The Works of the English Poets, from Chaucer to Cowper

Which shares the nature of th' eternal mind?
Sleeps that in dust? Are guilt's convulsive pangs,
That oft in death begin to wake their horrours,
All hush'd in death? Who can demonstrate this?
Ah, this wrings confession ev'n from obstinacy,
That death which brings foul guilt along with it
May bring no rest. Who flies from life confesses
He flies from something that appears so dreadful,
He dares not face it. Is it guilt or virtue
That thus shrinks back and trembles at to morrow?
Yes, this is meanness, and alone regards
Its selfish ease; virtue is never leagued

With its base dictates. Is it then such meanness
To fly that point where pain and anguish shower
Their burning arrows! Oh distraction, where,
Where am I lost, each feeling longs for death,
But death invited by a coward's guilt.
Oh Hell

to live, perhaps to die to morrow On an assassin's knife

Ha, what ungracious foot

King. Strike it home then. [Dropping his spear.
Ray. What, I attack thee guardless! I attack thee
Like an assassin!-No-Prostrate, yet awful,
My country meets my view. Alas, vain man!
Thou thinkest that Bourbon's fled- -The cruel
sword
[o'er thee;
Of Bourbon hangs like Heaven's own vengeance
Hangs o'er the land that gave my father birth.
And I, no more her soldier, must stand by,
Like palsied age, and see my country bleed.
Yet tyrant as thou art, yet thou her king,
May'st save my country: live then, haughty plun-
derer!

And be thy own stung heart my wrongs revenger.
My wrongs-Valois, I fly thee ere my wrongs
Burst into raging madness- [Exit Raymond.

King. How dreadful is the frown of injur'd merit!
Not Heaven's red lightning volley'd at my head
Could thus have aw'd me. Death! and did I tremble
Before the daring traitor! Ample vengeance

Disturbs these shades! O fury, vengeance fire me, Shall yet atone-His crime against my royalty My murderer!

Enter the KING armed with a boar spear.

Indignant Heaven, proud tyrant,

Has sent thee here to pour its vengeance on thee.
Thou com'st to rouse the boar in this lone thicket;
But thou hast found a wounded lion here.
Now shall my sword-

King. Off, sacrilegious peasant,

And dread thy fate for daring to approach
My sacred person.

Ray. Oh indignity!

Is black unmanly lurking cruelty,

Is dark adultery sacred? But my sword
Shall do me right.

King. Thee right! base slave, thy king did
never wrong thee.
[Raymond?
Ray. And know'st thou not the deeply injur'd
King. Oh mercy, Heav'n!

Ray. Does thy deep guilt unman thee?
The wrongs which thou hast basely heap'd upon me,
To me unking thee. Thou art now to me
But duke of Valois, I a peer thine equal,
In all but guilt thy equal; there thou art,
As the vile worm, below me- -Ha, where now
The eye that scowl'd like Jove's!-but guard thy
heart.
[guardless,
Though thou hast stabb'd my heart when it was
And glowing in thy service, yet I feel
I cannot be so base as do thee justice;
My wrongs demand, while thou stand'st like a sa-
Yielding and trembling.
[crifice

King. Thy wrongs shall have full justice.
Ray. Yes, by Heaven!

This sword shall have it.

Thy power, thy titles, all thy pageant tinsel,
The indignant hand of reason shuffles by,
And shows, in the true colours of thy mind,
Thy naked self- -Ah, blushing honour turns

From that poor sight- -Good Heaven! and is
my sword

Now pointed at the man it lately guarded?
I cannot view myself but every part
Wakes the remembrance of my loyalty.

This breast, this faithful breast, where thou hast
planted

The thorns of Hell, is furrow'd with the wounds
Receiv'd for thee. Away, this milkiness;
My wrongs, my wrongs, cry vengeance!

Shall now give full possession to my love.

