Britain ... - Blue-Lite

74 THE ENGLISH SLAVE. [Act V.
ACT V.
SCENE I. A Hall in the Castle.
Enter Evanda and Bertha.
EVANDA.
'Tis past, the dreadful tragedy is closed.
thou art one dark land of death !
And, England,
The wild lament of mothers o'er their babes
Slain on their bosoms, and the roaring flames
Of Danish dwellings, with the wolf-like howl
And shout of Saxons o'er their manly victims,
Have into silence died ! The blood-red streets
Are strewed with corses, and the listless moon
Sheds her cold light upon the martyred dead.
BERTHA.
Terror o'erpowers my senses, and I feel
Like one just waking from a horrid dream.
[Flourish and shouts of " The Dane ! the Dane !"
EVANDA.
He comes ! he comes ! my
loved Rogvalla comes
To save and to
revenge. Those martial strains
To me are like the wild notes of the swan,
That sings of coming summer to those isles
Amid the polar ocean. ( 42 )
[Enter, on one side, Gondabert, Othmar, and Saxon
Soldiers ; on the other > Roderick and several Rob-
bers, with Rogvalla in chains The Robbers fall
bach and go off. Evanda rushes into the arms of
Rogvalla.