Classic Poem

SCENE IV. The Lake, seen in a new aspect. The Sun rising above the neighbouring mountains.

Enter R OWENNA [ attended. ]

The shades of night disperse, and o'er the hills
(The Eastern bound of Cambria) Balder's steed
Rushes with reinless neck, and to the winds
Gives his bright mane of orient, streaming far
Thro the illumin'd sky. The dazzling ray,
With tint reflective, over stream and lake,
Plays with the morning breeze; and leaf and flow'r,
Moist with the tears of evening, bend surcharg'd
With mimic radiance: every crystal sphere
Pencil'd with rays minute — as tho instinct,
Each with its fairy sun — a fairy world.
'Tis splendour all, and gladness — All but here,
Where one lov'd object, filling every thought,
Blots out Creation. Sound nor sight can please,
But what relates to Arthur: and this hope
Of quick possession, from the Fatal maids,
With poignant expectation but enflames
The frenzy it should sooth.

In vain empassion'd Hope I feed
With promis'd boons of hovering joy
The expected bliss, by Fate decreed,
Doubts and chilling fears annoy.

In vain the empassion'd heart to ease,
The splendid scenes of morn I trace:
Whate'er the raptur'd eye should please,
Doubts and chilling fears deface.
Distracting doubts, and chilling fears
What touch of sense can charm away?
A blank the smiling dawn appears:
And mute to me the vernal lay.
Propitious Goddess! hear my pray'r!
Nor long the promis'd bliss delay.
The smiling morn shall then be fair,
And Rapture tune the vernal lay.

Near to this spot, among the bordering woods —
So sung the Fatal Sisters (and the song
But now the oafish Incubus confirm'd)
My Arthur roves, now isolate. O guide
His steps, benignant Frea! that mine eyes
May gaze to fulness, and my pleaded love
Essay his secret heart. 'Tis heard. He comes:
With what a tempest gathering on his brow!
Yet lovely in his anger. We'll observe:
A while, unnoted, till the storm is spent:
Then, o'er the waves subsiding, Love shall smile;
And woo The Bird of Peace.

Enter A RTHUR .

Arth. 'Tis fruitless search —
I toil myself in vain. Enchantment here
Dwells not — or dwells beyond the boasted reach
Of gifted countercharm. And, lo! the Sun,
Climbing his southering arch, with gilded smile,
Mocks at my bootless rage; while grove and vale,
Mountain, and headlong stream, and placid lake
Shine in the record of my baffled hopes,
My shame, and my distraction.
Row. Queen of smiles!
Who blend'st consenting hearts in mutual bliss,
Be it my task to sooth him.
Arth. Ye twin heights
Of bleak Farinioch! — Ye whose alpine heads
Catch the first rays of Morning! I had hopes,
Ere down your sloping sides encroaching light
Had chac'd the lingering shadows, o'er your brow
(Girt with my warrior knights in firm array)
To have pour'd the shout of battle; on the walls
Of doom'd Gwrtheyrnion, like the vollying cloud,
To have burst in direful thunders; broke the chains
Of Saxon usurpation; from the rape
Of threaten'd incest snatch'd the weeping maid,
And hung the wreaths of Love on Glory's fane.
Row. Empire, and Love, and Glory! Frea, hear —
Make them the three-fold dower, " When Authur's hand
" Shall light the flame in which my woes expire! "
I feel consenting Heav'n. Some whisper'd voice
Tells me the prayer is heard: — perchance the maid
Whom frequent The Propitious Goddess sends
To cheer the love-lorn votary. ( She comes forward. )
Arthur, hail!
One not to Grief unknown your grief's would heal.
Arth. (wrapt in soliloquy, and not observing her.)
Sweet bud of virgin innocence! shall HE ,
The incestuous father, blast thy opening charms,
And rifle thy pure fragrance? while mine arm
(Awful in foreign conflict) here, at home,
Sinks palsied, and, in Love's, — in Nature's cause,
Hangs powerless by my side! — — O Guenever!
Soul of my soul! — Oh charms, above all charm!
Trancendant in their loveliness! once deem'd
My sole sequester'd treasure! — Paradise
Of all my thoughts! and of my nightly dreams
Sole visitant — when, pure as winnow'd snows,
That from the peaky Vans, till spring matures,
Gleam on the dazzled traveller, thou cain'st,
With sunny smiles of sanctity and love,
Blessing my pillow'd slumber. — Guenever!
Hope's vital fountain! —
Row. (aside) Progeny of Lok!
Does Fenrir howl this discord in mine ear?
Or charnel Grymer bark? — What sounds are these?
Where is thy promise, Frea? — Schulda, where
Thy hopes oracular?
Arth. Oh! Sweet of Sweets!
Personified perfection! — tint! and form!
And types of inward excellence! that shines
Thro the transparent veil. Eyes! lips! and cheeks
Vermeil'd with angel modesty! and swell
Of soft ingenuous bosom, yet unsunn'd
By Love's presumptuous gaze! — all Vortigerns? —
Incestuous Vortigerns!
Row. Can I bear this?
Furies of Hela's shades! Ye Fiends of Storm!
What are your tempests to the tempest here?
Are these my hopes? Down, down, my struggling soul,
And trust The Fates. Be calm; or thou art lost.
Arth. With what a lengthen'd stride the lustful Sun
Hastens the hour of horrors; towards the couch
Of western Thetis straining, ere as yet
The blush of parting from her orient cheek
The winnowing winds have brush'd.
Check, check thy speed!
Restrain thy bridegroom haste: awhile forego
The fiery track, 'till pitying heav'n afford
Means of preventive vengeance: from the clouds
That curtain thy repose, left Hesper thrust
His guilty lamp, to mark the fated hour,
And light the tyrant Vortigern to deeds
That make Hell tremble.

