a Romantic Opera
adapted from Sir Walter Scott's novel

music by Arthur Sullivan

words by Julian Sturgis


Dedicated by special permission to Her Most Gracious Majesty THE QUEEN, at whose suggestion this work was written in grateful acknowledgement of Her Majesty's kindly encouragement, by her humble and devoted Subject and Servant, Arthur Sullivan.

First produced at the Royal English Opera, Cambridge Circus, London, under the management of Mr. R. D'Oyly Carte, three inaugural performances, conducted by the Composer, being given on Saturday, January 31, 1891, Monday, February 2, 1891, and Wednesday, February 4, 1891.

The opera produced under the direction of the Composer.
The stage management by Mr. Hugh Moss.
Musical Director Mr. François Cellier.
Conductors Messrs. François and Ernest Ford.
The Stage and Stage Machinery by Mr. W.P. Dando.

Dramatis Personæ

Richard Coeur-de-Leon, King of England (disguised as the Black Knight)
Prince John
Sir Brian de Bois Guilbert (Commander of the Order of the Knights Templar)
Maurice de Bracy
Lucas de Beaumanoir (Grand Master of the Templars)
Cedric the Saxon (Thane of Rotherwood)
Wilfred, Knight of Ivanhoe (his son, disguised as a Palmer)
Friar Tuck
Isaac of York
The Squire
The Lady Rowena (ward of Cedric)
Rebecca (daughter of Isaac of York)
                             Act I.
                scene 1. The Hall of Rotherwood.
              scene 2. An Ante-room in Rotherwood.
           scene 3. The Lists at Ashby-de-la-Zouche.
                            Act II.
     scene 1. The Forest. Friar Tuck's Hut at Copmanhurst.
      scene 2. Passage Way in the Castle of Torquilstone.
            scene 3. Turret Chamber in Torquilstone.
                            Act III.
 scene 1. Room in Torquilstone. The Assault. The Burning of the
                      scene 2. The Forest.
            scene 3. The Preceptory at Templestowe.
                             ACT I.

Scene I.   The Hall of CEDRIC. Evening. At the high table stands
CEDRIC. His men are making ready for supper.

CEDRIC.   Each day this realm of England faints and fails.
          The King is wandering who knows where; his knights,
          His Norman knights like robbers waste the land,
          And drive our herds within their castle walls.
          O Wilfred, O my son, O Ivanhoe,
          Hadst thou not crossed my will and flouted me,
          Daring to raise thine eyes to my Royal ward,
          I had not been left a lonely man
          Amid these thieving Normans.
          Alone am I: I have no son. (A knocking at the gate.)
          Who knocks? Out, knaves, and see! And now to supper.
               To all, Was hael! (He drinks.)
MEN (getting to the table).   Was hael! Drink hael! 
               Supper and song   so runs the stave;
               Supper and song for knight and knave;
               Drink deep, drink deep!
               Eat, drink, and sleep 
               Till daylight peep! 
               Drink to the house of Cedric!
               Hoch! the house of Cedric!
               Drink hael! Was hael!
               Hoch! Hoch! Was hael! 

Enter ISAAC.

ISAAC.    Good Thane, most noble Thane, I pray
          For food and shelter from the night.
          Isaac of York am I, 
MEN.      A Jew?
ISAAC.         A Jew, but poor,
          And poorest shelter all I dare to ask.
CEDRIC.   Not even one of thine accursed race
          Must fail our Saxon hospitality!
          To supper with what greed thou hast!

A knocking at the gates.

          Now heaven keep me cool! What bolder knaves
          Break in upon us with untimely din?
          Go, some of you, and see who knock so loud.


SQUIRE.   Brian de Bois Guilbert,
          Knight of the Holy Order of the Temple,
          And the most valiant Lord, Maurice de Bracy,
          Journeying to the tourney,
          Now to be held at Ashby de la Zouch,
          By order of their Royal Lord, Prince John  
          Ask food and shelter of the Saxon Thane,
          Cedric of Rotherwood.
CEDRIC.   What cockrel crows so loud?
          Go and lead these knights
          Within the hall: (exit SQUIRE.) A better welcome were
          If I might meet these Normans sword in hand.

Enter the Knights, with Attendants, and with them IVANHOE in
Palmer's dress.

          Welcome, Sir Knights! 
          Welcome, Sir Knights! I pray ye pardon me
          For lack of Norman courtesy.
          Sit ye beside me here,
          And fall to supper   to our Saxon fare.

As the Knights sit, IVANHOE goes aside.

DE BRACY.      I see but one thing ranting to our fare,
          And that the fairest fair, thy beauteous ward. 
          I do assure thee, Brian, England knows
          No lovelier lady than this Saxon rose.
          My friend and I had wager by the way,
          No Syrian damsel fair
          Nor courtly lady gay
          Might with thy ward compare.
          Was it not so, Sir Templar?
BRIAN.    Since I took ship from Palestine,
          I have seen but one fair maid to vie
          With the soft almond eyes of Syrian girls,
          And she was Jewess-born.
ISAAC (apart).                     Jehovah guard
          Our daughters from the Temple!
DE BRACY.      And I'll warrant me,
          From all the country
          Come throngs of suitors
          To the fair Rowena!
CEDRIC.   My friends and neighbours know
          That if the lady deign to wed,
          Her mate must be of Royal Saxon blood,
          As she is Royal and Saxon.

The doors are thrown open.

WOMEN (behind the scenes).    Room for the Lady Rowena!

All rise as ROWENA comes in. She takes her place at the high
table. Before the bold looks of the Knights she draws her veil
across her face.

MEN.           More light is there for lord and thrall,
               When lady fair comes into hall.

BRIAN.         Forgive, fair maid, the votaries of the sun,
                    That on thy beauty they too boldly gaze;
               Or, if thou need'st must veil, declare it done,
                    To save our eyes from those celestial rays.
ROWENA.        Fair knight, I pray thee of thy courtesy
                    Speak simple truth in homely maiden's praise;
               My tongue was never framed to vie with thee
                    In compliment or courtly Norman phrase.

As BRIAN bows and touches his cup with his lips, CEDRIC starts to
his feet, cup in hand.

CEDRIC.             Drink, drink ye all
                    In this our ancient hall
               To the bold deeds of heroes long ago,
                    To those who fight and those who fall
               Where battles ebb and flow!
                    Well do I mind the day
                    When I have seen the armies in array,
               And the earth shook with horsemen, and the sword
                    Leapt from the scabbard at my armed side,
                    And loud the ravens cried
               At scent of blood.

               Drink to the brave, or boor or lord!
               Drink to the warrior's noble mood,
               The battle glory and the minstrel's song!
                    But now, ah me! gone is the ancient fame 
               And fair-haired warrior strong,
                    The Saxon glory and the Saxon name.
               Then fill the cup, fill high,
MEN.           Fill the cup, fill high!
CEDRIC.        And drink to those who strive, and those who die,
               Saxon or Norman. fighting for the Cross!
MEN.           Glory to those who fight for the true Cross!

DE BRACY.           Glory to those who battle for the Cross,
               And most to those, the bravest and the best,
               Wonder of land and sea, of east and west,
               Knights of the Holy Order of the Temple. (He
pledges BRIAN.)
MEN.           Glory to those who battle for the Cross!
                    Glory to those who fight or fail  
               Who win the prize or bear the loss!
                    Drink hael! Was hael! Drink hael! 

{BRIAN, DE BRACY, MEN.   Glory to those who fight for 
{                                  the true Cross!
{    CEDRIC.                  Fill the cup, fill high,
{                             Fill the cup, fill high,
{                             Glory to those who battle 
                                   for the Cross!

