ILDEGERTE, QUEEN OF NORWAY.

WHO art thou, Oh heroine! endowed with the powerful spirit of Odin1ODIN, also called Woden, Father of the Gods. He, his wife Freya, and son Thor, compose the supreme council of hea­ven. He is called the Universal Father, The Terrible and Severe God, The King of Slaughter, The God that carrieth Desolation and Fire, the Active and Roaring Deity, The Giver of Victory, &c. The fourth day of the week is consecrated to him, and there­fore called Woden's day., and graced with the captivating sweetness of Freya?2Frea, or Freya, wife of Odin, and mother of the inferior Deities. These names are, by some, ascribed to two Goddesses, the former being Queen of the Gods, and the latter, sister of Erey. To her the sixth day of the week is consecrated..—Who art thou, whose image darts its rays so bright through the cloud which veils the wonders of antiquity?—Rise, rise, sacred shade of Ildegerte, rise from the holy habitations of Vingolf3Vingolf, the mansion of Love and Friendship.—thou, before whose name I bend my knee, as heroine, as wife, as mother!

Swend was the Prince's name whom Thora bore, to reign hereafter over Norway.—As yet, the cradle was his throne, the rose-bud his sceptre. As yet he felt no pain but hunger, and no rest but sleep. With female penetration and manly spirit, Thora ruled the raw Norwegians;—with female gentle­ness and manly firmness, she conducted her belov­ed son, from the narrow limits of infancy to the wide-extending path of youth. He grew. Upon [Page 6] his countenance bloomed the hope of the ap­proaching morn, and grey-headed warriors, when they saw him, stroked their beards, and smiled.

No costly ornaments and silken garments, no studied smiles and borrowed roses, at that time, oc­cupied the morning hours of Northern women. The girl who wished to please a Norwegian, must renounce the common employments of a female, and accustom herself to the warlike toils of man; must curb the steed of Iceland with uncovered hand, must kill the flying game with certain arrow, and oppose her glittering shield to the threatening sword of her companion.

Thora, herself a perfect mistress of these exer­cises, assembled a troop of Amazons, who, led by her, chased the wolf and bear through almost im­penetrable forests. Oft did the Queen sit on some lofty bank, and feast upon these sports; yet ever did her eye beam most friendly on her dearest com­panion Ildegerte; for none like her could vault upon the back of the impetuous steed; none sent the arrow so certain to its mark; none broke a lance with so much grace. And when she raised her visor to regain her breath; when her full blue eye glanced round more dangerous than her sword; when she moved, and the plume upon her helmet [Page 7] slowly nodded; when she spoke, and her voice sur­passed the sweetness of the flute—Oh! then arose in the heart of the young Prince an indescribable sensa­tion, which his wary mother saw, now in his glow­ing eye, now in his glowing cheek. She saw it with a smile of content; for though no royal blood flowed in the veins of Ildegerte, yet was she the last surviving branch of a noble family, and would, if the daughter of a boor, have been worthy of the first throne on earth. Who was able to enchant each heart like Ildegerte? Who seemed so little to intend it? Her companions saw her, and were envious; they spoke to her, and envy vanished.

About that time Canfried, the young King of Sweden, was travelling through the Northern Courts. Ambition brooded in the dark recesses of his soul. The thirst for power flashed from his scowling eye. Not content to sway the groaning inhabitants of Sweden with an iron sceptre, he resolved, by the success of a robber's arms, to encircle his brow with a triple crown. For this purpose was it that he traversed Denmark and Norway—for this purpose was it that he cautiously approached their thrones, and spied into the situa­tion of their strength and weakness. He was [Page 8] handsome as Utgarda-Loke4Utgarda Loke, an evil spirit, nearly resembling our devil. He is described in the Edda (or Bible of the Northern nations) as exceeding handsome, but crafty and persidious. He is called, The Artificer of Fraud, The Calumniator of the Gods, &c. He, nevertheless, dwelt in Heaven, till, as a punishment for his re­peated crimes and attacks upon the Gods, they chained him to three sharp stones, which are for ever cutting his flesh; while a serpent, hanging over him, distils its venom, drop by drop, upon his face. In this situation he is to remain till the destruction of the world., and villanous as he; cruel as the wolf Fenris

, and poisonous as the Midgard6The serpent of Midgard, one of Utgarda Loke's children, and an enemy of the Gods. Odin threw him to the bottom of the ocean, where he grew so large, that he wound himself around the whole globe of earth. serpent.

In honour of her guest, Thora appointed a splended tournament. Towards the decline of day, when the Knights, weary of warlike diversions, had disencumbered themselves of their helmets, the young heroines of Norway (such was Thora's will) entered the lists with courteous air, and demanded that Canfried should break a lance with them. With a smile the young King seized his spear (for he was well versed in chivalry); with a smile he threw himself upon his prancing charger, and rode into the open lists. But against his nervous arm the force of the Amazons was vain; their lances split against his shield, like the light gondola on the craggy rock. At length appeared Ildegerte. The purple beams of the setting sun shone on her polished helm; the steed soon felt her spur; swift as an arrow she rushed against the King. Her lance shivered; but Canfried's feet flew from the stir­rups, and scarce could he preserve his seat.

"Thou art strong," cried the astonished Swede, "let me behold the countenance of my antagonist."

Ildegerte sprung nimbly from her horse, cast away her helmet, and her auburn locks fell in art­ess [Page 9] ringlets down her snow-white neck. The look which she cast on Canfried subdued him on the spot: it was a look full of dignity, sweetened by a half-smile; but even half a smile from Ildegerte might have animated a stone. The proud tyrant of Sweden stammered forth his admiration, and, like a lonesome flower upon a barren heath, love took root in his heart.

Already was the lamp of day extinguished in the ocean; already the bright moon had risen in the unclouded sky, when the jocund troop, after having quaffed the overflowing horn, wandered into the cool refreshing wood. Here some Knight was stretched upon the grass, and suing to the dear object of his love for the reward of constancy. There the Scalds7Scald, the name given to the ancient bards, who were em­ployed to compose odes and hymns, which were chaunted at every solemnity. These songs were, in general, descriptions of eminent exploits, and were animated by an enthusiastic spirit. were heard to chaunt the deeds of ancient times, and blissful spirits of Val­hall8Valhall, the palace of Odin, to which warriors are con­veyed after death. Here they pass their mornings in tournaments and battles; the rest of the day is employed in feasting on the wild boar Serimner (which, though dressed every morning, be­comes entire again every night), and in quaffing Hydromel (or mead), which is administered to them in the sculls of those ene­mies whom they had slain while on earth.; while the nightingale sweetly intermixed her warblings with the lofty song. Here two friends sauntered, arm in arm, engaged in confi­dential discourse; there a dozen nymphs were sporting near a murmuring rill.

Deep in the thickets was a fall of water, which formed a bason at the mountain's foot. Near to the grassy edge there laid a mossy stone, warmed by the heat of day. Here, in the cool of eve, [Page 10] was Ildegerte wont to bathe. Naked she sat upon the stone, while the small waves curled to the bank, and kissed her feet. To-day too she stole away (perceived, as she thought, by none but the chaste moon), far from the gay bustle of the Court, to this her favourite spot. As the wood resounded still with noise and jubilee, she ventured not, as usual, to cast away her burdensome attire; but drawing her garment to her knees, and throwing her sandals on the grass, she stepped into the wa­ter where it was so shallow that it scarce sprinkled her ancles.—Chaste girl! the invisible hand of Ge­fione9Gefione, the Goddess of Chastity. was stretched above thee; for, inspired with brutal passion, Canfried watched thy steps, rushed through the thicket, and, with a peal of laughter, took the sandals from the bank.

"Prince," said Ildegerte, turning round, and letting her garment fall, "Prince, in this country we think such conduct improper."

"How!" replied Canfried, "improper to sur­prise a lovely girl when she is bathing! Then, par­don me, the Norwegians deserve to have no lovely girls among them."

"And if the females of your land," returned Il­degerte, "allow themselves to be surprised so wil­lingly, they indeed deserve such conduct as your's.—Return my sandals, and begone."

[Page 11] "You might as well desire me to lose my [...]nses," answered Canfried.

"Then, Prince," cried Ildegerte, enraged, "you have lost all sense of decency; and sense, without decency, is a tree without leaves."

"Admirable!" exclaimed the King, "you can play on words as well as hearts. But, with due deference to your decency and sense, allow me to bind these sandals to your feet again."

"I command you to begone," cried the fair heroine.

"Do you think yourself in danger?" returned Canfried.

"Oh no!" answered Ildegerte disdainfully.

"You are severe," said he. "You do not even think me dangerous? Come, away with this derision and this scorn! Ildegerte I love you."

"Likely enough truly, after an acquaintance of two hours," rejoined she.

"So much the more flattering to you," said the King.

"I must own I did not know it," replied she; "I can at least find nothing but my face to thank for it."

"No, Ildegerte; thou hast wounded me deeply. Fair thou art as Nossa10Noffa, the daughter of Frea, a Goddess of such exqui­site beauty that whoever is lovely and handsome, or whatever is precious, is called by her name.—wise as Vora11Vora, the Goddess of Prudence and Wisdom, who is so penetrating, that nothing can remain hidden from her..— [Page 12] I have a wife whom I dare not spurn from me, for her father is a powerful Prince; but come to my arms! Thou shalt be treated as a Queen. Come, share my heart and bed."

"To such a proposition," answered she, "Il­degerte has but one reply."

She struck him on the face, and fled.—Furious and vengeful he rushed after her; but with airy steps, that scarcely skimmed the tender grass, Ilde­gerte glided through the wood, led by the echoing horn, which ever attended on the Queen. There she humbled herself at the feet of Thora, and was silent. The pursy Swede, who likewise soon ar­rived, felt no desire to mention, in the presence of witnesses, the indignity he had sustained. But, ere long, the Queen discovered Ildegerte's naked foot, and asked her favourite why she was without sandals.

"I went," answered Ildegerte, with unaltered look, "to wash my feet; I threw my sandals on the grass, and conclude that some beast of the forest must have stolen them."

"That beast was I," roared out Canfried, with grim ferocity; "that the sandals belonged to you, I knew not; for had I known it they had lain there still."

[Page 13] With these words he cast them at Ildegerte's feet.

"Prince," said Thora, with an air of solemn majesty, "when next you come into my kingdom, remember that it is my kingdom."

Canfried returned no answer. Swend looked askance at him. The courtiers murmured. Ilde­gerte smiled. This moment was the dreadful source of many a crime, of many a fatal hour. The enraged Swede, whose heart was the lurking place of every villany, returned that very night to his native country, and carried the fable poison of revenge deeply rankling in his breast.

Slowly and mournfully approached the hour in which Thora, the mother of her people, paid the debt of nature, and was transported to the ever­lasting joys of Vingolf. She expired in the arms of Ildegerte and her son;—she expired as she pro­nounced her blessing upon both.—Amidst the un­feigned lamentations of many thousands of her subjects was the grave prepared, which was to cover her remains. Silent, and with overflowing eyes, the poorest person brought some gift to be buried, according to the custom of the country, with the dead. No Knight was ashamed of the tear which started in his eye. Swend sobbed, and [Page 14] hid his face. Ildegerte threw herself upon the grave, and washed her dishevelled locks with tears.—Still was she lying there, in torpid grief, when Midnight had spread her mantle over wood and sea.

The murmuring waves, the rustling pines, and Ildegerte's groans, were the only interruptions of the deep tranquillity. At length the morning broke upon her sorrows, but it presaged a dreary rainy day. The feathered songsters crept into their nests; the ravenous vulture only hovered in the air. Ildegerte sprung up—cast another inex­pressible look of sorrow on the grave, wet with the dew of heaven and her tears—threw a lock of hair upon it, and fled—fled with her companions to the innermost recess of a wood, where, in the shade of rugged oaks, an ancient castle offered an asylum to the fugitives, who long taught its walls to echo sighs for the loss of Norway's benefactress.

Swend, now nineteen years of age, mounted his mother's throne, and followed her instructions by promoting the happiness of his people, by listen­ing to, and relieving the unfortunate, by chusing proper objects for his friendship, and by fulfilling all the duties of a Knight.

But love accompanied him to the throne. In [Page 15] the midst of state concerns, in the assemblage of his Knights, in the temple of justice, at the altar of Odin, his eye wandered round in search of Il­degerte. His heart missed her at the jocund feast, at the chorus of the virgins, and combat of the lance.

"What strange sensation" said he to himself (when he had one day stolen from the table, where the sparkling brimmer invited him in vain, where the Scalds in vain struck the silver chords, and sung the noble deeds of his forefathers), "what strange sensation makes my throne to me a dreary sepulchre—my heart insensible to the joys of be­nevolence and friendship? Away with this splen­did slavery! The holy raptures of Valhall could not force a smile from me, as long as Fate forbids me to enjoy it doubly in the arms of love. What binds my tongue, that it makes not the confession which floats upon my lips? What chains my hand, that it lays not crown and sceptre at her feet, for whom the crown and sceptre seem to have been formed?—Away to Ildegerte!—What is birth? Can royal blood make a fool wise, or a villain vir­tuous?—Oh! in her alone can Thora live again! With her alone can I taste the pleasures of a throne!"

[Page 16] He spoke, and went to sacrifice in Louna's12Losna, or Louna, the Goddess who assists lovers, and makes up differences between them and married persons, be they ever so much at variance. temple.

"Reverend old man," said he, addressing the Priest, "the servants of Odin have foretold to me the fate of my throne. Their words were dark, but I am easy; for 'tis the tyrant only who can fear futurity. Do thou foretel to me the fate of my heart, which is to me of no less value. But let thy words be clear as light, for every lover fears futurity."

The hoary Priest, with reverence, bent his knee, and proceeded to invoke the Deity of the Temple. The flame mounted from the altar, and Swend's heart, clear and chaste, towards heaven.—The Priest returned with solemn aspect; a cloud hung upon his brow, but mortal eye could not distin­guish whether some baleful planet, or the sun of hope was hid beneath this cloud. After a short, but awful pause, he spoke:

"Beloved of the Gods and of thy people, a good Prince finds his reward in the arms of a Val­kyrie13Valkyries, Virgins who are sent by Odin into the field of battle, to inspire the warriors, to make choice of those who are to be slain, and to alleviate the pangs of death. They are like­wise employed in attending on the heroes who inhabit Valhall.."

"'Tis she! 'tis she!" cried the enraptured Monarch. "To what mortal female in my realms could Louna give a title more than mortal? To her alone! To Ildegerte! I thank thee, reverend [Page 17] old man. Soon shalt thou hear from me—soon shall the steps of this your temple groan beneath the weight of gifts which I will heap upon your altars. Farewell! Give me thy hand. Farewell! Pray for me!"

"Prince," stammered the Priest, shaking his sil­ver locks with warning mien.—

But Swend no longer heard him. Swend flew through the wood, surpassed in speed by nothing but his thoughts. The form of Ildegerte swam before his sight. The name of Ildegerte floated on his lips. His sweet interpretation of the delu­sive oracle seemed to him the only one within the scope of possibility. Panting, he arrived at the gates of his castle, and ordered his swiftest steed to be prepared. In glowing colours Fancy painted the delight of a first meeting, after the separation of a year; but the warlike trumpet soon awoke him from his visionary bliss.

"Yes," cried Tott, the chief of all his troops, "prepare thy swiftest steed, collect thy Knights and warriors, and march against the traitor Can­fried. Seest thou that weeping multitude of fu­gitives, which increases every moment? One left his house in flames; another saw his wife defiled; a third fled over his ravaged fields; a fourth beheld [Page 18] the murder of his helpless father! With a troop of banditti, Canfried is spreading desolation through thy territories.—Yes! prepare thy swiftest steed; assemble the valiant Norwegians. Away against the villain! Let him feel that the blood of thy ancestors flows in thy veins, that the arms of thy Knights are firmly nerved, and that old Tott is still alive."

Like a man who wakes from golden dreams by the stab of an assassin, Swend started at this dread­ful news; but a single glance towards his wretched subjects subdued the lover, and called forth the hero. He dispatched expresses to his faithful Knights throughout the land. From every quarter they crowded with their hardy trains of well-armed vassals. With beating heart, Swend in a few days beheld, beneath his castle's walls, a nu­merous army, and at their head the dauntless Tott.

"I go to relieve my subjects," whispered the powerful voice of valour in the Prince's breast, "their misery and groans demand my help. Silent be the milder voice of love, till I can lay the lau­rels, and my people's gratitude at Ildegerte's feet."

Clad in his burnished armour, the young hero pressed his charger; at his side rode the intrepid Tott. The warriors struck their shields; the [Page 19] [...]lds sung solemn hymns; the army marched. Old men, women, and children, were assembled on the road. They blessed their Ruler, who sa­luted all with friendly air; and, with uplifted eyes and hands, they sued the Gods for victory and life.—Thus went the warriors thirsting for battle and revenge. Succeeding messengers, who brought accounts of accumulated rapine and mur­der, blew every Norwegian's heart into a raging blaze.

The hostile armies were now separated but by half a day's march, when Swend convened the chiefs and leaders of the people, and standing on a rising ground, he thus addressed them with the fire of youth:

"My brave and faithful countrymen, be to­morrow the decisive day. Let sacrifice be offered at the altar of Odin, that he may grant us victory—the victory of just revenge. Advance with your troops, under cover of the night, against this murderer and robber, that at break of day, the sword of my people may send the plunderer, while he sleeps, into the arms of Hela14Hela, or Death, the daughter of Utgarda Loke. She was precipitated into Niflheim by Odin, and there had the go­vernment of nine worlds given to her.."

"Not so," replied the cool experienced Tott; "let us act honourably, and according to the laws of war—let us send a herald to the Swedish [Page 20] camp, to learn the cause of this attack. If Can­fried require what is just, and he be willing to re­pair the calamities occasioned by this inroad, then chuse, Oh King! the palm of peace, and sheath the murderous sword."

"Require!" exclaimed Swend, "what can he require?—Repair! what can he repair?—Is he a God, that he can re-animate my faithful sub­jects?"

"Alas, no!" returned Tott, "the dead are dead;—never have our eyes again beheld the mor­tal who had left this earth. But still live the or­phan children of the slain—still sighs many a widow, far from the habitation of her slaughtered husband. To these let Canfried open his treasures, and repay them trebly for the bloody booty."

"What!" cried Swend, with generous heat, "shall I take payment for my people's blood?—Never!—Canfried's kingdom shall not buy a drop from the meanest of my subjects."

"Just and true, if that blood were yet unshed," replied the old General; "false and wrong if it be already shed.—Or wilt thou lead thy troops to death without necessity?—Thou hast lost hun­dreds, perhaps will sacrifice thousands."

"Enough!" answered the young King, "be it [Page 21] according to thy wish. I revere thy counsel as the counsel of a father."

In consequence of this determination, soon as the morning dawned, a herald came to Canfried's tent, and demanded admittance to the King. Through rows of scoffing guards he was conducted to the tyrant's feat; who, surrounded by arms, seemed to read treachery in every eye, and, in the midst of his subjects, trembled at the rustling of a withered leaf.

"Speak; what wouldst thou here?" said he to the herald.

"Hear me, Canfried, King of Sweden. Through me speaks Swend, the mighty King of Norway. Why hast thou fallen on me, like a robber on the sleeping traveller?—Why hast thou slain my sub­jects, and laid waste my realms?—Why hast thou infringed upon the rights of nations, and not ho­nourably declared war against me?—Behold! the blood of my subjects cries to me for vengeance. I am approaching with my warriors, and Odin will chastise thee by my arm. But if thou, like an honourable King and Knight, will declare unto me the cause of this attack, rebuild the habitations of my subjects, silence the complaints of the wi­dows and orphans thou hast made, then will I con­vene [Page 22] my chiefs and leaders, state thy demand inge­nuously to them, and, if such be found just and proper, by my royal word will I grant it. But, if thou refuse this offer, let Odin judge between me and thee. The groans of the dying, and blood of the slain be upon thy head!"

The herald ceased. Canfried, contracting his bristly eye-brows, darted a threatening look at him, and thus replied:

"Go, tell the stripling Swend, that Canfried, King of Sweden, Lord of a mighty empire, at which the whole North trembles, has more than a sufficiency of land and gold; that he requires not from the Prince of Norway even a span of earth; that his royal clemency is willing to atone for the calamities occasioned by his warriors on one condi­tion—The possession of Ildegerte was the only mo­tive of my using arms; let Swend, within three days, resign her to my royal bed, and these threat­ening troops shall quit his borders. If not, with sword in hand will Canfried force his way through the Norwegian ranks."

Beneath an aged oak the King was sitting at the feet of Tott, catching each instructive word that dropped from the lips of the experienced Chief. The herald came into his presence, and, not without [Page 23] trembling, delivered to him Canfried's haughty answer. Scarce had he ended, when Swend sprung up, and gnashed his teeth. Old Tott remained calmly in his place.

"Sooner shall the stone float on the water's sur­face," cried the King, "sooner shall the stream return to its source, than I accept this ignomini­ous condition."

"Not so hasty, young man," answered Tott, "let us coolly examine this proposal; let us pro­perly place in competition what thou wilt lose with what thou mayst lose: Thou wilt lose a girl—thou mayst lose a kingdom."

"But this girl was the favourite of my mo­ther," rejoined Swend.

"Blessings be upon thee, for thus revering the memory of thy mother," said the Chief; "but even Thora herself would have sacrificed her favourite for the welfare of her people."

"And shall I then," cried the Prince, "make Ildegerte miserable? Shall I deliver her, who ne­ver injured me, into the arms of a barbarian—her, for whom each Knight would draw his sword with pleasure? Never, never!"

"But is it then so sure," demanded Tott, "that Ildegerte will be miserable? How many [Page 24] women have, by gentleness and wisdom, trans­formed blood-thirsty tigers into men? Has not Ildegerte sufficient talents and perfections to change this libertine, this enemy of Norway, to a loving husband, and thy country's staunch ally?

"And is not our defeat," resumed the King, "as doubtful as that Ildegerte will be happy in the arms of Canfried?—I mistake thee, Tott; thou art at the head of a powerful army—thou art required to sight in the cause of justice, and thou fearest to do it."

