Randolph has liv'd too long; his better fate
Had the ascendant once, and kept me down;
When I had seiz'd the dame, by chance he came,
Rescu'd, and had the lady for his labor;
I 'scap'd unknown; a slender consolation!
Heaven is my witness that I do not love
To sow in peril, and let others reap
The jocund harvest. Yet I am not safe;
By love, or something like it, stung, inflam'd,
Madly I blabb'd my passion to his wife,
And she has threaten'd to acquaint him of it.
The way of woman's will I do not know;
But well I know the Baron's wrath is deadly.
I will not live in fear; "the man I dread
"Is as a Dane to me;" he is the man
Who stands betwixt me and my chief desire.
No bar but he-she has no kinsman near;
No brother in his sister's quarrel bold;
And for the righteous cause, a stranger's cause,
I know no chief that will defy Glenalvon.

ACT II.

A Court, etc.

Stranger. [within.] Oh, mercy! mercy! Enter SERVANTS and a STRANGER at one door, and LADY RANDOLPH and ANNA at another.

Lady R. What means this clamor? Stranger! speak secure ;

Hast thou been wrong'd? have these rude men presum'd

To vex the weary traveler on his way?

First Serv. By us no stranger ever suffer'd
wrong;

This man with outcry wild has call'd us forth:
So sore afraid he cannot speak his fears.
Enter LORD RANDOLPH and NORVAL, with
swords drawn and bloody.
Lady R. Not vain the stranger's fears!
fares my lord?
Lord R. That it fares well, thanks to this
lant youth,

their

how

Lord R. I ask'd that question, and he answer'd

not;

But I must know who my deliverer is.

[To the STRANGER. Norv. A low-born man, of parentage obscure, Who nought can boast but his desire to be

A soldier, and to gain a name in arms.

Lord R. Whoe'er thou art, thy spirit is ennobled
By the great King of kings! thou art ordain'd
And stamp'd a hero by the sovereign hand
Of Nature! blush not, flower of modesty
As well as valor, to declare thy birth.

Norv. My name is Norval; on the Grampian
hills

My father feeds his flocks; a frugal swain,
Whose constant cares were to increase his store,
And keep his only son, myself, at home.
For I had heard of battles, and I long'd
To follow to the field some warlike lord;
And heaven soon granted what my sire denied.
This moon which rose last night, round as my
shield,

Had not yet fill'd her horns, when, by her light,
A band of fierce barbarians, from the hills,
Rush'd like a torrent down upon the vale,
Sweeping our flocks and herds. The shepherds fled
For safety and for succor. I, alone,
With bended bow, and quiver full of arrows,
Hover'd about the enemy, and mark'd
The road he took, then hasted to my friends
Whom, with a troop of fifty chosen men,
Till we o'ertook the spoil-encumber'd foe.
I met advancing. The pursuit I led,
We fought and conquered. Ere a sword was
drawn

An arrow from my bow had pierc'd their chief,
Who wore that day the arms which now I wear.
Returning home in triumph, I disdain'd

The shepherd's slothful life; and having heard
That our good King had summon'd his bold peers
To lead their warriors to the Carron side,
I left my father's house, and took with me
A chosen servant to conduct my steps-
gal-Yon trembling coward, who forsook his master.
Journeying with this intent, I pass'd these towers,
And, heaven-directed, came this day to do
The happy deed that gilds my humble name.

Whose valor saved me from a wretched death!
As down the winding dale I walk'd alone,
At the cross-way four armed men attack'd me;
Rovers, I judge, from the licentious camp,
Who would have quickly laid Lord Randolph low,
Had not this brave and generous stranger come,
Like my good angel, in the hour of fate,

And, mocking danger, made my foes his own.
They turn'd upon him; but his active arm
Struck to the ground, from whence they rose no
more,

The fiercest two; the others fled amain,
And left him master of the bloody field.
Speak, Lady Randolph; upon beauty's tongue
Dwell accents pleasing to the brave and bold.
Speak, noble dame, and thank him for thy lord.
Lady R. My lord, I cannot speak what now
feel.