ALL.           Glory to those who fight for the true Cross!

ROWENA.   Were there no English knights in Palestine,
          No children of our happy woods and hills,
          Who might compare even with the Temple Knights?
BRIAN.    Fair lady, with King Richard throve, 
          Full many a gallant knight and strong;
          Well worthy minstrels' song
          And lady's love,
          And second only to our Temple Knights.
IVANHOE.  Second to none! 

A silence. Then a general movement of excitement.

MEN.           The Palmer! the holy Palmer! 
          Hear him! hear him! (CEDRIC motions them to silence.)
IVANHOE.  Second to none were good King Richard's men;
          I tell but what mine eyes have seen.
          After, the taking of St. Jean d'Acre
          I saw King Richard and his chosen knights,
          A gallant show as ever eyes did see,
          Hold tourney 'gainst all comers:
          And all that came went down before their arms,
          Templars and all   Brian de Bois Guilbert,
          Bear witness if I lie.

BRIAN rises to speak, but fury stops him; he lays hand on sword.

MEN.           The English knights, the English knights,
               To them the prize of song and story!
          The champions of a thousand fights,
               To them the glory!
          Hail to King Richard and his English knights!

CEDRIC.   Their names, their names, good Palmer!
IVANHOE.  King Richard, first in rank and glory; 
          The second, the Earl of Leicester
          The third, Sir Thomas Multon.
CEDRIC.   A Saxon he!
IVANHOE.  The fourth, Sir Foulk Doilly.
CEDRIC.   A Saxon mother bore him. And the next?
IVANHOE.  Sir Edwin Turneham.
CEDRIC.   By the soul of Hengist  
          Saxon by sire and dame!
          The last! the last! Pray he be Saxon too.
IVANHOE.  The last I cannot call to mind,
          Perchance he was of lesser fame  
          Some nameless knight, whom happy chance
          Made one of that high company.
BRIAN.    Not so, by heaven!
          Before no nameless knight I fell.
          'Twas my horse's fault   he is food for dogs ere this
          And yet I fell before as stout a lance
          As Richard led.
CEDRIC and MEN.          His name? His name?
BRIAN.    Wilfred of Ivanhoe!

A movement in hall. A clash of steel is heard as men spring to
their feet. CEDRIC throws up his arm, and there is silence.

          I have named his name, and were he here,
          I'd challenge him with sword or spear!
IVANHOE.  And, when he come, I pledge my troth
          He will abide thy challenge.
BRIAN.    And who art thou,
          A beggarly and wandering knave,
          That thou shouldst answer for the brave?
          Show me thy pledge, thou graceless pilgrim.
IVANHOE.  This holy relic here I lay
          As pledge that he will meet thee on thy day,
          On horseback or on foot, with spear or sword.
          And God defend the right!
BRIAN.    By this gold chain, which here I lay,
          I swear to meet this Ivanhoe
          On horse or foot, with sword or spear,
          Come when he may.
          And if, being come to English ground,
          He answer not my challenge, he shall be
          Coward and traitor to the name of Knight.

Movement in hall. Silence. Then ROWENA speaks.

ROWENA.   No word for Ivanhoe! Then I will speak
          And pledge my word no coward knight is he,
          But brave and true. And if he come again
          He will abide thy challenge in the lists.
          And God defend the right!
MEN.           Rowena! Rowena! All hail to our Lady Rowena!
          Wilfred! Wilfred! Our Lord of Ivanhoe!
CEDRIC.   Peace, peace, I say! Can I not speak if need be?
          Be silent, churls! My Norman guests,
          Ye do no honour to our Saxon cups.
          I pledge ye once again.
DE BRACY.      I'll drink no more.
          Thy Saxon cups are potent, and to-morrow
          We must be stirring with the birds' first song.
CEDRIC.   Then fare ye well! Good rest be yours!
          My servants will attend ye.
          Good night to all! Good night to all!
ROWENA.   A kind good night to all! 

Exit ROWENA, followed by CEDRIC.

DE BRACY.      Is she not fair? And she is rich withal,
          A bride that's worth the winning.
          Were it not rare to seize her, as they come
          From the lists at Ashby? A score of my free-lances,
          And thou, my Templar, with thy dusky knaves,
          And it were done. Wilt swoop with me, my falcon?
BRIAN.    Aye, that will I!
          By good St. Denis, it would like me well
          To drive these Saxon hogs and prick them home
          To Norman keeping! More of this anon.
DE BRACY.      Aye, when the tourney's done.
          Good night, most noble comrade,
          Good dreams attend thee!
BRIAN.    Good night!

Exeunt Knights, attended.

MEN.           And so to sleep
               Till lagging daylight peep.
          So ends the song,
               With sleep till daylight peep.

Scene II.   An Ante-Room in CEDRIC's House.


ROWENA.        O moon, art thou clad in silver mail
                    Like armour of my true knight;
               O moon, is my lover's face so pale
                    As thy wan light?
Shine fair on my lover's tent, that is white by the whiter foam,
And woo him away from the South to the woods of his Island home!

               O wind, that awakest soft and low
                    Where the heart o' the wood is stirred,
               Far over the dreaming waters go
                    Like wild sea-bird;
     And pause at my lover's tent, in the land that is far away,
     And whisper the words of love, the words that I dare not

Her women bring in IVANHOE. He kneels at her feet.

ROWENA.   Rise, holy Palmer! 'Tis not meet
          That thou shouldst kneel to me.
          He who defends the absent should stand high
          In Cedric's hall.
          Good Palmer, thou didst speak of one I knew
          In days gone by.
          I must be brief. I would but ask of thee   
          Thou knowest him   hast seen him? He is well?
          I speak of Ivanhoe.
IVANHOE.  Ah, lady fair!
          I knew but little of the knight   
          I would 'twere more, since thou cost care
          To hear of him.
ROWENA.   Is he much changed?
IVANHOE.  Burnt by Syrian suns,
          And somewhat worn by war; but that's not much
          'Tis said he bears some sorrow at the heart.
ROWENA.   Is he not happy, then?
IVANHOE.  Ah, what know I?
          Perchance   forgive me, if I speak too bold   
          Thou knowest best his chance of happiness.
ROWENA.   God keep him safe, and bring the wanderer home!
IVANHOE.  Amen to that sweet prayer!

ROWENA.   If thou dost see him, 
          Tell him there are those
          That think on him.
IVANHOE.  And shall I bid him hope?
ROWENA.   Hope is for all the world.
IVANHOE.  But not for him.
ROWENA.   Hope is for all the world   a distant light,
               Now lost, now seen above a restless sea,
          Sound of a string we follow with delight
               To utmost melody.
IVANHOE.  Ah! then if he beyond the ocean foam
               Stare like a ghost across the barren sea,
          Yet may he hope some day for welcome home,
               For home, perchance for thee.
ROWENA.   Hope is for all the world.
IVANHOE.  Yet may he hope some day for welcome home,
BOTH.          Ah! Hope is for all the world,
IVANHOE.  So may he hope.
ROWENA.   Hope is for all the world

{    ROWENA.   Sound of a string we follow with delight
{                   To utmost melody.
{    IVANHOE.  So may he hope,
{                   For home, perchance for thee.

ROWENA.   I do believe that he will come again,
          And yet I fear.
          I would speak further with thee, but not now.
          I thank thee, holy Palmer, and farewell.
IVANHOE.  Farewell, most gentle lady.
BOTH.          Farewell.

Exit ROWENA with her women.

IVANHOE.  Like mountain lark my spirit upward springs,
          And with quick pulsing wings
               Beats the still air to music. O my heart,
                    Beat not too wild for thinking on my dear!
               But if we two must part,
                    For day or week or year,
          Yet now I know my dear love loveth me,
          And happy shall we be
                    Ere death close all, and life be ended here.