"Ah! young man," answered the hoary war­rior, with a smile, "when thou art hereafter transported to Valhall—when thy father and mo­ther come to meet thee, let them bear testimony whether sear was ever known by Tott. No!—Thrice on these borders have I led to victory the warriors of Norway. When I returned trium­phant from the last, I put into thy hands the laurel-crown, bestowed upon me by thy father, and thou playd'st with it in thy cradle.—Thy father shook my hand, and said, 'Dear Tott'—methinks I still can hear him—'should Odin summon me before my son arrives at manhood, let thy sword be used for him, as it has been for me; but teach him, one must never fight, unless for a better purpose than to be able thus to play with laurels."

[Page 25] "Forgive me, dear old man," exclaimed Swend, "but thou mistakest me in thy turn. May Vara15Vara, the Goddess who receives all oaths, and punishes those who violate them. punish me, if mad ambition fires my soul!—But infamous it seems to me, to buy a peace at such a price—infamous to make such a proposal to Ildegerte."

"The latter I will undertake," replied Tott.

Swend started, but the Chief continued—

"I know Ildegerte's exalted sentiments: she is always more than woman—often more than man. Her father was my friend, and the companion of my youth;—he fell in battle at my side, and his last breath recommended Ildegerte to my care. I have obeyed him, and she well deserves it. In her dwells the spirit of her father. Joy will sparkle in her eye when I inform her that the sacrifice for which she is selected, will save the lives of many thousands—perhaps too the life of her King."

Here he rose.

"I hasten to her. Meanwhile conclude with Canfried a truce of six days; before the expiration of which, I shall bring Ildegerte to the camp."

He attempted to go, when Swend, in violent agitation, held him.

[Page 26] "One moment more, dear Tott—only a single moment!—And dost thou really think that—that—?"

"I think," answered the old man, surveying him with great astonishment, "I think I do not understand thee, and am ashamed to see thee tremble."

"Oh my friend and father!" exclaimed Swend, throwing himself into the arms of Tott, "I love Ildegerte!"

A pause ensued.

"Indeed!" said the old man, "now I compre­hend all this—now all is plain enough. Now too I forgive the accusation against me. Thou lovest Ildegerte? And what dost thou intend to make her?"

"Can Tott ask such a question?" demanded Swend, with dignity.

"Thy wife then!" replied the Chief, shaking his hoary head. "Young man, young man, I can­not approve of this. But to convince a lover, is more than to gain three victories. I am mute. Come let us away to battle."

"Yes, to battle, to battle!" cried Swend. "To fight at thy side is but pastime."

They went. The young King flew from tent to [Page 27] tent, embraced each Knight, shook each vassal by the hand, shot fire into each bosom from his eyes, and inspired the whole army with his youthful ardour. In a few minutes the shouts of battle echoed through the camp. The King was followed by old Tott, who earnestly surveyed the field of battle stretched before him, and pointed out to every Knight the post which he was but to quit as con­queror or corpse. Amid the clamour of the troops, through which the war-hymns of the Scalds were scarcely audible, Swend saw, in every polished shield, the form of Ildegerte. Amid the wild tu­multuous shouts he could hear nothing but the lisp­ing voice of Ildegerte. Retired within his tent, he threw himself upon a couch, and thus gave vent to his feelings—

"To risk my life and throne for Ildegerte—to lose my life and throne for Ildegerte, is a thought devoid of bitterness. But if Odin has resolved to spare the villain for a longer trial—if Fate has fixed on me, as an example, that the cause of justice does not always conquer; if, instead of flying into Ildegerte's arms, I may to-morrow fly into my pa­rents' arms, who will then declare what Swend has done for her—for her, who little fancies what a sacrifice I am about to offer, who perhaps has [Page 28] never read the avowal of my passion in my eyes?—Contented I will die, if sure I am lamented by her. She shall know the secret, which, till to­day, has been concealed within my breast; and then, to Odin I commit the guidance of my days. I shall bear with me the certainty of Ildegerte's re­gret to the blissful habitations of Valhall. He spoke; seized the parchment, and wrote:

After he had sealed this letter with the button of his sword, he gave it to a trusty messenger, whom his longing eye still followed till he vanished among the intercepting mountains.

He returned with lighter heart into his tent. His attendants came to arm him. With delight he gazed upon the burnished harness which, ere long, was to be sullied with the blood of his ene­my, or with his own. He thought the iron hel­met easier than before; the corslet far less cumber­some. He vaulted on his charger, and flew with naked sword to the head of his army. The troops received him with a joyful shout.

"A blue plume," whispered one to another, [Page 30] "let us not lose sight of him. 'Tis the young hero's first campaign, and his fiery looks declare his eagerness. Haste hither, old experienced Knights, and gather round him."

And now thirty or forty of the bravest warriors encircled the King. Each breast was another buckler to him; and this small determined troop more valuable far than all the paltry guards around the throne of Canfried. Old Tott brandished his glit­tering sword above his head with youthful strength, and hark! The trumpet's warlike clangor struck the ear from each end of the troops. The Scalds chaunted solemn hymns; the Knights closed their visors; the arms of the vassals clashed; the char­gers stamped; the ensigns floated in the air; the heart of the young King beat high.

"Why delay?" cried he to the deliberate Chief. "Forward, swift as lightning! See! the nervous arms of my Knights are scarcely able to restrain their neighing steeds."

"We delay to conquer," answered Tott; "let this first flame subside which burns so high, yet spreads but little ruin round it."

Slow and determined, like a dark cloud which bears the vengeful lightning in its breast, he march­ed against the trembling foe.

[Page 31] Uffo, Tott's valiant son (who had already shared in many a fight the glory of his father), led a cho­sen troop of warriors through the valley, and waited for the signal of attack, that he might fall upon the enemy when least expected, and strike the dastard hirelings with dismay.

Canfried, meanwhile, attended by his Knights, flew from one wing of his army to the other, bel­lowing to each that he should recollect his duty, and endeavouring to revive the drooping courage of his followers by the hope of plunder.

But what can servile avarice avail against the arm which is fighting for its native land? Already had the sword of the Norwegians forced a passage through the Swedish ranks; already had Tott spread desolation round him; already had Swend burst into the throng, and piled a mountain of his slaughtered foes upon the plain; already was Uf­fo's armour sprinkled with Swedish gore; al­ready the groans of the dying mounted towards heaven. Canfried saw, trembled, and gnashed his teeth. In vain did he roar till he was hoarse, to rally the retreating cowards. In vain did he curse the hour of his birth, Odin, and the habitation of the Gods. Almost inevitably lost, Despair added vigour to his arm, and hovered above him with [Page 32] her sooty wings. Impetuous he rushed into the thickest troops of the Norwegians, followed by a squadron of rash daring youths; they hewed their way with the destructive sword, until they reached the place where Swend's blue plume high nodded in the air.

"Art thou here," cried Canfried, in a voice of thunder, "thou cradle-warrior, who hast dared to match thyself with me? Advance thou fiery stripling, nor crouch inglorious thus beneath the bucklers of thy Knights! Advance, and meet a man!"

"Welcome! welcome," cried Swend, "thou whom in the heat of battle I so long have sought. Hither, thou ravisher! The stripling shall chastise thee."

He loosed the reins, and rushed towards Can­fried; but his staunch companions (who had averted many a dangerous blow, and whose num­ber was now much decreased) threw themselves between the combatants, and cried—

"No, you shall not stake your life against a vil­lain's, who disgraces his own crown, and wishes to steal your's. He is no more a Knight. Call one of our baggage-boys, that he may fell him with a tent-staff to the earth."

[Page 33] Foaming with fury, Canfried bellowed to the remnant of his army—

"Advance! advance! Revenge this insult of­fered to your King."

At these words, a confused multitude, consist­ing of some hundreds, fell on the twenty valiant Knights, whose breasts were as a wall to their Monarch. Not one gave way—not one fell, with­out taking five of his enemies to serve him in Val­hall16Such were the tenets of the Runic doctrine in some coun­tries, though, in others, it was supposed that the warriors did not take their enemies to Valhall as servants, but only their sculls as cups. See Note (8).. But now the mob, which still increased and fought with blind despair, had slain the last, and Swend remained alone, at a distance from his army, whither his youthful intrepidity had led him.

"Yield, yield," cried Canfried, "that I may yoke thee to my chariot, and thus triumphantly proceed to Ildegerte's castle."

Swend's sword made his reply. Canfried with great agility eluded the attack, and aimed a migh­ty stroke at his antagonist, which glided down his polished armour. A furious combat now began between the tyrant of Sweden and the father of Norway. The youths in Canfried's retinue rushed against the solitary King, to drag him from his charger; but two old Knights, the only two in whom the honour of their order still remained, [Page 34] threatened to slay the first who dared to lay hands upon him. They formed a circle round the com­batants, cast a furious look upon their dastard countrymen, and maintained the laws of war.

Like lightning flamed the swords of the con­tending rivals. Ildegerte and a kingdom were to be the victor's prize. Canfried saw both; Swend, Ildegerte only. The combat long continued doubt­ful, for skill and courage fought against despair and madness. But now, as Canfried raised his sword, in order to conclude the contest by one deadly blow, Swend perceived an opening where the armlets fasten to the corslet. He dexterously par­ried the descending stroke, and in a moment would his sword have forced a passage to the ty­rant's heart, when a vile assassin from behind struck him with a mace upon the head. He fell prone from his horse, and streams of blood came gush­ing from his throat. One of the old Swedish Knights flew the villain on the spot, bent down to Swend, and opened his visor. His features swam in blood—his eye was broken.

"A good Prince finds his reward in the arms of a Valkyrie."

These were the last words he uttered through his sighs. He was laid across his steed, and slowly [Page 35] taken from the field of battle; but ere he reached the neighbouring spring, at which the Knight had purposed to refresh him, he expired.

"Swend is dead!" cried Canfried to his troops. "The day is our's. Back to the battle!"

"Swend is dead!" exclaimed the flying army, and returned.

"Swend is dead!" was heard on every side. "With him fell the courage of the Norwegians."

Alas! too true!

"Swend is dead!" whispered each vassal to his comrade; "vanished is the plume which nodded at our head."

"Swend is dead!" said each Knight to his neighbour.

The dire intelligence soon reached the old intre­pid Tott, who still was spreading carnage through the plain.

"Follow me, children," said he with utter­ance half-choaked, "avenge the death of your King and benefactor."

But in vain did he once more rush into the heat of battle; but a few hundreds followed him. Hor­ror and grief had overpowered the almost conquer­ing army. The Norwegians fled in wild disorder from the field, and thousands fell a prey to the de­vouring [Page 36] swords of their pursuers. Tott, with only a small, but valiant band, retreated to a hill, and there maintained his post against the united force of Sweden.

"Where is Uffo, my son?" said he to the Knight standing nearest to him. "Is my son Uffo too among the fugitives?"

"No, venerable Chief," replied the warrior, "he fell, covered with wounds, amid the fight."

"Didst thou see him?" demanded Tott; "Were his wounds in front?"

"All in his breast, and on his head," returned the Knight.

"Odin be praised!" exclaimed old Tott. "Let us fight to-day; to-morrow we will mourn."

He spoke, and opened his visor to regain his breath, when lo! a fatal arrow came hissing through the air, pierced his right eye, and tum­bled the last prop of Norway to the earth. A faint groan from all his followers accompanied the hero's fall. The sword dropped from every feeble hand, and every arm sunk impotently down. Yet none would be obliged to the victorious robber for his life, and Canfried towered the plain with car­cases.

[Page 37] FLY, my spirit, far, far from the fatal plains, drenched in the blood of heroes!—Why shouldst thou tarry with the dead?—No longer great and valiant deeds can signalize the field, for Tott, and Swend, and Uffo are no more. Lead me, soft Fancy, lead me to the silent bower, where, in the shadowy twilight, Ildegerte received the messen­ger who came to announce to her the King's at­tachment.

"Art thou a messenger of peace?" cried she hastily, as he approached, and knelt with rever­ence before her.

"From the King's hand I have received this letter," answered he, "with orders to deliver it to Ildegerte."

"Tell me," demanded she, "how didst thou leave the camp? Is Canfried's band of robbers vanquished? Has Odin chastised the traitor?"

"When I left the camp," replied the messen­ger, "the Scalds were chaunting hymns; the Knights were closing their visors; the armour was clashing; the ensigns were flying, and the trumpet's blast proclaimed the attack."

[Page 38] "Oh! then is our King perhaps already victo­rious," exclaimed she, "and with the pangs of unsuccessful villany, Canfried has retreated from our borders."

With these words she opened the letter. She read—her cheek coloured. She read further—her cheek glowed. She closed the letter, and a tear trembled in her sparkling eye.

"Leave me," said she, in a friendly tone, to the messenger.

"Most willingly, fair lady," answered he; "but do not long delay your answer, for the King awaits me with anxiety."

"With anxiety!" repeated she, blushing. "How dost thou know that?"

"Oh! he commanded me a hundred times," returned the messenger, "to outstrip the wind in speed. He said the message was of consequence, and every minute dear to him. Nay, after I was mounted and had left the camp, I still could hear his voice desiring me to hasten; and when I looked far behind me from the dale, I spied him standing near his tent, and with his hand above his eyes, still watching me."

"Enough! enough!" said Ildegerte, much af­fected, "go, feed thy horse, refresh thyself;— [Page 39] to-morrow, soon as the sun's first beams have tip­ped the hills, thou mayst return to the camp."

The messenger went. Ildegerte sunk upon her knees, and prayed—

"Oh Thora! now immortal, who, when about to quit mortality, didst call me daughter; if, amid the joys of Vingolf, thou still canst feel a happy mother's joys—if the name of Swend remain still dear to thee, Oh reveal thyself to Ildegerte! If I be unworthy of thy son's bed, banish from my heart this growing passion. Let me fly into some desert, and lament my fate, which made me not the daughter of a King."

She ceased, and with eyes swimming in tears, surveyed the rising moon. Hark! a gentle even­ing breeze swept through the leaves; the blossoms shed their odours all around; the nightingale, warbled in plaintive solitary notes. Ildegerte's heart was full. The solemn twilight filled her mind with dark presages. With wild affrighted looks she hastened through the wood, and hid her­self in the most lonesome chamber of the castle.

Meanwhile the prating messenger had been re­lating to the curious females, who surrounded him, all that he knew about the letter—or knew not; all that Swend had said to him—or not said. [Page 40] He had increased the King's anxiety a hundred fold; a hundred times repeated Swend's eagerness for his return, and at last, with all the air of wis­dom, he observed—

"It must be some great project of the King which my weak intellects cannot discover; but perhaps Ildegerte may give you further informa­tion."

Heavens! what bustle, and what whispers now took place! At length the fair assembly agreed that they knew nothing, and resolved that at supper the secret should be drawn from Ildegerte; or that, if her silence was invincible, they should at least read it in her countenance.

The wished-for hour arrived. All eyes were turned on Ildegerte, as she entered the saloon, with her usual air of friendly majesty. She was recovered; the gentle glow of hope shone on her dimpled cheek. They sat to table. All was silence;—all was listening expectation, while Ildegerte (not remarking this silence, or this expectation) talked with indifference to all. One coughed; another trod upon her neighbour's foot; a third winked to a fourth, and none dared to speak. But towards the conclusion of the meal, Ildegerte addressed them, and every hand, about to lift the morsel to the mouth, sunk motionless upon the lap.

[Page 41] "You, my dear companions, have, in this cas­tle, for many months, with me lamented Thora. I hope I am beloved by you, and hope that I de­serve your love.—Hear then the joyful message which our King has sent to me, so undeserving of it: his choice has fixed on me to be his wife!"

She ceased, and, softly blushing, cast her eyes upon the earth. Astonishment had chained the tongues of her companions; but soon they rose transported, surrounded Ildegerte with caresses, and paid homage to their Queen.

It must be owned that here and there an envious glance was seen, but Ildegerte understood that art so difficult to be acquired, of always maintaining a serenity of temper; and thus her silent dignity and friendly look subdued the proudest heart. During the first hours devoted to rest, not one of all the damsels closed her weary eyes; each ima­gination was so full of all the events by which this last was caused, that it spurned the hand of Sleep when it seemed to offer the balsam of repose.

'Twas well for you, good souls! For why this short repose? Already do the shrieks of horror rend the air, and draw full near your castle-gates: already do the groans disturb the midnight silence: already does the cry of murder echo through the [Page 42] wood. The dwarf upon the tower thrice blew his horn. The guards roused themselves from sleep, and hastened to the portal, against which the approaching wretches thundered.

"Who thus disturbs our nightly rest?"

"Open! open to your brethren!"

"Speak! who are you?"

"Conquered wounded fugitives."

"Whence come you through the darkness of the night?"

"From the field of battle. We have marked the path by which we came with the blood that trickles from our wounds.—Odin, Odin has pro­nounced destruction on the land! Swend is dead, Uffo is fallen, Tott is in Valhall!"

"Destruction, destruction upon you, ye mes­sengers of evil!"

All was confusion through the castle. Ques­tions, shrieks, and cries for arms were heard on every side. Ildegerte alone was calmly sleeping in the arms of Hope. The gentle smile of rewarded virtue dimpled her virgin cheek. Her companions, with dishevelled hair, now burst into the chamber.

"Awake! awake!" cried they, "thy sleep is death."

Ildegerte sprung affrighted from her couch.

[Page 43] "What has happened? Is the castle in flames? Or has some traitor opened our gates to the ene­my?"

In vain did she a hundred times repeat the ques­tion. Horror had robbed the females of their senses; they could make no reply but by weeping, groaning, and tearing their hair. Ildegerte there­fore threw a garment round her, seized a taper, and with winged footsteps traversed the vaulted galleries, through which the distant cries assailed her ear. Now her foot struck against a corpse, and now her wandering eye espied upon the floor a wounded man, who held with both his hands his bleeding side, and seemed already seized by Hela.

"Who art thou?" cried Ildegerte, shuddering.

"One who fights with Death for Valhall's joys," said he.

"How camest thou here?" demanded she. "What hand inflicted this deadly wound?"

"The hand of a Swede," answered he. "Swend is dead, Uffo is fallen, Tott is in Valhall!"

"Avenging Gods!" stammered forth Ildegerte.

The taper dropped from her hand, and she sunk, devoid of strength, against the wall. But soon her fleeting spirits were recalled by the groans of the dying warrior. She crept to her chamber, secured [Page 44] the entrance, and threw herself upon the floor. There long she laid, nor shed a single tear, nor heaved a single sigh. This moment of dread­ful stupefaction passed away. She drew Swend' letter from her bosom, and her eye fell upon these words:

"Then, Ildegerte, drop a tear upon my early grave; lament the loss of a brother—of a hus­band."

A sudden flood of tears came to her relief.

"My brother! my husband!" cried she, in a voice half choked by sobs.

No more could she stammer forth; but in these two names her overflowing heart combined all the shadows of her past happiness, with all the smiling prospects of her future bliss, which Fancy, a few hours before, had painted to her.

Overpowered by anguish, and almost drowned in tears, laid Ildegerte, till the ruddy morn co­loured the castle's turrets. She awoke from the frenzy of despair, just as the rising sun cast his first beams upon the lance and sword, which, since Thora's death, had rusted in a lonesome corner.

"Come forth, my arms," cried she, "as yet employed but in the sports of youth—come forth, and in my hands become the instrument of burn­ing [Page 45] vengeance. Inspire me, Thor,17Thor, the eldest son of Odin, the strongest and most in­trepid among the Gods. He is said, by some, to launch the thunder of Odin, and to be principally consulted in heaven rela­tive to the decision of victory. He always carries a mace or club, which he grasps with gauntlets of iron; and which, as often as he discharges it, returns immediately to his hand. He is also possessed of a girdle, which has the virtue of renewing his strength as often as is needful. The fifth day of the week (Thor's day) is consecrated to him. with mar­tial ardour; make the din of arms more pleasing to my ear than the lute's harmonious tones. Pour strength into my frame, and let no female fears un­nerve it. Depart from me, Frey,18Frey, the mildest of all the Gods. He presides over the seasons of the year, and bestows fertility. thou son of Niord19Niord, the God of Winds, who checks the fury of the sea, storms, and fire.. Steel my breast, Oh father of the Gods! and thou, Freya, to whom this heart has offered many a sacrifice, Oh! let thy Lyna20Lyna, the Goddess, to whose care are committed those whom Frea intends to deliver from peril. guide me safe through danger, till the inhuman tyrant Canfried scoffing stands before me, that the arm of a woman may hurl him to the everlasting torments of Niflheim21Niflheim, or Hell, literally signifying Evil-Home..—Haste, ye Scalds, and chaunt the hymns of war. I fight for my brother—for my husband!"

Deep crimson coloured Ildegerte's cheeks; her eyes shot fire; her arm trembled, not with female fear, but manly rage. She inclosed her silken locks within her crested helm (adorned, by Thora's hand, with three serpents' heads), locked her strug­gling bosom in the plated cuirass, girded the sword to her loins, grasped the lance and buckler, and entered the vaulted hall, where, with downcast looks, her companions, bewailing the past, and trembling for the future, shrieked and tore their bosoms.

"Why all these cries and lamentations?" said [Page 46] Ildegerte. "He is dead. Your tears will not recal him from the clay-cold arms of Hela. Your tears will not repel the robber from the gates of our late peaceful habitation. Was it then in vain that Thora snatched the spindle from our hand, and taught us manly exercise?—Let those women weep and sigh, whose only arms are tears and sighs. Let those dastards tremble who would not sell their lives for Valhall's joys.—Rise, my companions! Is there a choice between death and ignominy? Why do we delay? Haste, against the robber, who threatens the destruction of our innocence. Haste, haste against the murderer, who has robbed me of my brother—of my husband. Let him feel that the heroism of the sons of Norway dwells likewise in her daughters. Let him feel that the arm of a woman was not formed only to place her suckling to her breast. Rise! Rise! Redeem the honour of your native land. Revenge your Monarch's death. Conquer, or die with Ildegerte!"

Here grief and fury in contention choked her voice; but the heroine's words sunk deep into the hearts of her listening friends. They gazed with reverence at her flaming eye.

Ildegerte leaned exhausted on her lance, and solemn silence reigned. At this moment, an old [Page 47] Knight, severely wounded, and supported by two 'Squires, slowly entered the hall. In his hand he bore a helmet with a blue plume. Silent, and with his mournful eye riveted upon it, he ap­proached Ildegerte. A secret tremor chilled her blood.

