Unto a Mercian chief by lot consign'd:
Mine aged grandsire, lowly at his feet,
Rent his grey hair: Ethwald, a youthful warriour,
Receiv'd the old man's pray'r and set him free;
Yea even to the last heifer of his herds
Restor'd his wealth.
For this good deed, do not insult the fallen!
He was not ruthless once.
(they all draw back and retire from the body. The Queen, who has, during the fight, &c. remained at a distance, agitated with terrour and suspence, now comes forward to Hereulf with the air of one who supplicates for mercy, and Dwina, following close behind her, falls upon her knees, as if to beseech him in favour of her mistress.)
Qu. If thou of good king Oswal, thine old master,
Aught of rememb'rance hast,——
Her. I do remember;
And deeply grieve to think a child of his
Has so belied her mild and gentle stock.
Nothing hast thou to fear; in some safe place,
In holy privacy, may'st thou repent
The evil thou hast done; for know, proud dame,
Thou art beneath our vengeance,
But as for thine advisers, that dark villain,
The artful Alwy, and that impious man,
Who does dishonour to his sacred garb,
Their crimes have earn'd for them a bitter meed,
And they shall have it.
