Nor yet the sharpest of the untoward strokes That Destiny hath dealt us. What I know I fear to tell, save to the Abbot only. Why did I quit the Cloister? I have fought The perfidies of Courts, the wrath of Kings, She was my friend—I had but her—no more, I am as they that seek a sign, to whom No sign is given. My Mother! Oh, my Mother! Who's this? What are you, Sir? What brings you here? Oh, ho! I know you. You are Ruold. Well, What news from Chester? Easy watch you kept Your father's merits have redeemed your head RUOLD. Lord Abbot, still It stands a forfeit, if adversity, Loss and disaster make a forfeiture. Chester is burnt. The Dane came up the Dee, Slew half my force and fired the town. DUNSTAN. So! so! Deem'dst thou that this should jeopardize thy head? This news is welcome. [Exeunt RUOLD and BRIDFERTH. Is it not welcome? Yes; It rings a shrill alarum in my ears, Telling me that the murderers of my Mother The weapons of thy anger. Oh, my Mother! Thy soul departed. From thy place thou seest Of this divided realm, with headlong might Reject the Northmen to their native rocks. Harcather, we are threatened, hear'st thou not? Our mortal throes, deems that she now can tear That ever dreamt that they were Christians, join And hurl them backward to their brine. Proclaim Letters of absolution for those Earls That hitherto are excommunicate. Send me a Herald to King Edwin's camp. -What staggering knave is this, with bloodstained pate And livid lips? 'Tis Gurmo. What bring'st thou ? Dead! By what chance? Alive I bid thee take her, And wherefore is she dead? GURMO. Her horse was fleet But fleeter is an arrow than a horse. An arrow from my bow is in her heart. DUNSTAN. Harcather, fly; The forces that are scattered draw together, And plant them close and strong. A herald send, I say again, with overtures to Edwin, Inviting him to peace. A priest, good Gurmo? [Exeunt. SCENE X. A VILLAGE ON THE BORDERS OF WALES. ETHILDA, EMMA, ERNWAY, and SIDROC. SIDROC. To Ernway's escort must I leave you now, Lest my With a warm welcome from the good Ap Rhys. ETHILDA. When shall the tidings of the battle come To Ruthin Castle? SIDROC. When to-morrow's sun Behind the summit of Llanvarroch sinks, |