Con. Furl up our colours, and unbrace our drums;
Dislodge betimes, and quit this fatal coast.
Arth. Have we forgot to conquer?
Aur. Cast off hope;
The embattled legions of fire, air, and earth,
Are banded for our foes:
For, going to discover, with the dawn,
Yon southern hill, which promised to the sight
A rise more easy to attack the fort,
Scarce had we stept on the forbidden ground,
When the woods shook, the trees stood bristling up;
A living trembling nodded through the leaves.
Arth. Poplars, and aspen-boughs; a panic fright.
Con. We thought so too, and doubled still our pace;
But strait a rumbling sound, like bellowing winds,
Rose and grew loud; confused with howls of wolves,
And grunts of bears, and dreadful hiss of snakes;
Shrieks more than human; globes of hail poured down
An armed winter, and inverted day.
Arth. Dreadful indeed!
Aur. Count then our labour's lost;
For other way lies none, to mount the cliff,
Unless we borrow wings, and sail through air.
Arth. Now I perceive a danger worthy me.
'Tis Osmond's work, a band of hell-hired slaves:
Be mine the hazard, mine shall be the fame.
[Arthur is going out, but is met by Merlin, who
takes him by the hand, and brings him back.
Enter Merlin.
Mer. Hold, sir, and wait heaven's time; the attempt's too dangerous.
There's not a tree in that enchanted grove,
But's numbered out, and given by tale to fiends;
And under every leaf a spirit couched.
But by what method to dissolve these charms,
Is yet unknown to me.
Aur. Hadst thou been here,—for what can thwart thy skill?—
Nor Emmeline had been the boast of Oswald,
Nor I, forewarned, been wanting to her guard.
Con. Her darkened eyes had seen the light of heaven;
That was thy promise too, and this the time.
Mer. Nor has my aid been absent, though unseen,
With friendly guides in your benighted maze:
Nor Emmeline shall longer want the sun.
Arth. Is there an end of woes?
Mer. There is, and sudden.
I have employed a subtle airy sprite
To explore the passage, and prepare my way.
Myself, mean time, will view the magic wood,
To learn whereon depends its force.
Con. But Emmeline!——
Mer. Fear not. This vial shall restore her sight.
Arth. Oh might I hope,—and what's impossible
To Merlin's art?—to be myself the bearer,
That with the light of heaven she may discern
Her lover first!
Mer. 'Tis wond'rous hazardous;
Yet I foresee the event, 'tis fortunate.
I'll bear ye safe, and bring ye back unharmed:
Then lose not precious time, but follow me.
[Exeunt, Merlin leading Arthur.
SCENE II.—A Deep Wood.
Enter Philidel.
Phil. I left all safe behind;
For, in the hindmost quarter of the wood,
My former lord, grim Osmond, walks the round,
Calls o'er the names, and schools the tardy sprites.
His absence gives me more security.
At every walk I passed, I drew a spell;
So that, if any fiend, abhorring heaven,
There sets his foot, it roots him to the ground.
Now could I but discover Emmeline,
My task were fairly done. [Walking about, and prying betwixt the Trees.
Enter Grimbald rushing out: He seizes Philidel,
and binds him in a Chain.
Grim. O rebel, have I caught thee!
Phil. Ah me! what hard mishap!
Grim. What just revenge!—
Thou miscreant elf, thou renegado scout,
So clean, so furbished, so renewed in white,
The livery of our foes; I see thee through:
What mak'st thou here? thou trim apostate, speak.
Thou shak'st for fear, I feel thy false heart pant.
Phil. Ah mighty Grimbald,
Who would not fear, when seized in thy strong gripe!
But hear me, Oh renowned, Oh worthy fiend,
The favourite of our chief!
Grim. Away with fulsome flattery,
The food of fools; thou knowest where last we met,
When, but for thee, the Christian had been swallowed
In quaking bogs, and living sent to hell.
Phil. Ay, then I was seduced by Merlin's art,
And half persuaded by his soothing tales,
To hope for heaven; as if eternal doom
Could be reversed, and undecreed for me;
But I am now set right.
Grim. Oh, still thou think'st to fly a fool to mark.
Phil. I fled from Merlin, free as air that bore me,
To unfold to Osmond all his deep designs.
Grim. I believe nothing: Oh thou fond impostor,
When wert thou last in hell? Is not thy name
Forgot, and blotted from the infernal roll?
But since thou sayest, thy errand was to Osmond,
To Osmond shalt thou go: march, know thy driver.
