SCENE III.

clines on a couch.

The name of Ida Kronberg will go down
As of a rebel traitor — as one leagued
Against her father in the desperate strife
Wherein, perchance, his life may be the forfeit.
Oh Thou, who in thy righteous hand dost hold
The lives of all thy creatures, guard, I pray,
My father through the conflict! Be his shield,
And his sufficient help! If life thou needest,
Take my poor life, a sacrifice for his-
I would resign my breath into thy hands-
My cause unto thy judgment—which is just!

Enter BERTHA, and COUNT FABIAN.

Bertha. Ha! traitor, did he say? Believe me
Count,

The tumult of the hour hath mazed his brain-
Daughter he meant, his most beloved daughter!
Ida, Count Fabian brings us heavy news-
The outer walls are taken- and the attack
Hath now commenced upon the inner fortress;
But my most noble uncle, full of kindness,
Hath sent this brave young Count to be our guard!
Ida. He could not grant a trustier, braver friend!
Count, in the good greenwood thou'st been our
guard-

Heaven knows if we shall take those sports again! Fab. I murmured when I heard my good lord's orders,

For he most strangely worded his command. -
Methought he spoke of gaoler - not defender!

Bertha. I told you, Count, my uncle's brain is

mazed.

He does not mean that she and I are traitors.

traitor

To shut his heart in such a time as this!

-

But 't is not meet Count Fabian see me weep -
Let me retire into the inner chamber!
Bertha. I will go with thee.

[They go

Save quiet fields, and the green, waving tree-tops! Bertha. Yet, yet again! these sounds might wake

the dead!

Fab. She's a noble lady!
Who would not draw his sword for such a one?
And 't is for her, they say, the war is waged
A single-handed man, I'd face, myself,
A hundred foes were she the victor's guerdon!
Now let me think-suppose he win the day,
Suppose he force the castle, and take prisoner
Her noble sire-which is impossible!

I'd sooner die than she should be his prisoner;
But for the supposition's sake - I'd fly
To every court in Europe, and demand
Help for the noblest, fairest, best of ladies;
And Suabia's duke would be our earliest helper-
All know he has an eye upon this lordship;
And is beside, a gallant, generous soldier!

[A loud clamour of assault and defence is
heard.

The inner walls are taken!

The foe hath got an entrance! hence with me
Unto the strong hold in the topmost tower!
Ida. Say, is my father safe?
Count Nich.

He is, thank God! [to Fabian.] Take thou thy men, and on the turret stair

Join Segbert; he hath orders for the rest.

[They all go out.

SCENE IV.

A small room in the upper tower.

Enter the LORD OF KRONBERG, COUNT NICHOLAS and SEGBERT.

Seg. My lord, the foe hath got entire possession!
Nicholas. By that old passage opening to the river
They gained an entrance; there the mine was sprung
By which the breach was made.
Lord of K.

Why left you it unguarded?
Seg.

Curse on ye all!

Good, my lord,

You did declare a force of twenty men
Sufficient for the post, if 't were attempted;
And they were all cut down unto a man!
Lord of K. It was your post, and you have it
deserted;

And but that 't is an hour we may not spare
From weightier business, you should die for 't, traitor!
Seg. [throwing down his sword.] For five and

fifty years I've been your soldier, And never was dishonoured till this hour!

Nich. Nay, my good lord of Kronberg, 't is unjust,
"Tis most unjust, my lord! Segbert is true!
This is no time, indeed, my lord, it is not,
Thus to affront a brave and loyal soldier!
Lord of K. Ye all of you are traitors!
Nich.
My dear lord,
Let not our latest hours be spent in strife!
Count Segbert, take thy sword! Let not the rabble
Know of our strife-Count Segbert, take thy sword!
Seg. [reluctantly taking it.] I am dishonoured, I
am called a traitor!

Shame on myself!-I am a veteran soldier
Seamed o'er with scars, and yet am called a traitor!
Nich. Thou art no traitor, Segbert!

My Lord Kronberg,
What is your will we answer to the foe?
Lord of K. How many may we count ?
Nich.
Our bravest soldiers
Lie dead within the breach-we are scant a hundred!
Lord of K. Then with this handful, I'll defend
the tower-

Will see them die of famine, ere I yield it!
Shame on ye, would ye counsel aught beside?
Nich. I know no better counsel for the hour.
Lord of K. I shall return no answer to the rebel.
Now each unto his post; and leave no outlet
This time unwatched—but I will forth myself,
And keep you to your duties!

Ye are a herd of robbers, seeking outrage!
Down with your spoil, or, by my soul, these swords
Shall be unsheathed on you!
Mother S.

Ay, lord it, Philip!
Trample upon us! Dare to draw a sword,

And thou shalt find thine equals, that thou shalt ! Phil. I'll strike thee down if thou defy me farther. Stand back and hear me speak!

Mother S. We will not hear thee! Thou'dst be a tyrant - be another Kronberg! [They make a fresh attempt to carry off their spoil; the soldiers oppose them; a violent contest ensues, and many are wounded.

Mother S. [aside.] Let us appear to yield. There is a force

Outside will take our part! We'll have revenge!

Man. Give us free egress, Philip, and we'll yield! Phil. [aside.] Curse on them, with their everlasting Philip! Soldiers, give place, and see that all go hence; And yet go empty-handed!