Your crown your life-the haughty rebel
Has meant no flight. From the surrounding woods
He pours his legions, like a sudden flood
Bursting upon us.

King. Tenfold vengeance strike him!
And must this sacred hour be stain'd and blighted
By his dire treason? But my tenfold fury
Shall thunder on his crest.

Enter LORD ADMIRAL hastily with attendants.
Lord Adm. O to the camp, my liege,
Our troops are all in tumult and dismay,
And on the step to fly. Each common soldier
Reminds his fellow of old prophecies,
[bon
And wizard-rhymes, which say, the house of Bour-
Shall wear the crown of France.

King. Bring me my steed, [To the attendants.
And bid our trumpets sound to arms, to battle.
Lord Adm. "T is echoed through the camp, that

Behold these lofty towers, these lordly forests,
And these wide lawns, my Guise-these shall re-
ward thee. [Pointing to the castle, &c.
Raymond lurks near-and be it thine to seize him!
But hide the deed from the bewitching fair one.
Her, swift to Fountainbleau, howe'er reluctant,
With smoothest art and kindest mien convey.
The royal promise grants thee these domains;
These bands obey thy nod.

Guise. These deeds, my liege,

Fierce Raymond seiz'd, and fair Erminia thine, Shall crown the triumph of thy victory. [Exeunt.

That bound the forest on the western edge:
But other toils will soon demand the field:
The van of Bourbon's host draws on to battle.
The camp is ali in tumult, and the king
Prepares to meet him.

[something Ray. Now, now, my heart: oh how it pants for That might relieve it. That poor wildfire, reason, Mocks me; it glimmers now on this side, now Flits to the other, ever vanishing

As I approach it! What an awful gloom
Surrounds me! not a choice left to my action,
Not one my heart approves. Dreadful condition!
Where every principle that stirs within me
Burns to act nobly, yet some act of meanness,
Turn where I will, of madness or of meanness,
Obtrudes upon me! a stern judge that never
Will pardon me, myself, bids me beware

Ron. Away these doubts: when prudence weighs an action,

Her cold blood slumbers o'er it till the time
Of action flies. Your awful sword was brandish'd
At the king's breast. I saw him join his bands.
I heard your fate pronounc'd. This is the moment
To shun the dreadful scaffold. Let the rage
Of injur'd honour guide you: mark the tyrant,
And meet him in the flight with sword to sword,
And leave the event to Heaven.

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Pour Hell's black shades. But speak the word, my Then let her die.

-O tyrant,

Kay. O God! the dreadful issue
My thoughts avoided-Let her die!
What horrid ruin hast thou brought on me!
Yes; let her die—

Ron. Now at the chase we 'll find her.
Hark! 't is the horn: the chase draws near. Amidst
His triumph, heavy shall our vengeance fall.

Ray. Then shall my trampled honour yet erase My name's disgrace, and tear hot-breath'd pollution From its rank soil; then shall th' exulting tyrant, Amid the triumph of his pride, behold

His lustful bed chang'd for her ghastly shroud.
Horrour now has steel'd me:

Yes, I could smile, then drop the yearning tear,
To see Erminia breathless at my feet.
But to behold her in th' adulterer's bed,
To see her but in fancy there--O Hell,
It strikes with madness!

[sword

Ron. We'll tear her thence, my lord. Ray. My hand shall strike the blow: no other Shall touch her faithless breast. I cannot leave That dreadful office to another's rage. Yes; I shall drop the tear in luxury Of raging grief, and kiss the hands that mangle Her faithless bosom. O my friends, how lovely, How flush'd with ev'ry graceful seeming virtue, Shone my Erminia! and shall this handOh burning anguish! still the dear idea Obtrudes upon me, when each happy moment Led on another happier, till at last Came one curst hour, and darken'd all the rest, And lost the world to me.

Bram. Heard you that echo?

It is the huntsman's voice: the chase turns hither. Ron. Then stand to arms.