Phil. [Kneeling.] Oh spare me, Grimbald, and I'll be thy slave,
Tempt hermits for thee, in their holy cells,
And virgins, in their dreams.
Grim. Canst thou, a devil, hope to cheat a devil?
A spy! why, that's a name abhorred in hell.
Haste, forward, forward, or I'll goad thee on
With iron spurs.
Phil. But use me kindly then.
Pull not so hard, to hurt my airy limbs;
I'll follow thee unforced: look, there's thy way.
Grim. Ay, there's thy way indeed; but, for more surety,
I'll keep an eye behind: not one word more,
But follow decently. [Grim. goes out, dragging Phil.
Phil. So, catch him, spell! [Aside.
Grim. [within.] Oh help me, help me, Philidel!
Phil. Why, what's the matter?
Grim. Oh, I am ensnared;
Heaven's birdlime wraps me round, and glues my wings.
Loose me, and I will free thee:
Do, and I'll be thy slave.
Phil. What, to a spy, a name abhorred in hell?
Grim. Do not insult!—Oh, Oh, I grow to ground;
The fiery net draws closer on my limbs.
Phil. Thou shalt not have the ease to curse in torments.
Be dumb for one half hour,—so long my charm
Can keep thee silent,—and there lie
Till Osmond breaks thy chain. [Philidel unbinds his own Fetters.
Enter to him Merlin, with a Vial in his Hand; and Arthur.
Mer. Well hast thou wrought thy safety with thy wit,
My Philidel; go meritorious on.
Me other work requires, to view the wood,
And learn to make the dire enchantments void.
Mean time, attend king Arthur, in my room;
Shew him his love, and with these sovereign drops
Restore her sight.
[Exit Merlin, giving a Vial to Philidel.
Phil. We must work, we must haste;
Noon-tide hour is almost past.
Sprites, that glimmer in the sun,
Into shades already run;
Osmond will be here, anon.
Arth. O yonder, yonder she's already found;
My soul directs my sight, and flies before it.—
Now, gentle spirit, use thy utmost art,
Unseal her eyes, and this way lead her steps.
[Arthur withdraws behind the Scene; Emmeline
and Matilda come forward to
the Front; Philidel approaches Emmeline,
sprinkling some of the Water over
her eyes, out of the Vial.
Phil. Thus, thus I infuse
These sovereign dews:
Fly back, ye films, that cloud her sight;
And you, ye crystal humours bright,
Your noxious vapours purged away,
Recover, and admit the day:
Now cast your eyes abroad, and see
All but me.
Em. Ha! What was that? Who spoke?
Mat. I heard the voice; 'tis one of Osmond's fiends.
Em. Some blessed angel sure. I feel my eyes
Unsealed; they walk abroad, and a new world
Comes rushing on, and stands all gay before me.
Mat. Oh heavens! Oh joy of joys! she has her sight!
Em. I am new-born; I shall run mad for pleasure. [Staring on Mat.
Are women such as thou? Such glorious creatures?
Arth. [Aside.] O how I envy her, to be first seen!
Em. Stand farther; let me take my fill of sight. [Looking up.
What's that above, that weakens my new eyes,
Makes me not see, by seeing?
Em. The sun! 'tis sure a God, if that be heaven:—
Oh! if thou art a creature, best and fairest,
How well art thou from mortals so remote,
To shine, and not to burn, by near approach!
How hast thou lightened even my very soul,
And let in knowledge by another sense!
I gaze about, new-born to day and thee;
A stranger yet, an infant of the world!—
Art thou not pleased, Matilda? Why, like me,
Dost thou not look and wonder?
Mat. For these sights
Are to my eyes familiar.
Em. That's my joy,
Not to have seen before; for nature now
Comes all at once, confounding my delight.
But ah! what thing am I? Fain would I know;
Or am I blind, or do I see but half?
With all my care, and looking round about,
I cannot view my face.
Mat. None see themselves
But by reflection; in this glass you may. [Gives her a glass.
Em. [Taking the glass, and looking.] What's this?
It holds a face within it:—Oh sweet face!
It draws the mouth, and smiles, and looks upon me,
And talks, but yet I cannot hear it speak;
The pretty thing is dumb.
Mat. The pretty thing
You see within the glass, is you.
Em. What! am I two? Is this another me?
Indeed it wears my clothes, has hands like mine,
And mocks whate'er I do; but that I'm sure
I am a maid, I'd swear it were my child. [Matilda looks.
Look, my Matilda: We both are in the glass.
Oh, now I know it plain; they are our names,
That peep upon us there.
Mat. Our shadows, madam.
Em. Mine is a prettier shadow far, than thine.
