Draws near when I must make a winding up Did I not send, sir, but a moment past, Ludolph. Oh! thou good man, against whose sacred head I was a mad conspirator, chiefly too For the sake of my fair newly wedded wife, Otho. Dear son, What is it? By your father's love, I sue That it be nothing merciless! Ludolph. VOL. III. To that demon ? 24 Not so! No! She is in temple-stall, Being garnish'd for the sacrifice, and I, The Priest of Justice, will immolate her Upon the altar of wrath! She stings me through!- Otho. To-morrow, son, Be your word law; forget to-day- I will, When I have finish'd it! Now,-now, I'm pight, Tight-footed for the deed! Erminia. Alas! Alas! Ludolph. What angel's voice is that? Erminia, Ah! gentlest creature, whose sweet innocence Was almost murder'd; I am penitent. Wilt thou forgive me? And thou holy man, Good Ethelbert, shall I die in peace with you? Erminia. Die, my lord? Ludolph. Otho. I feel it possible. Physician. I fear, he is past my skill. Physician? Not so! Ludolph. I see it—I see it—I have been wan dering! Half mad-not right here-I forget my purpose. Bestir bestir-Auranthe! Ha! ha! ha! Youngster! page! go bid them drag her to me! Obey! This shall finish it! [Draws a dagger. Otho. Oh, my son! my son! Sigifred. This must not be-stop there! Ludolph. A little talk with her- no harm-haste! haste! Am I obey'd? Ludolph. Why do ye trouble me ? out-out away! There she is! take that! and that! no, no, [The Doors open. Enter Page. Several Women are seen grouped about AURANTHE in the inner room. Page. Alas! My lord, my lord! they cannot move her! Her arms are stiff-her fingers clench'd and cold. Ludolph. She's dead! [Staggers and falls into their arms. Ethelbert. Take away the dagger. Gersa. Otho. Thank God for that! Sigifred. Softly; so! It could not harm him now. Nobles, Gersa. No!-brief be his anguish ! Ludolph. She's gone! I am content. good night! We are all weary-faint - set ope the doors— I will to bed! To-morrow THE CURTAIN FALLS. [Dies. Alarum. Enter King STEPHEN, Knights, and Soldiers. I Stephen. F shame can on a soldier's vein-swoll'n front Spread deeper crimson than the battle's toil, Blush in your casing helmets! for see, see! Yonder my chivalry, my pride of war, "As soon as Keats had finished Otho the Great,' I pointed out to him a subject for an English historical tragedy in the reign of Stephen, beginning with his defeat by the Empress Maud and ending with the death of his son Eustace. He was struck with the variety of events and characters which must necessarily be introduced, and I offered to give, as before, their dramatic conduct. The play must open,' I began, with the field of battle, when Stephen's forces are retreating' -Stop,' he cried,' I have been too long in leadingstrings; I will do all this myself.' He immediately set about it, and wrote two or three scenes-about 170 lines." - CHARLES BROWN. |