Classic Poem

Enter E LGIVA .

ELGIVA.

Then 'tis too true;
To dangerous fight he goes — he bleeds! he dies!
Oh! Elgiva, how wilt thou bear the sight,
When he returns, by weeping soldiers borne?
When the stern heart, that's steel'd by battle, yearns?
How wilt thou rave! how tear thy braided locks,
And almost menace Heaven!

EDMUND.

For pity, cease!
A nation's fate depends on Edmund's arm.
Send me not forth thus dull, thus-woe-begone;
Or, at the first attack of martial Denmark,
The sword will fall from my enfeebled hand,
And yield him cheap success.

ELGIVA.

Would Heav'n, my tears
Could keep thee from this combat! they should flow
For ever. Thus I'd plead till language fail'd.
The death-devoted villain pleads for life,
But I for more than life: I plead for thee.
The Mother craves protection for her son, —
A playful youngling, pleas'd with vernant life,
He smiles on all, nor dreams of future woes.
Shall Denmark seize his birthright, and insult
The poor unfriended boy?

EDMUND.

The Dane is noble.
Could I refuse the combat, he propos'd,
And be a Patriot King?

ELGIVA.

Was 't not sufficient
To share the danger with the base-born soldier?
Must thou engross it, singly meet ill-fortune,
So prodigal to spill the sacred blood,
By thee deriv'd from many a famous hero.

EDMUND.

Taught, by their deeds, to know my birthright — Honour.
Shall they complain, that Edmund Ironside
Disgrac'd the virtues of his untaught fires,
Tho' plac'd in days when emulation rous'd
The spark of generous worth.

ELGIVA.

Fix'd is thy same.
Sev'n battles, won from Denmark, shall engrave it
On ev'ry grateful breast.

EDMUND.

The truly brave
Must scorn repose, whene'er occasion calls.
The death of Edmund gives his country peace:
How rapt'rous is that thought!

ELGIVA.

To me how dreadful!

EDMUND.

Does not the soul, that warms each peasant's bosom,
Boast as divine an origin as mine?
Their service shall I arrogate, yet shrink
From my own duty? O my Love! be calm.
The Cottage Matron, for her slaughter'd spouse,
Or orphan child, feels sorrow, sharp as thine.
Do thou assert the gen'rous pride of birth,
Think that thy suff'rings give the nation peace,
And take a conscious dignity from woe.

ELGIVA.

Go then to fight! obey the call of glory:
Tho' pain'd affection at thy danger start,
To me thy fame is sacred. Go, farewell!
Cold, as the dire arrest of death, that word
Strikes to my heart.

EDMUND.

And does not Edmund suffer!
Thou lov'liest mourner? Did I tell my sorrows;
But hence complaint: Tears must not stain my cheek,
Angelic pow'rs, who watch o'er Innocence,
Save — save, my child! and bless my Elgiva!