the gilt toy — the bauble beauty Belike might tempt not ; but the high-derived. 48 CASWALLON. [Walker. The royal, maiden, Audley, must be mine. ^ud. Thy wife, my lord? Mor. I love, but I would wed her In furtherance chiefly of my golden views: Would wed her as the aspiring ivy mates With the tall column, for support in climbing. My fortunes married to the heir of Wales, What fate too lofty for my thoughts to challenge? Aud. I guess thine aim, and 'twere a master- piece Of politic craft, couldst thou indeed achieve it. Mor. What should prevent ? Aud. Her guardian : while he lives, It were in vain to hope it. Mor. While he lives ! As if old Conway's walls were not his dungeon, Nor Mortimer his keeper. Aud. Wilt thou dare To take his life ?— To strike at him, the father Of young Fiiz-Edward ? Think'st thou that the King, The youth thus dtar to him, will e'er assent? Mor. I know not, and I reck not ; this I know. That if mine interest claim it, he shall die. Hast thou commanJed that the captives hither Be led before us? Aud. Aye, my Lord; and list, They come. — Mort. That haughty look — hark you a while; Enter Caswallon in chains^ ivith Eva guarded. Cas Fear not, dear child; — they shall not harm thee, maid: They dare not. — Eva. 'Tis for thee alone I tremble. Thou wilt exasperate with thy lofty speech. Be patient, I entreat thee. — Cas\ I will be Most abject, do not fear it ; thou shalt stand Abash'd at the tame patience I display. Act IV.] OR THE BRITON CHIEF. 49 Mor. (advancing and regarding Casivallon.J Aye — this is well; a sight that Conway's towers Have long desired. — And thou art he of whom I erst have heard my father speak, the foe Who wont to light hini through our wasted lands, By the broad blaze of burning towns and forests. • The untameable ! — untraceable ! — at length A wretched captive. Cas, Chain'd and weaponless. — Lord Mortimer is right sure of that, and therefore He fears not to approach him. Mor. Insolent! Whom yet no stretch of clemency could move. Ere we proceed to judgment, is there aught In mitigation of your crimes' award You would advance ? Cas. I've first to learn my crime: Next to demand be what presuinpt-ious right Ye dare to lead in captive train, this last Sole scion of a thousand sceptred kings! J\Ior. The question fully manifests the traitor. — Thou still art madly bent to disallow The paramount rights of high Plantagenet, Nor in Csernarvon's Edward own'st thy King. Cas. King! — King! — Caswallon own in England's Edward His King! in him, the juggling Longshanks' son! Now may Heaven's lightnings wither — {Eva regarding him with a su/i/i Heating look) Well— I'm calm. Mor. (aside) This is beyond my hopes ; he sounds the knell Shall knoll him to his death ! Again to touch The string of discord. Thcu hast spoken then ? Attest his words, ye that are present, note. He doth admit his treason: doth exult In the abnegation of his fealiy — Cas, Fealty! 50 CASWALLON, [Walker. Thou fool ! to whom didst think — > {To Eva) Child, I must speak — My fame, name, honour, my life's life demands it. Fealty to him — the Saxon! — ha! am I An Anglian ? or a Dane ? Diu I t'ci- kneel to him ? or swear to him ? Surfeit his pride b}' oath or homage? Yea Attest my words, ye that are present: — note. That as I ever scorn'd him, so I now In upright and unblenching strength of spirit Defy, deny, spurn back*, and laugh at him! Mort. Oh, this obdurate disposition bars Each avenue to mercy. Guards, attend The traitor to his dungeon. I dare hear No n)ore. Cas. Aye — shew us to our prison-house ; So as it shuts out thee, its gloom is welcome. ( Taking JSva's hand.) Mort. Nay, quit thy hold; the maiden goes not with thee; From this hour, ye are parted. Cas. Parted ! Eva {with extreme terror y and clinging to Caa- ivallon) Parted! Cas. No — no. — Mort. Away with them to separate cells. {Guards approach.) Cas. Back, ruffians. Mortimer this must not be ; Behold hei- — look upon her agonies — A fiend would pity her;— a savage could not Tear off these twining arms. — We must not part. E.va. Oh! is his heart relenting? Does he yield? I dare not look upon his eye, lest hope Should wither in his stern, destroying gaze. Yet will I kneel — {Afifiroaching Mortimer ^ Casivallon stofis her.) '1 2^ the parchment ivhicn Ormsby has delivered to Harcourt.) the King's own seal. — About it instantly. (Harcourt bows and withdraws.') Cas. {clasfiiiig Eva.) My beautiful child ! My peerless and my pure ! — It is no dream : — Again I hold thee to my heart. Again — Oh, Gods! this rush of transport will destroy me! FitZ'Ed. {with exultation.) 'Twas I ! — *twas 1 who saved her ! — To the earth smote the villains who were bearing her Out at the portal. Now, my father, own, Hast thou not wrong'd me ? — Cas. {intent on Eva.) Soft — she speaks — her voice Act V.J OR THE BRITON CHIEF. 