I

My heart o'erflows with gratitude to heav'n,
And to this noble youth, who, all unknown
To you and yours, deliberated not,
Nor paus'd at peril, but, humanely brave,
Fought on your side, against such fearful odds.
Have you yet learn'd of him whom we should
thank,

Whom call the saviour of Lord Randolph's life?

Lord R. He is as wise as brave. Was ever tale
With such a gallant modesty rehears'd?
My brave deliverer! thou shalt enter now
A nobler list, and in a monarch's fight
Contend with princes for the prize of fame.
I will present thee to our Scottish King,
Whose valiant spirit ever valor lov'd.
Ha! my Matilda! wherefore starts that tear?
Lady R. I cannot say; for various affections,
And strangely mingled, in my bosom swell;
Yet each of them may well command a tear.
I joy that thou art safe, and I admire

Norv. I know not how to thank you. Rude I He might have been like this young gallant

Lord R. [to LADY R.] About the time that the I'll be the artist of young Norval's fortune.

Pris. Oh, gentle lady! by your lord's dear life,
Which these weak hands, I swear, did ne'er assail;
And by your children's welfare, spare my age!
Let not the iron tear my ancient joints,
And my gray hairs bring to the grave with pain.
Lady R. Account for these-thine own they
cannot be;

For these, I say, be steadfast to the truth;
Detected falsehood is most certain death.

[ANNA removes the SERVANTS and returns.
Pris. Alas, I'm sore beset! let never man,
For sake of lucre, sin against his soul!
Eternal justice is in this most just!

I, guiltless now, must former guilt reveal.
Lady R. Oh! Anna, hear!-once more I charge
thee, speak

The truth direct; for these to me foretell
And certify a part of thy narration;
With which, if the remainder tallies not,

An instant and a dreadful death abides thee.

Lady R. Ha! dost thou say so? Then perhaps
he lives!

Pris. Not many days ago he was alive.
Lady R. Oh, heav'nly Power! Did he then die
so lately?

Pris. I did not say he died, I hope he lives.
Not many days ago these eyes beheld
Him, flourishing in youth, and health and beauty.
Lady R. Where is he now?

Pris. Alas, I know not where.

Lady R. Oh, fate, I fear thee still. Thou riddler, speak

Direct and clear; else I will searth thy soul. Anna. "Permit me, ever-honored! Keen impatience,

"Tho' hard to be restrain'd, defeats itself."

Lady R. Pursue thy story with a faithful tongue, To the last hour that thou didst keep the child. Pris. Fear not my faith, tho' I must speak my shame.

Pris. Then, thus abjur'd, I'll speak to thee as Within the cradle where the infant lay,

just

As if you were the minister of heaven,
Sent down to search the secret sins of men.
Some eighteen years ago, I rented land

Of brave Sir Malcolm, then Balarmo's lord;
But falling to decay, his servants seiz'd
All that I had, and then turn'd me and mine
(Four helpless infants, and their weeping mother,)
Out to the mercy of the winter winds.
A little hovel by the river's side
Receiv'd us; there hard labor, and the skill
In fishing, which was formerly my sport,
Supported life. Whilst thus we poorly liv'd,
One stormy night, as I remember well,
The wind and rain beat hard upon our roof;
Red came the river down, and loud and oft
The angry spirit of the water shriek'd.