(Calling low at a door)  Isaac! Isaac, I say!

Enter ISAAC.

          Thou must away with me, and quickly.
          Hearken! I heard the Templar bid his slaves
          To seize thee on the road to-morrow morn,
          And bear thee to the keep of Torquilstone.
ISAAC.    Of Torquilstone! O name of dread!
          Castle of torment!
          Woe's me! I feel their irons tear my flesh!
          I will away   good youth, dear youth, befriend me;
          I will reward thee well   nay, hear me!
          The Jew hath eyes, and holy Palmer's frock
          Sways to a knightly stride. A horse and armour?
          Said I not well? A horse and goodly arms!
IVANHOE.  A wizard thou to guess so well!
          The sword and spear, the sword and spear!
          Grant me these, Jew, and do not fear,
          But I will bring thee safe anon
          Through all thy foes of Babylon.
          Away, away with me!
ISAAC.    Aye, I will follow thee.
IVANHOE.  On to the lists at Ashby with good cheer!    (They
steal out.)

Scene III.   

One end of the lists at Ashby. Second day of the tournament. High
seats are prepared for PRINCE JOHN and for ROWENA, who has been
chosen Queen of Love and Beauty on the first day. CEDRIC is in
his place in a gallery, where are other Norman knights and
ladies, and few Saxons of wealth and rank. In the crowd are the

SOPRANOS.           Will there be no more fighting?
TENORS.        They are too strong, the challengers.
BASSES.        All have gone down before them!
SOPRANOS.           Who comes here?
BASSES.        The Black Knight!
TENORS.        The Black Knight
ALL.           The Black Knight!
BASSES.        He won the prize of yesterday!
ALL.           Hail to the Black Knight!
               Hail to the great unknown!
               Hail to the sable warrior!
               Hail to the Black Knight!

Enter the KING disguised as the BLACK KNIGHT. He is on foot,
walking down the lists, as if to go.

FRIAR.    Whither away, Sir Sluggard? Hola!
          Get thee to horse and strike the Templar's shield!
          Don't steal so coward-like away. Hola!
          Hola! I say, Sir Sluggard.
KING.     What bull-frog croaks so loud?
FRIAR.    Bull-frog, quotha!
          You'd find me a stout ox, if you would throw me.
          Hast had too much of fighting?
KING.          Enough to satisfy a peaceful friar.
ALL (laughing).     Ha, ha, ha, ha!
FRIAR.    Thou knight of courtesy,
          Thy dam will warrant thee
          A very peaceful knight,
CHORUS.   Ha, ha, ha, ha!
FRIAR.    A very peaceful knight.
KING.     I am a man of peace, tis true;
          But if thou anger me, I'll come
          And fright thee in thy woodland home.
               I know thee, hermit,
               And if I come to thee, thou need'st not fear
               But I wilt baste thy fat sides well!
CROWD.         Ha, ha, ha, ha! the knight has spoken well:
               Ha, ha, ha, ha! To him, friar, book and bell!
FRIAR.         And by St. Dunstan, if thou come
               I'll send thy long legs limping home.
               Come thou my way, and heaven give light,
               And I will fight thee day and night;
               With any weapon I'll not fail,
               From Gideon's sword to Jael's tenpenny nail.
ALL.           Ha, ha, ha, ha!
KING.          Well said, old hart of grease, and fare thee well,
               Till I ask lodging of thee.
FRIAR.         Aye, lodging shalt thou have, and hermit's fare;
               I love thee though I'll beat thee.
KING.          Farewell, most warlike friar!
FRIAR.         Farewell, most peaceful knight!
ALL.           Ha, ha, ha, ha!

Exit the KING.

A flourish of trumpets. Enter down the lists PRINCE JOHN, DE
BRACY, and gay companions; also ROWENA, as Queen of Beauty, with
youths and maidens.

CHORUS.             Plantagenesta!
               Hail the lords of land and sea,
               England and fair Normandy!
SOPRANOS.      Fair and lovely is the may
                    Blushing 'neath the kiss of day;
                    Lovelier, fairer blooms the rose
                    Dreaming in the garden close;
                    Fairest, loveliest is the bloom
                    Of the golden-gloried broom.
TENORS AND BASSES.  Set the rose above the may;
                         Set the broom above the rose;
                         Where the golden beauty glows,
                    Glorious as the pomp of day,
                    High above the rose be set
                    Golden broom, Plantagenet!
                    Hail to the golden broom! Hail!

{    WOMEN.              Fair and lovely is the may, etc.
{    MEN.                Set the rose above the may, etc.

ALL.           Lords o' the land, and Kings o' the sounding sea,
               Princes of England and of Normandy!
                    Hail to the golden broom! Hail!

ISAAC is pushing forward in the crowd. With him is REBECCA.

JOHN.          Isaac, my Jew, my purse of Gold,
               Hail, King of Brokers! (ISAAC bends low.)
               Ah! what hast thou there? A maid
               More priceless than thy gold!
               Shall she be crushed in the crowd?
(To CEDRIC and his party in the gallery.)
               Room there, ye Saxon hinds!
               Room for my King of Brokers and his child!
CEDRIC (starting to his feet).     If he come up,
               By Sigurd's sword, I'll fling him down again!
DE BRACY (drawing the Prince aside).    My liege! my liege!
               The man is Thane of Rotherwood,
               Held high among the Saxons,
               And guardian of the great heiress,
               The fair Rowena. I do entreat, my liege,
               Press not the Jew upon them.
JOHN.          The Rose of Sharon, she shall choose the place
               Where she may bloom most fair.
               The Rose of Sharon!
REBECCA.       Most gracious Prince,
               Nearest the earth best fits our hapless race.
JOHN.          But fits not thee.
               Such beauty may claim room amid the best.
               The sweetest rose climbs high.
REBECCA.       But Judah's rose is of the lowly vale;
               She groweth best where humble flowers bloom
               By lonely waters. I entreat our Prince
               To leave us lowly here.

Enter a Messenger, booted and splashed with quick travel. He
kneels and presents a letter to PRINCE JOHN.

JOHN.          'Tis from our Royal brother, Louis of France.
               "Look to thyself! The devil has broken loose!"
               My brother has escaped!
               Heaven grant he be not yet on English ground!
               That sable knight who fought so well i' the melee?
               My mind misgave me then. It cannot be!
               I will not think it. On with the sport, I say!
               You Saxon sluggards here,
               You're proud when seated at the show,
               But by the headlong swine of Galilee
               You're slow to show us sport!
               Will no one meet our Norman challengers?

CEDRIC starts in his place, but his people entreat him, and
PRINCE JOHN, with a mocking salutation, passes on and ascends to
the seats prepared for him and his suite.

HERALDS [four basses].   Love of ladies!
                    Death of champions!
                    On, gallant knights!
                    Bright eyes approve your deeds.

{    HERALDS.            Love of ladies! etc.
{    CROWD.              If ladies' love be worthy prize
{                             Will ye not battle, then?
{                        Look up, ye knights, where loving eyes
{                             Approve the deeds of men!

JOHN (from the gallery). Heralds, sound the challenge!
(Trumpets sound a challenge.) Again the challenge!

Enter the lists, IVANHOE on horseback, in complete steel, with
visard down; on his shield an uprooted oak-sapling, with the
motto, "Il Desdichado." He salutes the PRINCE by lowering the
point of his spear.

SOPRANOS.      What means his motto?
MEN.                The disinherited!
ALL.                The disinherited knight!

