Britain ... - Blue-Lite

Scene II.J THE ENGLISH SLAVE. 49
HAROLD.
All, good my lord,
Except the bridegroom, who will ne^er be ready.
GONDABERT.
Let splendour not be lacking : I would have
All pomp of circumstance attend the spousals
Which royalty demands. The town of Lydford
I will have gay with bonfires, and with lights
And torch-flames lustrous make our garden-bowers,
Where every vassal to the harp and pipe
Shall hold high revelry.
To-morrow eve
How changed will be the scene ! Thy duty 'tis
To see the honours of our house sustained.
Othmar, my castellain, chief of my guards,
Thou know'st the secret of St. Brice's Eve ?
I do, my lord.
OTHMAR.
GONDABERT.
There is within these walls
A serf, to whom I lately freedom gave,
Albert by name. Have thou an eye upon him,
And let him not depart : he knows a secret
[Aside.
[Exit Harold.
That troubles me. To-morrow, when thou nearest
St. Brice's heavy death-knell, let him die. 2
( ?)
OTHMAR.
Your will, illustrious Earl, shall be obeyed. [Exit.
GONDABERT.
Thus wade I on from blood to blood, each step
Still deeper than the last ! What abject slaves
Are we to our dark passions.
Are dearly bought with toil ;
All our pleasures
and when achieved,