Restore thyself to God in his true Church,
And stray not in that howling wilderness
Where never is the voice of gladness heard,
Of bridegroom nor of bride.

ELGIVA.

My Royal Cousin,

'Tis thou that strayest in that wilderness.
Except amongst the Monks, I know not where
The voice is silenced of the bride and bridegroom.
I pray you be not factious for the Monks.

Ask Athulf-ask my brother. Have you seen him?
He came but yesterday.

ETHILDA.

I saw him not.

ELGIVA.

Oh, he is bright and jocund as the morn,
And there is not on earth that wilderness
Which he could not reclaim, and in its wastes
Detect the springs of fruitfulness and joy.

ETHILDA.

When last I saw him-ere he went to the West,
I was almost a child; but I remember

How wild he was with pleasantness and mirth.

I was gay then, although I seemed not so

Beside his bounding spirit. Is he now

Of the same temper ?

ELGIVA.

Not so thoughtless now,

And more in broken lights; but Nature still
Predominates, whose revels in his heart

Hardly can care suspend.

Enter EDWIN.

EDWIN.

Oh, this is kind!

You know not, my fair cousin, what a cloud
Came over all the Court when you were gone;
It was as dreary as a city churchyard.

Now we shall smile again.

ELGIVA.

Adieu, good night, sweet kind Ethilda!

EDWIN.

Kind is she always; she is kind to stay
Ever, when you are absent, by my side,
And also kind to go when you are here.

ELGIVA.

Your Majesty ...

EDWIN.

We are alone, Elgiva;

Yes;

Oh, how I hate my

title in your mouth.

Rather than speak as in the audience-chamber,
Let us be children once again, to rove

O'er hill, through vale, with interlacing arms,

And thrid the thickets where wild roses grow
Entangled with each other like ourselves.

Can

you, and will you, those sweet days remember, And strive to bring them back?

Can I remember?

ELGIVA.

Those days-Oh, Edwin !. . .

When can I forget them?

When flowers forget to blow and birds to sing,

D

And clouds to kindle in the May-day dawn,

And every spring-tide sight and sound shall cease,
Or cease for me, then too for me shall cease
The sweet remembrance of the tender joys,
The smiles, the tears of those delightful days.

EDWIN.

And can they not repeat themselves? Again
Let us, though grown, be children in our hearts.
Then with the freedom and the innocence
Which led our childish steps we'll wander on
Through after life, but with a fuller joy.

Let recollections of the past, if sweet,

Plead sweetly for the present.

You are a King.

ELGIVA.

Edwin, Edwin !

EDWIN.

Now, see! I've summoned up,

Like a magician whose strong spell evokes
A beautiful spirit, the spirit of the past,
And bid it speak, and prophesy, and plead;
And, lo! it nothing answers but the words
The Herald spake, when o'er my father's grave

He brake his wand of office. I am a King,

But may not Kings be happy?

ELGIVA.

May Kings not love?

They must be more than resolute to be safe
In loving whom they will; they must be wary.
The Monks are enemies that Kings may fear,
Though of the bravest, and my father's House
Is hateful in their sight.

EDWIN.

Nay, talk not of them;

I loathe this monkery, and if I live

Will root it from my realm.

ELGIVA.

Oh that you may!

And Earls not few, and many a gallant Thane,
Would gladly in that cause their heart's best blood

Pour out like water. Athulf is but one,

Yet if you knew him is he many's worth.

If

EDWIN.

more of him I know not, yet that much I amply know. Then surely with his aid We may defy the monks, or, better still, We

may forget them, ay, forget the world,