R OWENNA ( re-entering, with E DELTHRED , at a distance. ) Passion shakes him still:

But I am calm, in confidence renew'd,
And wait predicted bliss.
Arth. My pray'rs are vain.
I war with woman's weapons: fall'n — reduc'd
To woman's impotence: with senseless brawl
Disturbing the calm elements, that laugh
My rage to scorn. Come then, thou sullen Calm
Of conscious desperation, thro my soul
Breathe thy narcotic influence — steep each nerve
In opiate dews, and o'er each maddening sense,
Bewilder'd, from their chilling urns pour forth
Thy inanescent torpors, till no more
Reflection wakes, and dull Oblivion drop
The vail by Fancy lifted.
Row. (aside.) Be it so,
Benignant Frea! then to other scenes,
Joyous, awake reviving Consciousness,
Made happy in the change!
Arthur. Hear, hear them not —
Hear not the shrieks, my soul, that, thro the gloom,
Rending Gwrtheyrnion's towers, with vain appeal,
Call on the name of Arthur. — Rest thou here,
My wearied soul — rest here; even on this oak,
Which, ere matur'd, the lightning's fork hath scath'd,
Or Whirlwind's arm lopt brief: — here sit and muse
In moralising vacancy, abridg'd
Of vital virtue; like this sapless trunk,
To lift no more the flourishing head to heaven,
Or spread the arms of shelter.
Row. Edelthred,
The storm is past. — List how to murmurs soft,
And wailings inarticulate, subsides
The roaring surge of passion. Shall I speak;
Or wait the heavings of these waves, that yet
Would lash themselves to stilness?
Arth. You, ye Pomps
Of unavailing war — fire-plumed helm,
And burnish'd shield emblazon'd; and thou gift
Of her my sometime guardian, lie ye there,
Till the slow rust consumes; or o'er your fame
The monumental weed, with unshorn head,
Bends vailing: for no more shall Arthur's arm,
That fail'd to rescue Guenever, descend
On dint of meaner argument to try
Your charmed temper.

Row. Past my best hopes! —
Propitious Frea! now the webb untwines
Spun by The Destinies. The magic sword
Falls from his grasp, unconscious: — now no more
From power of Runic verse, or magic spell,
Or from Rowenna's charmed wand exempt.
My Fates prevail. Agga! my rod — my rod!

[ Enter A GGA , with the wand. R OWENNA waves it over the head of A RTHUR ; and HE sleeps. ]

Sleep on his troubled lids awhile descend,
Till we the charm of Runic numbers end.