I love it; let me kiss my t'other self. [Kissing the glass, and hugging it.
Alas, I've kissed it dead; the fine thing's gone:
Indeed, it kissed so cold, as if 'twere dying.
[Arthur comes forward softly, shewing himself behind her.
'Tis here again;
Oh no, this face is neither mine nor thine;
I think the glass has born another child. [She turns and sees Arthur.
Ha! What art thou with a new kind of face,
And other clothes? a noble creature too;
But taller, bigger, fiercer in thy look;
Of a controuling eye, majestic make?
Mat. Do you not know him, madam?
Em. Is't a man?
Arth. Yes; and the most unhappy of my kind,
If you have changed your love.
Em. My dearest lord!
Was my soul blind; and could not that look out,
To know you, ere you spoke? Oh counterpart
Of our soft sex! Well are you made our lords;
So bold, so great, so godlike are you formed!
How can you love such silly things as women?
Arth. Beauty like yours commands; and man was made
But a more boisterous, and a stronger slave,
To you, the best delights of human kind.
Em. But are you mine? Is there an end of war?
Are all those trumpets dead themselves, at last,
That used to kill men with their thundering sounds?
Em. How came you hither then?
Arth. By Merlin's art, to snatch a short-lived bliss;
To feed my famished love upon your eyes
One moment, and depart.
Em. O moment, worth
Whole ages past, and all that are to come!
Let love-sick Oswald now unpitied mourn;
Let Osmond mutter charms to sprites in vain,
To make me love him; all shall not change my soul.
Arth. Ha! Does the enchanter practise hell upon you?
Is he my rival too?
Em. Yes, but I hate him;
For, when he spoke, through my shut eyes I saw him;
His voice look'd ugly, and breathed brimstone on me;
And then I first was glad that I was blind,
Not to behold damnation.
Phil. This time is left me to congratulate
Your new-born eyes; and tell you what you gain
By sight restored, and viewing him you love.—
Appear, ye airy forms!
[Airy Spirits appear in the shapes of Men and Women.
Man sings. Oh sight, the mother of desires,
What charming objects dost thou yield!
'Tis sweet, when tedious night expires,
To see the rosy morning gild
The mountain-tops, and paint the field!
But when Clarinda comes in sight,
She makes the summer's day more bright;
And when she goes away, 'tis night.
Chor. When fair Clarinda comes in sight, &c.
Wom. sings. 'Tis sweet the blushing morn to view;
And plains adorned with pearly dew:
But such cheap delights to see,
Heaven and nature
Give each creature;
They have eyes, as well as we;
This is the joy, all joys above,
To see, to see,
That only she,
That only she we love!
Chor. This is the joy, all joys above, &c.
Man sings. And if we may discover
What charms both nymph and lover,
'Tis, when the fair at mercy lies,
With kind and amorous anguish,
To sigh, to look, to languish,
On each other's eyes!
Chorus of all Men and Women.
And if we may discover, &c.
Phil. Break off your music, for our foes are near. [Spirits vanish.
Enter Merlin.
Merl. My sovereign, we have hazarded too far;
But love excuses you, and prescience me:
Make haste, for Osmond is even now alarmed,
And, greedy of revenge, is hasting home.
Arth. Oh! take my love with us, or leave me here.
Merl. I cannot, for she's held by charms too strong,
Which, with the enchanted grove, must be destroyed;
Till when, my art is vain:—But fear not, Emmeline,
The enchanter has no power on innocence.
Em. [To Arth.] Farewell, since we must part: When you are gone,
I'll look into my glass, just where you looked.
To find your face again;
If 'tis not there, I'll think on you so long,
My heart shall make your picture for my eyes.
Arth. Where'er I go, my soul shall stay with thee;
'Tis but my shadow that I take away.
True love is never happy but by halves;
An April sunshine, that by fits appears,
It smiles by moments, but it mourns by years.
[Exeunt Arthur and Merlin
at one door.
Enter Osmond at the other door, who gazes on Emmeline, and she on him.
Em. Matilda, save me from this ugly thing,
This foe to sight: speak; dost thou know him?
Mat. Too well; 'tis Oswald's friend, the great magician.
Em. It cannot be a man, he's so unlike the man I love.
Osm. [Aside.] Death to my eyes, she sees!
Em. I wish I could not; but I'll close my sight,
And shut out all I can.——It will not be;
Winking, I see thee still; thy odious image
Stares full into my soul, and there infects the room,
My Arthur should possess.
Osm. [Aside.] I find too late,
That Merlin and her lover have been here.