SOPRANOS.      Alas, poor boy! Strike Ralph de Vipont's shield;
                    He is the weakest of the challengers.
                    De Vipont is the man for thee.
FRIAR.              By heaven,
                    He has struck the shield of the Templar!
                    Well done, bold boy!

Exit IVANHOE up the lists.

LOCKSLEY.                And see, the mighty Templar
                    Comes from his tent in armour,
                    A splendid man-at-arms.
                    A man of men!
SOPRANOS.      Now, heaven guard the boy!

Exit BRIAN up the lists. A trumpet sounds.

CROWD.         The combat! The combat! They back their horses:
               And now, like thunderbolts of war,
               Maddening they dash together!
FRIAR.         O great St. Dunstan!
BASSES.             What a crash of arms!
SOPRANOS.           Neither is down!
SOPRANOS/TENORS.    Neither is down!
ALL.           Again! again!  (The trumpet sounds again.)
TENORS.        II Desdichado! Il Desdichado!
SOPRANOS. The Templar! The Templar!
BASSES.        The Templar!
TENORS/BASSES.      No! By heaven, the Templar's down!

{    HERALDS.            Love of ladies! Death of champions!
{    SOPRANOS.      The disinherited knight!
{    TENORS/BASSES. II Desdichado! II Desdichado!

ALL.                II Desdichado!
FRIAR.              The Templar leaps to his feet and draws his
TENORS/BASSES.      Lay on, lay on, 
SOPRANOS.      On, gallant knights.
ALL.                Lay on, lay on, like gallant knights!
                    Lay on, lay on, for chivalry!
                    Lay on, lay on, lay on.

Enter down the lists IVANHOE and BRIAN on foot, fighting. PRINCE,
who has risen in his place, throws down his baton.

JOHN.          Stop the combat!

(A trumpet sounds, and Heralds part the combatants.)

               Since, by mishap, the gallant Bois Guilbert
               Was first unhorsed, I hereby name this nameless
               The victor in our list.
CROWD.         II Desdichado! II Desdichado!
JOHN.          And now, Sir Conqueror,
               Do thou thy knightly duty!
               'Tis thine to kneel before the fairest fair,
               Whom yesterday we crowned our pageant's Queen
               Our Queen of Love and Beauty:
               And from her pride of place, thy Queen and ours
               Shall crown thee with this crown.

(The crown is presented to ROWENA.)

CROWD.         Rowena! Rowena! Our Saxon princess! Hail!
JOHN.          Off with his helmet, Heralds!
               Bareheaded must he take the crown!

In spite of protest, the herald lifts the helmet from his head.

ROWENA.        Wilfred! Ivanhoe!
CEDRIC.        My son! My son!
CROWD.         Wilfred! Ivanhoe, Hail!

CROWD.         Saxon heart is bold for right!
               Saxon arm is strong for fight!
               Saxon heart and Saxon arm,
               They shall keep the land from harm,
               Steadfast as the oaks that stand,
               Wide and deep in English land!

IVANHOE falls fainting.

                         End of Act I.
                            ACT II.

Scene I.   Outside the Friar's Hut in the Forest.


KING.          Strange lodging this for England's King,
               A thievish friar for his host,
               And for his food his own dun deer,
               By outlaw's moonlight arrow slain.
               Yet better than the pomp of kings
               Is this free life in forest glade;
               And better far my burly host
               Than the false Louis, King of France,
               Or Austria's Duke, or mine own brother John.
               Till I have learned that brother's plans,
               Here will I lie and take mine ease,
               Couched like a stag in greenwood coverture.
               Ho, jolly host! Where art thou?

Enter the FRIAR, bearing a huge pitcher of water.

FRIAR.              Here am I!
               I bring thee water from the well,
               Wherein twixt dawn and set of sun
               Holy Saint Dunstan did baptize
               Five hundred red-haired heathen Danes.
KING.          In truth a wonder-working well,
               Whose crystal waters can so paint
               A hermit's face with roseate hues!
               If thou wert not so strict a saint,
               Stoutly I'd swear by book and bell,
               The winecup thou didst not refuse.
FRIAR.         Peace, idle man! Wert thou as I,
               On pulse and water would'st thou dine;
               But since thy carnal thoughts incline
               Beyond my strict sobriety,
               I do bethink me of a pie
               Of venison, and a stoup of rosy wine,
               Which a good keeper gave me one fine day,
               Lest a poor weary traveller came my way.
KING.          That weary traveller am I;
               So let's to supper presently. 
               A hand, mine host; let's hale thy table forth,
               And eat like freemen in the forest air.
               Out with thy venison pasty and thy wine!

They drag the table forth; the FRIAR places on it food and wine.
As the KING eats, the FRIAR watches him with greedy eyes,
munching some dry beans.

               There is a custom in the East,
               When strangers meet in merry feast,
               That host should never fail to share
               With stranger guest his goodly fare,
               To prove no taint of poison there.
FRIAR.         If truly 'tis the custom, I
               Will do myself some violence,
               And for the nonce will share thy meal.
               Drink fair, I pray thee. (Putting his hand on the
               Skoal to my honoured guest! Was heel!
KING.          Drink hael, most rosy friar!

They fall eating and drinking; after a time the FRIAR falls back
in his seat.

FRIAR.         Now I bethink me,
               Thou didst come here to fight with me:
               Hast thou forgot thy velour?
KING.          Nay, we will fight to-morrow.
               To-day will I contend with thee
               In peaceful art of minstrelsy.
               Reach me yon harp, I pray thee.
FRIAR.         But first drink deep!
KING.          So be it, jovial wine-skin!
               Another draught for me, and so
               The harp to my heart!

(Sings).       I ask nor wealth nor courtier's praise,
                    That woos a weary King,
               If I may ride the woodland way
                    And breathe the airs of spring.
               An ashen spear in strong right hand,
                    Good horse between the knees;
               What treasure can a king command
                    More glorious than these?
               I rouse me with the dawn's first light,
                    And breast the shadowed hill;
               I know the forest's deep delight
                    When all the leaves are still.
               There would I bend with whisper low,
                    To woo the nut-brown maid,
               And see her blushes come and go
                    Beneath the dappled shade.
               And there I ride 'neath living green
                    To hear the throstle sing;
               For bird and wandering knight, I ween,
                    Are happier than the King!

FRIAR.         Not bad, say I, nor badly sung!
               I drink to wandering knights-at-arms,
               And to all gallant men indeed!
               But thou art none, not thou, I swear,
               Who pourest water in good wine!
KING.          Didst thou not say 'twas from Saint Dunstan's
               Shall I not qualify my cup
               With liquor loved of holy saint?
FRIAR.         'Tis true! Full many heathen in that well
               Did the Saint plunge for their eternal good;
               But neither chronicle nor popular tale
               Doth state he drank its water.
               Now hear me sing, and own thyself a crow.

(Sings.)       The wind blows cold across the moor,
                    With driving rain and rending tree:
               It smites the pious hermit's door,
                    But not a jot cares he,
                         For close he sits within,
                         And makes his merry din,
               With his "Ho, jolly Jenkin,
               I spy a knave in drinkin',
                    And trowl the brown bowl to me!
               Then ho, jolly Jenkin,
               I spy a knave in drinkin',
                    And trowl the bonny bowl to me!

               The wind a roaring song may sing,
                    In crashing wood or frightened town:
               It whirls the mantle of a king
                    As 'twere a beggar's gown;
                         But caring not a jot,
                         We sing and drain the pot,
               With our "Ho, jolly Jenkin,
               I spy a knave in drinkin',
                    And trowl the brown bowl to me!"
               Then ho, jolly Jenkin,
               I spy a knave in drinkin',
                    And trowl the bonny bowl to me!