"Ah!" cried she, "'tis Swend's helmet."

"Yes," replied the Knight, "it is indeed Swend's helmet. The blood that cleaves to this plume, is the blood of my King. This helmet costs me my life. I have fought honourably for it, and 'tis all that I could bring. Dost thou see this mark? There a villain struck him from be­hind. The dastard! From behind!"

Ildegerte swooned.

"Cease! cease!" cried the females, and sur­rounded her. The old Knight seated himself, laid the helmet down before him, gazed at it with his hands clasped, and, regardless of the cries around him, thus proceeded—

"Yes! the assassin struck thee from behind. Thou wert a brave youth. Still do I see this plume towering amid the throng, while the wanton winds were playing with it; but now it droops, wet with thy royal blood. The barbarous deed calls loudly for revenge, but in vain does thy departed [Page 48] spirit search for an avenger. Uffo fell with his troop. Tott has shed the blood, warmed only by the love of his country. The murderous sword has swept our warriors from the earth. Me, me only has Odin for a few moments spared, that I might secure this treasure, and require some one to swear on this cold hand the most terrible of oaths; that I might, by this helmet, appoint him an avenger; that I might carry his oath to Valhall, and deliver it to Swend. But my strength declines, my eye fades. Haste! haste, avengers, ere I die!"—He looked around. Ildegerte was recovered. In a moaning voice, the Knight again began—

"Has the angel of death not spared one—not one youth (had he but just escaped the rod), that this cold hand might once more draw the bloody sword to make a Knight? Haste! haste, avengers, ere I die!"

"Make me, make me the avenger, venerable old man!" cried Ildegerte, clasping his knees with ardour, and throwing her own helmet from her. "To me give Swend's helmet, that on my head it may become a terror to the enemy; that the sight of it may make the blood of Canfried stag­nant; that this sword may force it into circulation, and with it wash the gore of my Monarch from this drooping plume."

[Page 49] "Is Norway then so far humbled," said the dying Knight, "that her liberty and honour can only be defended by a woman's helpless arm?—Oh, father of the Gods! hast thou then lengthen­ed out my days—hast thou allowed these eyes to be yet a little longer open, only that they may see the storm tear up by the roots that tree, in whose shadow I have rested eighty years, on whose branches I have hung many a well-earned trophy. Never have I wept but in my mother's arms—those were the tears of a child; but to-day, in my old age, am I doomed to wash these grey hairs in the tears of despair. Bear me into the open air, and let me die."

"Stay, I conjure thee, by the honour of thy order," exclaimed Ildegerte. "Thou despisest the courage of a female, and scornst a woman's helpless arm. Know then, old man, that she whom Swend had chosen for his wife, is not un­worthy to be his avenger. If the mist of death has not yet dimmed thy eye, peruse this letter. I am thy Queen. Thy Queen clasps thy knees, and with burning tears implores thee to make her the avenger of her husband."

The old Knight took the letter with a trembling [Page 50] hand. His eye examined it with difficulty, line by line, and at last reached the word Husband.

"Be it so," cried he, much agitated, "I ac­knowledge thee my Queen before I die. Fear not these clay-cold lips. Kiss me, that I may take thy kiss to the holy habitations of happiness, where, in the court of warriors, your husband wanders under Odin's golden bucklers

."

Ildegerte pressed her glowing mouth to the pallid lips of the expiring warrior—

"Take this kiss," exclaimed she, "to my hus­band, and with it the solemn oath to revenge his death, or to die worthy of his love."

"Swear then," said the Knight.

"I swear," replied Ildegerte.

He drew his sword.

"Lay thy hand," proceeded he, "upon this sword—the eye of the Omnipotent beholds us. Repeat my words—the ear of the Omnipotent hears us. With fire and sword I swear to avenge the death of Swend, King of Norway. May the marrow dry within my bones, and may my hand be withered, if I sheath the sword before my venge­ance be complete! With fire and sword I swear to pursue Canfried, the murderer of my husband. If I break this oath, may my name become the [Page 51] derision of children! May no tomb cover my bones, no tear fall upon my corpse! May it lie unburied on the earth, a prey to ravenous vultures, and may every honest man pass by it with a curse! Cursed be the hour of my birth! Cursed be the hour of my death! Cursed be the bones of my father! Cursed be the bones of my mother! May the name of Ildegerte be branded with a harlot's infamy for ever! May the curse of Odin light up­on me, and cast me into the horrors of Ni [...]heim! May he shew me the image of my murdered hus­band in a thousand shapes, that I may feel the pangs of death a thousand times! Be this oath immuta­ble, even if a hundred sacrifices of atonement smoke upon the altar! Be this oath immutable, even if a Priest say to me, 'Go thy way, thy sins are forgiven thee!"

Thus swore Ildegerte. The surrounding virgins stood like statues, gazing at her glowing counte­nance. The old Knight now cast away his sword, and seizing with both hands the helmet of the King, exclaimed—

"Then let the sight of this each morn awake thee to the renewal of thy oath. Still let thine eye behold the blood with which this plume is be­smeared, long after the rain has washed it off!—Dost thou promise this?"

[Page 52] "I promise it," answered Ildegerte.

"Take then the jewel," said he, "which I purchased with my life."

He placed the helmet on her head.

"Brace on thy armour," added he, "and mount thy charger; for thou art appointed an avenger. My eyes grow dim. My strength is ex­hausted. Odin, I thank thee! Not in vain didst thou command the scythe of death to wait till now, ere it cut the feeble thread of my existence, and joined it to eternal bliss. My last hour is come. My work is done. Bear me into the open air, and let me die in sight of the sun."

He leaned, devoid of strength, upon his 'Squires. They bore him into the open air, and he died in sight of the sun.

NATURE created man a medium on the lad­der of perfection; he never climbs to the highest step, never sinks to the lowest; he is never quite so good, never quite so bad as woman. 'Tis not of you I speak, ye prattling creatures, whom Plato doubts whether to reckon among our species: you I mean, ye elevated beings, for whose sake Lessing [Page 53] makes an accusation against Nature, that in form­ing you, she mistook the clay. When you are good, you stand between man and angel; when you are bad, you stand between man and devil.

Never had such heroic fire glowed in the breast of man. Ildegerte felt a new being. Unuttera­ble strength was shed upon her. Revenge had subdued the gentleness of love, and love added fuel to revenge.

"You are witnesses," cried she, after the old Knight had left the hall, "your are witnesses that I am ordained an avenger. This very day will I depart to fulfil my appointment. I have no com­panions but the Gods and Justice. I have no pro­tectors but this helmet and my sword. Fallen are the mighty warriors of Norway. No valiant troops will follow me to battle. Ye companions of my joys! if there be one among you who has also shared my sorrow, who will also share my venge­ance, let her come into her sister's arms, that I may press her to my beating heart, and breathe in­to her bosom the fire which burns in mine."

She cast her eyes mournfully around.

"Is there not one?" said she.

"All! all! we will all accompany thee!" cried [Page 54] they, seized with the noble enthusiasm, which struck them with electric force.

They assembled round Ildegerte, and proceed­ed—

"Be our leader and our Queen. Appoint us by thy kiss the servants of revenge."

Ildegerte embraced all, and away they fled to their chambers, hung up the harp and lute, cast away the loom and spindle, and hastened to clean their armour.

The heroic ardour was not long confined within the castle's walls. It echoed through the wood, and flew upon the wings of wind to the next town, where many a wife wept over the ashes of her husband, many a mother over the bones of her son. All dried their tears, tore helmet, mail, and sword from the much-loved slain, and armed themselves to fight under Ildegerte's banner. Swift flew the news into the land. From every quarter flocked whole troops of females, and ere the evening dew was mixed with the blood of the slaughtered, Ildegerte stood at the head of six thousand Amazons, who (assembled on a plain, beneath the canopy of Heaven), swore to her the most dreadful oath to avenge the deaths of their husbands, of their sons, and of their brothers. [Page 55] They began their march under shadow of the night; and the constellation Orion was their guide. The next morning, the little army halted at the foot of a hill, when, to their no small joy, the fugitives who had escaped destruction, joined them, in number about twelve thousand.

From the summit of the hill, the heroine brood­ed with meditating gloom over the warlike prepa­rations at her feet.

"Alas!" said she to herself, "there is the last resource of our impoverished land. Woe be to Norway if these too be sacrificed! And sure they must, unless a God fight for us. That triumphant army, which subdued the flower of our chivalry, will crush this small undisciplined band, as the bear crushes the ant-hill. I smile at Hela: I have sworn to meet her, and each of my companions will rush into her arms, rather than wear the ty­rant's ignominious chains. But what must become of those poor innocents whom we have left heed­lessly playing in our streets? Must our aged pa­rents bend to the grave in fetters, and our children grow beneath an iron yoke?"

Mournfully her head sunk upon her bosom; before her fancy floated the shadows of a dread futurity. But suddenly a gleam of hope shot [Page 56] through her soul. Theodoric, King of Denmark, Thora's nephew, was, at Swend's death, heir to the crown of Norway The hundred tongues of Fame described him to be handsome, just, and va­liant.

"The blood of Thora," said each stranger who had dwelt a few days at his Court, "the blood of Thora flows in the veins of this young hero."

Ildegerte dispatched, without delay, ambassa­dors to Theodoric, who spoke to this effect—

"Swend, thy kinsman, is no more. He is murdered by the villany of Canfried. All the Nobles of Norway are destroyed. A female only is advancing, at the head of females and of fugi­tives, to avenge her desolated country and her Monarch's death. Summon thy Knights, and as­semble all their vassals. Haste, haste to defend a land which henceforth owns thee as its King."

Upon the swiftest horses the ambassadors pur­sued their way to Denmark's borders; while Il­degerte advanced towards the enemy, who, fear­less of attack, were dispersed over the country, laying waste the fields, plundering the cottages, and murdering infancy and age.

With a smile of derision Canfried received the first account of the approaching Amazons. With [Page 57] a look, like the look of the devil, when he sees the pious sin, he heard that Ildegerte herself was at their head.

"'Tis well," cried he, with a scoffing laugh. "The bird flies of its own accord into the cage. Welcome! welcome, beauteous bride! In vain dost thou oppose thyself to me. My sword was drawn for thee, and cannot be turned against thee. Amid the din of war, I'll lead the to my couch, voluptuously unclasp thy corselet, enjoy thy virgin struggles, and revel in that heaving bosom, ill adapted to be thus confined in mail."

In these terms did the tyrant, lolling on silken cushions, feast his fancy with lascivious hopes; and as Ildegerte was not yet within his power, he summoned some harlot from the camp, and threw himself into her arms.

The scattered bands, of late engaged in murder and in rapine, ere long returned affrighted to the camp. Ildegerte's out posts had seized part of the robbers, and the rest had fled to announce the enemy's approach.

"Art thou so near already?" cried Canfried, in a tone of diabolical exultation. "By my faith, thou seemest to have an eager longing for a King's embrace. But ere the sword be used to lead thee [Page 58] to my bed, let me once more try the effect of those weapons, which, when artfully forged, will make a female's anger melt, like snow in spring before the sun—the weapons of flattery."

He spoke, seized the quill, and from his shallow brain, dried by excess, forced this epistle.

Beneath a canopy, majestically leaning on her lance, Ildegerte received the herald, who brought this letter.

"Thank the law of nations," said she to him, "that I do not punish in the messenger the audacity of the libertine who sent him. Bring a sack hither; throw some filthy dog into it, and deliver it to this man. When thou openest the sack in presence of thy master, and the dog runs out covered with sores, say, This is Ildegerte's answer and her dow­ry23I doubt not that many of our modern belles will be shock­ed at this disgusting present of Ildegerte. But, let them revert to those rude ages, in which barbarism was extolled as virtue, and delicacy of sentiment condemned as effeminacy. A scabby or mangy dog (for this is my author's expression, though, from deference to the feelings of those above-mentioned, I have render­ed it in terms [...] unexceptionable as I could, without forfeiting the meaning of the original), is a present, mentioned more than once in Gothic history, and was often sent as a kind of playful de­fiance. Let these nice ladies, then, call to mind the spirit and manners of those times, and if they be not superfine indeed, Ilde­gerte will lose nothing in their eyes.."

With these words she turned her back to the trembling messenger, and went to prepare her faith­ful friends for the decisive hour.

"What! not yet humbled!" cried Canfried, with ferocious mien. "Still that proud contempt with which I was accused of having stolen thy sandals! Fall then a sacrifice to thine obstinacy. Alive I'll catch thee, and my vassals shall deflour thee."

Towards evening, Canfried sent a second herald to the camp.

"To-morrow," thus ran his message, "shall the rising sun be witness of my triumph. Arm thy­self, [Page 60] girl! Inspire thy girls with courage. To-morrow will I send my baggage-boys against thee, who shall bind the rash creatures to their horses' tails, and drag them to my presence."

A smile was Ildegerte's answer—a forced smile upon her countenance, and dark presages of the future in her soul. She could not to herself deny, that her small band was too weak to contend with an enemy thrice as numerous; and that the cou­rage and intrepidity of a few troops hastily collect­ed, were not a match for skill and discipline. Her Amazons, indeed, had devoted themselves to death, and she herself would think it happiness to die for him, who died for her. 'Twas not the fear of death that made her tremble, but the thought of going to Valhall, where the old Knight perhaps might meet her with the question, "Hast thou fulfilled thy oath?" Then to be obliged to answer, "No," although a gaping wound in her breast ex­cused that No—this, this alone—

"Oh Father of the Gods!" exclaimed she, with eyes swimming in tears, "this evening is perhaps the last of my existence. If thou hast de­creed that the battle of to-morrow shall decide for ever the slavery of my country, Oh! at least per­mit me, in the heat of action, to find the villain [Page 61] who robbed my husband of his life, that my arm may search the way to his execrable heart! Let us fall together. Hurl him not to Niflheim's everlast­ing darkness; allow him not the small consolation of suffering with many thousands: take him to Valhall, where he will be the only sufferer, that, in the happiness of him whom he persecuted, in the bliss of him whom he murdered, he may feel the bitterest of agonies."

Thus prayed Ildegerte, in whose heart the thirst for vengeance had choked the milder sensations of female gentleness.

The stars already sparkled in the sky; Ildegerte sent messengers from tent to tent.

"Refresh yourselves," said they; "let the cup of joy pass round, and rest till sun-rise. Then brace on your armour, pray to the Gods, and sally forth upon the plain, for to-morrow is the decisive day."

The troops obeyed; they filled the horn, and drank to a happy meeting in Valhall.

Meanwhile Ildegerte ascended the hill, upon which the moon shone in awful majesty, erected a small altar, and sacrificed to the God of war. Hel­ga, one of her dearest companions, followed her.

"Let me," said she, with sisterly affection, [Page 62] "reveal to you my doubts and fears. You did not act wisely in dismissing Canfried's messenger so scornfully."

"And what would Helga have done?" de­manded Ildegerte.

"You have sent ambassadors to Theodoric, King of Denmark," rejoined she. "Fame speaks loudly in the praise of this young hero, but our re­venge is not his revenge, nor our impatience his. Allowing that he accedes to your request; granting that he is allured by the prospect of an empty throne, and takes up arms to gain a second crown, not being sufficiently oppressed by the weight of one; still, what can you expect from this? The decisive hour approaches. Pray to Odin that he will bestow wings upon Theodoric's army. We must conquer without him, or die without him; for, at all events, the King of Denmark will come too late."

"And what do you infer from all this?" asked Ildegerte.

"That you would have done better," replied Helga, "had you, for a little while, cast away these manly arms, and used the arms which Na­ture grants to all our sex—cunning and deception. You might have detained Canfried's messenger for [Page 63] a few days with promises, and then given some equivocal reply, some gleam of hope. By this mode we should have gained time—have gained every thing."

"You are right," returned the heroine; "but for the murderer of her husband, Ildegerte has but one reply. To have left Canfried in the sup­position (were it but the supposition of a moment) that my ear was open to his vile proposals, would have been a breach of my oath, would have been treason to the shadow of our King. No! Of this not a word more. Let us remain true to our ho­nour, and die."

"I admire your courage, but not your policy," said Helga.

"As you please," rejoined Ildegerte. "I have listened to, and answered your objections as a friend; I now, as your Chief, command silence. The morning begins to dawn; our moments are counted. Go; leave me to my devotions. Climb to the summit of the hill, and observe the Swedish camp. As soon as you perceive the enemy in mo­tion, call to me, that we may descend, and wake our friends."

Helga went. Ildegerte sacrificed and prayed. The border of the eastern cloud was tipped with gold.

[Page 64] "Do you see nothing, Helga?" demanded Il­degerte.

"A death-like silence reigns around," said she; "I hear nothing but the warbling of the early lark."

Ildegerte prayed fervently. The smoke from the altar ascended towards heaven. The outward edge of the sun appeared in the horizon. Ildegerte re­peated her question.

"I see," returned Helga, "a few men scattered here and there through the camp of the enemy. They are leading their horses to the water."

"The time draws near," said Ildegerte.

She raised her hands and eyes towards heaven, and prayed aloud. The sun rose in full majesty.

"What do you now see, Helga?" asked she.

"I see," answered Helga, "a thick cloud of dust far in the west. I see the glittering of spears far as my eye can reach."

"In the west!" exclaimed Ildegerte. "Does your imagination deceive you?"

"Come yourself, and see," replied Helga.

The heroine mounted the hill. Before her eyes appeared an innumerable army. The sun cast his beams upon their polished helmets. Already was her ear assailed by the neighing of their steeds, and the clashing of their arms.

[Page 65] "Heavens!" cried Ildegerte; "we are lost. Odin has given life to stones in order to yoke our miserable country!"

"See how they spread from side to side," con­tinued Helga; "the wood scems to be alive. Still, still fresh troops appear."

"Descend! descend!" shouted Ildegerte. "Thunder to our warriors. Let us die at least with sword in hand."

They rushed together down the hill, and lo! the ambassadors who had been sent to sue for aid from Denmark, met them.

"Whither," exclaimed Ildegerte, "whither so quick? What means this breathless haste? Who are the countless troops advancing from the west?"

"The troops of Denmark," answered they, "of our liberater and avenger. But a day's march from our camp, beyond the wood we found him, at the head of thirty thousand warriors. Long had Fame announced to him the danger that threat­ened this kingdom, yet did the news of our late Monarch's death force tears from his eyes. He is a friendly Prince, and seems a gallant Knight. He commends himself to your services, and says, he hopes to know you better. You must immediately [Page 66] call forth your troops, and take your station on the left, while he draws toward the river on the right. Listen to the first sound of the trumpet, which is the signal that Theodoric's army is fording the ri­ver; the second announces to you the safe arrival of the troops on the other side; and the third is the moment when you and they are to commence the attack. Odin grant success to your arms!"

They bowed to the earth, and joyfully hastened down the hill to communicate the tidings, and with them courage through their little camp. What shouts of transport echoed from every side! The ambassadors were inclosed, and lifted in the air, while grateful blessings were poured upon Theodoric. The cries of joy floated to the enemy across the plain. Stunned with horror, they be­held the innumerable spears, and burnished armour glittering in the sun-beams Long Ildegerte stood immoveable. With uplifted hands, and the tear of gratitude sparkling in her eye, she looked towards the habitation of the Gods. At length she threw herself into Helga's arms—

"Now, dear friend, thou seest Odin is just. His thunder seems to sleep, but suddenly the vil­lain feels its force. The hour of vengeance is ar­rived."

[Page 67] She spoke, and hastened to the troops, who re­ceived her with loud acclamations. Already were they mounted on their chargers; mighty consi­dence beamed upon every countenance, and each with eagerness awaited the third sound of the trum­pet, the signal of attack.

Towards the lest, as Theodoric commanded, Ildegerte led her valiant troops, who followed her with songs and jubilee, as if to tournaments and sports. Not far from Canfried's camp, she order­ed them to halt, and with rapture heard the first sound of the trumpet.

Meanwhile, the tyrant raged from tent to tent. In vain! Fallen was the robber's courage. Instead of grasping his sword, each trembling coward seized the plunder, and prepared for flight. Sur­rounded by dangers, and almost sinking under de­spair, Canfried sent a herald to Theodoric, King of Denmark, who thus addressed him—

"Why art thou come against me, who live in peace with thee? Join thy troops to mine, that we may annihilate these women, who have sled from the spindle: then will we fraternally divide the realms of Norway, conquered by my valiant arm."

"Go, tell thy master," said Theodoric, "to reconcile himself with Odin, for his last hour is [Page 68] come. Norway is my hereditary right, nor will I ever share it with a robber."

The herald faithfully delivered his message, and Ildegerte heard the second sound of the trumpet. Despair stretched her sable pinions over Canfried's head. The centinels stole one by one from his tent, and he, on whose nod, but yesterday, the lives of thousands hung, remained alone.

"Is it then resolved?" cried he, foaming with fury. "Must all my high premeditated schemes be blasted in their bud?—Ah! then shall my death at least distinguish me from this base herd of flying dastards. Pale and aghast, posterity shall hear how Canfried fell. Rise, demons of Niflheim! Cloud my senses, that I may rush impetuous on their swords, and seek the girl who tears the lau­rels from my brow.—What is this that boils with­in me? In vain do ye torment me, sensations, termed by the vulgar, pangs of conscience: in vain does the bloody recollection of my sins attempt to torture me.—Thou phantom, called Virtue, I die without knowing thee. Oh, how wretched is he, whose misery arises from his own crimes! My heart is my accomplice, and my executioner. But I will not feel that I am wretched. Death is my hope, and life my punishment. Cursed be thou, [Page 69] Odin! I hate myself. I hate mankind! Away to death! Down, down to hell!"

Furious he rushed forward, and saw part of his flying army far away.

"There the cowards fly!" cried he. "Is there then no one who will die with his King?"

He looked round. His eye fell upon an old Knight, who was attentively surveying the stump of an oak, which had been lately felled. It was the same old Swede who slew the murderer of Swend, and led the dying Prince to a neighbour­ing spring, for the purpose of refreshing him.

"What art thou doing here?" demanded Can­fried.

"I am observing this tree," replied the Knight.

"Is it so remarkable a sight that it can make thee forget thine own safety?" asked the King.

"It is indeed remarkable," answered the Swede. "But yesterday its top defied the hurricane."

"I understand thee," returned the tyrant, "but even in his fall shall Canfried still be Canfried. Go. Fly, and leave me to my fate."

