Poems by Adam Lindsay Gordon Part 41

SCENE--The Guest Room of the Convent.

HUGO, ERIC, and ORION. Enter URSULA, AGATHA, and Nuns.

Ursula: Hugo, we reject thine offers, Not that we can buy Safety from the Church's coffers, Neither can we fly.

Far too great the price they seek is, Let their lawless throng Come, we wait their coming; weak is Man, but G.o.d is strong.

Eric: Think again on our proposals: It will be too late When the robbers hold carousals On this side the gate.

Ursula: For myself I speak and others Weak and frail as I; We will not desert our brothers In adversity.

Hugo (to the Nuns): Does the Abbess thus advance her Will before ye all?

A Nun: We will stay.

Hugo: Is this thine answer, Agatha? The wall Is a poor protection truly, And the gates are weak, And the Nors.e.m.e.n most unruly.

Come, then.

A Nun (to Agatha): Sister, speak!

Orion (aside to Hugo): Press her! She her fears dissembling, Stands irresolute; She will yield--her limbs are trembling, Though her lips are mute.

[A trumpet is heard without.]

Eric: Hark! their savage war-horn blowing Chafes at our delay.

Hugo: Agatha, we must be going.

Come, girl!

Agatha (clinging to Ursula): Must I stay?

Ursula: Nay, my child, thou shalt not make me Judge; I cannot give Orders to a novice.

Agatha: Take me, Hugo! Let me live!

Eric (to Nuns): Foolish women! will ye tarry, Spite of all we say?

Hugo: Must we use our strength and carry You by force away?

Ursula: Bad enough thou art, Sir Norman, Yet thou wilt not do This thing. Shame!--on men make war, man, Not on women few.

Eric: Heed her not--her life she barters, Of her free accord, For her faith; and, doubtless, martyrs Have their own reward.

Ursula: In the Church's cause thy father Never grudged his blade-- Hugo, did he rue it?

Orion: Rather!

He was poorly paid.

Hugo: Abbess, this is not my doing; I have said my say; How can I avert the ruin, Even for a day, Since they count two hundred fairly, While we count a score; And thine own retainers barely Count a dozen more?

Agatha (kneeling to Ursula): Ah! forgive me, Lady Abbess, Bless me ere I go; She who under sod and slab is Lying, cold and low, Scarce would turn away in anger From a child so frail; Not dear life, but deadly danger, Makes her daughter quail.

Hugo: Eric, will those faces tearful To G.o.d's judgment seat Haunt us?

Eric: Death is not so fearful.

Hugo: No, but life is sweet-- Sweet for once, to me, though sinful.

Orion (to Hugo): Earth is scant of bliss; Wisest he who takes his skinful When the chance is his.

(To Ursula): Lady Abbess! stay and welcome Osric's savage crew; Yet when pains of death and h.e.l.l come, Thou thy choice may'st rue.

Ursula (to Orion): What dost thou 'neath roof-trees sacred?

Man or fiend, depart!

Orion: Dame, thy tongue is sharp and acrid, Yet I bear the smart.

Ursula (advancing and raising up a crucifix): I conjure thee by this symbol Leave us!

[Orion goes out hastily.]

Hugo: Ha! the knave, He has made an exit nimble; Abbess! thou art brave.

Yet once gone, we're past recalling, Let no blame be mine.

See, thy sisters' tears are falling Fast, and so are thine.

Ursula: Fare you well! The teardrop splashes Vainly on the ice.

Ye will sorrow o'er our ashes And your cowardice.

Eric: Sorry am I, yet my sorrow Cannot alter fate; Should Prince Otto come to-morrow, He will come too late.

Hugo: Nay, old comrade, she hath spoken Words we must not hear; Shall we pause for sign or token-- Taunted twice with fear?

Yonder, hilt to hilt adjusted, Stand the swords in which we trusted Years ago. Their blades have rusted, So, perchance, have we.

Ursula! thy words may shame us, Yet we once were counted famous, Morituri, salutamus, Aut victuri, te! [They go out.]

SCENE--The Outskirts of Rudolph's Camp.

RUDOLPH, OSRIC, and DAGOBERT. HUGO.

Rudolph: Lord Hugo! thy speech is madness; Thou hast tax'd our patience too far; We offer'd thee peace--with gladness, We gladly accept thy war.

Dagobert: And the clemency we extended To thee and thine we recall; And the treaty 'twixt us is ended-- We are ready to storm the wall.

Osric: Now tear yon parchment to tatters; Thou shalt make no further use Of our safeguard; the wind that scatters The scroll shall scatter the truce.

Hugo: Jarl Osric, to save the spilling Of blood, and the waste of life, I am willing, if thou art willing, With thee to decide this strife; Let thy comrades draw their force back; I defy thee to single fight, I will meet thee on foot or horseback, And G.o.d shall defend the right.

Rudolph: No single combat shall settle This strife; thou art overbold-- Thou hast put us all on our mettle, Now the game in our hands we hold.