As he sings, the outlaws gather; when he ends, they take up his

OUTLAWS.       Then ho, jolly Jenkin,
               I spy a knave in drinkin',
                    And trowl the brown bowl to me!"
               Then ho, jolly Jenkin,
               I spy a knave in drinkin',
                    And trowl the bonny bowl to me!

FRIAR.         And now for combat! Where's this friend of mine?
               No friendship stands till blows have passed.
               What say'st thou, friend? Broadsword or quarter-
KING.          Nay, I'll not hurt thee!
               I do protest I love thee so,
               I would not crack thy shaven crown.
               But if thou need'st a proof, I'll stand,
               And thou shalt strike me with thy hand,
               And after thou shalt bide my blow.
FRIAR.         No "after" shall there be. A sennight long
               Thou shalt lie gasping, ere thou rise again.
               Stand, and stand firm! (He deals him a buffet.)
               By all the saints in Saxon calendar,
               He must be rooted like an ancient oak!
KING.          Stand, and stand firm!

He deals him a buffet. The FRIAR rolls upon the ground. The
outlaws shout with laughter. Enter LOCKSLEY.

LOCKSLEY.      What folly have we here? Arise,
               Thou rolling cask! Up, up, I say!
               This is no time for revelry.
               And thou, Sir Knight   in Ashby's lists
               Thou wert a man indeed!
               Now of thy manhood I demand
               Succour for Cedric, Thane of Rotherwood,
               And for his ward, Rowena, falsely ta'en
               By vizored knaves and borne to Torquilstone.
CHORUS.        To Torquilstone!
LOCKSLEY.      And by a strange mischance, Cedric's own son,
               Borne in the litter of a wealthy Jew,
               Was captured with his hosts, and lies interned
               And wounded in the same accursed walls!
               I ask thy aid for gallant Ivanhoe.
CHORUS.        For Ivanhoe!
KING.          My aid for Ivanhoe? Why waste your words?
               Gather your men! Be speedy! On my soul,
               If but a hair be harmed of Wilfred's head,
               I'll tear their castle piecemeal with my hands
               And give their bodies to the kite. My friend,
               My friend of friends! Let there be no delay!
               Sound bugles and away!
               To Torquilstone!
CHORUS.        To Torquilstone!

Scene II.   A Passage-Way in Torquilstone.

Enter DE BRACY and followers masked, bringing CEDRIC and ROWENA

CEDRIC.        Will not our captor dare to show his face?
DE BRACY.           Aye, that dare I. (He unmasks, laughing.)
CEDRIC.        De Bracy! Traitor! Who hast broken bread
               In mine own hall!
ROWENA.        I do beseech thee,
               In mercy let us go;
               As thou art knight of noble name and blood,
               I do entreat thee let us hence in safety!
               In mercy let us go!
               In mercy let us go!
DE BRACY.           The fate of war, the wile of love!
               I here declare myself the loyal lover
               Of this most lovely lady; and I bear
               The sanction of our sovereign liege, Prince John;
               And she shall be De Bracy's honoured bride.
CEDRIC.        By heaven, rather would I see
               This lady lifeless on her bier
               Than yield her to thee! Faithless knight,
               Is this thy Norman chivalry
               To make weak women mad with fear,
               And woo them in a dungeon's gloom?
DE BRACY.           Peace, friend, I pray thee!
               Speak not so loudly:
               Dost thou not fear to peril thine own son?
CEDRIC.        My son? This is some idle tale
               To frighten me! I say I have no son.
DE BRACY.           He, whom his father left to die or live,
               Was succoured by a kindly Jew, and nursed
               By a fair Jewess; and by fate of war
               Jewess and Jew, and wounded knight
               Are here interned. None knows his name but I;
               And if I breathe the name of Ivanhoe,
               Short were his shrift. So, good my friend, be
               And, if this lady fair will smile on me,
               Then will I save thy son.
CEDRIC (after a moment). My son defied me; he is dead to me.
               I will not buy his life with a foul bargain!
ROWENA.        Thou art his father; pity him   and me!
               Oh, gallant knight, I pray thee,
               Be deaf to him, and to thine own worse thoughts;
               And save this wounded knight of Ivanhoe!
               And I will pray for thee. In mercy save him!

She falls weeping at DE BRACY's feet.

{    ROWENA.        In mercy save him! In mercy save him!
{    DE BRACY.      In thy fair hands is life of Ivanhoe!
{                   Fairest lady, remember, 
{                   In thy fair hands is life of Ivanhoe!
{    CEDRIC.        Kneel not to him! Remember who thou art,
{                   Kneel not to him, a highway robber!
{                   Kneel not to him! robber of the highway!
{                   Remember who thou art!

Exeunt men with CEDRIC and ROWENA. BRIAN enters.

DE BRACY.      Welcome, Sir Templar! But I may not stay;
               I must be gone to woo my captive fair!


BRIAN.         Woo thou thy snowflake till she melt for thee;
               Another and a wilder bliss be mine!
               My lovely Jewess!
               Oh, she has drawn a spell about my heart
               And whelmed my soul with love!

               Her southern splendour, like the Syrian moon,
                    Draws the full tide of my rebellious blood!
               Though Death should clasp me close ere set of sun,
                    This hour is mine, and mine the tyrant's
               And I will woo her as the lion woos,
                    To bring his wild mate docile to his side;
               And I will win her as the lion wins
                    That in the desert leads his tawny bride.
               O Maid of Judah, trembling in my arms,
                    Proud is thy fate to own my conquering sword!
               Though Hell oppose with all its dire alarms,
                    This hour is mine, and I thy ruthless lord.
               If Death be host, I'll drain his cup for wine!
               Come Night, come Death, so this wild hour be mine!


Scene III.   A Turret Chamber in Torquilstone.

REBECCA. ULRICA spinning; as she spins she sings fragments of

ULRICA.             Whet the keen axes,
                    Sons of the Dragon!
                    Kindle the torches,
                    Daughters of Hengist!
                    Wave your long tresses,
                    Maids of Valhalla!
                    Many a war-chief
                    Mighty in combat,
                    Pale from the death-blow,
                    Wends to your greeting.
                    Light ye the torches,
                    Maids of Valhalla!

REBECCA.       Good mother, of thy pity say
               What fate is mine? Speak, as thou art a woman!
               In mercy answer me!
ULRICA.        Evil and dark thy fate shall be,
               Dark as the fate which long ago,
               Befell a noble Saxon maid.
               Look on me! In this cursed place
               My father, and my brethren twain,
               Their fair curls clotted with their blood,
               Fought till they fell; and ere the stair
               Was washed from that most holy stain,
               I, the sole daughter of their race,
               I, who was once as proud as fair,
               Was sport of conqueror's wanton mood.
               If such my fate, what hope for thee?
REBECCA.       Is there no way of safety?
               Have mercy on me! Point me out a way!
               Be it through tortuous paths, where death may lie,
               And I no more behold the light of day;
               Be it through ghostly night or whelming flood,
               I will essay it!
               Is there no way of safety?
ULRICA.        No way but through the gates of death,
               And they do open late, too late!
               My task is done,
               My thread is spun,
               Farewell! I leave thee to thy fate.
REBECCA.        O stay with me, in mercy stay!
               Curse me, but leave me not! Thy presence here
               Were surely some protection in my need.
ULRICA.        Not e'en the presence of the Mother of God
(She points to a rude image of the Virgin.)
               Can save thee from thy doom! Go, kneel to her,
               And see if she will save a Jewish girl. 
                    Whet ye the steel,
                    Sons of the Dragon,
                    Kindle the torches,
                    Daughters of Hengist!