"I shall not fly," said the Knight.

"Thou seest we are forsaken," rejoined Can­fried.

"I am not forsaken," answered he.

[Page 70] "Not forsaken!" exclaimed the King. "On whom dost thou place thy hope?"

"On God and my arm."

"On God!" cried Canfried, shuddering.

"Yes," said the Knight, with a look of firm­ness towards heaven, "on God."

"And on thy arm?" continued Canfried, re­covering. "A single arm against two armies?"

"I know how to die," returned the Knight.

"I know it too," exclaimed the King; "I will not survive the dreadful hour which robs me of my glory, to be bound in ignominious chains, and dragged before a woman's throne. Here," proceed­ed he, drawing his sword, "take this, and obey thy Monarch's last command:—Stab me."

"Never!" replied the veteran.

"I will die," said Canfried, "by the hand of a friend and a Knight. Take it and strike."

"Heaven forbid," rejoined he, "that I should stain my hands with the blood of my King! Thus far we are not as yet degraded. Let these hirelings fly. The better half of thy army still remains immoveable; and though it be not equal to the enemy in numbers, still many a valiant Knight defends thy cause. Advance, my Liege! Shew thyself at the head of thy warriors, and if thou must die, die in battle like a Knight."

[Page 71] "'Tis well!" cried the tyrant. "Follow me. Seas of blood shall pay for every drop of mine, and if Odin grant me victory to-day, I'll build a temple, and confess aloud—there is a God."—

He hastily vaulted on his charger, and flew to collect the scattered troops, which fear and cow­ardice had left him.

The warlike trumpet sounded the third time; Ildegerte heard it with a beating heart, courage­ously brandished her sword, and rushed at the head of her Amazons against the hostile squadrons. At the same moment, like a thick wood, the lances of the Danes forced their way. At their head fought, with glowing ardour, Theodoric the King, and Prince Harold, his favourite. A cloud of ar­rows darkened the sun. Amid the din of war, the neighbouring cataract was heard no more. In vain did the despairing tyrant atchieve prodigies of valour. The heaps of slain increased around him every instant; every instant numbers forsook him, and begged their lives as they fled from the field.

"'Tis done!" cried Canfried, with ghastly fu­ry; "I have reached the goal of my career. Black demons of Niflheim! dying, I devote myself to you. Help, help me to find the woman, whom I [Page 72] once so ardently wished to possess. My love is con­verted into fury. She refused a Monarch's bed; be she my companion on the bed of death!"

Wildly he rolled his eyes around the field, in search of Ildegerte. Ildegerte sought him, and soon they met. An involuntary tremor thrilled through Canfried's frame, when, by the crowned lion, he recognized, on Ildegerte's head, Swend's royal helmet.

"Has hell belched thee forth?" cried he, rais­ing his massy sabre to conclude the combat with one deadly blow.

Ildegerte, unequal to him in strength, but more nimble, escaped the threatening stroke, which glanced down her polished armour. Now, as he raised his arm a second time, she spied the opening in his corselet, and before his stroke descended, plunged her sword into his bosom to the hilt. Bellowing, he fell at his horse's feet. Black streams of gore rushed down his armour, and de­filed the grass. With the most dreadful curses upon Ildegerte, and blasphemy upon his dying tongue, he vomited his impious soul.

This combat decided victory for Norway, and restored her liberty. All that could fly, fled, and those, who saw no way open, fell on their knees, [Page 73] cast away their arms, and threw themselves upon the generosity of their conquerors.

The old Knight, alone, by whose hand Canfried had wished to die, had fixed himself against the same tree, which, a few hours before, had foretold to him his Monarch's fate; and with sword in hand defended himself against the increasing multitude. Him Theodoric discovered at a distance, sprung forward, and dispersed his troops, who were basely fighting against a single man.

"Yield!" said he, to the almost exhausted Knight. "Look round; thou art alone. How comes this youthful rashness in a veteran's breast?"

"'Tis because I am a veteran," replied he, "that I do not wish to survive the loss of this day's battle. But I yield to thee on one condi­tion."

"Name it," returned Theodoric.

"Let me bear away the body of my King, and go in peace to give it honourable burial."

"Didst thou love thy King?" demanded the young Monarch.

"He was my King," answered the Swede, "and I did my duty."

"Enough!" said Theodoric, much affected, "thy petition is granted."

[Page 74] "I have made no petition," replied he; "I have but required of thee what I (were thy body lying at my feet) should not deny to one of thy Knights."

"Go then in peace," returned Theodoric, tak­ing his gauntlet off, "but not ere thou hast given the King of Denmark thy hand."

"I thank thee," answered the Knight, shaking his hand, "and in return, young hero, accept the honest counsel of a man in years. Let not thy conquest make thee arrogant. Let the example of Canfried be ever present to thee, and teach thee how much stronger a defence than sword and mail, is—the love of thy people."

"I promise," said the young King, "to fol­low thy instructions. Come with me to my Court, and witness it."

"No," replied the Swede, "I have a native home, and two infant grand-children."

"Let me then, at least, take thy friendship with me," said Theodoric.

"Thou hast it," rejoined he.

Thus they parted. The body of Canfried was laid upon a carriage, and slowly borne towards the borders of his kingdom. No lamentation filled [Page 75] the towns through which it passed. No tear moist­ened the sand which covered it.

Scarce had Ildegerte fulfilled her oath as an avenger; scarce did she see that nothing now re­mained but to bind her temples with the wreath of victory, than she left the field of battle, ac­companied by Helga only, hastened to the camp, climbed the hill, which had smoked with her sa­crifice on the preceding night, and offered the firstlings of her gratitude to Odin. As she went to rid herself of her armour, she was met by The­odoric and the Nobles of his Court, among whom was Prince Harold. With reverence the King alighted from his horse, and accosted Ildegerte in these words—

"To you, valiant lady, belong my thanks, and the thanks of your country. Receive them in sight of the whole army, and allow me and my retinue to behold your face."

Ildegerte humbly answered—

"My Lord and Sovereign! your generosity is pleased to ascribe to me what, without your pow­erful assistance, I had never effected. You are the deliverer of my native land. Allow Ildegerte to be the first who does homage to you."

She opened her visor with downcast eyes, and [Page 76] modestly knelt at his feet. How enchanting was her appearance! How majestic the air added to her figure by Swend's helmet, from which a few ringlets had stolen into sight! How negligently beautiful the belt with golden fringe, that hung from her shoulder! Theodoric and his courtiers were astonished. The former almost forgot the rules of courtesy, raised her with a trembling hand, stammered forth a few syllables, and kissed her forehead. Ildegerte, however, seemed not in the least to have observed the impression she had made on the assembly, and withdrew to her tent, in order to exchange her armour for a female dress.

THINK not, mistaken mortals, to escape the inviting dangers, which so often cost you happiness and peace. It is from them only that the space of many years, of many miles cannot protect you. Your enemy is your heart, and if you never had a contest, you have had no enemy. In our bosoms we all bear a great enchanter, who can make old men young, and beggars Kings. Oh! if we knew not love and death, what could convince the haughty man that he is but a man?

[Page 77] King Theodoric returned to his pavilion, not as he had left it. Every object seemed beautiful and fair, for in every object he beheld Ildegerte.

Prince Harold returned to his pavilion, not as he had left it. All was to him unaccountable va­cuity, for his heart was full—was full of Ildegerte.

It is time to sketch, with a few light touches, the characters of these two royal youths.

Theodoric was young and inexperienced, open to every impression, easily deceived, and easily led astray. He had a warm esteem for every good and noble action, yet often mistook the outward appear­ance of good and noble, for reality. In every in­sinuating smile he saw a friend, into whose arms he threw himself without consideration.

Harold was older and more subtle, pliant and reserved, ambitious and voluptuous. He had the look of calmness with a boiling heart. He had a countenance, which, as the times required, assumed each mask. He was pious with the pious, and scoffed with the free-thinker. He had once made an attempt to revive an ancient right to the crown, and his impotence alone restrained him within the bounds of a subject. In vain did many an aged counsellor, who looked into futurity, warn Theo­doric to dismiss this dangerous rival from his throne. [Page 78] To policy Theodoric seldom listened, for he thought it too much at variance with humanity; and Ha­rold knew how to silence all suspicion in a way so crafty—knew so artfully how to adopt every hu­mour, that to the unsuspecting Monarch his soci­ety soon became indispensible.

Propped on his hand, Theodoric sat, recalling to his mind with rapture every motion of the hero­ine; and ruminating upon every word that she had uttered.

With folded arms, with long and hasty steps, Harold measured his pavilion, fabricating schemes composed of love and of ambition.

Let us surprise them both. Let us fly, swift as thought, from tent to tent. Lend your right ear to the love-sick sighs of Theodoric, and your left to the daring plots of Harold:—

I love Ildegerte. In vain do I endeavour to con­ceal it from myself.

The girl is beautiful, to desperation beautiful.

Would that I could possess her!

I must possess her.

I am a King, but would not owe my conquest to the splendour of my crown. 'Tis her heart I wish to gain.

I am a Prince of royal blood, and the road to the throne is not yet shut to me Her vanity will grant me what perhaps her heart might deny.

Were she vain enough to be dazzled by the gran­deur of a crown, I had rather lose her.

No matter whether love or ambition bring her to my arms.

Shall I venture to declare my sentiments to her?

This very day will I find an opportunity of dis­closing my passion to her.

I should not be able to utter a word.

My captivating eloquence she never can resist.

For the first time I feel the real force of love.

To-day I bade adieu to my knowledge of the sex.

My heart pants for sympathy. Harold shall know all.

But buried be the secret in my own breast.

Never, never did I feel such fearful anxiety! I must extricate myself from this dreadful state of uncertainty.

Not too hasty, be my motto. A wise man, though he love, will sleep in peace, and leave the ripening of his plants to time; for the most beau­teous blossom is of less value than the meanest fruit.

Such were the soliloquies of both.—Theodoric dispatched a page to Ildegerte, to enquire whether she had need of rest after her fatigues, or if he might have the honour of an audience.

Harold, on his part, had stationed spies to watch each footstep which approached Ildegerte.

In the meantime, the page brought to Theodo­ric the wished-for answer, that his visit would be acceptable. With throbbing heart, and the glow [Page 81] of love upon his cheek, he entered her tent, and was received with great politeness. The youth gazed at her full blue eye in mute astonishment. She had cast away her armour; her auburn tresses were bound in a braid, and no longer buried be­neath the helmet, which had covered her majestic forehead. In a long white robe, encircled at her slen­der waist by her blue girdle, which was tied at her left side, from whence its ends, bordered with silver fringe, hung negligently down; with a hand so fair and soft, as if intended only for love's pres­sure, not to grasp the sword, she sat opposite the King, bewitching as the goddess of youth and beauty, who, but a few hours before, had seemed the goddess of revenge and war. It was an elo­quent pause, with which the conversation opened. Theodoric's looks spoke, and Ildegerte involunta­rily cast down her eyes.

Since the creation of the world, it has been the custom, when one has nothing, or any thing of consequence to say, to begin with a remark on the good or bad weather; which ever be the case, the transition always takes place by a cough. The­odoric too, pointed out, by stammers, to Ildegerte, the delightful day, which even the tenth month of the year afforded them. Ildegerte agreed with [Page 82] him, and that subject was at an end. The transi­tion-cough now followed. Purple cheeks gave no­tice that the confession was approaching; downcast eyes announced it, and fingers, which inadvert­ently played with the points of Ildegerte's girdle, accompanied it as interpreters. The most inno­cent girl feels an inward sensation arise from these symptoms, which calls to her—"Be on thy guard. The enemy approaches."

"Angelic woman!" began Theodoric; "you have conquered friend and foe—the foe by your arm, the friend by your eye."

Ildegerte blushed; and, as usual on such occa­sions, assumed the appearance of not having un­derstood his meaning.

"Your Majesty speaks in enigmas," answered she.

"Is it possible," exclaimed the King, "that you alone know not the power of your charms? You had a heart for revenge," proceeded he, seiz­ing her hand, "have you then none for love?"

"You either banter me, or forget yourself," replied she, withdrawing her hand.

"The former were an insult," said Theodoric, "the latter in your presence very possible."

"You may mean what you say," returned she, [Page 83] "yet somewhat odd it sounds in the mouth of a man but just retired from battle."

"Surely not," observed the King, "unless you take the heat of blood for love. For, in what other respect does the emotion of a soul, af­ter a battle, resemble that sweet sensation? But say, what do you call love?"

"Go, ask the priests in the temple of their Goddess," rejoined Ildegerte. "I am not initi­ated, and know her only from the poems of our bards."

"Can falshood dwell in such a form?" cried Theodoric. "Am I ignorant that Swend—"

"I know what you would say," returned she, interrupting him. "In his arms I hoped to have learnt it. Till now I have felt but gratitude to­wards him. It was the impulse to all that I have done. But I have been told, that to love is but ano­ther step; and, without a blush, I own my heart was resolved to take that step."

"Ildegerte," replied the young Monarch, "may I hope for your friendship?"

"Whatever is valuable in my friendship," an­swered she, "I give you willingly."

"Enough!" exclaimed he, again seizing her [Page 84] hand. "From friendship to love is likewise but a step."

"A step improper both for you and me," re­joined Ildegerte.

"You," said Theodoric, somewhat hurt, "now banter me, or forget yourself. For indifference I was prepared, but not for contempt."

"Hear me then," returned she. "It were pru­dery any longer to affect an ignorance of your meaning. I understand your looks and words. But does it become you, the King of Denmark and Norway, in the midst of your victorious ca­reer, upon the path of glory, to sue for a wo­man's heart, who has no other dowry than her vir­tue? You are Lord over your realms, yet is your heart their slave, and must never be your adviser. Subdue this flighty passion. The daughters of Princes wait for you, and Kings desire you for a son-in-law. You will make powerful alliances. The name of Theodoric will be revered by your neighbours, and the basis of your throne will be immoveable."

"My throne," replied Theodoric, "is founded on the love of my subjects; and who is better able to augment this love than Ildegerte? For, even when I hear you speak, I fancy myself in the [Page 85] midst of my senators. Such exactly are their arguments."

"You are paying me the greatest compli­ment," answered she, "perhaps without intend­ing it."

"Right!" said he. "Ildegerte, you have cast away sword and mail. Be once more quite a wo­man. Think you not that I bear enough when my head sustains the crown? Must it also press upon my heart?"

"You belong entirely to your people," rejoin­ed she.

"'Tis well!" exclaimed Theodoric; "I make the people judges between you and me. Let them decide whether they know one more worthy of the throne—whether they will have any other Queen."

"Not so," returned Ildegerte. "You ought to see clearly even if your subjects be blind. Be­lieve me, my friend (for by that name I will most willingly address you), when the first ardour of your youthful passion had subsided, you would see but too clearly. Then, what a wretch should I be! I entreat you, Theodoric, to be satisfied with my esteem."

"What you have just said," answered he, "I [Page 86] hope you did not mean it, was blasphemy to Lou­na, and treason to your charms. No never—"

Here the good King was just about to pour forth a solemn declaration of his passion, accom­panied by oaths, sighs, tears, and vows; and my reader would, without mercy, have been obliged to listen to them, word for word, had not Prince Harold, as if called for, entered the tent, to in­form his Majesty, that a large body of Swedes had been seen beyond the river, and that he had judged it expedient to double the guard. In reality it was a mere pretext; for this large body melted by degrees into a score of straggling fugitives. His spies had informed him that Theodoric had been seen alone, and in deep meditation, wandering to Ildegerte's tent. The conversation had already lasted half an hour, without the presence of a third. Enough for a mistrustful heart! enough to rouse the seeds of jealousy! Harold therefore hastened to interrupt a visit, which wore an ap­pearance so suspicious.

The King, unpleasant as it was to be surprised at this decisive moment, obeyed the duties of the public weal, and, accompanied by the Prince, left the tent. Ildegerte remained alone, with a per­plexity [Page 87] and timidity about her heart, which seemed not exactly to agree with her late politic advice.

Harold, meanwhile, made every indirect endea­vour to draw the secret from the King. But with Theodoric there was no need of circumlocution. His open heart offered to the traitor what he had but expected as the reward of artifice.

"Kinsman," began he, with a hearty shake of the hand, "oft hast thou seen me roving, like a bee, from flower to flower. I thought myself hap­py, and perhaps was happy. But my hour at last is come. I love. I love with an ardour unfelt before, which seems to stretch my heart beyond its limits. Would that I could make the whole world happy!"

"It almost seems to me," answered Harold, "that there is no occasion to request a name which your visit has betrayed to me."

"True," replied Theodoric; "the charms of Ildegerte only could have chained this fickle heart. Sure Odin sent her from a better world, to give us a foreknowledge of those heavenly joys—"

"Hold! hold!" cried Harold. "This you must tell herself, before the enthusiastic fire evapo­rates; or, probably you have already done it?"

"I scarce know what I told her," said the [Page 88] King; "nothing very wise, I dare say. What she answered, I know better. The noble girl re­fused a crown."

"What!" exclaimed Harold. "Is it possible that love can have led you so far astray, as to make you offer your crown to the daughter of a Knight?"

"The daughter of a Knight!" repeated Theo­doric; "What mean'st thou? Had blind Fate snatched another lot from Fortune's urn, this Knight as easily had been a King, as easily a beg­gar. Still Ildegerte had been Ildegerte."

"But, pardon me," rejoined the Prince, "is it not your duty to consult the wishes of your sub­jects, and the welfare of the state?"

"Thou too canst talk like my old unfeeling sena­tors," replied Theodoric. "The wishes of my subjects!—My subjects adore Ildegerte. The wel­fare of the state! What can be more profitable to the state than to bestow on it a Queen, whose wis­dom will share with me the load of government, whose valour will supply to me the place of an ex­perienced Chief? Our kinsman, Swend, thought thus. Him Thora formed, and blindfold will I follow his example."

"Not if Love bind the bandage on your eyes," said Harold. "Most willingly would I assist you [Page 89] in this plan, were it the only one which gained you what you wish. But why absolutely make a Queen of her?"

"Peace!" cried Theodoric, "I tremble even to imagine what thou art about to say. For shame!"

"But—"proceeded Harold.

"Not another word," rejoined the King. "I am resolved. To-morrow, soon as propriety allows, go to Ildegerte. Summon all your rhetoric, Ha­rold. Paint to her, in glowing colours, all I feel, yet am not able to express. A third can do it bet­ter. To-morrow she must explain, and will too, I dare be sworn. Go; speak as a friend. I, mean­while, will act as a lover."

Harold was silent; for he feared, by further op­position, to betray himself. He went, and felt, as the hawk would feel, if forced to replace the stolen pigeon in its nest. He threw himself upon his couch, and slept—little. With pleasure would he have re-animated every Swede, whose body was stretched upon the plain, in order, if possible, to quench the blazing fire of love in the King's bosom, by the hurry of battle. With pleasure would he have recalled the fugitives, gathered their scattered bands, inspired them with temerity, and [Page 90] urged them to a nocturnal surprise. But as the flight of the vanquished enemy forbade him to indulge so frivolous a hope, and as he had to no effect racked his brain for a pretext, and tossed upon his couch till the morning watch; what re­mained but to smile upon the wheel, to curse the past, and await from futurity what the present mo­ment snatched away.

"Why do I torment myself?" cried he, spring­ing up. "If I cannot enjoy Ildegerte, I may the Queen of Denmark and Norway. Let fools feast upon the idle fancy that the first embrace is most delicious. What excites this silly wish in man?—Vanity. The idea that he is the first who awakes these sensations in the girl. Well, be it so, if I be but the first who make her wish for these once unknown sensations. 'Tis a mighty leap from the prattling of a child to the chaunting of a bard, yet must I learn the former ere I can understand the latter. Success to thee, Theodoric! Teach the girl to prattle, while I tune my harp."

Thus did the vain fool console himself with the plans, hatched by his heated brain, while the young King, inspired by ardent love, made prepa­rations in the camp throughout the night, which I shall not disclose to you, reader, that when you [Page 91] have long enough puzzled yourself in vain, I may surprise you, as Theodoric surprised the object of his affection.

Now, when the morning dawned, too late for the impatience of the King, too early for the Prince's jealousy, Harold slowly crept to Ildegerte's tent, and enquired of the females, who guarded it without, whether she might be spoken to so early.

"Whether by you, Prince, I know not," re­plied one of them, "but her friend Helga has been with her since break of day."

"Natural enough!" grumbled Harold. "Ilde­gerte, with all her valour, is but at last a woman. She must have her confidante. The conquest of hearts flatters female vanity but little, unless the mouth be allowed to blazon it, or at least to whis­per it in the ear of this, and that, under an in­junction of secrecy.—Go, girl," said he aloud, "and announce me."

The Amazon went, while the Prince, full of choler, stamped into the earth the harmless daisies that grew around the tent.

Ere long, Helga appeared in a light morning dress, and beckoned to Harold that he might ap­proach. He found Ildegerte, with her head prop­ped upon her arm. She appeared to have had but [Page 92] little rest, and the faint smile upon her countenance seemed almost forced.

"Oh how happy were the King!" began Ha­rold, approaching her with a familiar air, "had he any share in this meditative posture!"

"How strange," answered she, smiling, "that the first word of man to woman must always be a compliment! What a mean opinion must you en­tertain of us! Well, yes; I was thinking of the King."

"Then would I bet," replied Harold, "that the alluring prospects of futurity engaged your thoughts."

"You would lose your wager," returned Ilde­gerte.

"How!" exclaimed the Prince. "After all that Theodoric is ready to do for you?"

"'Tis true," said she, "that you are speaking to a woman—to a woman who is not free from the weaknesses of her sex; but I never yet knew the tortures of ambition."

"You are right," answered Harold. "A crown has greater charms when from the hand of love."

"The first moment's love," rejoined the hero­ine, "is but the sun-beam which awakes the seed. [Page 93] Whether there be a lasting stem, or transient flower, contained within it, who can now determine? And who would venture to build a hut, in the hope that from this seed would grow a tree to overshade his hut?"

"Truly," said Harold, "if you can moralize thus, you are not in love."

"Who told you that I was in love?" demanded Ildegerte.

