Her. Oh, Ethelbert! thou smil'st on me! alas!
It is a dismal smile! thou art the victim!
Thou shalt not die; the lot of right is mine.
A shade of human weakness cross'd my soul,
Such as before, not in the horrid fields
Of crimson slaughter did I ever feel;
But it is past; now I can bravely die,
And I will have my right.
Eth. (pushing him affectionately away.)
Away, my son! It is as it should be.
Her. O if thou wilt entreat me as a man,
Nor slur me with contempt! I do beseech thee
Upon my bended knee! (kneeling.) O if thou diest,
I of all living things most wretched am!
Eth. Be temperate, my son! thou art reserv'd
For that which the warm strength of active youth
Can best perform. O take him from me, friends!
(the Thanes take Hereulf forcibly from clinging round Ethelbert, and he then assuming a softened solemnity.)
A noble warfare; I am call'd away;
Let me in kind and true affection leave you.
Thanes. (speaking together.) Alas, thou art our father and our friend!
Alas, that thou should'st meet this dismal end!
Eth. Ay, true indeed, it is a dismal end
To mortal feeling; yet within my breast
Blest hope and love, and heaven-ward confidence,
With human frailty so combined are,
That I do feel a wild and trembling pleasure.
