Britain ... - Blue-Lite

Scene IV.] THE ENGLISH SLAVE. 91
GONDABERT (entering.)
Spare not a man !
Now, Dane, shalt thou again be in my power.
[Rogvalla springs on the cromlech, snatches the
knife from the Priest, and points it at the
breast of Edgar.
ROGVALLA.
Advance another step, and I this knife
Will, reeking with thy son's blood, at thee hurl !
Ha !
GONDABERT.
my loved boy, what in the tiger's grasp ?
Withdraw thy blade.
Victory how art thou checked
In thy career of glory. Spare him ! spare him !
The conqueror's triumph in the father's feelings
Is lost and perished. See ; proud Gondabert
Kneels on the ground, and humbly at thy hand
Implores for mercy to his guiltless son.
ROGVALLA.
On one condition only.
GONDABERT.
Name it, name it.
ROGVALLA.
That thou before thy Saxon guards confess
I am the son of thy ill-fated brother,
And heir to his possessions.
GONDABERT.
Perish my son,
Dear as I love him, ere my lips
shall stain
My honour with such [Hesitates.
EDGAR.
Let me die, my father,
With glory die, rather than thou shouldst yield
Thy honour to the injustice of this robber.