"So much bravery without ambition!" cried he. "So much beauty without love! Since I first knew that I had feelings, I have considered these two passions as the grand supports of life.—A crown, and a beauteous woman! He who offers such rewards, may pile rocks upon rocks, and in­crease each drop of rain into a stream. I scorn the rocks, and laugh at the streams. I climb to the goal, or sink to the bottom, and die in the at­tempt."

"If such be your ideas," returned Ildegerte, "I pity you. Ambition towers aloft, but deep is the abyss to which it leads. Sweet is the draught which Love presents, but the bitter is at the bot­tom."

"There let it stay then," replied Harold. "To [Page 94] empty the cup would be excess, and excess creates disgust."

"True it is," proceeded Ildegerte, "that were I, in the storms of life, obliged to place reliance on one of these two passions, I should prefer love to ambition."

"Indeed!" exclaimed Harold. "Thanks, Il­degerte, that you have not quite broken the staff which supports me; that it is but the throne which you refuse, and not the man who sits upon it. A heart, which loves you—a heart which knows no other wish than to possess you—a faithful heart may hope at last to move you. I revive. Without a crown and sceptre, I may contend for preference with him who bears them. I may hope—"

"Nothing may you hope," rejoined she, "nor any other. I am free, and value my freedom. Prince, if you came hither in your own name to found me, our discourse is at an end; but if you came in the King's name, tell him that I have con­sidered the offer made by him yesterday, that I ho­nour him as my King, esteem him as my friend, and love him as my brother. Tell him to be satis­fied with these declarations of Ildegerte, who is free. Were she no longer free, she would glory in her chains, but dreadful indeed would be her [Page 95] lot, if ever forced to break them. Theodoric is an excellent young man, with a heart devoid of guile, but soft as wax. Who could be answerable for his fidelity?"

"I!" cried the King, suddenly throwing him­self at her feet; "I, who will sell my life for a broken arrow, my throne for a cup of poison, if Ildegerte refuse to share both with me. Why, beauteous woman, why this suspicion, so disgrace­ful both to you and me? Have you then but one perfection to bind me for ever to you? Is it your beauty only which has captivated me? Oh wisdom and virtue, powerful and everlasting ties of feeling souls, still will ye be new and fascinating, when wrinkles long have furrowed this full cheek, and when these auburn locks have long been grey. Sweet girl! oppose me no longer. Despise my crown, but not my heart."

Ildegerte was surprised, and felt herself kindly disposed towards the graceful youth, who was laying at her feet. With a gentle and half-tender look, she reached her hand to him, and stammer­ed forth—

"Rise, Theodoric, and leave me alone."

"Not till I can call this hand my own," re­turned he; "not till I have sealed the affiance on [Page 96] your lips.—Approach, Escill; the moment is ar­rived."

Escill, one of Theodoric's most illustrious Chiefs, entered the tent; in both hands he held a cushion of purple silk, bordered with golden fringe; upon the cushion laid a crown, glittering with pre­cious stones. Escill bent his knee, and at the same moment martial music struck the ear. The tent fell, and Ildegerte, with astonishment, beheld the whole army drawn up in battle array, with en­signs floating in the air, and spears sparkling in the sun-beams. She heard the loud and joyful shout—

"Long live Queen Ildegerte!"

She was no longer able to command her heart. She sunk into Theodoric's arms, and hid her glow­ing cheeks in his throbbing bosom. He pressed her to his heart, seized the dazzling crown, and placed it on her head.

Not far from them stood a triumphant carriage, decked with flowers and ribands. Four snow-white steeds pranced at its thill, and snorted as they obey­ed the golden rein of the nervous charioteer. The enviable youth lifted the prize of love with trans­port into the carriage, and slowly passed the front of his troops, that he might shew his happiness to [Page 97] every vassal. The army received him with loud acclamations. The kettle-drums rolled, the trum­pets clanged, but louder than both, echoed the joyful cry—

"Long live Queen Ildegerte!"

When they reached the small band of Amazons, the carriage was surrounded, the traces cut, and a thousand times a thousand hands drew the lovers to the altar of Siona24Siona or Siosna, the Goddess of wedlock.. There waited a hoary-headed Priest, whose knife still smoked with the blood of the recent sacrifice. He prayed to Odin, blessed the couple, and received the oath of ever­lasting love and fidelity. A sumptuous banquet, by the light of a thousand torches, closed the fes­tive day. The sweet smile of satisfaction shone on every countenance but one;—Harold's alone was gloomy and contemplative. The veil of night shrouded the happy pair. Theodoric found bliss and heaven in Ildegerte's arms.

[Page 98] OH! that I were here allowed to cast away my pen! Oh that I might not wake you from the sweet idea that virtue had passed, enjoying its re­ward, and surrounded by unfullied bliss, even to to the grave!

Alas! our sorrows and our happiness are all a dream, and from this ecstatic vision was Ildegerte to be roused to misery and horror.

ILDEGERTE, QUEEN OF NORWAY.

OH how blissful are the first enjoyments of pure love! how celestial the transports of rewarded fidelity! The heart, (which even in the intoxica­tion of gratified ambition, still creates new wishes) calmly sinks to rest, seeming as if it could never feel another want, and as if the whim of fickle Fortune had bound with garlands each deceitful ball which passes over us. Rapturous vision! To the feeling mortal life derives its only charm from thy delusive richly-coloured images. And sure 'tis in our power to prolong this sweet illusion till al­mighty Death shall lead us from the arms of love to those sublimer joys, of which that we may be partakers, our Creator will bestow upon us finer organs. Yes 'tis in our power; but heaven-born wisdom only can convert the cloying sameness of the embrace to a clear stream of ever-flowing bliss. He who has devoted the day to his duties and the god­dess [Page 4] Wisdom, will every evening find happiness in the arms of his wife, and Love with bounteous hand will shed upon him from his horn unfaded flowers. But this soft harmony of souls will not be found in bustling courts and splendid palaces. There all is dissipation; even love is dissipation; not the mild and grateful hour, which re-animates the faculties for Wisdom's service.

The first weeks that followed the solemnization of the nuptials flew upon the wings of Joy to the abode of Love, there to announce the happiness and gratitude of the young couple. Banquets, tournaments, and festive dances had their daily turn. From far and near hastened the flower of Knighthood to the gay metropolis. All crowded to the throne of the fair Queen, and he, who had but once seen Ildegerte smile, returned contented to his home, feasting on the fond anticipation of relating to his grand-children the happy times of his youth. What a lovely being! what a fascinat­ing sweetness animated every word and look of the young Queen! There was not a heart which she did not subdue. When some talkative old man described to her the length and breadth of his whole life (interesting to him alone), when, as he spoke, his youthful fire once more inspired him, and [Page 5] sparkled in his sunken eye, Ildegerte listened with modest attention and without interruption, as if the relation contained all that was amusing and instructive. The old man departed, extolling her—"The Queen is an excellent woman; she reveres old age."

When some old Knight's good wife, blessed by Heaven with more children than understanding, sat at her side, yawning and lending only half an ear to the recital of battles and atchievements, Il­degerte soon knew how to loose her tongue. She asked after her sons and daughters, received in­structions in household management, and in idea visited the kitchen. The wife, well pleased, re­turned at evening to her husband, and exlaim­ed—

"Our Queen is an excellent woman, mindful of what she was, and what she is!"

When the young jocund couples skimmed through the mazy dance, and, forgetting amid their pleasure the etiquette of Court, made the air tremble with their exclamations, Ildegerte joined them, and far from correcting their playful plea­santry by regal pomp, she left a lesson to one of the best of princes, who in later years succeeded to the crown of Denmark

, that one may some­times [Page 6] descend from the throne, and enjoy a scene of momentary deception, which seems to recal the golden age of Saturn.—The young couples retired, loudly and unanimously declaring—

"Our Queen is an excellent woman; she soft­ens the grandeur of the crown!"

None of her perfections escaped the watchful eye of Theodoric. He rose each morning with an ardent wish for evening, which was again to bring him to her arms. None of her charms escaped the jealous eye of Harold. He threw himself each evening on his couch more out of humour, and greeted each morning with a fresh curse. Whe­ther Harold still possessed sufficient power to sub­due this increasing passion, let Meiners, the philo­sopher, decide, who probably on some cold win­ter's day, sat at his desk in a room without a fire, and while, with the apathy of a stoic, he proved to us "that it was in every one's power to fall in love or not,"2For the attempt to explain this absurd doctrine, see Mei­ner's fantastic publication, entitled, "Vermischte Philosophische Schriften." forgot that the image of unhappy consequences, which, according to his doctrine, we ought to paint to ourselves, never is so strong and lively in our souls as the prospect of bliss, which we hope to enjoy in the possession of the be­loved object.

Harold did not subdue his passion, nor did he [Page 7] wish to subdue it. It was no longer love alone that tortured him, but lust, ambition, envy, and vexation. He cursed Chance and Fate (two words which with him had but one meaning) for having cast him so near the throne, and yet robbed him of the power to mount it.

"Was I asked," said he, "when I came into the world, what character I would assume? am I to blame because my mother was not a peasant's daughter? This burning thirst for same would then have been confined to the superior cultivation of my little farm; more numerous herds, more productive land, more fruitful trees than those of my neighbours, would have been the height of Ha­rold's wishes. Some good honest wench had shared my hard bed, and labour would have choked the seeds of ambition, sown by Nature in my restless soul. What am I now? A miserable medium between dignity and meanness, a fort of chief slave to the throne, a hanger-on to increase the splendour of the Court; a most obedient servant to receive the guests, and drink their healths. By Heaven, I will no longer play this sorry part! Thus, or thus shall it be! Flows not in my veins the same princely blood to which Theodoric is obliged for empire? Were not my ancestors Kings? Is it my fault, that [Page 8] one of them was such a fool as to make a voluntary resignation of his crown, that he might retire to solitude, as he said, to serve the Gods, or, as his cotemporaries say, to lament his folly? Could he, by this renunciation, defraud his posterity of their rights? No truly. Every throne is built upon the right of the stronger, though we pretend to fancy that we hold it by the grace of God. Give me a well-trained army, and a teeming treasury—I'll prove my right to the dominion of half the globe."

These principles soon gave birth to a scheme, which could only sprout and ripen in a soul so base. The crafty villain knew full well that a feeling heart may know want even amidst piles of wealth, and in the bitterest poverty never can be truly wretched: hence the infernal project, founded on Theodoric's fickle disposition, to rob him of his peace of mind, together with his throne.

Meanwhile a year passed away in blissful uni­formity. The eyes of Harold often spoke with a wild tenderness; Theodoric perceived it not, and Ildegerte seemed not to perceive it. She would not mortify the man who was her husband's friend; she would not, by disdain, make him doubly feel the hardship of his lot. And woe be to you, Oh women! who dismiss the man with contempt, [Page 9] that, without intending it, has swallowed poison from your charms. You have a thousand other means, within the bounds which you yourselves have chosen, to keep him at a respectful distance; you have a thousand antidotes to cure him of his folly: but scorn and contempt betray a childish pride, and an unpolished mind.

Ildegerte always acted with the mildness of the dove, and cunning of the serpent. She received the Prince at all times with a friendly cheerful air, and never courted or avoided an opportunity of being left alone with him. Whenever, on these occasions, the conversation assumed by distant hints a dubious meaning, she understood so well how to bend to the direct road, that she often, without confusion, checked the avowal, which already floated on the Prince's lips. When he gazed at her with silent tenderness, she never cast her eyes upon the earth, but looked directly in his face with the mien of virtuous simplicity, which ex­pects nothing criminal.

Harold was forced to confess that she was not thus to be obtained, and that the look of artless innocence bound the seducer's tongue with heavier chains, than the ostentatious virtue, which will have its merits acknowledged and respected.

[Page 10] The roses now bloomed a second time, since the happiest couple in the North had ascended the throne, when Ildegerte bore a son, the image of his mother. His first infantile smiles were a new and more powerful tie, the strongest which Nature has woven to bind tender hearts together. With a tear of joy, Theodoric received the dear pledge of love from the nurse's hand. With the most af­fectionate solicitude, he sat throughout the first nights at Ildegerte's bed, angry at every fly that dared to interrupt her slumbers. Town and coun­try shared the father's happiness, and hailed, with festive joy, the birth of the young prince. Harold alone saw in this boy the robber of a diadem, which, as he thought, was formed to grace his brow; and on the day that a whole nation formed the pleasing hope of seeing the virtues of his fa­ther and mother flourish in young Haldan, (thus the Prince was called) he alone locked himself with­in his palace, under pretence of indisposition, which hindered his appearance at Court; for he was wise enough to know, how great would be the contrast between his woeful visage, and the ge­neral happiness, as well as how dangerous to his schemes might be some courtier's eye, which had penetration enough to fathom the bottom of his [Page 11] heart. But while Court, town, and country pas­sed several weeks in glad festivity, he did not spend his time in idleness.

At Canfried's death, the crown of Sweden de­volved to Hermanfried, his brother, an impetuous youth, whose temper was easily roused, and who was only restrained from many an act of folly by his gentle sister Luitgardis, yet scarce seventeen years of age. Long had he observed with jealous eye the increasing power of Denmark; but the de­feat of his brother, with whom fell the flower of Sweden's warriors, had reduced his kingdom to a state of impotence, and for the present bound his hands. Harold became acquainted, through his spies, with this young monarch's views, and failed not as a malecontent to furnish him with projects, which were eagerly caught at. He offered him his services and assistance, represented Denmark as an easy conquest, and proposed to accept the con­quered crown as a foedary to Sweden. He was lucky enough to persuade Hermanfried, who now made preparations for attack, while Theodoric carelessly reposed in the lap of peace.

But you would deceive yourself, good reader, if you imagined that the villain's proposals to Her­manfried were his real purpose; he only wished [Page 12] to plunge his country into a difficulty, from which it could not be extricated but by a mighty blow, and this blow was to hit Theodoric's heart.

All being settled to his wish, he, one morning, with downcast look and clouded forehead, entered the King's chamber.

"I bring you bad news," commenced he.

"Well, thanks to Fate for it," answered the King. "He who is too happy, easily becomes presumptuous. Let me hear it."

"Hermanfried, King of Sweden," rejoined he, "is arming against you."

"Is that all?" said Theodoric.

"All!" replied the Prince, "and enough as I think."

"I thought," proceeded the King," the Swedes were still sufficiently employed in healing the wounds inflicted by my sword, when Canfried reigned. At all events their rage is but the mad­ness of a scarce recovered foe, who dares to cope with his sound antagonist."

"Even were it so," returned Harold, "poli­cy forbids us to despise a weaker foe. But my in­formation is far different. Hermanfried, (as the spies whom I sent out inform me), cannot brook [Page 13] the disgrace sustained by Sweden in his brother's reign. He is resolved to wash it away with blood, and conscious of his own inability, has bound to his interest the princes of Tartary, Novagorod, Tiver, Astracan, and Casan, part of whom have joined him as zealous allies, and the rest lent him their armies for a large sum. It is likewise agreed among them, that the confederate troops shall be allowed to plunder, murder, rob, and ravish through the vanquished realms, that all the booty as well as your royal treasure shall be shared among the Tartarian princes, and your subjects be doomed to wear their chains, Ildegerte alone excepted, whom Hermanfried, to avenge his brother's death, intends to be devoured, in sight of his subjects, by wild beasts."

"Arrogant wretch!" cried Theodoric; "he may force the way to her through my breast."

"And will too," answered the Prince. "I confess that Harold trembles for the safety of your throne."

"Haste then!" exclaimed the King. "Col­lect my whole force on the borders of Sweden; I myself will lead them to battle."

"Collect your whole force!" repeated Harold, shrugging his shoulders; "it amounts not to the [Page 14] tenth part of the armies combined against you. A conqueror, (as you well know) earns not his laurels without loss. The defeat of Canfried cost us many a hero's life. Many a hardy veteran was sent to Valhall, and men do not grow like mush­rooms."

"Give me your counsel then," rejoined Theo­doric; "shall I avert the evil by my treasures?"

"A mode unworthy of you," said the Prince; "besides, (as may, without the gift of prophecy, be easily foreseen) of the worst consequences. It would betray our weakness, and Hermanfried will be revenged. His rage is not to be appeased by gold. I have already told you, he resigns the booty to the Tartars."

"Let us then seek allies," returned Theodoric.

"Where? whom?" demanded Harold.

"Among the German Princes," answered he.

"Oh! they live in eternal discord with each other," replied Harold. "There every petty Ba­ron is an absolute Prince, who, from the turrets of his castle bids defiance to the boors, and nou­rishes his wife and family by pillage and road-rob­beries."

"Well then, among the Britons," said Theo­doric.

[Page 15] "Yes," rejoined the Prince, "if the danger did not already beat at your door. The Britons are at too great a distance, and what interest could they have in venturing their troops across the ocean, to assist a foreign nation, with whom they never were allied?"

"Speak then!" cried the King, in a tone of distress, "What must I do? Sacrifice all to the fury of the foe without defence?"

Harold paused.

"Oh! why," proceeded he at length, "did Fate combine so many amiable qualities in Ildegerte, and refuse her the title of a king's daughter?"

"Kinsman," returned Theodoric, "your ideas make strange springs."

"Not at all," answered he; "they unite very naturally. Were Ildegerte the daughter of sister of a mighty Prince we should not be standing here, and puzzling where to look for an alliance."

"True!" said the King, struck with the truth of the observation.

"And had not my kinder cousin scorned the counsel of state policy," continued Harold, "he might now, by a tender tie, have founded the wel­fare of his subjects; he might, by a single word, [Page 16] have caused the uplifted hand to sink, and sent the threatening falchion to its scabbard.

"And what may this word be?" asked he.

"I know from certain information," rejoined Harold, "that Hermanfried would not object, by a marriage between his sister and the King of Den­mark, to unite the Northern realms in friendly compact."

"His sister!" repeated Theodoric, somewhat confused; "I scarce knew he had a sister."

"A lovely girl," returned the villain, "who has scarce seen seventeen summers: Luitgardis is her name."

"Indeed!" answered the King. "And you can think that Canfried's brother (who, as you say, breathes nought but vengeance) would be willing to throw a girl, such as you describe Luitgardis to be, into the arms of his enemy?"

"I believe he would," answered Harold. "There is a certain anecdote in circulation at the Swedish Court. Your picture (Heaven knows how) fell into the hands of the Princess; and, since that time, 'tis whispered the good creature of­ten seems quite lost in contemplation, courts soli­tude in shady groves, and has positively refused the hand of many a mighty prince. Nay, they [Page 17] even pretend to have heard from one of her attend­ants, that she wears the much-loved picture set in diamonds near her heart, and often wets it with a tear."

Theodoric felt his vanity flattered.

"Were this true," replied he, "I should pity her."

"Now you will easily perceive," continued Ha­rold, "why Hermanfried, who loves his sister most sincerely, and to whom the sufferings of her heart can be no secret, would renounce his thoughts of vengeance to see Luitgardis happy."

"Yes, plain enough," rejoined Theodoric, confused.

"Indeed," proceeded the Prince, "I have been privately given to understand—but I rejected it."

"Speak! what?" demanded the King.

"That you might, in order to spare the effusion of blood, and the desolation of your kingdoms, marry Luitgardis."

"Absurd idea!" exclaimed he. "How is it possible? Is not Ildegerte—?"

"True. That was my answer," said the crafty villain. "But they pretended that the welfare of [Page 18] your state might induce you to sacrifice an indivi­dual for the public good."

"Never!" cried he.

"So I told them," replied Harold, "but they thought that you might sweeten the separation in a thousand ways; that you might send her to her native country, establish a Court for her under the title of Queen, and—but how can I recollect all the nonsense they fabricated to make the scheme practicable?"

"No!" exclaimed Theodoric. "Rather will I die in misery, I and my people."

Harold, who now thought he had for this time done enough, as he plainly saw that the first spark, which he had carelessly thrown, had already seized the cinders, that the gloomy frown of discontent and perplexity lowered upon Theodoric's brow, left to time the task of blowing it into a blaze, and finished the discourse by once more maliciously describing the misery which inevitably threatened him, if he did not seize the only thread that could guide him out of the labyrinth.

"True it is," said he, shrugging his shoulders, "it requires but a couple of eyes, (even if they cannot penetrate so very far into futurity) to per­ceive the issue of this bloody contest. You must [Page 19] descend from the throne of your forefathers, fly over the bodies of your subjects, and with difficulty save your life. But Ildegerte and your faithful Harold will every where accompany you. By the labour of our hands we will fertilize some desert, and earn our daily morsel by the sweat of the brow. And, when the spirits of the murdered Danes pour forth their curses upon thee, when their blood cries for vengeance at the throne of Odin, Oh! may the infant Haldan's artless supplication bend the hearts of the Gods to thee again!"

With these words he left the weak Theodoric, in a perturbation which drove him to and fro like the crazy skiff upon the stormy main. Even the wreck of a world could not have moved him to an act of treachery, had the warmth of his affec­tion been the same as that which had inspired him on the field of battle; but it must be owned that unmolested enjoyment had damped his ardour. A calm esteem, (if not altogether devoid of tender­ness, yet conscious of an undisturbed possession) was alone remaining in his breast. He already allowed himself many a little infidelity; he was able again to make comparisons between the charms of Ildegerte and of others: to be sure he still always found the former far superior, but thought [Page 20] the latter worth enjoyment. In short, he was a weak young man, without command over any of his passions, and still less so, when the crafty Ha­rold always knew how to encourage and to satisfy them! Who but must have observed how dexter­ously he attacked Theodoric's vanity? This mine was not the most ineffectual of all that he had sprung. The gentle Luitgardis had never thought of falling in love with a picture. She was care­lessly roving from one youthful pleasure to ano­ther, at the very moment that Theodoric fancied her wan, wretched, and sinking under the sorrows of an unhappy attachment.

A few days elapsed. The report of an approach­ing war spread far and wide. The danger was magnified by Harold's instigation, and the fate of the kingdom represented as hanging by a thread. Wherever the King turned his eye, it caught some gloomy ill-foreboding look. The people groaned and wept. The rich buried their trea­sures; the priests offered sacrifice, and poured forth prayers both day and night.

In the midst of these agonizing circumstances, while Theodoric, with downcast head, was one morning meditating on his situation, his senators were announced. Bribed by the favourite in part [Page 21] with words, in part with gold, they threw them­selves at the feet of the King, and in the name of his miserable subjects, claimed from him the deli­verance of the state.

"What must, what can I do?" said he. "To convert stones into men is not in my power."