Ray. And thus an happy death

May close my woes. But should I fall, my wish Unsatisfy'd, by all your dearest hopes,

Oh soothe my ghost, and blast the tyrant's revels! Ron. I swear, my lord, my sword waits the fair time. [Exit Ronsard.

Bram. And mine, my lord.

Ray. Oh, my friends, indulge me!

I have been rudely waken'd from a dream
Of more than human bliss and ecstasy,
To all the horrours of the madman's cell.
Heaven try'd on me what bliss a man could know,
But gave the keeping of it to a woman;
And that false-hearted woman has betray'd it
To one who boasts of faithlessness to woman;
To one who holds the character of woman
Worthless and vain; despising what he conquers.
O I could weep for that unhappy man
Whose heart's sole treasure is embark'd in woman;
Just when he thinks his halcyon days are come,
When on the smooth calm tide of life his joys
Securely glide, poor man, what storms rush in,
What dreadful ruin! and ob cruel wound!
He feels that flaunting baseness, thinly gilded

With gallantry, gay trifling, oaths, and flattery,
Have had more graceful charms than all his merit.
Alas, this is but weeping for myself!
What now, brave youth?

[Ronsard re-enters hastily. Ron. The moment sacred to thy injur'd honour Is now on wing.—The royal camp

Is all in tumult: thither the king has sped;
The ladies with the huntsmen chase the deer
On yon nigh dale: ere now by the forests edge
May we surprise them, and achieve our purpose.
Ray. My spirit rises as the dreadful hour;
Rises in horrour!

Ron. Righteous Heaven, my lord,
Itself is party in our just attempt,
And on my sword, I swear-

Bram. And on my sword, I swear,

All that an old man's wither'd arm can do,
This arm shall do! I will not boast, my lord; [ly.
Yet still there's warm blood here that shall flow free-
Ray. From yonder dark brow'd glade the pros-
pect opens

In wide extent. Thither with speed, my friends.
Ron And mark the lady in the silk of white,
Arm'd like the sylvan goddess of the chase,
With bow and quiver—

Kay. Hah! the false Erminia

Ron. Erminia's graceful port, and noble mien
Seem'd to adorn her; but the distance veil'd
Her smiles accurs'd-

Ray. Horrour now strengthens me.
Eternal justice, be my sword thy minister,
To pour thy vengeance on triumphing guilt!
Yes; Heaven's own vengeance points my thirsty
sword.

Hither with speed, my friends!

АСТ V.

[Exeunt.

Coldly glides through me! like a lurking felon
Must I approach my castle, while the robbers
Revel within- -Oh parent Heaven, how awful
What now I feel! that solemn pleasing dread
Unspeakable! the grave's chill invitation

Sent to the good man's heart when verging on it.
That unnam'd touch, which man, ordain'd to live,
Did never feel, now thrills me: and inspiring
A drear affection for the darksome gulf,
Whose shore was never seen by human eye,
Shows smiling peace prepar'd to waft me through.
Bram. When grief's hot fever has burn'd out its
Comes melancholy, and with gentle hand [rage
Throws a soft slumber o'er the weary'd passions;
And then, while reason sleeps, bending the vigour
Of manly action down, through mournful shades
Of listless pleasing woe, she impious leads
The dreamful fancy.--Thus, my lord, she leads
The touch you feel is melancholy's soothing:
But rouse your nobler temper to the deeds
Your honour and your wrongs impose upon you.
Kay. Yes, I will rouse me▬▬ -Hark! the sounds
Struggle on the forest's edge-

[you:

Bram. Bourbon, I deem,

Disturbs the tyrant's revels; and on speed
Comes Ronsard-

Enter RONSARD.

Ron. Deeper to the cave, my lord,
Let us retire

Ray. Say, where my joyful traitress?

