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 battles of Jehovah; I have braved

The perfidies of Courts, the wrath of Kings,
Desertion, treachery, and I murmured not,-
The fall from puissance, the shame of flight,
The secret knife, the public proclamation,-
And how am I rewarded? God hath raised
New enemies against me,—from without
The furious Northman,-from within, far worse,
Heart-sickness and a subjugating grief.

She was my friend—I had but her—no more,
No other upon earth-and as for Heaven,

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
Upon Elgiva. Let that pass. What more?

Your father's merits have redeemed your head
That else were forfeited.

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,
And landing in the night, ere break of day

Slew half my force and fired the town.

DUNSTAN.

So! so!

Deem'dst thou that this should jeopardize thy head?
Far otherwise. But send Harcather here.

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
Are come to judgment. Give me back, oh God,
My health of heart, and waken me to wield

The weapons of thy anger. Oh, my Mother!
Thy deathbed was illuminate from Heaven,
And in the glory of prophetic light

Thy soul departed. From thy place thou seest
Thy word fulfilled-the Heathen hems us round-
Next thou shalt see thy son perform thy bidding,
And, gathering into one the broken force

Of this divided realm, with headlong might

Reject the Northmen to their native rocks.
Enter HARCATHER.

Harcather, we are threatened, hear'st thou not?
The raven that was watching from afar

Our mortal throes, deems that she now can tear
The body of the land. Nay, ravenous Dane,
We are not yet exanimate. Let all

That ever dreamt that they were Christians, join
To fight against these robbers of the sea,

And hurl them backward to their brine. Proclaim
A peace betwixt King Edwin and the Church-
In furtherance whereof will I divulge

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.
And Leolf, too, is slain. But lo! I bleed;
For ere they slew him, I was hurt to death,
And by his hand. Short shrift for me I wot!
A priest—a priest—not you, Lord Abbot, no-
King Edwin now comes rushing on -Look out,
Or you shall be surprised.

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?
No, 'tis myself must shrive thee; to my cell
Support him. Is he dead? Not yet-not yet.

[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,
return should find a foughten field

Lest my
And not a field to fight. The road is safe,
And Ruthin Castle you will reach ere long,

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,