"Then you may at least preserve those," re­plied the chief senator, "who are now alive, who till the earth, and are the kingdom's chief support."

"What do ye want of me?" demanded The­odoric. "Is it I who wish to violate the peace?"

"No," answered the senator, "but you are he, who will not, by a trifling sacrifice, secure it."

"What sacrifice?" asked he. "Name it."

"You know full well," rejoined the senator, "what price Hermanfried has set upon his friend­ship. He has fixed it as a dowry for his sister."

"And call'st thou this a trifling sacrifice?" re­turned Theodoric.

"Trifling it is," said he, "great as it may seem to you; trifling when compared with that far greater evil, which you will thereby avert. We stand here in the name of the people. We address you not as father and as husband! 'Tis the King to whom we fly for succour. The peasant prays for sunshine to unclose the ears of corn, [Page 22] even though here and there a blossom may be withered by the scorching beam."

"How!" cried he. "Could you vote for that noble being's banishment, to whom you ought to be grateful for an increase of your dignity?"

"'Tis this very gratitude," returned the senator, "which makes us cherish the fond hope that she will not destroy her own good work. If the wel­fare of whole nations was the real motive of her glorious deeds, (and who among us dares to doubt it?) then may we certainly expect from Il­degerte's elevated mind, that she will comply with the wishes of the people, seeking her reward in the blessings of a rescued nation, and truly seeking not in vain."

What could be urged against all this? Theodo­ric, who already thought a separation from Ilde­gerte possible, who could reconcile this action to his fickle heart, by the specious apology that he was but fulfilling the duties of a good king, and a father of his subjects; who had no fear of pub­lic censure, since the nation had itself required this sacrifice; who could only dread the voice of conscience, which he lulled at pleasure, and the voice of suffering innocence, which, far removed, might echo through the woods of Norway, but [Page 23] never reach his ear.—What could you expect from such a man? Strange it is that it should seem to cost him any pain, strange that he did not im­mediately consent to all.

"Go, ask the oracle. Its declaration shall be my decision."

With these words he left his senators, who, sure of conquest, hastened to the neighbouring temple, but too certain that the mysterious cloak, which ever shrouded the meaning of the oracle, would allow them to explain it as they pleased. After having placed a costly present on the altar, the priest began the ceremonies. His distorted coun­tenance, his bristling hair, his rolling eyes, and foaming mouth announced the presence of the God. At length, inspired by Odin, he addressed them thus:

"Before my eyes appear two Queens. This bears in her hand a sword, and that a branch of palm. The serpent, which Theodoric cherishes in his bosom, shall be crushed by Ildegerte's foot."

With this unintelligible jargon, the senators contentedly departed.

"What can be more evident," said one to the other, "than that the Godhead sanctions our in­tentions? Two Queens! How can there be two, [Page 24] if Luitgardis be not understood as one? She who bears the sword is Ildegerte, because she gave occa­sion to the strife. She who bears the branch of palm is the Swedish Princess, because she brings us golden peace."

The serpent in the King's bosom was the most knotty point to be explained, but even this they contrived to effect.

"The serpent," said they, "signifies the stub­born opposition of Theodoric to the wishes of his people; and if Ildegerte willingly submit to her fate, certainly she may be said to crush the serpent. Never surely was there a decree less capable of mis­interpretation. 'Tis clear to the meanest capacity. A child may discover the sense so plainly conveyed."

Thus they cheerfully returned to the palace, and announced the fixed resolves of Fate; to which the King had given his solemn promise that he would submit.

"Who can oppose the Gods?" said he, after a pause. "I am resolved. I give my people peace, perhaps to be in everlasting war with myself."

Harold wished no more. Before the wavering King had leisure to recant, ambassadors were with the utmost secrecy dispatched to Sweden, to sue for the hand of Luitgardis. They returned in a [Page 25] a few weeks with the wished-for answer, that, on this condition, Hermanfried was willing to con­clude an agreement of eternal peace. Now the first step was taken. To retreat would be still more to exasperate a formidable foe. Nothing therefore remained but to swim with the current. A second embassy soon followed, vested with full powers to settle the preliminaries of dowry and of jointure.

Who does not at once perceive the road which Harold was paving for himself by all these machi­nations? Ildegerte, incensed to the utmost by treat­ment which, her proud heart will every moment whisper to her, she so little merits; Ildegerte, rob­bed of her husband, together with a throne, will thirst for vengeance, will seek an instrument to execute it, and in the Prince will find what her galled ambition and her slighted love require. To wound this ambition and love beyond all power of cure, she must be witness of her rival's triumph. For this purpose, he persuaded the king, (who, since the irrevocable acquiescence, had been whirl­ed in a vortex of perpetual agony, and was easily persuaded to do any thing) not to remove Ildegerte from the Court till Luitgardis was approaching the gates of his metropolis.

"For," said he, "how easily may any unfore­seen [Page 26] event—a storm for instance, or a sudden ill­ness, rob you of your bride; then would you la­ment the loss of one, without finding comfort and consolation in the other."

To all this Theodoric consented. Unpleasant things we are ever willing to defer, and still was the thought of losing Ildegerte painful to his heart. The arrival of the Princess too (if this parting were deferred till then), might dissipate his sorrows, which he never could expect to be the case, while left in solitude to the agonies of conscience.

All therefore ripened according to Harold's wish, and he resigned himself entirely to the flattering hope of shortly reaping the harvest of his labours.

As yet Ildegerte had not learnt a syllable of the dark designs which an infernal villain was meditat­ing against her peace. She resigned herself entirely to the charming novelty of a mother's joys, and spent her time chiefly in playing with little Haldan as he sat upon her lap, feasting her eye and ear with the smile and lisp of infancy. The King was cautious not to interrupt her pleasing dream of happiness, and Harold had taken care to surround her by his creatures, that she might have no suspi­cion till a proper time. But now that he received intelligence of Luitgardis's approach, he thought [Page 27] it right at once to unveil the infamous design. He visited Ildegerte, and contrived to mingle so much of the mysterious in his words and looks, to imitate so well the mien of confusion which in vain attempts concealment, that, at last, the Queen could not forbear to ask—

"Why so reserved to-day, Prince? Whence the cloud which hangs upon your brow?"

"Venture not, Oh Queen! to break that cloud!" replied he significantly: "A flash might dart from it which would annihilate you."

"Would you try," said Ildegerte smiling, "whe­ther I am but a woman to be frightened by mere words?"

"Words!" repeated he. "Yes, words, of which one would drive this smile of sweet content for ever from your countenance."

"Then let me hear this one terrific word," an­swered she. "You know that he who is ac­quainted with the full extent of his misfortunes, is far less to be pitied than he who stands in doubt upon the brink of an abyss, the near approach to which he has been left to guess."

Here Harold seemed as if he tried in vain to speak.

"No—impossible—not from my lips—pardon [Page 28] —I have no utterance for black ingratitude and perfidy."

"You make me uneasy, Prince," rejoined Il­degerte. "What stroke of Fate can reach me in the arms of love? The King too has for several weeks seemed troubled and confused. Tell me what misfortune—Has Ildegerte unknowingly of­fended him?"

"How could Ildegerte!" exclaimed he, "the crown of womankind, afford melancholy a pretext to lower upon Theodoric's forehead? No. You have not offended him, yet will he doom the best of wives to misery unutterable."

"Me!" cried Ildegerte. "Impossible!"

"But too true," returned Harold.—"Alas! Beauty, merit, and virtue must bind every heart in chains, but even beauty, merit, and virtue can­not hold the fickle libertine in silken bonds for ever. Inexpressible are the services you have ren­dered to the state. Your amiable qualities are the admiration of a whole nation, and exalt you far above the crown you wear. Why was the first of mortals made a prey to the wanton levity of a voluptuous traitor?"

"Hold, Prince," interrupted she.—"You go too far. Justify your words."

[Page 29] "You desire it," answered he, "and I obey. Hear then, and comprehend (if with your good heart you can) a villany most diabolical. You were a Queen: forget that! I know you. Still will you remain a Queen, if not upon the throne, yet in the hearts of all who love you. You were a wife: forget that too! 'Twas all a dream. Awake. You are a mother: never forget that! What has the guiltless suckling done, that he should be robbed of his rightful inheritance by his fa­ther's infamy? Who will protect him, if his mo­ther too forsake him?"

"Now by the golden shields of Odin,"3Golden shields of Odin and Asgard. See note 22. ex­claimed Ildegerte, "never was oracle delivered in the groves of Asgard4Golden shields of Odin and Asgard. See note 22. more obscure. I was a Queen! I was a wife! When did I cease to be so?"

"Since Theodoric," replied the Prince, "glut­ted with bliss, infernally resolved to cast you from his throne and bed. Since he sent ambassadors to Hermanfried, to conclude an everlasting union, and the knot which forms this union is Luitgardis, sister of the King. Know you enough? Or will you drain the teeming cup of wormwood at a sin­gle draught? Since he promised to send Ildegerte, to whom he is obliged for a kingdom—Ildegerte, [Page 30] the mother of his first-born son, an exile in dis­grace to Norway, but not till she has witnessed the triumphal coronation of her rival:"

Ildegerte—

But why need I describe the broken accents of anger, astonishment, and indignation, the heavy sighs of horror, discarded tenderness, and mortifi­ed affection? At the first moment, while her mind was unacquainted with a perfidy to which she nei­ther could nor would give credit; at the first mo­ment such an action seemed to her as monstrous as to the polished European the account of people, who in cool blood raise their clubs to send their aged parents to the grave. She believed not the Prince's words; but Harold swore so solemnly, ad­ded so many corroborations, now pointing out to her the increasing coldness of Theodoric, now the preparations at Court, which betrayed the approach of some great festival, (and which indeed had not escaped her eye, though they had too little occu­pied her exalted mind to force from her an inqui­sitive question) connecting proof to proof so art­fully, and making her imperceptibly extract suspi­cion from her husband's every look, that he at length planted in her soul the dreadful certainty of her impending fate. The unhappy being riveted [Page 31] her eyes upon the earth, unable to shed a single tear, or form a resolution, and scarcely retaining her senses. This was the situation which Harold had awaited; upon this first stupor he had formed his plan.

"You perceive, Oh Queen!" proceeded the hypocrite, "that I am hazarding my life by disclos­ing to you a secret at which the King himself trembles. But long have you known how little I regard my happiness and life, if Fate will but al­low me to resign them in your service. Difficult it is to counteract Theodoric's infidelity, but not impossible. Rouse your courage; I have many friends, and your Amazons are ready at the first signal to assist and to avenge you. Summon them to arms; grasp again the sword which already has atchieved such wondrous deeds; press on your head the helm of valiant Swend, (alas! he would not thus have treated you!) redeem a crown for little Haldan, which by primogeniture is his; drive the villain, together with the creature for whose sake he banishes an Ildegerte, drive them into deserved misery, and mount the throne. My arm, and a thousand arms, at my command, are prepared to draw their sabres in your cause. My voice shall be the signal for revolt. Beneath your [Page 32] banners shall Harold perform miracles, and at your side will he mount the throne, or die."

"No, Prince," replied she. "Far be from me such conduct. True it is, you see my tears, nor am I able to restrain them; but think not that they flow for the ideal loss of a crown, which, in the intoxication of his transports, Theodoric once forced me to accept: they flow for the loss of a heart which was far dearer to me than the pomp of re­gal dignity; and if by arms I could recover this, what should I thereby gain in his heart? No. I have no arms against Theodoric but my tears."

"Virtue overstrained," said Harold, "dege­nerates into a fault; you forget that we are not debating on you and on your rights. If you sink to­day beneath your weakness, you are preparing for yourself the bitterest reproaches from a son. His fortunes now depend on your's, and his rights they are, which (if you feel the sacred impulse of a mother's duties) you must defend by arms. Or, do you chuse that he should beg his life hereafter at the mercy of your rival's children?"

"You storm my heart in vain," rejoined Ilde­gerte. "If Haldan do not inherit any throne from his mother, still may he feel content in virtu­ous [Page 33] sensations, to plant which early in his bosom is the most sacred of a mother's duties."

"Your ideas," answered Harold—"pardon me, beauteous Queen—your ideas have mounted to a better world, and you appear to have for­gotten that you are still an inhabitant of this our earth, on which they never can be realized. I leave you, for your present disposition favours not the plan of cool, clear-sighted judgment. I am convinced that the mist, which seems to dim your eyes, will soon disperse. You will not bear the thought of being a mark for the derision of your rival. Till then, farewell," continued he, seizing Ildegerte's hand, and tenderly pressing it, "fare­well! and rest assured that Harold, whose fidelity has long been known to you, will hazard his life a thousand times for a single tender look from you."

He went, and left Ildegerte in a situation which my pen would in vain attempt to describe. A co­pious flood of tears relieved her aching heart; she threw herself into the arms of her faithful Helga, and was again able to weep and to complain.

"Fate then destined two powerful Kings to be my husband, only that one might be torn from me ere I had possessed him, and that I might by the other be disgracefully banished, to lament in some [Page 34] lone desert an attachment, the first enjoyment of which I have so dearly bought."

A thousand projects started in her brain. At one time she resolved to throw herself at Theodo­ric's feet, and sue for his affection, or death by his hand. At another, she determined to appear be­fore him, with the dignity of injured virtue, to raise repentance in his bosom, and then to turn her back upon him with disdain. But she ever firmly rejected Helga's well-meant counsel, who with all her rhetoric supported Harold's plan.

"We can at least," thought she, "thereby af­fright the King, and from his fears obtain what his love denies."

"No," said Ildegerte, "I require justice from his heart. If it be denied at that tribunal, I will be silent till we stand before the Highest Judge. Then, then will Ildegerte—pardon him!"

"Be silent!" repeated Helga. "What, even when the arrogant derision of a triumphant rival rends your heart!"

"No, Helga," answered Ildegerte, "I will not be a witness of her triumph. She shall not feast upon my agonies, nor shall the King. I am resolved. In my bosom will I hide the dreadful secret, and at Court, where all are liars, my [Page 35] countenance shall likewise be a liar. With a smile will I appear at table; with a smile will I present the cup, and wish good night to him. With stedfast step will I quit the saloon, disguise myself in the habit of a slave, and fly of my own accord to Nor­way's woods, that on the day which crowns his second love, he may at least miss the triumph of beholding Ildegerte's tears. Haste, dear Helga! Mount my steed, take as much of my treasures as seems needful to you; haste to the sea shore, and buy a vessel, which may be ready at my signal to bear me from these hated shores back to my unpo­lished country, there to dwell with far more po­lished mortals."

By this resolution she abided, in despite of all the endeavours used by Helga to point out an easier remedy.

"You try in vain," said Ildegerte, "to deceive me thus with shadows. By what other means can I save myself from the disgrace, and assert those sentiments which ever were my pride? Shall I at his feet implore his love? or am I, by a husband's infidelity, justified in forgetting that this husband is my King? No. Let him alone bear the whole burden of a tainted conscience. Far be the wish from me to share it with him! But thou, Helga, [Page 36] faithful companion of my happier youth, and of my short-lived dignity, wilt thou too resign the pleasures of a Court to follow into misery a banish­ed wretch?"

Helga wept upon her bosom, swore eternal friendship and fidelity, and hastened to make in­stant preparations for the secret flight. In a few days she returned to the Queen with the happy tidings, that in a bay which was surrounded by the wood, a vessel ready to sail awaited her com­mand.

WEAK Theodoric! thou wert not born to be a villain. The mine yielded not the iron in a dag­ger's shape, but hateful passions forged a dagger from it. Virtue has already left thy heart, yet is it less worthy of detestation than compassion. For what sensations had we given thee credit, if thy heart had still remained a temple of virtue, com­bined with wisdom and with love!

Do you see the reed shaken by the wind? Do you see him sleepless, and envying the trabant,5Trabant, the name given to the yeomen of the guard in the Northern Courts. who, supported by a quiet conscience more than by his halberd, nods at the palace-gate? Round [Page 37] him refreshing sleep had rocked all nature to re­pose. He alone—the King, who fears no judge (that excepted who asserts the rights of virtue in his breast with unrelenting rigour) he alone rambles from room to room. The silken couch alleviates not the tortures of his conscience; he gazes through the open window. Before him glitters the evening star, which lighted once the flowery path of love when he conducted Ildegerte to the bridal chamber. Alas! then a tear of bliss stood in the eye of the transported bridegroom, and the star of love sparkled therein with pleasure. Now a cloud of sad repentant tears hung heavily before his sight; throughout his realms night was the sig­nal of repose—to him alone the messenger of reno­vated torment. The Court, the chase, the tour­nament, no longer dissipated care—all, all was horror. Oh Solitude! thou smiling friend of Wisdom, how terrific art thou to the wicked!

Such a night it was, that, overpowered by his feelings, Theodoric rushed from his room, to fol­low the irresistible impulse of his heart, which drew him to Ildegerte. By chance, the trabant, who guarded the chamber of the King, had sunk under fatigue, and did not even wake at the sud­den opening of the folding doors. It is difficult, [Page 38] during self-suffering, to behold another's peace with pleasure, and if the sufferer be a King, he will generally become a tyrant.—The enraged The­odoric seized the trabant, and shook him violently. The wretch staggered, rubbed his eyes, and by the glare of lamps, which burned in the hall of the palace, beheld, with dread astonishment, the King before him.

"What!" cried the furious Theodoric, "darest thou then leave thy Monarch's life a prey to the first murderer, who is bold enough to creep under cover of darkness to his bed? Out of my sight! thy life is forfeited! The rising sun shall not be­hold thee with the living!"

The trembling trabant fell upon his knees, and said—

"Oh may the King hear me, and the man for­give me! I have a dear wife and seven young chil­dren; they daily call for bread, and, Sire, you know our allowance is but small. Compelled by want, I bound myself for three days' labour to sup­port my wife and little ones, and ploughed the earth for scanty wages. I returned from work last night weary, but with a sack of bread; I satisfied my children, and expected to have slept in my wife's arms. But the lot, Oh King! fell upon [Page 39] me to guard your royal chamber. I was obliged to come, and having been at labour for three days, and known but little rest, sleep overpowered me. I have forfeited my life, but throw myself upon your clemency, not for the sake of this scar earned in your service; but Oh! have mercy on my wife! have mercy on my helpless children!"

"Thou happy man!" muttered the restless King between his teeth, "how willingly would I say to thee, let us exchange situations. Come, throw thyself upon my silken couch; give me thy hal­berd, and in thy stead let me lean against the wall, sinking to rest with the sweet conviction of having done my duty.—Rise!" proceeded he aloud, "I pardon thee! Go to thy wife, I have no need of thee—I am the guardian of you all. Go home, and teach thy children to pray for their King."

He spoke, and wandered to the Queen's apart­ment with uncertain steps, tapped gently at the door, opened it with trembling hand, entered with tottering knees, and eyes which shunned the light. It was the very night that Ildegerte, for ever to escape the unmerited disgrace, had determined to forsake the palace. She was reclining on a couch, with her face turned towards the window, waiting for the rising moon, in order, by the assistance of [Page 40] her light, to find the neighbouring bay, in which was concealed the ship that was to bear her from the coast of Denmark. At her feet sat the faithful Helga; both were silent, both lost in a labyrinth of sorrowful reflections. Hark! Something was heard without the door! Now it ceased again—now it seemed to be retreating—now it returned, and the door was gently opened.

"The King!" cried Helga, starting as she re­cognized his features.

Fortunately a dim lamp cast but faint rays upon the couch, and spread a kind of twilight over Ilde­gerte's glowing cheeks.—Theodoric too dared not to look at her, but riveting his eye upon the ground, observed not her confusion.

"My husband!" commenced she, with a fear­ful dread that he had been apprized of her inten­tion. "Whence so late at night?"

"Pardon me, my love," said he, "a frightful dream has forced me from my bed. Methought as you were laying in my arms, you were torn from me; I wished to rescue you—I wished to rise, and hasten after you, but could not. I felt my arms confined by infrangible chains—I heard your la­mentations and reproaches. I raged—I foamed, and yet the more I roused my strength to burst my [Page 41] fetters, the more, alas! was I confined by some invisible power. I at last awoke: cold drops trickled from my forehead; I sprung from my bed and has­tened hither!"

"'T was but a dream," replied Ildegerte, "and superstition only seeks reality in shadows. How could you be thus alarmed? What can tear me from your arms as long as I am not torn from your heart?"

Theodoric only answered with a sigh. He crept so affectionately into her arms, kissed her so ten­derly, and talked to her so fervently, that Ildegerte, who thought it all hypocrisy and diabolical deceit, felt bitter sorrow in her heart. It was painful to see herself mocked (as she fancied) by the villain, whom with a single word she could unmask. She was silent, but unable to return the caresses bestow­ed upon her by the traitor as he hung upon her neck. The rising moon reminded her of the in­tended flight. Ildegerte withdrew herself from the arms of her faithless husband, feigned weariness, and begged repose. He went.—

Alas! then awoke in her recollection, as if by an electric shock, all the past joys of love. Be­fore her eyes stood the prospect of a drear futurity.

"Perhaps for the last time," thus whispered [Page 42] her heart to her, "perhaps for the last time thou seest the dear betrayer, the father of thy child."

She pursued him, threw her snow-white arms around him, and stammered forth—

"Farewell! Forgive me, if I for another mo­ment rob you of repose. I forgot to show you the dear little child, the pledge of our affection."

With these words she drew the King, (whose confusion evidently increased) partly by force, to the cradle, in which the innocent was slumbering.

"Look!" said she, "here is your son. Kiss him, and bless him, that with his father's blessing and his mother's love, he may bid defiance to the storms which Fate perhaps has spread above him."

The King bent to his first-born son, and kissed him; a tear dropped upon his little hand.

"For the sake of that tear," cried Ildegerte, "I forgive thee."

She vanished in the inner apartment.—Theodo­ric was thunderstruck; he followed her with fixed eye, and willingly had otherwise interpreted her words than his conscience too plainly pointed out. Long he stood irresolute. His heart drew him to Ildegerte's feet, there to confess his crime, and sue to her affection for pardon. But then the demon Policy whispered in his ear—

[Page 43] "Too far hast thou proceeded. Already does the ocean bear the Swedish Princess to thy shores; thou canst but proceed; to retreat a step is war and death."

He turned mournfully around, reached his chamber without knowing how, and sought that repose which is granted only to the good.