If I was fired before, when she was blind,
Her eyes dart lightning now; she must be mine.
Em. I pr'ythee, dreadful thing, tell me thy business here,
And, if thou canst, reform that odious face;
Look not so grim upon me.
Osm. My name is Osmond, and my business love.
Em. Thou hast a grisly look,—forbidding what thou askest,
If I durst tell thee so.
Osm. My pent-house eye-brows, and my shaggy beard,
Offend your sight, but these are manly signs;
Faint white and red abuse your expectations:
Be woman; know your sex, and love full pleasures.
Em. Love from a monster, fiend?
Osm. Come, you must love, or you must suffer love;
No coyness, none, for I am master here.
Em. And when did Oswald give away his power,
That thou presum'st to rule? Be sure I'll tell him;
For, as I am his prisoner, he is mine.
Osm. Why then, thou art a captive to a captive.
O'er-laboured with the fight, opprest with thirst,
That Oswald, whom you mentioned, called for drink:
I mixt a sleepy potion in his bowl,
Which he and his fool friend quaffed greedily:
The happy dose wrought the desired effect;
Then to a dungeon's depth I sent both bound;
Where, stowed with snakes and adders, now they lodge,
Two planks their beds, slippery with ooze and slime:
The rats brush o'er their faces with their tails,
And croaking paddocks crawl upon their limbs;
Since when the garrison depends on me.
Now know you are my slave.
Mat. He strikes a horror through my blood.
Em. I freeze, as if his impious art had fixed
My feet to earth.
Osm. But love shall thaw ye.
I'll show his force in countries caked with ice,
Where the pale pole-star in the north of heaven
Sits high, and on the frosty winter broods,—
Yet there love reigns: For proof, this magic wand
Shall change the mildness of sweet Britain's clime
To Iceland, and the farthest Thule's frost,
Where the proud god, disdaining winter's bounds,
O'erleaps the fences of eternal snow,
And with his warmth supplies the distant sun.
Osmond strikes the Ground with his Wand: The
Scene changes to a Prospect of Winter in Frozen
Countries.
Cupid descends.
Cup. } What ho, thou Genius of the Clime, what ho!
sings. } Ly'st thou asleep beneath those hills of snow?
Stretch out thy lazy limbs; awake, awake,
And winter from thy furry mantle shake.
Genius Arises.
Genius. What power art thou, who from below
Hast made me rise, unwillingly, and slow,
From beds of everlasting snow?
See'st thou not how stiff and wond'rous old,
Far unfit to bear the bitter cold?
I can scarcely move, or draw my breath;
Let me, let me, freeze again to death.
Cupid. Thou doating fool, forbear, forbear;
What, dost thou dream of freezing here?
At Love's appearing, all the sky clearing,
The stormy winds their fury spare:
Winter subduing, and spring renewing,
My beams create a more glorious year.
Thou doating fool, forbear, forbear,
What! dost thou dream of freezing here?
Genius. Great Love, I know thee now;
Eldest of the gods art thou
Heaven and earth by thee were made;
Human nature
Is thy creature,
Every where thou art obeyed.
Cupid. No part of my dominion shall be waste;
To spread my sway, and sing my praise,
Even here I will a people raise,
Of kind embracing lovers, and embraced.
Cupid waves his Wand, upon which the Scene opens,
and discovers a prospect of Ice and Snow to the
end of the Stage.
Singers and Dancers, Men and Women, appear.
Man. See, see, we assemble,
Thy revels to hold;
Though quiv'ring with cold,
We chatter and tremble.
Cupid. 'Tis I, 'tis I, 'tis I, that have warmed ye:
In spite of cold weather,
I've brought you together:
'Tis I, 'tis I, 'tis I, that have armed ye.
Chor. 'Tis Love, 'tis Love, 'tis Love, that has warmed us;
In spite of cold weather
He brought us together:
'Tis Love, 'tis Love, 'tis Love, that has armed us.
Cupid. Sound a parley, ye fair, and surrender;
Set yourselves and your lovers at ease;
He's a grateful offender
Who pleasure dare seize;
But the whining pretender
Is sure to displease.
II.
Since the fruit of desire is possessing,
'Tis unmanly to sigh and complain;
When we kneel for redressing,
We move your disdain:
Love was made for a blessing,
And not for a pain.
A Dance; after which the Singers and Dancers depart.
Em. I could be pleased with any one but thee,
Who entertained my sight with such gay shows,
As men and women moving here and there,
That, coursing one another in their steps,
Have made their feet a tune.
Osm. What, coying it again!
No more, but make me happy to my gust,
That is, without your struggling.