Ron. Just when I mark'd her party, and the route,
The hounds pursued, the shout of Bourbon's army
Echo'd along the dales, and his bold van

Gave their first thunder. Instant o'er the downs,
Raging as burning Hercules, the king

Led forth his trembling host. In wild dismay
The hunters fled, some to the castle, some
Plung'd into the wood-

Ray. Oh Heaven, and is my vengeance,
And thy dread justice, yet again delay'd!

Ron. Erminia's party to the castle sped:
There may we seize her. Let one little hour
But half expire, then will the battle rage
In its full strength; then may our purpose fear
Wayward delay no more--

Bram. Hah, 't is the sound

[glades;

Of horsemen rushing through the neighbouring
Retire, my lord; a price is on your blood.
Ere to full meeting flame the battle rise,
I'll arm your faithful servants to assist
Our honour's cause---

May Bourbon triumph!--Lord Admiral, thy bat-
Shall reinforce my Guise to guard the fair one,
For whom my crown now trembles on my head.
Guise. Be confident; our zeal shall be successful.
Lord Adm. Oh to the field, my liege
King. Yes; there the astonish'd dastards
Require my rage to fire them--
Oh Raymond, had 1 now a general
As brave, as honest!-Heavens, am I thus reduced?
No; this is mine———
[Drawing his sword.
-to this I'll trust my kingdoms.
Guise. And wonted victory attend that sword!
[Exit King.
Lord Adm. Now, now, my lord, our power ex-
pires or triumphs;

[of tumult Our hope's sole anchor is not yet secur'd:

Erm. Oh fly, ye gloomy hours! what boding

Rests on these moments

Eem. "T is the busy working

Of fear's keen lively sense that leads your thoughts Through waking dreams, where jealous terrour shifts The dim illusive scenery.

Erm. Fear and terrour

Become my lorn condition well--Ere yet
The matin bell has toll'd its holy summons,
The impious tyrant may perhaps for ever
Divorce the noble Raymond from my arms.

Oh Heaven protect him from my loath'd betrayers!
On give me back my husband-

Eem. Utmost prudence, lady,

Becomes us now: Bramville will soon relieve
Thy load of woes. Again I'll urge his coming.
[She dismisses the Page.

O yield not thus to unavailing passion!
Alas, a fever of the sickly mind

O'erpowers thee, lady! hear thy weeping friend,

Yield me the poniard.

Erm. Yield my honour's safeguard!

No; by my wrongs

Eem. Oh Heaven, bethink thee, lady, What vain repentance may for ever weep O'er one rash moment.

Erm. Yes; no vain repentance

Shall weep my honour's stain; with impious rage
The tyrant burns; but this, perhaps, shall change
The fatal object that impassions him
Into a form of horrour; or perhaps,

So guide me Heaven,-shall reek in his hot breast.
This, this were worthy gallant Raymond's spouse,
And not a coward's flight-

A coward's flight, through self-given death, but ill
Becomes the mind that feels its dignity
In vigorous health, and smiles upon itself.
And mine with joy reviews each wish, each thought
That ere liv'd here—— [Concealing a dagger.
Eem. While Bramville tarries, lady,
Yon shepherd's bower, where o'er the verdant bank
The roses and the woodbine emulate

The pinks and cowslips of the floor below; Yon bower invites us to its safe retreat. Erm. Oh Bramville, Bramville, speed thee!this delay [They retire. Ill suits that generous friendly warmth which marks Thy hoary age—— [The scene closes.

SCENE IV. A glade in a wood.

Enter RAYMOND, Bramville, and armed peasants.

Bram. Your faithful servants offer
Their lives, my lord, to give your wish success.
This is the moment: on the field the king

Now greets the foe with dreadful salutation,

Ray. Then on my friends-Good Heaven, why shake my knees With sudden faltering! why this chilly tremour!

That never seiz'd me in the eve of battle!
Oh judge not you, who never felt my passion;
Ye leaden-hearted herd, whose cold base temper
Takes no impression but of sordid stamp,
Judge not my feelings--Oh Erminia !