At the dead hour of night was heard the cry
Of one in jeopardy. I rose, and ran
To where the circling eddy of a pool,
Beneath the ford, us'd oft to bring within
My reach whatever floating thing the stream
Had caught. The voice was ceas'd; the person
lost;

But looking sad and earnest on the waters,

Was stow'd a mighty store of gold and jewels;
Tempted by which, we did resolve to hide
From all the world this wonderful event,
And like a peasant breed the noble child.
That none might mark the change of our estate,
We left the country, travel'd to the north,
Bought flocks and herds, and gradually brought
forth

Our secret wealth. But God's all-seeing eye
Beheld our avarice, and smote us sore.
For, one by one, all our own children died,
And he, the stranger, sole remain'd the heir
Of what, indeed, was his. Fain then would I,
Who with a father's fondness lov'd the boy,
Have trusted him, now in the dawn of youth,
With his cwn secret, but my anxious wife,
Foreboding evil, never would consent.
Meanwhile the stripling grew in years and beauty,
And as we oft observed, he bore himself
Not as the offspring of our cottage blood,
For nature will break out; mild with the mild,
But with the forward he was fierce as fire,
And night and day he talk'd of war and arms.
I set myself against his warlike bent,
But all in vain, and when a desperate band

By the moon's light I saw, whirl'd round and Of robbers from the savage mountains came—

round,

A basket; soon I drew it to the bank,

And nestled curious there an infant lay.

Lady R. Was he alive?

Pris. He was.

Lady R. Inhuman that thou art!

Lady R. Eternal Providence! What is thy name?

Pris. My name is Norval, and my name he bears.

Lady R. "Tis he! 'tis he himself! It is my son! Oh, sovereign mercy! "Twas my child I saw !

How couldst thou kill what waves and tempests No wonder, Anna, that my bosom burn'd.

spar'd?

Pris. I am not so inhuman.

Lady R. Didst thou not?

Anna. My noble mistress, you are mov'd too much;

Anna. Just are your transports; "ne'er was woman's heart

"Proved with such fierce extremes. High-fated
dame!"

But yet remember that you are beheld
By servile eyes; your gestures may be seen
Impassion'd strange; perhaps your words o'er-

This man has not the aspect of stern murder;
Let him go on, and you, I hope, will hear
Good tidings of your kinsman's long-lost child.
Pris. The needy man who has known better days,
One whom distress has spited at the world,
Is he whom tempting fiends would pitch upon
To do such deeds as make the prosperous men
Lift up their hands, and wonder who could do them."
And such a man was I; a man declin'd,
Who saw no end of black adversity;
Yet, for the wealth of kingdoms, I would not
Have touch'd that infant with a hand of harm.

heard.

Lady R. Well dost thou counsel, Anna; heav'n
bestow

On me that wisdom which my state requires!
Anna. "The moments of deliberation pass,
And soon you must resolve. This useful man
"Must be dismiss'd in safety, ere my lord
"Shall with his brave deliverer return."

Pris. If I, amidst astonishment and fear,
Have of your words and gestures rightly judg'd,

Thou art the daughter of my ancient master;
The child I rescu'd from the flood is thine.

Lady R. With thee dissimulation now were vain.
I am indeed the daughter of Sir Malcolm ;
The child thou rescu'dst from the flood is mine.
Pris. Blest be the hour that made me a poor|
man!

My poverty hath sav'd my master's house!

Lady R. Thy words surprise me; sure thou
dost not feign;

The tear stands in thine eye. Such love from thee
Sir Malcolm's house deserved not, if aright
Thou told'st the story of thine own distress.

Pris. Sir Malcolm of our Barons was the flower,
The fastest friend, the best, the kindest master;
But, ah! he knew not of my sad estate.
After that battle where his gallant son,
Your own brave brother, fell, the good old lord
Grew desperate and reckless of the world;
And never, as he erst was wont, went forth
To overlook the conduct of his servants.
By them I was thrust out, and them I blame.
May heav'n so judge me as I judg'd my master,
And God so love me as I love his race!

Lady R. His race shall yet reward thee.
thy faith

Depends the fate of thy lov'd master's house.
Rememb'rest thou a little lonely hut,
That like a holy hermitage appears
Among the clifts of Carron?

Pris. I remember

The cottage of the clifts.