Exit ULRICA. REBECCA goes quickly to the door, and tries it, but
ULRICA has barred it behind her. Then she goes to the window. She
peers over the low parapet, and starts back into the room with
her hands over her eyes.

REBECCA.       O awful depth below the castle wall!
               Sheer down it falls and bare; no smallest weed
               Can find a cranny there. O for the wings
               Of which the Psalmist sang, that I might fly,
               And hide me from all eyes.
               O Lord Jehovah! aid me in this hour!

                    Lord of our chosen race,
                         In hour of deep distress
                         And utter loneliness,
                    I lift weak hands and pray Thee of Thy grace,
                    Guard me, Jehovah, guard me!

                    Lord, on Thy name I cry
                         From depths where no man hears,
                         And half distraught with fears!
                    Stretch forth Thine arm to save me or I die!
                    Guard me, Jehovah, guard me!

                    Spirit, who movest everywhere,
                         O Thou, who know'st the deeps o' the sea
                    And climbest the heights o' the air,
                    Now, in this narrow place,
                    I pray Thee of Thy grace
                         Descend to me!

                    Guard, in mercy guard,
                    O guard me!

The door opens, and BRIAN enters, his mantle held to shield his
face. At sight of him she tears the jewels from her arms and
throat, and advancing, offers them to him.

REBECCA.       Take thou these jewels; here is wealth enow
               To give thee life of happy days;
               And when I leave these castle walls
               For every gem a thousand shall be thine.
BRIAN.         Now, nay, fair flower of Palestine,
               Thou dost mistake me; I am one
               More apt to hang thy neck with Orient pearl
               Than to take jewels from thee.
               I love thee, I love thee! By my soul, I swear
               That not for all the wealth of all thy tribe
               Will I resign thy beauty.
REBECCA.       As thou dost hope for mercy at the last,
               Stand back and hear me!
               I am a Jewess, thou a Christian knight;
               Accursed in the sight of God and man
               Were our unholy marriage.
BRIAN.         Fair girl, I would not wed with thee,
               Wert thou the Queen of Sheba, Jewess-born;
               Nor wert thou Christian damsel, would I wed.
               My vow forbids me. See, on my heart the Cross!
REBECCA.       Thou would'st appeal to thy most holy sign?
BRIAN.         Thou art a Jewess; the Cross is naught to thee.
REBECCA.       I hold my father's faith, and if I err,
               May God forgive me   and He will forgive.
               But thou, a Christian knight, wilt thou appeal
               To thine own Cross to aid thee in thy sins?
BRIAN.         Thou art a Jewess; the Cross is naught to thee.
REBECCA.       To the Cross to aid thee in thy sins?
BRIAN.         Preach me no more,
               Daughter of Sirach! Let it suffice for thee
               That thou art captive to my bow and spear.
REBECCA.       If thou dost wrong me, then by heaven I swear
               I will proclaim thy deathless infamy
               Till each Preceptory, each Chapter of thy Order,
               Ring with thy shame!
BRIAN.         And loud must be thy tongue
               If it be heard beyond these castle walls.
               Yield to thy fate! (He advances upon her.)
REBECCA.       Never! The God of Abraham
               Opens a path of safety,
               Even from the pit of infamy.  (She leaps upon the
               Stand back, proud man! If thou but stir,
               I will leap down to death; and thou shalt know
               The Jewish girl would rather yield her soul
               To God than trust her honour to the Templar.

A pause. He stands regarding her.

BRIAN.         Now, by my sword, art thou a noble heart!
               Mine must thou be, for now I know thy soul,
               And know it mate for mine;
               Attend and hear! Our Holy Order grows
               In power greater than the pomp of kings;
               And of this Order I will be the head.
               My mailed foot shall climb the throne of kings,
               And my steel gauntlet pluck their sceptres down.
               And thou shalt share my glory and my pride;
               For I will make thee Empress of the East,
               Carve thee a throne more fair than Solyman's;
               And thou and I, fearing nor man nor God,
               Shall sit, on high, the crowned monarchs of the
REBECCA.       Blaspheme no more! Thy Order of the Temple
               Was formed for poverty and chastity.
               Beware, rash man! Blaspheme no more!
               God's arrows fly afar to smite the proud.
               And know, if there were truth in thy wild words,
               And thou couldst throne me o'er the necks of
               Rather would I go forth to mourn my life
               With Jephthah's daughter on the lonely hills,
               Than sit with thee on thy imperial throne.
               God judge thee, and not I!         (A bugle
               What sound is that?      (The bugle sounds again.)
BRIAN.         A summons, as I live!
               I must be gone to see who sounds so bold!
REBECCA.       If twere some hope of safety!
BRIAN.         Hope not at all, or hope to mate with me.
               Though the Archangel's trumpet sounded war,
               I would return and dare his fiery sword,
               Ere I would cease to claim thee for mine own.
REBECCA.       And if thou camest with all the Lords of Hell,
               I would defy them in the name of Him
               Who set His bounds to the eternal sea.

{    REBECCA.       I would defy them, I would defy them,
{                   In the name of Him above!
{    BRIAN.         Hope not at all, hope not at all, 
{                   I would return and dare his fiery sword,
{                   Ere I would cease to claim thee for mine own.

Exit BRIAN. REBECCA kneels in prayer.

REBECCA.       O Jehovah, guard, O guard!

                         End of Act II.
                           ACT III. 

Scene I.    A Room in Torquilstone.

IVANHOE is alone. He leans on his bed, pale and weak from his

IVANHOE.            Happy with winged feet,
                         Comes the morning softly stealing in;
                    And to my darling's chamber sweet
                         This happy light will win!

                    O, fair procession of the morning hours,
                    Go, bid my love awake with all the flowers.

                    But let me sleep awhile,
                         And dream my only wound is from love's
                    And cunningly my thought beguile,
                         To deem that thou, fair Queen, my gaoler

                    So prison bars and wounds more dear shall be
                    Than all the world, if there I find not thee.

                    Come, gentle sleep!

IVANHOE falls asleep. Presently ULRICA steals into the room,
followed by REBECCA.

ULRICA.        Tend thou the Knight thou lovest,
               Another and a nobler work be mine!
               Look for thy bridal torches!       (Exit ULRICA.)
REBECCA.       Aye, she speaks truth; I love him.
               Now, in this hour of doubt and danger,
               To my weak heart I say, "Be still, I love him."

               Ah, would that thou and I might lead our sheep
                    Amid the folded hills!
               The winter is past, the rain is over and gone;
                    The singing birds are come beside the rills.
               Arise, beloved one!
               I love thee, I love thee; O my love,

               My Asahel, O! swift as the wild roe,
               And terrible as armed hosts that go
               With banners onward waving.
               How fair and pleasant art thou, O my love!
               A shadow of the rock, a happy fountain springing;
               A bird his glad song winging
               Up to high heaven in a maze of light!

               Sleep fountain, bird, and love, for surely sleep
is best;
               Sleep, while I guard thy rest
               By day or night;
               For only in thy sleep art thou my love.
               Ah me, for many waters
               Quench not the fire of love; and, when he wakes,
               His eyes are not for me.
                    Rest, rest, beloved!

IVANHOE wakes. He raises himself on his bed.

IVANHOE.       And is it thou, dear maiden?
               My gentle nurse!
               Now is all well with me since thou art near.
               But hark! what sound is in mine ear?
               I dreamed, but dream no more. And now
               Our friends renew their onset.
REBECCA.       Peace, be still!
               I hear no sound of combat.
IVANHOE.       'Tis but the pause before the onset,
               The stillness ere the thunder break in the air.
               Anon 'twill break in fury. (He rises from the
               I pray thee, gentle maiden,
               Help me to yonder window.
REBECCA.       Nay, rest, I pray thee! I will stand
               At yonder window, and will tell
               How flow the tides of war. Fear not for me!
IVANHOE.       Nay, gentle heart, it must not be,
               That thou dare danger for my sake.
               My whole life long should I go mourning thee,
               Wert thou to sleep in death and I to wake.
REBECCA.       Thy shield then! Proudly will I bear
               The glorious shield of Ivanhoe!