[He withdraws into an inner room. Many voices. Hang him! we'll have a reckoning with him yet!

Woman. [taking a body] My son, my son! he's dead!

Soldiers. Out with ye! Out!

[The people are forced out, uttering threats and curses.

Re-enter PHILIP.

Meantime another rises, like the head
Of the gigantic Hydra- the fierce people,
Greedy of plunder, fickle and rapacious;

"Tis the strong arm must crush them as they rise;
Must hurl them down to their subservient place,
And keep them there; as rude and rough materials,
Unsightly and unworthy, form the basement
Of kingly edifices - now I see

Wherefore the great must keep the low subjected.

Enter GASTON.

Gast. Dost fold thine arms as thou might'st take thine ease?

Thou art not lord of this dominion yet!

Phil. Speak plain, what is thy meaning? Gast. The rude concourse, Whom thou hast driven from the gates e'en now, Strengthened with a gigantic force, return, And claim access, mad with some fancied wrong. Thou art no longer noble, gracious Philip;" But "tyrant," "bloody and injurious tyrant!" Phil. I'll cut them into mouthfuls for the dogs! Gast. Thou madman! These are they who gave thee power!

Phil. Wouldst give the fair reward of seven days'

strife

To them for plunder?

Gast. Give them for plunder those Who have adhered to Kronberg- not a few; And all rich merchants who as princes lived,— Fear not but they will fight like angry eagles For their nest-eggs; thus wilt thou arm thy foes Against each other, and be rid of bothThe merchants' names are here, their houses marked. Phil. A goodly list! and only pity 't is To give from our own hands such noble spoil.

Gast. There are a thousand ways to get it back! Phil. An excellent friend! Thou hast untired resources!

1st Sol. Soldiers and all? Allend. Ay, every one of them! But what of that? The dungeon only knows What wrongs are done within its dreary walls! 1st Sol. Ay, ay, these things may all be right and

proper,

But they do chill the blood within one's veins ;-
I love an enemy in open fight,

And, easy-conscienced, could cut down a hundred;
But 't is not part of noble soldiership

To stab i' the dark; and put the subtle poison
In meats and drinks! Who gave the order for 't?
Attend. Philip-our good lord Philip—who but he?
3d Sol. If but a hair of any soldier's head
Have come to harm, by Him, who is in heaven,
I will forswear the service of this Philip

As a blood-thirsty tyrant, worse than Kronberg! 4th Sol. If it be so. I will return on th' morrow To my first soldier-oath!

2d Sol.

And so will I?

Attend. Tush, tush! you all are fools!

2d Attend. [running in.] All, all give place,Here come the lords o' th' night;

Enter men, bearing dishes.

Now to your boards! This is the topmost table, and my lord Hath ordered every man his belly full. This is above the salt- all ye must lower,

marriage,

Which I refused; thence rose this civil contest.
Then was he poor, brought up in sordid thrift,
Whom it had been disgrace for Ida Kronberg
To have been wife unto. Now he has power,—
And woe is me, that it should even be so!
Has given his name a terrible ascendance;
And we must crouch beneath him, live his slaves,
Be trampled on; unless, like those who make
Events their servitors- true wisdom's rule,
We take him by his craft-yielded but to keep
The power which but in seeming we resign.
Thy hand, my child, will heal this civil broil,
Will give again dominion to thy father-
What says my Ida? He of Maine is noble ;
Is brave; hath power; is a mean man no longer!
Ida. When Philip sought my hand, he was as
noble,

land;

Hath shown himself a fierce, revengeful man, And is thy deadly, cruel enemy!

I'd curse thee, Ida, with my bitterest curse.
Thou loved this man! By heaven, if it be so
Say, didst thou love him?
Ida.
Father, curse me not!
Enough of woe has been; nay, do not curse,
Lest God should register the sin in heaven!
Lord of K. Didst love this man?
Ida.
The time
Lord of K.
Ida.

The time is past

gone for ever when I loved him!
Oh heaven and earth!

My gracious father, hear.
I loved him with a first, true maiden's love-
I loved him when a little child, my father-
But as a sacrifice to holy duty

I cast him forth from my sincerest heart
As an unworthy man- thine enemy;
The spoiler of thy people!

Lord of K.
Thou hast loved him,
And thou shalt wed him!-Thou, against my will,
Hast loved, and I will wed thee 'gainst thy will
To him for punishment!- By heaven I will!

Ida. Father, if I have ever warmed thy heart -
If I have ever been delight unto thee
By whate'er love thou borest to my mother-
And by the sacredness of her bequest
Which gave me to thy care, her only child -
Oh pity-save me from this cruel doom!
Lord of K. Out with thee!-thou art hateful to
my sight!-

Thou lovedst that most beggarly, vile man!
And now that I am struggling, in his power,
Thou wilt not lift a finger to my help!
Ida. Oh that my life could save thee!
Lord of K.

Then consent

"T is a small thing thy father asks of thee His power, dearer than his life's-blood, is in thy hands! Ida. Oh, not to wed him, father!

That hate had conquered love, and hot ambition
Driven from my heart all by-gone tenderness?
But to be near her- but to breathe the air
Which she has breathed awakes all former love;
And worthier, now methinks, the blessed life
Spent in all sweet and kindly charities,
Though nameless, noiseless as an unseen rill,
Than the great conqueror's years of bloody glory!