Evles who shun the chilly moon!
Demons of the sultry noon! Response of spirits
Whose the voice that now ascends Response of spirits
The abodes of Alfheim? Edel.
Hers who rends
With spells the pitchy vail of Night — Agg.
And blots the settled orbs of light. Row.
Demons of the sultry noon!
My call attend. Resp.
Soon we greet thee — mistress, soon, Row.
But not in gorgon pomp descend, Edel .

Far hence, ye haggard forms of Fear!
Horror, vail'd in mirky brow,
Rage, that scorns the Pitying tear,
Griefs, that low to Hertha bow.
Other forms than these must move
Soft consent, Sweet content —
Soft consent and mutual love! Resp .
Other forms than these shall move
Soft consent and mutual love. Agg .

Haste in dimpled smiles array'd
Such as sport in Frea's train,
When she tempts the blushing maid,
Half afraid, To the shade,
Sighing, dying, where the swain
Fears the promis'd bliss delay'd. Resp .
Such the smiling forms that move
Soft consent, and mutual love. Row .

Thus, to weave the mystic chain,
Demons of the Noon repair:
But to vulgar eyes remain
Viewless as impassive air. Row .
The charm of Runic numbers now complete —
From Arthur's eyes ye drowsy fumes retreat.
Awake to Joy — for every joy is here
To charm the eye and sooth the listening ear. Cho .

Joy sincere Hovers near;
Wake to see; and wake to hear.

Arth . What antic troop are ye, whose mid-day dreams
Disturb a wretch's slumbers? Hence! Avaunt!

Doughty hero! lay aside
Sullen looks and martial pride:
Love and Pleasure wait you here.
Love and Pleasure,
Without measure,
Ope their treasure:
Melting Love, and Joy sincere! Cho .
Love and Pleasure revel here. Arth .

My Sword! My Sword!

Doughty hero! lay aside
Sullen looks and martial pride:
Love and Pleasure revel here.

Arth . Distraction! Infamy! insnar'd! inthrall'd!
Bound in a fillet, like some harlot's toy!
This — only this, was wanting to complete
My sum of wretchedness.
Row . Of rapture say.
For such I come to offer. Generous Arthur!
Too long by an unworthy flame inthrall'd
To an incestuous wanton: lo! my Charm
Shall set you free: and on a worthier choice
Empire and Love await, and deathless Fame.

In the bosom of youth say what wishes can glow
That my power cannot grant, or my favour bestow?
These beauties that monarchs have struggled to gain,
I offer unask'd. — — Shall I offer in vain?
No; heart with heart meeting, and clasp'd in these arms,
Your bosom shall throb to soft passion's alarms.
Heart to heart fondly beating!
Our vows still repeating!
Reclining! Resigning To passions alarms —
Our bosoms still throbbing! — enfolding our arms!

Then the sceptre of Britain, by Schulda decreed
To await on my love, I present as thy meed.
These beauties that monarchs have struggled to gain,
I offer thus dower'd. — Can I offer in vain?
While thus, with heart meeting, I stretch forth my arms,
Ambition and Beauty uniting their charms,
Can your heart coldly beating,
From Rapture retreating,
Disdaining! Refraining From passions alarms,
An Empire relinquish, and fly from these arms?
Then my magic shall aid, and my verse shall record
All the deathless exploits of your lance, and your sword;
And the glory that heroes have struggled to gain
I offer secure. — Shall I offer in vain?
No; heart to heart beating, and clasp'd in these arms
Love, Glory, and Empire shall mingle their charms.
Heart to heart fondly beating!
Our vows still repeating!
Reclining! Resigning To passions alarms
Our bosoms still throbbing! — enfolding our arms!

