Scene III.
Enter C ANUTUS .
Hail! Canutus,
Noblest of Men, of Monarchs, hail!
CANUTUS.
I thank you.
O that my future deeds may justify
This sounding acclamation! Do thou, Harold,
Encamp thy horse upon yon hill. Our foe
Expects assistance from the Earl of Mercia;
Watch thou and intercept it. Go, brave Oswald,
Restrain the fury of the foragers.
Command them on their peril not to snatch,
Without due recompence, the little store
Of frugal Industry. I would to Heaven
Our moderation might remove the shame
That hangs on our success! — I am a King,
Yet but a slave to passion; my big heart
Sinks at this prospect. O'er yon grove of oaks
The Castle raises its majestic turrets.
Beauty and Virtue consecrate hose groves.
There saint-like Emma gives to holy rites
Her widow'd hours. Make her your dearest charge,
Celestial Guardians!
TURKILL.
Canst thou thus commend
Th' inconstant Fair.
CANUTUS.
Too well thou know'st the power
Of fierce constraint o'er timid gentleness.
A threat'ning brother — painful solitude —
No soothing Friend — Absence — Imprisonment
Conspired to force consent; her heart, I trust,
Reluctant still.
TURKILL.
Knew she your high descent?
CANUTUS.
No! I conceal'd it; for, between our States,
Inveterate hate was fix'd. Besides I wish'd
To gain possession of her dear esteem
Without Ambition's lure: This I effected.
More artless than the blooming shepherdess,
With blushing sweetness, she confess'd her passion.
My heart, tho' form'd of rugged elements,
Here feels a weakness. Turkill, I ador'd her.
Berest of her, I lost my taste of life.
Which now despising, in tumultuous war
With reckless haste I plung'd.
TURKILL.
Can love, my Liege,
Awake distractions in a Hero's breast?
CANUTUS.
O Friend! in souls like mine, tho' never form'd
For mean intreaty, it assumes most power.
Till I beheld her, Beauty ne'er allur'd
My steady heart; nor had it vanquish'd then,
But that the winning sweetness of her manners
Gave it a power beyond itself. Yes, Turkill,
Without her, Britain is subdued in vain.
Restless, displeas'd, from joy to joy I turn,
And find a loath'd satiety in all.
TURKILL.
Assert thy love. Yon Castle holds the Queen.
At thy command, thy troops will climb the walls,
And make her keep her long neglected vows.
CANUTUS.
'Twere sacrilege. No, Venerable Pile!
Your sacred groves shall never be invaded,
No russian hand shall rase your walls. The spot,
That holds my Emma, is for ever sacred.
Force shall not seize the treasure love denies.
TURKILL.
Dost thou resign her then?
CANUTUS.
No, Heav'n foresend?
Be thine the care, ere the sun climbs high noon,
To seek those turrets, and address the Queen.
Plead with endearing eloquence my cause.
Tell her, I prosser her my Heart and Crown;
Tell her I love — for, oh! she rules my fate.
Yet recollect my sovereign dignity,
Nor force my blushes by thy mean submission.
Try her my Friend. Say first, — Canutus loves,
And courts her hand: If she rejects thy suit,
Present this picture — watch her alt'ring look;
Then, when the varying colour glows and fades,
Shew her this ring, the pledge of tender vows.
Twice seven long years ago, in Normandy,
The yielding Fair bestow'd it.
TURKILL.
I obey.
CANUTUS.
If with false scorn, or womanish disdain,
She treats thy pray'r — (by conscious honour taught
To drive her image from my soul) in war,
Nobly I'll shine and dare heroic acts,
'Till dying Edmund, to my grasp, resigns
The long contelted, Crown, as valour's meed,
Not the light gift of undiscerning Fortune.
Enter C ANUTUS .
Hail! Canutus,
Noblest of Men, of Monarchs, hail!
CANUTUS.
I thank you.
O that my future deeds may justify
This sounding acclamation! Do thou, Harold,
Encamp thy horse upon yon hill. Our foe
Expects assistance from the Earl of Mercia;
Watch thou and intercept it. Go, brave Oswald,
Restrain the fury of the foragers.
Command them on their peril not to snatch,
Without due recompence, the little store
Of frugal Industry. I would to Heaven
Our moderation might remove the shame
That hangs on our success! — I am a King,
Yet but a slave to passion; my big heart
Sinks at this prospect. O'er yon grove of oaks
The Castle raises its majestic turrets.
Beauty and Virtue consecrate hose groves.
There saint-like Emma gives to holy rites
Her widow'd hours. Make her your dearest charge,
Celestial Guardians!
TURKILL.
Canst thou thus commend
Th' inconstant Fair.
CANUTUS.
Too well thou know'st the power
Of fierce constraint o'er timid gentleness.
A threat'ning brother — painful solitude —
No soothing Friend — Absence — Imprisonment
Conspired to force consent; her heart, I trust,
Reluctant still.
TURKILL.
Knew she your high descent?
CANUTUS.
No! I conceal'd it; for, between our States,
Inveterate hate was fix'd. Besides I wish'd
To gain possession of her dear esteem
Without Ambition's lure: This I effected.
More artless than the blooming shepherdess,
With blushing sweetness, she confess'd her passion.
My heart, tho' form'd of rugged elements,
Here feels a weakness. Turkill, I ador'd her.
Berest of her, I lost my taste of life.
Which now despising, in tumultuous war
With reckless haste I plung'd.
TURKILL.
Can love, my Liege,
Awake distractions in a Hero's breast?
CANUTUS.
O Friend! in souls like mine, tho' never form'd
For mean intreaty, it assumes most power.
Till I beheld her, Beauty ne'er allur'd
My steady heart; nor had it vanquish'd then,
But that the winning sweetness of her manners
Gave it a power beyond itself. Yes, Turkill,
Without her, Britain is subdued in vain.
Restless, displeas'd, from joy to joy I turn,
And find a loath'd satiety in all.
TURKILL.
Assert thy love. Yon Castle holds the Queen.
At thy command, thy troops will climb the walls,
And make her keep her long neglected vows.
CANUTUS.
'Twere sacrilege. No, Venerable Pile!
Your sacred groves shall never be invaded,
No russian hand shall rase your walls. The spot,
That holds my Emma, is for ever sacred.
Force shall not seize the treasure love denies.
TURKILL.
Dost thou resign her then?
CANUTUS.
No, Heav'n foresend?
Be thine the care, ere the sun climbs high noon,
To seek those turrets, and address the Queen.
Plead with endearing eloquence my cause.
Tell her, I prosser her my Heart and Crown;
Tell her I love — for, oh! she rules my fate.
Yet recollect my sovereign dignity,
Nor force my blushes by thy mean submission.
Try her my Friend. Say first, — Canutus loves,
And courts her hand: If she rejects thy suit,
Present this picture — watch her alt'ring look;
Then, when the varying colour glows and fades,
Shew her this ring, the pledge of tender vows.
Twice seven long years ago, in Normandy,
The yielding Fair bestow'd it.
TURKILL.
I obey.
CANUTUS.
If with false scorn, or womanish disdain,
She treats thy pray'r — (by conscious honour taught
To drive her image from my soul) in war,
Nobly I'll shine and dare heroic acts,
'Till dying Edmund, to my grasp, resigns
The long contelted, Crown, as valour's meed,
Not the light gift of undiscerning Fortune.