Go I to murder thee!-Oh horrour! horrour!
Yet Heaven's own justice fires me.

Enter RONSARd in haste.

[Leave me

The other glade-Here rests my traitress-→→→→ To this dread scene

Bram. Gladly I turn, my lord,

From such sad view

O gracious Heaven prevent [Exit Bram. Ray. Ah, whence this sudden gloom which shoots athwart

Whate'er offends thee

The conscious forest! As if wailing ghosts
Were gliding through the trembling leaves, the sigh
Glides sullen on. 'T is nature's conscious horrour
When the stern robber holds his impious feast,
Bought with the wretchedness of innocence,
Oh cruel Francis, what unfeeling heart
Rages in thy dark bosom! Oh inhuman!
Hast thou no pang that whispers what I feel?
Canst thou sit down and grossly feast thy appetite,
Whilst the just master of the plunder'd banquet,
Stabb'd by thy knife, lay bleeding in thy sight!
Oh Heaven, I could not do it—but thou stern ty-

my tongue

Save thee from deepest woes, my injur'd Raymond. Ray. Spare thee! for whom! for the adulterer's arms!

No; by my wrongs-This for thy faithless heart. [She faints. Hah, do I grasp my traitress! rousing vengeance May now atone-Yet let me one dread moment Contemplate that fair face, where once all Heaven Open'd its smiles upon me- -Ab, how woeful! What energy of deepest penitence

[Drops his sword.
Tells its severe distress in these pale features!
Yes; these are virtue's looks, when generous virtue
Bares her repenting bosom to the darts
Of terrible remorse——

How pure the innocence that once was thine!
That was, but is not now-And art thou now
My horrour, freezing my blood at touch of thee.
O gracious powers, what anguish trembles there
On these pale lips of death! Yes; every feature
Speaks innocence betray'd--Sure angels wept
When thou--Oh fallen! Oh lost Erminia
Yet wake and tell me--

[Recovering.

Erm. Canst thou weep for me!
Oh generous Raymond, how was I betray'd!
Yet, ob forgive my ashes when the dust-
Yet, while I live, oh take, for pity snatch me
Far from my loath'd betrayer's hateful arms.
Ray From thy loath'd betrayer!
Erm. Yes; O witness Heaven!

I was betray'd to view thee as resolv'd
On my destruction, and that all your love
Was turn'd to raging hatred.

Ray. And, oh horrour!

O'erwhelm thy speech, in woman's blind revenge Gave all-But turn your eyes to Heaven-[He lifts and brandishes his sword.

Erm: Yet hear,
My lord, my husband hear me; death will then,
If thou canst give it, death will then be all
My heart can wish-

Ray. Heaven's! can I hope-
Erm. Oh! couldst thou yet

Forgive, and love me.

-O speak

Ray. Haste, speak, though thy words

Strike me with death.

From Hell's deep gulf methinks I spring to Heaven! Erminia spotless to my arms restor❜d!

Eem. Yet fly not hence: as fiercest beasts of prey, The cruel fugitives of either host Pour round the forest edge

Erm. O generous Raymond!

What rapturous burst of ecstasy o'erpowers thee
To hear my innocence! Yes; all thy rage
Was love; an endless theme of love through all
Our future smiling days.

Ray. Ah! what dire borrours
[ger?
Have torn thy gentle breast-But why this dag-
Erm. I left the chase in trust to fly to thee,
And lest the loath'd betrayer might surprise me,
This should perhaps have recompens'd his crimes.
Now I resign it-

Eem. To my care--Ah, madam

[Receives the dagger. Ray. Oh, my Erminia! this shall ever make My love a generous debtor with itself Displeas'd, for never can its zeal repay Thy matchless virtues

Erm. O my lord, my lord——

Enter GUISE and armed attendants.

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The Works of the English Poets, from Chaucer to Cowper, Volume 17