All was again silent. No footstep echoed through the lonesome galleries of the vaulted pa­lace. Ildegerte dried her tears, and demanded of her companion whether it was midnight.

"It is," answered she. "All is quiet; above us shines the northern star."

"'Tis well!" cried the Queen; "let us be­gone. Alas! how is my heart oppressed! Where is my son?"

"He's still asleep," said Helga.

Ildegerte approached the cradle, and surveyed him with maternal affection.

"Look, Helga, how calmly innocence can sleep. Is his father's rest so undisturbed? Oh! How easy is it to discover the traces of conscience in the features of any one asleep! When the weary eye is closed, the recollection of evil or of good steals from the deep recesses of the heart, settles upon the countenance, and is manifest in [Page 44] convulsive motions, or a gentle smile. What a pity to disturb the innocent's delightful dreams! But his mother has been roused by the hand of misery from the most delightful of all dreams!—the dream of love, and yet dare not complain. Away! I hear the crowing of the cock; away, before the morning dawns!"

Helga took the little slumberer in her arms, and he awoke not. Ildegerte with silent caution pre­ceded her companion through the dark passages, and reached at last a little gate, which was open­ed to her by a trabant, bought over to her interest.—She cast back another mournful look.

"This palace I entered in triumph," said she, "through yonder spacious portals, and am now doomed to fly from it like a criminal through this small gate. At that time the sun sparkled in a tear of joy, but now the moon in the tear of mi­sery. Perfidious husband! Away, that I may not curse the recollection of him!"

She spoke, and took little Haldan in her arms, (for her affection could not even trust him to the faithful Helga), and carefully carried him now through pathless forests, now over craggy cliffs, and now over bottomless morasses. The night was cold, but large drops trickled from the heroine's [Page 45] forehead. Her face and hands were lacerated by the briars; her feet, wounded by the pointed flints, left their bloody marks imprinted in the sand. Already had they been wandering for two hours, when the Queen asked Helga whether she was weary.

"I dare not tell a falshood," replied she; "I am very weary."

"True," said Ildegerte; "you have no pre­cious burden to scatter roses on your path. For­give me, faithful Helga."

"I am ashamed," answered she; "I'll follow you to death."

They continued their way. As yet they felt not the refreshing sea-breeze. The thickets grew more impenetrable, the path less beaten.

"Methinks," said Helga, "the morning dawns. Do you see that purple stripe in the east? Alas! what if the sun betray us!"

"Courage! Courage!" exclaimed Ildegerte. "We shall escape; the night has led us too much to the left; at break of day we shall discern our road."

The fugitives, urged by anxiety, redoubled their efforts. They sprung like kids from cliff to cliff; they crept like serpents through the interwoven [Page 46] bushes. Panting like hunted deer, they forced their way through brooks and swampy fens.

At once a thick fog arose, which dimmed the breaking day, and spread a second night around them, far more impenetrable than the former, which had been enlightened by the moon and stars. The unhappy Queen covered the child with all the garments she could spare, in order to defend him from the chilly rawness of the atmosphere. She summoned all her resolution to oppose the horrors of her situation, and had still a word of comfort left for Helga.

Alas! poor helpless wretches! What avails it that ye wander thus, besmeared with blood, in tears, and breathless? Do you know whither you are flying? Can you discern the tree close to you? Are you certain that some hostile demon is not leading you through this labyrinth back to the Pa­lace gate? Perhaps at that very moment the sun­beams may disperse the fog, exhibiting your man­gled persons to the derision of the Court and Hell.

"Oh Queen!" cried Helga, falling on a stone, "forgive me, I can go no further."

"Ye Gods! this is too much," cried Ildegerte. "Burden me not, Odin, beyond what I am able [Page 47] to bear. Collect this mist into a thunder-cloud, and launch the dart of Hela to my heart."

She threw herself upon the damp cold earth, close to her friend, pressed little Haldan feebly to her bosom, and warmed him with her tears.

The flood-gates of Heaven opened.—Forth gushed a torrent from the skies, accompanied by hall; the brooks were swoln beyond their banks, and the fields inundated; the miserable fugitives were completely drenched. Rapid streams rolled past them, and in huge drops a river seemed to fall from every tree.

Haldan (who till now had slept as soundly in his mother's arms beneath the canopy of angry Heaven, as on a bed of down in the palace of his father,) awoke, as at last the rain, in spite of Ildegerte's care, had forced its way. He awoke, and availed himself of the only arms which Nature (bounte­ous to every beast, to man alone penurious) had granted him. He cried so loudly and piteously that his voice rent the heart of his afflicted mo­ther, more than the thorns her feet and hands. Fruitless were her caresses, fruitless the offer of her breast, in which misery had dried all nourish­ment. At last her courage, her belief in a Provi­dence, who superintends the sufferings of inno­cence, [Page 48] forsook her; mad with despair and anguish, she wrung her hands, and cursed her existence.

Hark!

In the thickets barked a dog—not far distant seemed the sound; fresh [...], and strength, inspired the weary Queen.—She sprung nimbly on her feet, stretched forth her hand to her exhausted friend, raised her, commanded her to lean upon her arm, removed with her left hand the close-ce­mented bushes, clasped with her right the infant Haldan, and thus followed the sound, which still seemed nearer and nearer.

Suddenly she stood before a small hut, which, overshadowed by thick interwoven branches, bade defiance to every storm.

"I shall find some one here," said she to herself, "whose compassion I shall excite by the artless account of my distresses. But if not, be my last resource—this dagger."

Thus prepared for all, Ildegerte boldly knocked at the door of the little hut. But who can describe her astonishment, when a female voice called from within—

"Hail, Queen of Denmark and Norway! En­ter! Enter! Come to my sire, thou, Prince Hal­dan, and the faithful Helga."

[Page 49] At once the door flew from its hinges, and our heroine beheld sitting, at a blazing fire, a decrepit old woman, who, with palsied head, tottered to­wards her, seized her hand, and conducted her to a kind of couch, made of soft moss and twisted sedge. With benevolent solicitude she took the little Prince from her arms, laid him near the fire upon a bed of roses and sweet-scented herbs, went to milk her goats, and appeased his hunger. She then brought fruits and bread, with a cordial drink made by herself of honey and berries; at the same time she encouraged her guests by friendly conver­sation, pressing them to partake of her homely cheer, and not to despise her poverty, for she gave them what her little garden and cellar would al­low.

"When you," said she, "are recovered from the hardships you have encountered in the night, I will conduct you, by the nearest road, to the sea­shore. To be sure 'tis long since I forsook my hut, for age and infirmity are sisters; but to-day, by the assistance of my stick, I will contrive to hobble along, for I think it well worth my trou­ble to sacrifice the remnant of my strength in the assistance of so good a Queen. Fear not; you will not be pursued; the ship lies unobserved within a [Page 50] secret bay, the wind is fair, and ere the sun has half-fulfilled his course, the coast of Denmark will have vanished from your view."

The good Queen stared at her with astonishment, not knowing how to solve the mystery. The old woman seemed as well acquainted with her every secret as if she had been the companion of her youth, and never left her side.

"Who art thou, unaccountable?" stammered Ildegerte in a tone of suspicion; "who art thou, before whose eye the book of Fate lies open?"

"I am," replied she, "Suanhilda, the sorce­ress, whose name perhaps has reached your ears."

A sacred reverential impulse seized the Queen. She had often heard at her husband's Court of this miraculous woman, of her wonderous skill in magic and divination. But an instant before she had been convinced that Fame had not exaggerated it. It would have been folly to conceal her secret from such a favourite of the Gods: she therefore wisely determined to reveal to the old woman what the latter long had known, and implore her assistance.

Suanhilda promised, and fulfilled her promise; for as soon as the wanderers had dried their clothes, healed their wounds, and satisfied their hunger, she grasped her staff, and led her guests (as quick [Page 51] as the weight of a hundred years, which she bore upon her back, would allow) by a smooth path, known only to herself, to the sea-shore, where the crew joyfully hailed their freight, and a brisk breeze swelled the canvass. The sun, no longer hid by clouds, now sparkled in the rippling waves. Suan­hilda embraced Ildegerte.

"Farewell," said she, with an awful solemnity, while she gazed full in the horoine's face, and a more than mortal inspiration overspread her fea­tures; "farewell, till thou and thy thousands are borne upon the ocean back to the coast of Den­mark, where the desolated fields imbibe the grate­ful dew of Heaven, mingled with floods of gore, where the wretched peasant groans to thee for help and for deliverance, where Treason spreads its sooty pinions o'er the Palace.—Welcome, Oh heroine, amid the shouts of multitudes! Triumph and con­quer, thrice blessed mother of Kings! Thy name shall be named in distant ages, and behold! thy children's children pass before me, clad in purple, bearing the sceptre of Norway, which is decorated with the ever-blooming trophies, earned by Ilde­gerte."

The old woman, from a hillock near the shore, still continued her prophetic blessings, when a [Page 52] large space separated Ildegerte from that land, which, by her banishment, plunged itself into de­struction.

The voyage was prosperous, the weather favour­able. In a few days the heroine reached her native shores, and fled to the castle in the woods, which had before heard her lamentations for the loss of Thora, and concealed her anguish for the death of Swend.

BACK to the palace of the poor deluded King, where (to borrow a simile from Montesquieu) all is lifeless animation, and every one a walking statue!

Scarce had Theodoric awoke from a short slum­ber, which had rather wearied than refreshed him, when he was informed that one of the Queen's attendants waited in the anti-chamber, and desired admittance.

"Let her come," said he, affrighted, and fore­boding something unusual. The crimson flew into his face, he half-raised himself from his couch, and leaning on his elbow, fixed his eye upon the door.

[Page 53] With downcast looks, Ingibert, (the sister of our Helga) entered the apartment.—She was clothed in mourning, and from her head flowed the long crape to her feet.—Her uneven pace, her mute affliction, more appalled the King than if she had wrung her hands in agony, and torn her hair. She approached him with reverence, and silently presented a letter. Theodoric opened it with trembling hand, and read. Ingibert with­drew.

I leave it to your imagination, reader, to depict the impression which this solemn adieu made upon his heart, stormed as it was on every side. You know he was no villain, though his weakness, his too easy flexibility led him to commit more crimes than Harold, with all his villany, could perpetrate. At this moment all his tenderness awoke; he again beheld in Ildegerte his amiable wife, the mo­ther of his son.—He again reflected on her exalted virtues and unmerited distresses; he resolved to act like a man, and wept like a child. He determined boldly to surmount all the obstacles of policy, but, instead of instantly executing what the angel of Virtue whispered, to make Harold first acquainted [Page 55] with this alteration in his sentiments. The fa­vourite was summoned.

"Read, Harold, read!" reaching with trem­bling hand the open letter. "Read! give me thy advice, and calm, if possible, the tumult which rages in my heart."

Harold took the paper, and perused it.—The flight of Ildegerte was to him a thunder-bolt, which blasted at one blow his brightest hopes. Yet could the eye of one, endowed with a knowledge of mankind, read likewise in the generous renunciation which these lines conveyed, the surest method to regain Theodoric's wavering heart. This must be prevented; dissimulation was more necessary now than ever. Harold with difficulty tried to force a smile, closed the letter, thrust it in his bosom, and assuming an air of indifference, demanded—

"What does the King intend to do?"

"What he must do," replied Theodoric, "if he will obey the dictates of his heart; what he must do, if he will lay claim to a title far above that of King—the title of an upright man."

"But there is a wide difference," said the Prince, "between an upright King and an upright individual. The latter can by no means be con­cerned in our present deliberation; the former [Page 56] must not consult his heart, but the opinion of the nation."

"And of his own accord linger all his life upon the rock of conscience?" cried Theodoric.

"If he will suffer his imagination," answered Harold, "to bind him to the rock, why, yes."

"Sorry I am, then," rejoined the King, "that I am a slave to mine. Spare your words; send a small vessel instantly to Norway for her; send an ambassador instantly to Sweden. I will not see the Princess, I will not hear her name again."

"The hostile army," replied Harold, "will bellow it loudly enough in your ears. What am­bassador can I send? who of all your subjects will step forward to be torn in pieces by just exaspera­tion? Hermanfried would rave, Luitgardis with tears inspire each arm. Every noble Swede would rather die a thousand deaths than suffer such an insult to be unrevenged. Already do I see them burst upon us like fragments of broken rocks; al­ready do I see them desolate thy fertile kingdom, butcher thy subjects, and enslave their children; already do I hear thy faithful followers curse thy weakness, which drags them thus to slaughter for a woman's sake. The welfare of the state is your first law; this Ildegerte herself confesses by [Page 57] her voluntary resignation; you should be obliged to her for having made the step more easy, which costs your heart, as I perceive, so much."

"Alas!" exclaimed Theodoric, "what must become of her? Is she doomed, as a reward for all her love and valour, only to hunt the bears in Norway's forests?"

"Not so," answered Harold. "You may, by a thousand little favours, alleviate her lot. Let her retain, as heretofore, the title of Queen, that will flatter her ambition. Let her have a consider­able revenue, that will procure the conveniences of life."

"But her heart—?" said the King.

"That," replied the Prince, "will be more open to a mother's joys, more closely connected to her son, and will find its reward in the reflection of having contributed to the happiness of a whole nation."

"And I—?" proceeded Theodoric, with a deep sigh.

"To that question," answered he, presenting a miniature, "let the original of this reply."

"What is it?" cried the King, eagerly.

"The beauteous copy of a still more beauteous girl," said Harold.

[Page 58] "And the original?" demanded he.

"I dare not name," returned Harold; "you have forbidden it."

"Luitgardis?" asked he, impatiently.

"The same," said the Prince.

Theodoric riveted his eye upon the picture.

"She is handsome."—A pause.—"Beautiful!"—Another pause—"Enchanting!"

"And yet," rejoined Harold, "'tis thought the painter has but ill succeeded in the expression of that gentle soul which animates these features. He was unable to steal from her that smile, which she seems to have stolen from the goddess Freya."

"Who brought it?" asked Theodoric.

"A messenger," returned the Prince, "who, at the same time, announces the near approach of the Princess. He reports that, at his departure from the Court, she purposed to remain but three days longer, and as he has been by accident detain­ed upon the road, he expects her to be close behind him."

"So soon?" cried Theodoric. "Before we are prepared for her reception?"

"Heed not that," said the villain; "only pre­pare your heart, and to your faithful Harold leave the rest."

[Page 59] "Haste then!" exclaimed the King.—"Let no decoration or magnificence be wanting. Fame describes her Brother's Court as splendid; I should not wish her to miss here what custom may have rendered requisite."

"Every costly ornament," said Harold, "which your royal treasure can procure, she shall find in her apartments. Add to this," continued he, in a jocular tone, "the value which such a present gains from your hand, and methinks Luitgardis will be satisfied."

The Prince was now going, when Theodoric detained him, by asking for the letter.

"It were better, kinsman," rejoined Harold, "not to read it a second time."

"It at least deserves an answer," observed the King.

"It does," returned Harold, "and I advise you to accompany it with presents. Fail not also to call her Queen, and command the nobles who take it to bend the knee, as is meet when they approach the consort of their King."

"And to convince her, by irresistible elo­quence," proceeded Theodoric, fixing his eye up­on the picture, "of the sad necessity which obliges [Page 60] me, so contrary to the wishes of my faithful heart—"

"And so forth," interrupted Harold.—"Yes, yes; but allow me to state another doubt which has occurred to me. If I am wrong my zeal for your safety must serve as my excuse. Would it not be conformable to the dictates of caution, if you were to station a few troops on the confines of Norway?"

"Why so?" demanded he.

"How easily," said Harold—"pardon me, 'tis but a supposition, yet it is founded on a knowledge of the sex, which, when slighted, ever thirsts for vengeance—how if Ildegerte, who in her native land has powerful interest, were to excite your sub­jects to revolt?"

"Peace!" cried the King. "Her noble soul cannot be capable of such a thought."

"Of what cannot the storm of passions make a woman capable?" answered he.—"Who ever yet repented caution? And, why is it necessary that the purpose for which your troops are sent thither should be known?"

"No," exclaimed the King, "it cannot be. I'll hear no more; not a single man shall approach the borders, and those at present scattered in that [Page 61] district, shall immediately return, that Ildegerte may not think me guilty of harbouring the least suspicion."

"As you please," concluded Harold, "I have but done my duty."

The hypocrite departed. His deluded friend, (who had so often sacrificed the substance for the shadow) sought consolation in the picture of the Swedish princess, and tried, by gazing at her lovely features, to drive from his remembrance the tear which perhaps at that moment trickled down the cheek of Ildegerte. He convinced himself that he had done every thing which love and generosity demanded. Had he been but a subject, reasoned he, no power on earth should have forced him to lose Ildegerte; he would have fled with her to a desert; wild herbs would, at her side, have been luxuries, and water nectar. But Fate had placed him in a station which we mortals are for ever painting the most arduous and unenviable, which, however, not one in a thousand voluntarily quits, and which none of us, who thus despise it, would refuse, if it were offered. What remains to be done? He has but two alternatives; he must either audaciously oppose the will of the Gods, and the intreaties of his subjects, or cast away the purple, [Page 62] and retire to Norway's woods, there to die poor and unknown, yet at the side of Ildegerte. The first no mortal dares to do, the latter he must not; for to leave a flock without a shepherd would be cruelty, and to rob his heirs of their paternal right would be madness.

Thus the sophist quietly submits to his destiny, writes a luke-warm letter full of forced apologies to Ildegerte, tries to make amends by costly pre­sents for what the style may want in affection, and wonders when she sends the presents back, nor deigns to write him a reply. He terms her con­duct haughty, thinks he has a right to talk of un­deserved injuries, and feels a secret joy in having found another cover for his perfidy.

Well is it for the villain, who can thus rock his conscience to repose. Even Theodoric envies him, for he is not always able thus to impose upon him­self by sophistry.

A THOUSAND times has it been said, (and falsely said) that the path of seduction is only strew­ed with roses. True it is, the further one ad­vances, the more easy seems the way, the more [Page 63] numerous these short-lived flowers. This, how­ever, is not at the beginning of the road, but where it deviates from the path of Virtue. There has Virtue scattered many a thorn, which, from time to time, benevolently tears the thoughtless wanderer's foot, to make him attentive to the way which he is chusing.

Luitgardis came. On every side triumphal arches were erected. The streets were adorned with branches, the windows decked with garlands, and each clad in his best attire. A magnificent procession paraded in honour of the festive day, but the countenances of the assembled multitude gave the lie to their garments; no joyful shout saluted the young couple; all was silent as if a fu­neral were passing, and Theodoric, at the side of Luitgardis, felt the bitterest mortification. He commanded meat and bread, as well as intoxicating liquors, to be given to the populace. All refused to taste them, and crowded to the temple of Odin, where, since the last battle, Ildegerte had hung her lance and helmet, which they bedewed with tears.

Theodoric heard it, and his heart bled.

All seemed to combine on this day to plant a thousand daggers in his heart. Sir Siegwin, an [Page 64] old Swede, (the same who conveyed the body of Canfried from the field of battle, and slew Swend's murderer) came in the suite of Luitgardis to deli­ver the young Princess to the King: but scarce had he performed this errand, ere he sprung upon his steed to return home.

"Whither so soon?" cried the astonished King. "Will you affront me so much as to refuse the cup of joy upon the day of my nuptials?"

"Sir," said old Siegwin, "do you remember our interchange of friendship on the field of battle? My King commanded me to accompany the Prin­cess; I have delivered her to you. My friendship I take back."

Without waiting a reply he spurred his steed, and vanished from the sight of the abashed Theo­doric, whose conscience loudly called to him—

'"Thou deservest not the friendship of so worthy a man."'

Thus did the viperous tooth of Conscience gnaw every morsel that he ate, taint every drop he drank, and poison every kiss he imprinted on the lips of his bride.

And Luitgardis? Oh! she was a good harmless being, ever gay and ever happy.—She saw no fur­ther than it was wished she should see, and enjoyed [Page 65] the pleasures of the present hour, regardless of the next.

And Harold? 'Tis time to return to him, whose well-concerted plan had been defeated by the flight of Ildegerte, and whom you perhaps fancy con­tented with the thought of having so completely revenged his slighted love, and resolved calmly to enjoy the fruits of this revenge. Nothing less. Harold (like a skilful chess-player, who always knows how to give another turn to his game, when a movement of his adversary has defeated his first-plan) now aimed at the throne of his forefathers (as he termed it), even without the help of Swe­den. He had not a moment's doubt but that his hand would be accepted, when he had it in his power to make the offer from a throne. Notwith­standing all his craft and knowledge of mankind, he sometimes fell into the same mistake as attaches to the rest of us poor mortals.—He attributed to each character unintentionally some mixture of his own, by which mistake it came to pass, that as he laid down false positions, false consequences ensued. He could as little fancy the patient and submissive Ildegerte, as the Greeks a Juno, without jealousy.

"Let me but be a King," was his false argu­ment, "and she will be ready enough to snatch at [Page 66] any opportunity of convincing Theodoric that she can be a Queen in spite of him."

ALMIGHTY Ruler of creation! Is it not enough that an audacious despot shall be able to destroy that noble emulation, the axis upon which all republican states turn, and substitute his mad ambition? Must even Love, that gentle child of Heaven, formed only for the consolation of suffer­ing humanity, afford him a pretext?

Already was Harold, the favourite, possessed of a blind confidence, lord over the revenues of the kingdom, lord over the strongest forts, lord over the army; for he had ever contrived to remove from the throne the faithful and deserving patriot, and to supply the place by a creature devoted to his will. And who can deny that Theodoric assisted the traitor in his projects? Had he not lost the love of his people by banishing their idol, Ilde­gerte? What had he been since that time, but a mark for their derision and contempt? Alas! but too easy access did Harold find to their hearts. He complained with the discontented, plotted with [Page 67] the disaffected, and, in a short time, beheld him­self at the head of a powerful party, who eagerly awaited the signal for revolt. Nothing was want­ing but a favourable opportunity, and the demon of discord failed not to provide it.

Theodoric, in the possession of a lovely wife, a double crown, an unmolested peace, was wretched; for the joys of the bridal bed, the grandeur of the diadem, the smile of peace stilled not the voice of his accuser, Conscience. He avoided himself, and the whole world; he launched eagerly into every dissipation; he endeavoured to forget the past amid the noisy bustle of the Court. In vain, in vain! An irksome disgust attended him, even to the arms of the beauteous Luitgardis. The society of each contemptible court minion soon became indispensi­ble, because his shallow brain could daily hammer forth new means of dissipation.