She takes his shield upon her arm, and mounts to the window.
IVANHOE sinks back upon the bed.

REBECCA.       I see them now; the dark wood moves with bows.

Far off the bugle sounds assault. The Norman trumpets answer.

REBECCA.       O God of Israel, shield us in this hour!
               On, on they come with bended bows triumphant;
               On, on they drive, and nov the quiver rattleth;
               The noise of the captains and the shouting!
VOICES (in the distance). 
TENORS.             De Bracy, De Bracy!
                         On, Free Companions, on!
BASSES.             The Temple, the Temple!
                         Strike for the Templar! strike!
IVANHOE.       And I must lie like palsied monk
               While the great game is playing!
               What of the sable knight? Does he ride forth
               Like one who goes a-maying,
               With joy of battle and the pride of war?
REBECCA.       With giant blows he hews the palisade;
               A mighty axe swings in his mailed hand,
               His black plume floats afar,
               A raven o'er the stormy fight!
               The palisado falls; he enters in  
               Onward he drives, a Joab in the battle!
               Lion of war   now fall his foes before him,
               Bending like corn that bends before the whirlwind.
               They fly, they fly across the moat,
               And hurl the plank away; the outwork's won!
               Ah woe! The poor men left o' the other side!
               They fling them down! they pierce them through!
               O God of Israel, pardon in this hour
               The men whom thou hast made.

She lets fall the shield, and comes from the window, her hands
before her eyes. IVANHOE rises to meet her.

IVANHOE.       How canst thou know what pain it is to lie
               All helpless here, while deeds of chivalry
               Are done so near and yet so far away?
               What life is there but in the battle brave,
               And who would live one day
               Of sloth and shame, that in the clash of fight,
               The battle's fierce delight,
               Might find 'mid warriors bold the glory and the
REBECCA.       Ah me! not thus did Judah's warriors go
               Forth to the fight, but breathing prayer and
               Not in the shield nor sword
               They trusted, but in Him whose mighty arm
               Rolled back the flood, till Pharaoh's hosts of war
               Were whelmed in rushing waters.
               But now, alas! Judah's star
               Is sunk in vasty night.

{    REBECCA.  And yet be witness, heaven, with what delight,
{              What rapture would I give
{              My life-blood drop by drop, so I might live
{              But for one hour to see
{              Judah redeemed from her captivity.
{    IVANHOE.  How canst thou know what pain,
{              What pain it is to lie
{              All helpless, while deeds of chivalry are done so

{    REBECCA.  would I give my life-blood, my life-blood, drop by
{              my life-blood, drop by drop, my life-blood, drop
by drop!
{    IVANHOE.  What life is there but in the battle brave,
{              The battle's fierce delight, the battle's,
battle's fierce delight,
{              The battle's fierce delight!
{    TENORS (without).   The Temple, the Temple!
{              Strike for the Templar, strike!
{    BASSES (without).   On for Saint George, on!
{              On for Saint George, on!

REBECCA.       But see! What angry redness
               Flushes the heaven above us?
               The castle burns with fire.
               Now do I know thee,
               Fiend with thy wedding torches!

The door is thrown open. Enter BRIAN.

BRIAN.         The castle burns. Away with me!

IVANHOE seizes a sword, but BRIAN strikes it from his hand.
IVANHOE falls fainting. BRIAN seizes REBECCA, and drags her away.

REBECCA.       Wilfred! Wilfred!
               In mercy save him!
BRIAN.         Away with me! Away with me!

Exit BRIAN, with REBECCA. The walls begin to burn and fall. Enter
through the ruins KING RICHARD and YEOMEN.

IVANHOE (on his knees).  The King! The King!
               Long live the King!

The Outlaws fall back in amazement, then uncover.

OUTLAWS.       The King! It is the King!
               The Black Knight!
               Pardon! Pardon! Long live the King!

More ruin falls, and on high is seen ULRICA, a burnt-out torch in

ULRICA.        Far  
ALL.                Ha!
ULRICA.                    leaps the fire-flame, render of
               Far floats the smoke-wreath, wings of the eagle;
                    Whet the bright steel, then,
                    Sons of the Dragon!
                    Kindle the torches,
                    Daughters of Hengist!
               I come, O Zernebock, I come in glory, I come! I
CHORUS.        Ah!

She leaps down and disappears

Scene II.   In the forest. Outlaws cross glade singing and

OUTLAWS (MEN). Light foot upon the dancing green,
                         Light hand upon the bow,
                    With glancing eye and laughing mien
                         Adown the glade we go.
                    And, marching, sing like yeomen true,
                    "Our bows are made of English yew."

Enter KING RICHARD, lute in hand. IVANHOE follows him.

KING.               Oh, I would be an outlaw bold,
                         To strike the flying deer,
                    Or leave the lover's tale half told
                         In lingering maiden's ear.
(to IVANHOE.)  Hither, dear lad, and lean on me,
               This air of woodland wild and free
               Shall brace the arm that hangs so weak,
               And bring the wild rose to thy cheek.
               Here will we rest and wile the time away
               With dainty lute and jocund roundelay.
IVANHOE.       Thy love is more to me, my King,
               Than breath of May that poets sing,
               And dear as maiden's love to me
               The hope to live and fight for thee
KING (to his lute).      Oh, forest ways are dark enow,
                         Though shine the silver moon,
                    And dark beneath the forest bough,
                         The stricken deer shall swoon.
(to IVANHOE.)  Here seat thee, lad, and rest thy bones;
               This knoll shall be the best of thrones;
               And 'neath my canopy of singing birds
               I'll judge me like a king o' the ancient world.
               What ho! What ho! Bring my prisoner forth.

Enter DE BRACY, guarded.

               Maurice de Bracy, faithless knight,
               Since thou didst seize upon the road
               Ladies and liegemen of the King,
               Now tell me why, in heaven's sight,
               Of noble tree a thankless load
               Thou shouldst not swing?
DE BRACY.           My liege, I have no word to say,
               But only of thy mercy pray,
               Cover my face; I would not fright
               The little birds from their delight;
               Cover my face, and let me swing
               'The highest servant of my King.
KING.          Maurice de Bracy, I pronounce thy doom:
               Get thee to horse, strike spur and ride away!
DE BRACY.           To horse! and free!
               Surely my King doth jest with me!
KING.          Not I. I bid thee up and fly!
               Ride as the fiend were after thee!
               Ride till thou find my brother John,
               Charge him he yield him to our grace
               Ere ten days pass, or, by the Holy Cross,
               I will so maul him that his Louis o' France
               Shall know him not, and I'll so bend his neck
               That his back break. Go! Let thy horse be fleet!
               Kneel not, speak not, but live in honesty.


(to IVANHOE).  Look, where thy moody father walks apart,
               And by his side thy gentle lady fair,
               Lad, will thy sire forgive thee?
IVANHOE.       Alas, my liege, I fear.
KING.          We'll bend him yet. Look, where he comes this way;
               Stand thou apart, and I will strive with him


               Cedric, good friend, didst thou not promise me
               A boon for lusty fighting? What if I ask
               Free pardon for thy son and a fair wife?