Lady R. "Tis that I mean;

There dwells a man of venerable age,

Accept a widow's and a mother's thanks
For such a gift! What does my Anna think
Of the young eaglet of a valiant nest?
How soon he gaz'd on bright and burning arms,
Spurned the low dunghill where his fate had
thrown him,

And tower'd up to the region of his sire!
Anna. How fondly did your eyes devour the
boy!

Mysterious nature, with the unseen cord
Of powerful instinct, drew you to your own.
Lady R. The ready story of his birth believ'd,
Suppress'd my fancy quite; nor did he owe
To any likeness my so sudden favor.
But now I long to see his face again,
Examine every feature, and find out
The lineaments of Douglas, or my own.
But most of all I long to let him know
Who his true parents are, to clasp his neck,
And tell him all the story of his father.
Anna. With wary caution you must bear your-
self

In public, lest your tenderness break forth,
And in observers stir conjectures strange.

On" For if a cherub in the shape of woman
"Should walk this world, yet defamation would,
"Like a vile cur, bark at the angel's train-”
To-day the baron started at your tears.

Who in my father's service spent his youth;
Tell him I sent thee, and with him remain,
Till I shall call upon thee to declare,
Before the king and nobles, what thou now
To me hath told. No more but this, and thou
Shalt live in honor all thy future days;
Thy son so long shall call thee father still,
And all the land shall bless the man who sav'd
The son of Douglas, and Sir Malcolm's heir.
Remember well my words; if thou should'st meet
Him whom thou call'st thy son, still call him so;
And mention nothing of his nobler father.

Lady R. He did so, Anna! well thy mistress
knows,

If the least circumstance, mote of offense,
Should touch the baron's eye, his sight would be
With jealousy disorder'd. But the more

It does behove me instant to declare
The birth of Douglas, and assert his rights.
This night I purpose with my son to meet,
Reveal the secret, and consult with him;
For wise is he, or my fond judgment errs.
As he does now, so look'd his noble father,
Array'd in nature's ease; his mien, his speech
Were sweetly simple, and full oft deceiv'd
Those trivial mortals who seem always wise.
But, when the matter match'd his mighty mind,
Up rose the hero; on his piercing eye

Sat observation; on each glance of thought
Decision follow'd, as the thunderbolt

Pris. Fear not that I shall mar so fair an har- Pursues the flash. rest,

By putting in my sickle ere 'tis ripe;

Why did I leave my home and ancient dame?
To find the youth, to tell him all I knew,
And make him wear these jewels in his arms;
Which might, I thought, be challeng'd, and so
bring

To light the secret of his noble birth.

[LADY RANDOLPH goes towards the SERVANTS. Lady R. This man is not th' assassin you suspected,

Tho' chance combin'd some likelihoods against

him.

He is the faithful bearer of the jewels
To their right owner, whom in haste he seeks.
"Tis meet that you should put him on his way,
Since your mistaken zeal hath dragg'd him hither.
[Exeunt STRANGER and SERVANTS.
My faithful Anna, dost thou share my joy?
I know thou dost. Unparallel'd event!
Reaching from heav'n to earth, Jehovah's arm
Snatch'd from the waves, and brings to me my
son!

Judge of the widow and the orphan's father!

Anna. That demon haunts you still;
Behold Glenalvon.

Lady R. Now I shun him not.
This day I brav'd him in behalf of Norval,
Perhaps too far-at least my nicer fears
For Douglas thus interpret.

Enter GLENALVON.

Glen. Noble dame!

The hov'ring Dane at last his men hath landed;
No band of pirates, but a mighty host,
That come to settle where their valor conquers-
To win a country, or to lose themselves.

Lady R. But whence comes this intelligence,
Glenalvon?

Glen. A nimble courier sent from yonder camp,
To hasten up the chieftains of the North,
Inform'd me as he pass'd, that the fierce Dane
Had on the eastern coast of Lothian landed,
"Near to that place where the sea-rock immense,
"Amazing Base, looks o'er a fertile land.

Lady R. "Then must this western army march
to join

"The warlike troop that guard Edina's tow'rs?

1