65 Once more shall pour its music on my soul. Why dost thou shun me, Eva ? — Heaven ! how pale Thou look'st. — Lean— lean on me. Eva, {with a ivild took of horror.) What have I done ? — O ! do not look so 'overjoy 'd, my father ! — Thou dost not- know — Cas. Knov/ what ? — 1 have thee here— How can I not be joyous ? — Why dost tremble ? — All here are friends. — Eva. Oh ! and we might have been So blest ! — that villain Mortimer — Cas, (alarmed) How? — what? — He had thee in his power — ? Eva. He had — and threaten'd — Cas. Threaten'd ! Eva. Thy last words — oh ! I cannot speak. Cas. Not speak } — My heart is throbless till it hear thee. In pity to its agonies, proceed He had thee in his power — but thou wert saved ? Eva., Aye, from his loath'd embrace, but not from sin — From Heav'n-distrusting phrensy ! — I had heard That thou wert doom'd to die: — the bell toU'd out, To tell me they were leading thee to death. I madden'd at the sound. Even at that hour Fell Mortimer approach'd with purpose vile, To drag me from these walls. Distracted, wild, — *Twas then, thy last words working in my brain, I thought of thy last gift — and, terrible sin ! Drank up thy deadly poison! Fitz-Ed. Poison ! poison ! Thou dost not mean — my heart is crush 'd to atoms ! If this be true — Eva. Oh ! do not hate me thou — It was in madness that I err'd. Dear youth, Look on me. — Ah ! my swimming brain — Fitz-Ed. (running to clas/i her J She dies! e* 65 CASWALLON, [Walker. Cas, Off. Shall it be in any arms but mine ? — Though I have murder'd her. — Thou pure and blameless ! Yes ; I have murder'd thee. The sin was mine — Mine be the punishment! — Avenging Heaven! Am I not punish'd now ? Fitz Ed. Accursed act ! — And you could arm with the fell means of death. The maid that — but no — no — 'tis plain in this You never loved her. Cas. Never lov'd her !— what, My child here ? — never loved her ! — have I lived ? — She was the spirit that v^arm'd me — my heart's blood. Its pulse, soul, life, and essence. — Never loved, For that I'd rather see her dead, than flung To nameless shame ? — Look on me. — Whence these tears, That, strangers to m.ine eyes for twenty winters, Now rive their frozen sources? — Whence this heart Now bleeding, breaking, bursting— never loved her! E-va. It was his anguish, not his heart that spoke. Oh, my dear Father ! would'stthou shed the balm Of peace upon my parting spirit— take To thy forgiving breast this noble youth.— Yet, ere I die, let me but hear thee bless him; — And— oh! how cold it grows — ( With a feeble and im/i loving voice to Caswallon) My Father!— Father— Cas. There— die in peace, sweet saint! — Bless thee, boy— bless thee. {Grasfiin^ his hand, but with his eyes still Jixed on Eva) Eva. It is enough. — Dear Armyn! fare thee well. 'Tis no sin now to say how near my heart — Oh, Armyn ! I have ever loved thee fondly— Forget me— FitZ'Ed. {franticly) This to hear, and thus to lose thee! — Act v.] OR THE BRITON CHIEF. 67 *Tis more than lean bear.— My reeling sense Sinks under it. — Jiva. {very faint) Oh! I am dying now. — I feel it. There steals o*er me such a sleep — It creeps through all my veins into my heart — It draws my eyelids down in spite of me. — Father ! where art thou .^— let me feel thine hand Within my own. — Oh, bless thee '.— Mercy, Heaven ! {Caswallon lets her gently cJownfroin his armSy and remains fixedly bending over her,) Fitz-Ed. Dead! — dead! — she is not dead — not yet : — those eyes Have only closed in sleep. — Ha! is 't not so? — Then bring me poison too. — Oh, blessed sword! — Thus — thus I may defy — {Attemjaing to stab him- self, De Lacy seizes his arm.) De La- Thou madman, hold! — I'itZ'Ed. Oh cruel — oh ye Heavens! — De La. Look to the father there. — Beshrew me, but my heart is rent in twain To see this sight. — Orms. Best lead him from the corse. — {Afifiroaching,) Chieftain ! — De La. He hears thee not. — ) Orms. Caswallon! — Cas. (turning rounds but ivith his arms sti/iciaa/i- ing Eva. J No! — Ye shall not take her from me. — Here I '11 hold An everlasting vigil ! — ah fool ! fool I {In a subdued and humble tone.) I know that I 'm your slave — and I must do Just as you bid :— but pray, be pitiful !— She 's dead — but not to me.--I cannot let The cold earth have her yet. — Heaven keep my wits {Clasfiing his brain — then suddenly Whose voice was that.^ heard ye it not? oh! well I know the sound — though many years have sped Since last it smote upon mc ; — 'tis Lewellyn** ! 68 CASWALLON, 8cc. [Walker. How shall I meet his frown ? — {Looking- u/i.) No~no— he smiles. Ashe vas wont, upon me;— he extends His eager arms, and— ha! it is herself! (Starting nuildlij from the ground) With an instinctive knowledge she springs forth To clasp him---and together up they soar In radiance through the skies ! — Stay for me, Eva— stay ^or me— my child !-— A moment— and I 'm with thee {falls back and dies,) FINIS. MAY 31 1901 Deacidified using the Bookkeeper proce; Neutralizing agent; Magnesium Oxide Treatment Date: May 2009 PreservationTechnologie A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATI 111 Thomson Park Drive Cranberry Township, PA 16066 (724)779-2111 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 014 549 978 1 ♦