CEDRIC.        I am grown infirm of purpose; I know not  
                    If for the love of woman's face
                         My life-long task must ended be,
                    And lost, the hope of Harold's race,
                         What work remains for me,
                              Beneath the sun?
KING.               Maiden, if e'er in forest free
                         The sun shone fair for love's delight,
                    Kneel down and pray for charity,
                         For so by thy brave knight
                              Shall bride be won.
ROWENA.             Cedric, O father, hear me pray
                         By days of childhood's lost delight,
                    When he and I were wont to play,
                              Forgive thy son.
IVANHOE.            O Cedric, O father,
                         May I find favour in thy sight,
                    And take me to thy heart again
                         True man, and trusty Knight,
                              And thine own son.
Repeat Ensemble.

CEDRIC.        Be it as thou wilt. God knows I pardon thee!
               Wilfred, my son! But let me hence awhile,
               Follow me not; I pray thee, let me go! (Exit.)
KING.          The pliant willow waves,
               But the oak groans in bending.
               And I'll go too, for well wot I
               That man and lily maid
               Well met i' the forest shade,
               Desire no king for company.
                    Oh! I would be an outlaw bold,
                         To strike the flying deer;
                    For hearts are young in forest old,
                         And Spring is all the year. (Exit KING

IVANHOE.       How oft beneath the far-off Syrian skies
                    Have I looked up and seen amid the stars,
                    Twin lights of home in land of distant wars,
               These star-like eyes.
ROWENA.        How oft, when thou wert far beyond the foam,
                    And mine was woman's part of weary rest,
                    Dreamed I my head lay happy on this breast,
               Thy heart my home!

Enter ISAAC, pale and in haste.

ISAAC.         Knight, Knight of Ivanhoe, I come for thee!
               My child is doomed to die.
IVANHOE.       To die!
ISAAC.         Nay, hear me. When the fierce Templar
               Snatched her from burning Torquilstone, he bore
               To the next house of the Order.
               There have they sat in judgment on my child,
               For witchcraft practiced on that evil knight,
               And she must die by fire.
               My child has asked a champion; thou wilt come
               I pray thee at thy feet, away with me!
ROWENA.        Wilfred, bethink thee, thou art weak with wounds.
               In mercy stay with me Wilfred, my love!
IVANHOE.       And shall she die by fire?
               She led me back to life and love of thee.
               Though I were weaker than an ailing girl,
               Must I not go?
ROWENA.        I would not have thee stay
               With me and shame. O Wilfred, O my love,
               Go, go, lest I entreat thee back again!
ISAAC.         My child must die by fire! My child must die by
               Thou wilt come, I pray, I pray thee come away with
IVANHOE.       My heart, my queen!
               Be brave till next I clasp thee in my arms.
               Farewell, dear love!

He embraces ROWENA, and rushes out followed by ISAAC. ROWENA
falls fainting.

Scene III.    The Preceptory of the Templars.

A funeral pile. A crowd of common folk kept back by Temple
servants. The TEMPLARS enter in order singing. REBECCA is led in
with them. Among them is BRIAN, silent and pale, armed but
without his helmet.

TEMPLARS.                Fremuere principes,
                              Irruere turbidi:
                         In hoc Templo una spes,
                              Una salus Domini!
                         Nobis sit victoria,
                         Nostro Templo gloria,
                              Gloria sancto nomini!

                         Cordibus ac mentibus
                              Proni veneramur te:
                         Salus esto gentibus
                              In hoc Templo, Domine!
                         Nobis sit victoria,
                         Nostro Templo gloria,
                              Gloria sancto nomine!

When the TEMPLARS have taken their seats, their GRAND MASTER
remains standing.

GRAND MASTER.       Thou Jewish girl, who art condemned to die
               For practice of thy vile unholy arts
               Against a noble Christian knight, attend.
               Thou didst demand a champion, and our Order
               Erring perchance, as 'tis most meet to err,
               In mercy, heard thy prayer;
               Wherefore we named our tried and valiant brother,
               Brian, the knight of whom thou art accused,
               To meet thy champion, should a champion come.
               But now the hours decline, and sinks the sun
               As sinks thy life. The hour of doom is near.
               Repent and free thy soul! Confess thy crime.
REBECCA.       I am innocent.
               Now, if God will, even in this last dark hour
               He will appoint a champion.
               But if no champion come, I bow
               Before His holy will, and am content to die.
GRAND MASTER.       Sound trumpets! (A flourish of trumpets, then
a pause.)
               Now since no champion makes answer here,
               Draw near and bind the maiden to the stake;
               For surely she shall die.

As the Servants approach REBECCA, BRIAN comes quickly down.

BRIAN.         It shall not be.
               Fools! Dotards! Will ye slay the innocent?
               Butchers and burners!
               She is mine, I say; I say she shall not burn.
GRAND MASTER.       What need of further proof? The witchcraft
               Even in his lips, and breeds their blasphemy.
               Take her and bind her to the stake.
BRIAN (to Servants).     Back! as you hope to live!
(To REBECCA).  Swear to be mine, and I will save thee now.
               My horse is nigh at hand, Zamor my horse
               Who never failed me yet; and he will bear thee
               To life and love. One word, and thou shalt live!
REBECCA (in prayer).     Oh Jehovah, 
                    Guard, oh guard me!

BRIAN covers his face and turns aside. REBECCA offers her hands
to the Servants. They bind her to the stake. They are about to
fire the pile, when there is a movement in the crowd, and a great

VOICES.        A champion! A champion! A champion!

Through the crowd comes IVANHOE on foot, pale, dusty, with drawn

IVANHOE.       Forbear, forbear!
               I come, her champion, ere set of sun,
               Wilfred of Ivanhoe.
CHORUS.        A champion! A champion! A champion!
REBECCA.       He is weak and wounded,
               He must not fight for me!
               Oh! as you hope for mercy at the last,
               Forbid the combat!
BRIAN.         This is the man you love!
               Now is the hour,
               Death-hour for him or me.
               Look to thy life, thou wretch of Ivanhoe!

He attacks IVANHOE with fury. The GRAND MASTER rises as if to
stop the combat, but stands gazing. Enter KING RICHARD, CEDRIC,
ROWENA, ISAAC, and others. IVANHOE gives ground, fighting
desperately. He is beaten to his knee. BRIAN swings his sword for
a last blow, then drops his point and stands. A silence; then
BRIAN falls. IVANHOE goes to him, wondering, and kneels beside

IVANHOE.       Dead! He is dead!
CHORUS.        A judgment! A judgment!
               The evil passions warring in his soul
               Have rent him like the seven fiends of Hell:
               Bow down before the judgment of the Lord!

They unbind REBECCA. She moves towards IVANHOE, but stops as he
goes towards ROWENA. ISAAC goes timidly and touches the hand of
REBECCA, who is gazing at IVANHOE and ROWENA. At his touch, she
turns and takes his hand in hers.

KING.          I charge thee, Conrad, Master of the Temple,
               On whose foul sport we have intruded here,
               Up and begone, thou and thy trait'rous knights,
               And at your peril shame our coasts no more.
GRAND MASTER.       And dost thou banish me?
TEMPLARS.      The Temple stands above the wrath of Kings!
               We will appeal to Rome!
KING.          Appeal! Appeal!
               But if I find thee yet on English ground,
               I will so harry thee, thou foreign knight,
               That thou shalt have no voice to plead in Rome.
               See where the banner of England floats afar
               Above thy Temple pennants!

The Royal banner of England is raised.

{    TEMPLARS.      Wide as the world our Temple stands,
{                   To mock the pride of kings!
{    REBECCA.       Our Temple was not made with hands,
{                   But high as heaven it springs.
{    CEDRIC, KING, ALL.  O Love, that holdst the world in fee,
{                   And strongest knights in thrall,
{                   Our hymn we raise to thee,
{                   And hail thee Lord of all!