Harold availed himself of this state of mind, and, by one of his partisans, caused the King to fall upon the idea of making a tour through his realms.

"Excellent! Excellent!" cried the cheated mo­narch. "We shall be daily amused by new ob­jects, we shall hear the petitions of the distant pro­vinces. [Page 68] Quick! make instant preparations, that the pleasant season may not pass."

His impatience was beyond all bounds; every delay intolerable; not a hand was there in the pa­lace unemployed. In a few days he left the me­tropolis, having appointed Prince Harold the un­limited Regent during his absence.

This was the moment which the favourite had awaited. He daily received messengers from the King, announcing the continuance of his journey; and scarce did he know him far enough advanced towards the confines, when he at once threw away the mask, assembled his creatures round him, took the young Queen into custody, overpowered the few who were faithful to Theodoric, and was joy­fully hailed by the infatuated populace, King of Denmark.

He mounted the throne with affected modesty, heard and determined every cause in person, re­pealed some taxes which were heavy on the people, doubled the allowance of the army, sacrificed to the Gods, gifted the priests, amused the vulgar by a few hired jugglers, published a plausible mani­festo, indisputably proving his right to the throne, and thus secured his booty without opposition.

Indissolubly, as he thought, was the knot of [Page 69] power now tied; and on the summit of his gran­deur he felt no other wish than the gratification of his lust. He seized the pen, and wrote—

A splendid embassy was dispatched to Norway to deliver this letter, and to convey Ildegerte tri­umphant to the coast of Denmark.

Immoveable, as if struck by Odin's thunder­bolt, stood the weak Theodoric, on hearing the dreadful tidings brought by a faithful fugitive. Long his tongue refused its office, and the first ex­clamation that quivered on his lips, was—

"Oh Ildegerte, Ildegerte! This have I for thy sake merited. Can the wretch who betrayed his own wife, complain of a friend's perfidy?"

Extend, good reader, your compassion to the miserable outcast, for, at this moment, he ceases to deserve your hate; behold and pity his desperate situation. See where the Court-sycophants steal away, to throw themselves in the shadow of a more fruitful tree; for this, lopped of its leaves, [Page 70] stands naked and defenceless. Forsaken by his friends and subjects, without an army, without money, without counsel, husband of two wives, and unable to seek comfort in the bosom of either—this is the image of the wretch, who, torn by a thousand agonies, extinguishes the indignation which his weakness had excited in our hearts.

He wandered from city to city—the gates were shut to him; he fled from village to village—scarce did some honest peasant share with him his morsel of coarse bread.

Thus did he steal through a thousand dangers to the remotest province of his kingdom, the only one still faithful to him. Here he collected a band of a few thousands, headed them, and boldly marched against the robber of his crown; but as he dared not hope for victory, he resolved in de­spair to rush upon the sword of the foe, and finish his miserable being on the field of battle.

Harold laughed at his temerity, braced on his armour, assembled his innumerable troops, headed them, and fiercely sallied forth to complete the subjection of the kingdom, and chain his rival to the triumphal carriage, which was to bear him and Ildegerte to the altar of Siofna. He daily expected the return of the ambassadors from Norway, and [Page 71] was at a loss to account for their long stay. But he consoled himself with the idea, that when all had submitted to the victor, he might rest the more easy in the arms of love.

Meanwhile the two armies (if Theodoric's small band deserve the name of army) had approached each other. Theodoric wished for battle, Harold avoided it; not because he had the smallest doubt of a decisive victory, but he would take the rebels (as he termed them) alive, surround them by supe­rior force, and compel them, by famine, to sur­render their shadow of a King. Every thing seem­ed to favour this project. In a barren valley, de­void of water, the inconsiderate King had pitched his tents. Every avenue was possessed by the ene­my. Bread began to fall, and the burning thirst of the loyal troops was quenched only by the dew of Heaven. A few excursions were hazarded; each time the little band returned diminished. The peo­ple murmured, and considered themselves as sheep led to slaughter.—The impulse of self-preservation awoke, and easily overpowered the enthusiastic idea of an unalterable allegiance to their sovereign. Ha­rold daily sent disguised impostors to the camp, who offered pardon to all the wavering, if they [Page 72] would voluntarily surrender, and deliver their King into his power.

"Why this delay?" said they. "Your bre­thren have yielded to the conqueror, and are hap­py. The new King is gracious; he will be a fa­ther to you; but beware how you provoke his wrath. Can you think, with a handful of men, to oppose hunger, thirst, and an innumerable army? Harold could long since have annihilated your poor band, had he not pitied you infatuation, and wished to spare the blood of his subjects, (for as such he still considers you). Seize and kiss the hand which a father offers, ere you too late repent your obsti­nacy."

These addresses naturally made a deep impression on the minds of those who heard them. They combined, and determined to offer the sacrifice re­quired, in order to save themselves from inevita­ble ruin.

Thus helpless was the situation of poor Theodo­ric. The design of his followers was not unknown to him, and each moment he expected to be drag­ged in chains before the traitor, whom he had once loaded with kindnesses. This idea was to him in­supportable. Once more his courage awoke:

"Rather die than increase Harold's triumph." [Page 73] Thus spoke he to himself, and prepared a cup of poison, which he was just about to swallow, when Escill entered his tent. He announced a woman, who, with a basket of fruit, had stolen through the enemy, and desired to speak with him.—Scarce had he finished, when the woman entered.

"Helga!" cried the King. "Art thou here? Is it possible?"

Helga silently greeted him, and delivered a letter.

"God of Heaven!" exclaimed Theodoric, while a flood of tears gushed down his face, and not knowing what he did, he clasped the faithful Helga in his arms. "Is it not a dream? So much generosity! So unmerited! How shall I dare to meet the injured angel, whom I have so basely—"

[Page 74] "Of that we must not now converse," said Helga. "Pardon me, Sir, you have too often sacrificed the present to the future. Do you un­derstand and approve of Ildegerte's letter?"

"Perfectly," answered he, "and will follow her directions punctually."

"Then I have fulfilled my errand," rejoined Helga. "Farewell!"

"But another word," cried the King.—"How happens this? How did my distresses reach her ear!"

"Our enemy was so kind," returned she, "as to honour us with a confidence, which we might have expected from you. But, to be brief, (for my time is short) your worthy kinsman, Prince Harold, had for some time cast an eye of affection upon Ildegerte, and having it in his power to add to the allurements of his person, the allurements of a throne, (whether acquired by birth or usur­pation is to him alike) he ventured (unhappily for him rather too soon) to make a formal offer of his hand by embassy. What followed is easily divined. The worthy ambassadors were confined, that the usurper might remain in a state of uncertainty; a small army was hastily collected; a favourable [Page 75] breeze wafted us across the sea, and here we are with you to conquer or to die."

The good King could not check his tears, or bear this sudden change of fortune.

"Tell her," cried he, "that she has saved an ungrateful wretch from death and infamy, that this cup of poison had already touched my lips."

He was still sobbing and moaning to Helga, long after she had left the tent.—She stole with her basket through the hostile camp, mounted the nim­ble steed that awaited her among the thickets, and hastened to Ildegerte, who, in the meantime, had advanced a day's march at the head of her Norwe­gians. The re-animated King immediately convened the leaders of his little army, and announced to them the joyful news, which quickly spread from tent to tent, appeasing hunger and disaffection, in­spiring every heart with courage, every arm with strength, every breast with loyalty, and every eye with martial fire. "Ildegerte!" was the general cry. A cheerful bustle pervaded the camp. Hel­mets were polished, swords were sharpened, and hymns of victory sung by anticipation. Upon the summit of the neighbouring mountain a centinel was stationed, to strike his shield thrice as soon as he espied the approaching army. Every one wished [Page 76] to relieve this guard, for every one was eager to announce the happy tidings.

Harold heard with astonishment the shouts of joy in the valley, from whence the air till now had wafted to him naught but groans. A spy came to acquaint him with the threatened stroke. He was furious, and resolved at break of the succeeding morning, to storm the narrow valley, and destroy the paltry band, that when Ildegerte came, she might find the work already finished, and return disappointed to the woods of Norway. He re­solved—but the Gods had otherwise resolved.

The sun declined, and his first beams already kissed the ocean, when the guard upon the moun­tain thrice struck his shield. Every one climbed to the summit, and with silent rapture saw the nu­merous troops emerge from a cloud of dust, spread in thick ranks across the plain, and pitch their tents at a small distance from the tyrant's camp.

Harold foamed with rage, and vowed the death of the audacious woman. 'Twas not fear that caused him thus to knit his brow, to fix his eye upon the earth, the gnash his teeth, and clench his fist. What had Harold to fear? Ildegerte's army, joined to Theodoric's weak exhausted band, equal­led not half his force, and half of Ildegerte's fol­lowers [Page 77] were women. Fear it was not, but his de­spised affection, which converted his desire to de­testation, drove his boiling blood into his head, and forced from him an oath to exterminate the daring creature, together with her beardless train.

With eyes that darted fire, he left his tent to prepare his troops for battle on the ensuing morn­ing. But alas! what a sudden change! Shallow blockhead! Couldst thou think the name of Ilde­gerte was forgotten by the Danes?

"Who are they that approach?" said one to another. "Are they friends or foes?"

Soon was it proclaimed:

"'Tis Ildegerte, our Queen, the valiant noble being! Who dares to lift his hand against her? If she defends Theodoric, Theodoric is right, and we are rebels.—Away to her feet! Let us appease the heroine's wrath by voluntary submission."

And see! Here and there a troop forsook its leader. The deserters every moment increased; every moment increased the shouts of

"Long live Queen Ildegerte!"

One dragged away another; hundreds followed without knowing why or whither. They plucked green branches from the trees as a token of pacific disposition, laid their arms at the feet of Ildegerte's [Page 78] guard (which at first attempted to oppose them) crowded with acclamations to the camp, and de­manded a sight of the Queen.

Ildegerte issued from her tent with an air of ma­jestic dignity. The multitude fell upon their knees, blessed their Queen, and sued for pardon. The heroine waved her hand. A death-like silence reigned throughout the assembly, and anxious ex­pectation sat upon every countenance.

"I thank you," said she, "for this mark of your attachment. My heart feels its value, and, as a female, I may be allowed without restraint to shed the tear which you see trembling in my eye. But I have nothing to forgive. 'Tis your King whom you have injured; 'tis your King, at whose feet you must try by supplication to avert the sword of Justice. All I can promise is, to join my prayers to your's. Go, unite yourselves to my followers, and wait with resignation the approach­ing morn. The rising sun will dispel the enchant­ment which till now has bound your senses."

She ceased, and the still increasing multitude respectfully obeyed her words. The camp was too small to contain all that arrived. They passed the night beneath the starry heavens, anxiously sigh­ing for the break of day.

[Page 79] The sun rose, and Ildegerte in vain looked for an enemy. Notwithstanding Harold's furious me­naces, notwithstanding the examples of a hundred, whom he with his own hand slew, as they were flying, his mighty army every instant lessened. When he turned to the left, the right wing fled, and while in pursuit of this, the left forsook him. At last he remained alone and in despair. Too dastardly to throw himself upon his sword, he escaped through the darkness of night to the sea­shore, embarked on board a fisherman's skiff, fled to Germany, and in some miserable hamlet hid his disgrace and remorse. No one pursued him. In a few years, exhausted by the horrors of conscience, he descended to the horrors of Niflheim.

Ildegerte mournfully returned thanks to the God of war for the victory obtained without a blow, and was informed, as she departed from the altar, of Theodoric's near approach, who, with his band of faithful followers, had already left the valley, and was coming towards her through the enemy's deserted camp. She hastened to receive him.

But what Divinity inspires me to describe this meeting? Theodoric sprung from his charger, threw himself at Ildegerte's feet, and writhed in the dust. He was bathed in tears, and his sobs [Page 80] choked his utterance.—Ildegerte raised him, and in a gentle voice besought him to forget the past, and to forgive the rebels. She conducted him into her pavilion, to hide from the gazing multitude the confusion of their Monarch.

What a triumph for the banished Queen, to re­place a crown upon the head of her ungrateful husband, to make him feel, in spite of his injustice, how great was her influence in the hearts of his subjects!

Joyfully the army now approached the metropo­lis. All the gates were open to receive them—every heart beat friendly towards them. Luitgar­dis was released, affectionately embraced by Ilde­gerte, and mortified by no reproach, or scornful look. Easy it is to imagine the perplexity of poor Theodoric. He loved Ildegerte more than ever. The army adored her; the heart of every Dane was her's; the whole Court hung with reverence upon her looks: The idea of her being mother to a guitless child, divested of his rights, added an affecting portion of compassion to respect and love.—No one doubted, after all she had done for the nation, that she would demand, and receive the most honourable restoration to the dignities of which she had unjustly been deprived. The King [Page 81] was willing from his heart to make reparation for his crime, and Luitgardis, (though she trembled at the thought) could not deny that Ildegerte was worthy of the preference. In this surmise the na­tion was confirmed, when Ildegerte summoned an assembly of all the estates, for the purpose of pub­licly addressing them. The day was fixed for this solemnity, and awaited with anxious curiosity by every Dane. During the intervening period, va­rious were the opinions of the points which were to be the subject of the Queen's harrangue.

If you wish to be a witness, reader, of this so­lemn scene, follow me. I will conduct you to a hill, from whence you may survey the whole.

The morning dawned. The beams of the rising sun shed a cheerful lustre on the plain, which, decked with innumerable flowers, stretched to an immeasurable distance.

Look! There, where the far horizon cheats the sight with a dark-blue shade, there rises to the clouds a towering wood of firs. To the right, a rivulet glides softly over the pebbles, in whose murmuring waves ten thousand diamonds seem to sparkle. To the left rises a mountain awfully ma­jestic, whose summit oft is crowned with clouds, and which oft derides the thunder roaring at its [Page 82] base. To-day, however, it is clear, and bears the altar, from which the curling smoke spires into the air. The priest, who, on his knees, with sacred hand is nourishing the flame, seems at that height a dwarf.

But what thus glitters like the sun, in the cen­tre of the plain? What dazzling mixture this, of gold and gorgeous colours?

'Tis the King's throne, to which are five steps, covered with scarlet silk. The hangings are of embroidered gold, which, drawn at the sides into festoons, display the lofty ivory seat ingeniously worked. There lies upon a satin cushion the re­splendent crown, studded with precious stones; near it the golden sceptre. A hundred feathers, purple, white, and pearl-coloured, nod from the canopy with gentle motion to the seat.

But what thus glitters like the moon on each side of the throne?

The thrones of the two Queens, to which are three steps covered with blue silk. The seats are smaller, gilt, and carved in divers places. The canopies are of embroidered silver, upon which a plume of blue feathers here and there is wafted by the zephyrs.

[Page 83] But, what these distant warlike sounds that strike the ear?

They are the drums and horns, the flutes, the cymbals, and the trumpets (which with a solemn march precede the grand procession), mixed with the people's shouts, who press round the King's triumphal carriage. At his right hand fits, with burnished armour, and with open helm, the hero­ine Ildegerte. Upon her brow reigns the consci­ousness of mighty deeds, and in her looks glows a majestic dignity. At his left hand sits, in the snow-white robe of innocence, the gentle Luitgardis, with dejected mien and prophetic dread of her fu­ture destiny. See what innumerable multitudes rush through the gates! See how they spread along the road, crowd to the carriage, cut the traces, and drag, with shouts of joy, their much-loved burden.

The magnificent procession now approaches. First come, with drawn swords, six thousand Amazons, headed by the faithful Helga, who nim­bly separate, and surround their Monarch's throne. They are followed by the triumphal muscle-formed carriage, bearing the royal group,6Literally the royal trefoil. attended by trabants, men, women, and children. Now come the nobles of the land, the estates of Denmark and [Page 84] of Norway, the Knights, the Leaders, and the Senators. Each heads, according to his dignity or wealth, a larger or smaller troop of warlike vas­sals, 'squires, armour-bearers, attendants. The train is endless.

But see! The King has already mounted his throne. Ildegerte has taken the seat on his right, and Luitgardis on his left. The different estates of the kingdom occupy the steps of the thrones.

Four heralds blow the trumpet, and command respectful silence. Instantly all is still as if a God had deprived a million of existence. No one dares to breathe, or quit the place, where Chance has fixed him. Those who are behind, rise on the tip-toe, staring with eager looks over the heads and shoulders of the crowd before them.

Then arose Ildegerte from her seat with lofty dignity, and thus addressed the assembly:—

"Mighty King of Denmark and Norway, my lord and husband—ye nobles of the realm and countless multitude, whose looks hang on my words with anxious expectation, think not that, by my petition and Theodoric's command, you are assem­bled here to witness any deed which will lessen the value of my heart. The unmerited affliction which I have endured, has neither damped my spirit, nor [Page 85] diminished the upright sensations of my soul. Far be it from Ildegerte, therefore, to seek the re­storation of her happiness in the misery of the in­nocent. I come not to require that station, which the King's affection once bestowed upon me. His will and your's have deemed it expedient, for the welfare of the state, to unite the Northern king­doms by this gentle tie, thereby to avert bloodshed and division. I revere your wisdom, I wish not to cloud the fountains of private peace and unanimi­ty, whose waters fertilize these realms. I acknow­ledge Luitgardis not to be my Queen, but your's. May she love Theodoric as I loved, as I still love him! Ildegerte will be her sister, not her rival. For myself therefore I have nothing to beg. Beg, did I say? Ildegerte never begs; for what the most holy laws of heaven and earth allot to her, she demands. I demand of you, ye estates of both the kingdoms, that you restore to the child what your King has wrested from the mother, that my son never may have cause to recollect my banishment. Acknow­ledge loudly and openly—Prince Haldan is Theo­doric's eldest son."

"He is! he is!" resounded from all sides.

"Speak then!" continued she; "Where is he to look for his inheritance▪"

[Page 86] "He is heir to both the kingdoms," cried the people.

"I thank you," said Ildegerte. "And you, Theodoric," proceeded she, sinking on one knee, "do you sanction what your estates so loudly de­cree?"

The good King, (who, to-day, was literally but the shadow of a King, and who, tossing on his ivory throne from side to side, read in the looks of his subjects that they thought him but a man, who knew not the difference between gold and sil­ver) stooped blushing to the heroine, and raised her in his arms.

"Am I not obliged to you," said he, "for this my crown, this my sceptre, and the happiest hours of my existence? Is not your son also mine? Do you ask a sinner this only to confuse him?"

"Enough!" cried Ildegerte. "Now modest Lu­itgardis, your consent alone is wanting."

The gentle being, from whose mild blue eyes the tears had long been falling on her throbbing bosom, rose, and threw herself at Ildegerte's feet.

"Oh inimitable woman! allow me to attempt a copy of your virtues. Take back the place from which I innocently drove you—it belongs to you [Page 87] alone. Let me in retirement merit but the title of your friend."

"Not so," rejoined the heroine. "You are the Queen, you are and shall remain so. As a wife, I have renounced every claim; I have only spoken as a mother, that my son, by being interwoven in my destiny, might not curse my weakness. I stand here to open the gates of honour, which have been shut to him by my disgrace. Declare!"

Luitgardis turned to the crowd.

"Listen to me, Oh ye people! Let my weak voice reach your ears. And thou, all-seeing Vara, goddess of pure vows, avenger of perjury, thee do I call to witness, that I here acknowledge Prince Haldan to be the only lawful heir to both the North­ern crowns; and should Siofna bless my bed, cursed be the child who wantonly dares to break his mother's oath!"

A murmur of applause pervaded the multitude.

"Have you," demanded Ildegerte, "well con­sidered the nature of this oath? Do you know the force of maternal love? What will you leave your children?"

"A grateful heart," said she. "Will they not even be obliged to you for their existence?"

"Good woman," cried the heroine, "you [Page 88] deserve more than it is in my power to give. To rob your children of both crowns, in order to place them on the head of mine, were no longer maternal love, but rather an unbridled lust of pow­er. Heaven grant my son strength to bear but one, as may become an upright Monarch! 'Tis the diadem of Norway I demand for him; let Denmark's sceptre remain in the hands of your children."

This contest between two virtuous souls drew tears from a million eyes. Ildegerte and Luitgar­dis were alternate objects of love and admiration. Every one wished to give all to both, for both de­served more than all that could be given. But as Ildegerte insisted on the generous renunciation of the Danish crown, the estates of both kingdoms unanimously resolved that Prince Haldan be esta­blished and henceforth considered King of Norway, and in case of the royal issue being extinct in ei­ther of the kingdoms, that the crown devolve upon the neighbouring Monarch.

Ildegerte had required nothing for herself; but every heart leaned towards her, and wished to ex­tinguish in her bosom the remembrance of her un­deserved afflictions.—Ildegerte (thus decreed the estates) shall bear, during her life, the title of [Page 89] Queen of Norway, and deliverer of Denmark. She shall take her station upon festivals at the King's right hand. She shall reign in Norway, during the minority of her son, as she reigns in the hearts of its inhabitants, and a monument of brass shall record her deeds to posterity.

In the heroine's eye quivered a tear of bliss. She bowed to the multitude, and a thousand voices raised her name with joyful shouts to the habita­tion of the Gods.

Loud sounded the trumpets, cymbals, drums, and horns, but louder the glad cry of

"Long live Queen Ildegerte!"

A happy banquet followed the solemnities. In a thousand decorated tents the teeming horn went round. The gay couples winded through the ma­zy dance, and the rising sun beheld the intoxicated slumberers stretched upon the dewy grass.

But already does maternal love hurry Ildegerte to the strand; already does the ship unmoor which is to bear the heroine to her native shores. But another embrace, another parting tear, another sad adieu, and—the rowers dash through the foaming waves, the pendants wanton in the air, a fresh breeze swells the canvass, and already is the coast hidden in the mist. All is now lost, except the [Page 90] loud blessings of the affected multitude, which are borne upon the wings of the wind to Ildegerte's ear.

NO more has my feeble pen to relate of this illustrious heroine. She was a Thora, and tried to make her son a Swend. But that she was not immortal, and that, weary of life, she too at last slept in the arms of Hela, is betrayed by the cy­press, which hangs on the lyre of her Scald.