Classic Poem

Scene VI.

Enter E DRICK , C EFRID , K ENELM , H AROLD , and Lords.

CANUTUS.

Hell-hound! come on.
There turn thine eyes — survey that ghastly form —
Bring all his gen'rous actions to thy view.
Think — tremble and despair.

EDRICK.

I own the deed.

CANUTUS.

Dost thou avow it, Villain? Yon bright stars
Would hide their lucid beauty, could they hear,
And the firm-seated Earth shake on its base.
When thou shalt visit for this sacred blood,
Avenging Heaven, demand it not of Denmark!
My hands abjure the deed, — my heart detests it;
And to atone thy wrath, I give to Justice
This Son of Darkness.

EDRICK.

Can'st thou then condemn me?
Thy interest urg'd the act. No more shall Edmund
Oppose thy triumph and obscure thy fame.
Can'st thou enjoy the Crown, yet sentence me?

CANUTUS.

Plead this excuse to devils, damn'd as those
That steel'd thy bosom.

EDRICK.

I demand thy promise.
Lord Harold, thou wer't witness; 'twas recorded
With British blood, your Monarch vow'd to raise me
Above an equal.

CANUTUS.

Be that oath performed!
Thou, Harold, see my solemn will obey'd.
To death let all the mockery of lcorn
And public shame be added: which achiev'd,
Affix his head, on high, above an equal —
A slay to wild ambition, and, to times
As yet remote, a terrible example.

EDRICK.

Relent, Oh! must I die? — so soon?

CANUTUS.

Thou must.
The pleading seraph, Charity, averts
Her blushing face, and to stern Justice yields
A villain so abhorr'd.

EDRICK.

Know then, proud King,
A nobler prize than thou can'st give, — a Crown —
That Crown, my ancestors for ages wore,
Taught me, with fearless rage, to rush on guilt;
To give, at Ashdown, Britain to thy sword;
And now turn fratricide. My final purpose
The horrors of my troubled soul destroy'd.
This I avow, on thee I meant to charge
These guilty scenes, and, by their Monarch's death,
Incite the hardy Britons to rebel.

EMMA.

Perfidious, treach'rous Monster!

CANUTUS.

Dost thou wonder!
I start not at it: The inhuman hand,
That bore a dagger to this Hero's heart,
Would whelm the goodly Universe in ruin.
— Lead him to death.

EDRICK.

I go. — Pale, injur'd form!
Once more will I behold thee. O my Brother!
Was this the utmost envy could perform?
Honour shall guard thy sacred dust, and Fame
Produce thy glorious life for imitation,
Me, shameful death awaits, (my memory curs'd
By after ages) and the dire unknown
From which reflection starts! yet all but just.
These are thy gifts, Ambition! — Oh! Distraction!

CANUTUS.

Ye friends of Edmund, whose expressive looks
Speak heartfelt woe, indulge your copious sorrows!
Denmark will join; Denmark, in solemn state,
With tears unfeign'd, will honour Edmund's worth.
Meanume, be yours the care, with martial rites,
And each funereal grace which weeping Love
On slumb'ring Merit's silent grave bestows,
To see your murder'd master's corse interr'd.
Nor fear in me, ye generous Chiefs, to find
A tyrant Conq'ror. Sacred be the vows
I gave your King. The worthy and the brave,
Briton or Dane, alike shall claim my care.
The States of Wessex now shall be conven'd,
And fix, by their decree, their future Sovereign.