Arth . Sorceress of Elb! devoted Britain's curse!
Hence with thy wanton chant. Tho thus inthrall'd —
Betray'd by Love's affliction (sentient there
Beyond a maiden's softness) in these bonds
Powerless I stand, yet can my soul disdain
Thy blandish'd witcheries. A Crown from thee?
Love, Glory, and Ambition! Are they things
Of such abhor'd conjunction as to blend
With thy pollutions? — I'd abjure them, then —
Flee to some hermit's cave — unsex myself,
And, in the mirkiest mine, drudge out, in toil
Obscene, and servile bonds, the dregs of life
Dishonour'd. For the World to Chaos runs —
The blessed Sun no more his lustrous beam
Sheds on created order, if such gifts
Depend upon such givers.
Row . Down my heart! —
Injurious Arthur! even this from thee,
Rowenna's love can pardon.
Arth . Love! — Thy Love?
The love of Vortigern's polluted wife?
Row . The love of her who was, erewhile, the wife
Of the polluted Vortigern. But crimes
Like his dissolve the fettled charities
Of conjugal affiance.
Arth. O! no doubt
With Purity like thine. And he who (urg'd
By lures, by incantations, and the bowl
Spic'd with lascivious philters) made thee room
For royal spousals in a murderer's bed —
He who, seduc'd by thy idolatrous faith,
Forgot the chaste affinities that link
The social frame of Nature —
Row . — — Speak — Speak out.
Why does thy struggling soul forbear to name
What yet it dwells on most? — He whose vile lust
Makes wanton revel in a daughter's arms —
(The arms of Guenever!) deserves to pay
The destin'd forfeit of his crime, and hers.
Arth. His crime and Hers! Makes wanton revel! Hers?
He has not sure — — —
. No sure. The diligent speed
With which she scap'd his custody, what time
(Dreadful in Saxon slaughter) you pursu'd
This father lover headlong thwart the realm,
Proves with what fix'd abhorrence she regards
His lawless love, and how prepar'd she stands
To ACT the virgin coyness she professes.
Arth . Distraction! Furies!
Row . What if now my art
Should stretch thy vision thro intruding space —
Rendering the opaque of matter to thy sight
Pervious and clear (for so by spells I can,)
And shew thee thy delusion — shew, reveal'd,
Their present act! and in what amorous folds
They wanton, shameless?
Arth. Give me first my sword;
Touch'd by whose virtue each delusive birth
Of magic dies — abortive: else thy spell,
Mocking the couzen'd senses, might betray,
And damn me with illusion. Easier far
To clothe some air-drawn phantom in the form
Of her thy hate calumniates, than to pierce
With stretch of human ken (however sharpen'd)
Yon mountains, peaky mass, that bars the sight
Towards Gwrtheyrnion.
Sorceress! dost thou blench
The late-flush'd cheek, and, with abated eye,
Admit detection? Yes, thou stand'st reveal'd.
Henceforth thy arts at lower quarry fly;
Nor think to taint, with nechromantic frauds,
The fame of Guenever, whose virtue towers,
(Transcendent, like her beauty) far above
Thy soul contaminations: like the orb
That rules the tranquil night — lustrous and pure! —
That on the wolfish howl of Calumny
Smiles, and shines on, unalter'd.
Row. Death to Hope!
This constancy appals me: and my soul
Scarce in The Fatal Sisters more confides,
Or Frea's whisper'd promise. Yet remains
One only effort. Bind him fast, ye elves,
With your enchanted braids. His eyes shall see
Within Gwrtheyrnion's walls — his ears shall hear
What distant he regards not.
Yes, by Hela! (afide.)
Charm-bound from voice or motion, he shall view
The consummated rape; and his sick soul,
Loathing what now he dotes on, shall resign
To her predestin'd fate this hated she —
This vaunted Paragon. Then, Vortigern,
Thy Cup awaits thee; and my Arthur's hand
Shall light the flame in which my woes expire.

My Fate is in my hand.
I feel my kindling passions move,
Great with Vengeance, great with Love!
Prophetic scenes of promis'd rapture rise;
Doubts disperse, and hopes expand.
Away with suppliant sighs!
Hope returns: Dejection flies:
I feel the kindling passions rise:
My Fate is in my hand.

Lady . Goblins avaunt! nor impious, thus profane
My sylvan confines and irriguous reign.
And thou, brave Prince! behold again restor'd
Thy ravish'd freedom, and thy magic sword:
For, not forgetful of my former love,
Your griefs afflict me, and your dangers move.
Your weak despair yourself will freely blame:
Go, — force your pardon in the field of fame.
Your Knights and Squires already marshall'd stand,
By me redeem'd, and wait for your command.
Refresh'd and vigorous from the genial right,
They burn impatient, and demand the fight;
Not far remote from yon embowering screen.
My instant power shall wast you to the scene.