Em. From my sight,
Thou all thy devils in one! thou dar'st not force me.
Osm. You teach me well; I find you would be ravished.
I'll give you that excuse your sex desires.
[He begins to lay hold on her, and they struggle.
Grim. [Within.] O help me, master, help me!
Osm. Who's that? my Grimbald? Come and help thou me;
For 'tis thy work to assist a ravisher.
Grim. [Within.] I cannot stir; I am spell-caught by Philidel,
And pursed within a net,
With a huge heavy weight of holy words
Laid on my head, that keeps me down from rising.
Osm. I'll read them backwards and release thy bonds.—
Mean time go in, [To Emmeline.
Prepare yourself, and ease my drudgery:
But if you will not fairly be enjoyed,
A little honest force is well employed. [Exit Osmond.
ACT IV. SCENE I.
Enter Osmond.
Now I am settled in my forceful sway;
Why then, I'll be luxurious in my love;
Take my full gust, and, setting forms aside,
I'll bid the slave, that fires my blood, lie down. [Seems to be going off.
Enter Grimbald, who meets him.
Grim. Not so fast, master, danger threatens thee:
There's a black cloud descending from above,
Full of heaven's venom, bursting o'er thy head.
Osm. Malicious fiend, thou liest; for I am fenced
By millions of thy fellows, in my grove.
I bade thee, when I freed thee from the charm,
Run scouting through the wood, from tree to tree,
And look if all my devils were on duty:
Had'st thou performed thy charge, thou tardy sprite,
Thou would'st have known no danger threatened me.
Grim. When did a devil fail in diligence?
Poor mortal, thou thyself art overseen.
I have been there, and thence I bring this news,—
Thy fatal foe, great Arthur, is at hand;
Merlin has taken his time, when thou wert absent,
To observe thy characters, their force, and nature,
And counterwork thy spells.
Osm. The devil take Merlin!
I'll cast them all a-new, and instantly,
All of another mould; be thou at hand.
Their composition was, before, of horror;
Now they shall be of blandishment, and love,
Seducing hopes, soft pity, tender moans:
Art shall meet art; and, when they think to win,
The fools shall find their labour to begin.
[Exeunt Osm. and Grimb.
Enter Arthur, and Merlin at another Door.
Scene of the Wood continues.
Merl. Thus far it is permitted me to go;
But all beyond this spot is fenced with charms;
I may no more, but only with advice.
Arth. My sword shall do the rest.
Merl. Remember well, that all is but illusion.
Go on; good stars attend thee.
Arth. Doubt me not.
Merl. Yet, in prevention
Of what may come, I'll leave my Philidel
To watch thy steps, and with him leave my wand;
The touch of which no earthy fiend can bear,
In whate'er shape transformed, but must lay down
His borrowed figure, and confess the devil.
Once more farewell, and prosper. [Exit Merlin.
Arth. [walking.] No danger yet; I see no walls of fire,
No city of the fiends, with forms obscene,
To grin from far on flaming battlements.
This is indeed the grove I should destroy;
But where's the horror? sure the prophet erred.—
Hark! music, and the warbling notes of birds! [Soft Music.
Hell entertains me, like some welcome guest.—
More wonders yet! yet all delightful too:
A silver current to forbid my passage,
And yet, to invite me, stands a golden bridge:
Perhaps a trap for my unwary feet,
To sink and whelm me underneath the waves.
With fire or water let him wage his war,
Or all the elements at once, I'll on.
[As he is going to the Bridge, two Syrens arise
from the water. They shew themselves to the
waist, and sing:
1 Syren. O pass not on, but stay,
And waste the joyous day
With us in gentle play:
Unbend to love, unbend thee:
O lay thy sword aside,
And other arms provide;
For other wars attend thee,
And sweeter to be tried.
Chor. For other wars, &c.
Both sing. Two daughters of this aged stream are we;
And both our sea-green locks have comb'd for thee:
Come bathe with us an hour or two,
Come naked in, for we are so;
What danger from a naked foe?
Come bathe with us, come bathe and share
What pleasures in the floods appear.
We'll beat the waters till they bound,
And circle, round, around, around,
And circle round, around.
Arth. A lazy pleasure trickles through my veins;
Here could I stay, and well be cozened here.
But honour calls;—is honour in such haste?
Can it not bait at such a pleasing inn?
No; for, the more I look, the more I long.—
Farewell, ye fair illusions! I must leave ye,
While I have power to say, that I must leave ye.
Farewell! with half my soul I stagger off,—
How dear this flying victory has cost,
When, if I stay to struggle, I am lost.