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And wates the flag of her displeasure o'er me,The tender lamb, that never nipt the grass,
la bis behalf. And shall I thus be brav'd ? Is not more innocent than I of murder.
Curt'd, as she calls it, by dame Chastity? Lady R. Of this man's guilt what proof
Infernal fiends, if any fiends there are

can ye produce ? More fierce than hale, ambition, and revenge, 1 Serv. We found him lurking in the holRise up, and fill my bosom with your fires.

low glen.
Darkly a project peers upon my mind, When viewd and call d upon, amaz'd he fled;
Like the red moon when rising in the east, We overtook him, and inquir'd from whence
Cross'd and divided by strange colour'd clouds. And what he was: he said he came from far,
I seek the slave who came with Norval hither, And was upon his journey to the camp:
And for bis cowardice was spurned from bim. Not satisfied with this, we search'd his clothes,
I've known a follower's rankled bosom breed And found these jewels, whose rich value plead
Venon most fatal to his beedless lord. [Exit. Most pow'rfully against him. Hard he seems,

And old in villany. Permit us try
ACT III.

His stubbornness against the torture's force.
SCENE I.—The sume.

Pris. Oh, gentle lady! by your lord's dear Enter Anna.

life,

Which these weak hands, I swear, did ne'er Anna. Thy vassals, grief, great nature's or

assail, der break,

And by your children's welfare, spare my age ! Aed change the noontide to the midnight hour. Let not ihe iron tear my ancient joints, Whilst bdy Randolph sleeps, I will walk forth, And my grey bairs bring to the grave with And taste the air that breathes on yonder bank.

pain. Sweet may her slumbers be! Ye ministers

Lady R. Account for these; thine own they Of gracious heaven, who love the human race,

cannot be : Angels and seraphs, who delight in goodness, For these, I say: be sledfast to the truth; Forsake your skies and to her couch descend ! Detected falsehood is most certain death. There from ber fancy chase those dismal forms

[Anna removes the Servants, and That haunt her waking; her sad spirit charm

returns. With images celestial, such as, please

Pris. Alas! I'm sore beset! let never man, The blest above upon their golden beds. For sake of lucre, sin against his soul!

Eternal justice is in this most just!
Enter Servant.

I, guiltless now, must former guilt reveal.
Sers. One of the vile assassins is secur'd. Lady R. Oh! Anna, bear! - once more I
We found the villain lurking in the wood:

charge thee speak Wie dreadful imprecations he denies The truth direct; for these to me foretel 11 knowledge of the crime. But this is not And certify, a part of thy narration, I first essay: these jewels were conceal'd With which, if the remainder tallies not, le the most secret places of his garment;

An instant and a dreadful death abides thee. B-like the spoils of some that be has murder'd. Pris. Then, thus adjur'd, I'll speak to you Anne. Let me look on them. Ha! here is

as just a heart,

As if you were the minister of heaven, The chosen arest of Douglas' valiant name! Sent down to search the secret sins of men. These are no vulgar jewels. Guard the wretch. Some eighteen years ago I rented land

[Exit. of brave sir Malcolm, then Balarmo's lord;

But falling to decay, his servants seiz'd. Enter Sercants, with a Prisoner. All that I had, and then turn’d me and mine Pris. I know no more than does the child (Four helpless infants and their weeping mother), unbora

Out to the mercy of the winter winds. Of what you charge me with.

A little hovel by the river's side 1 Sere. You say so, sir!

Receivd us; there hard labour, and the skill Esi tortare soon shall make you speak the truth. In fishing, which was formerly my sport, E-bold, the lady of lord Randolph comes : Supported life. Whilst thus we poorly liv’d, kepare yourself to meet her just revenge. One stormy night, as I remember well,

The wind and rain beat hard upon our roof; Enter LADY RANDOLPH and ANNA.

Red came the river down, and loud and oft Anna. Summon your utmost fortitude, be- The angry spirit of the water shriek d. fore

At the dead hour of night was heard the cry 1 speak with him. Your dignity, your fame, of one in jeopardy. I rose, and ran

sin at stake. Think of ihe fatal secret, To where the circling eddy of a pool, burb in a moment from your lips may fly? Beneath the ford, uså oft to bring within Lady R. Thou shalt behold me, with a des-My reach whatever floating thing the stream perate heart,

Had caught. The voice had ceas'd; the perSu bow my infant perish'd. See, he kneels.

son lost; [The Prisoner kneels. But looking sad and earnest on the waters, Prue. Hearen bless that countenance so sweet By the moon's light I saw, whirl'd round and and mild !

round, size like thee makes innocence more bold. A basket : soon I drew it to the bank, sve me, lady, from these cruel men, And nestled curious there an infant lay.

bate attack', and seiz'd me; who accuse Lady R. Was he alive? of intended murder. As I hope

Pris. He was. mercy at the judgment-seat of heaven. | Lady R. Inhuman that thou art !

and appears

How couldst thou kill what waves and tem- Pris. Bless'd be the hour that made me a pests spar'a ?

poor man; Pris. I am not so inhuman.

My poverty hath sav'd my master's house! The needy man who bas known better days, Lady R. Thy words surprise me: sure thou One whom distress has spited at the world,

dost not feign! Is he whom tempting fiends would pitch upon The tear stands in thine eye; such love from To do such deeds as make the prosperous men

thee Lift up their hands, and wonder who could Sir Malcolm's house deserv'd not; if aright do them.

Thou told'st the story of thy own distress. And such a man was I: a man declin'd, Pris. Sir Malcolm of our barons was the Who saw no end of black adversity:

flower; Yet, for the wealth of kingdoms, I would not The safest friend, the best, the kindest master. Have touch'd that infant with a hand of harm. But ah! he knew not of my sad estate. Lady R. Ha! dost thou say so! then per- After that battle, where his gallant son, haps he lives!

Your own brave brother fell, the good old lord "" Pris. Not many days ago he was alive. Grew desperate and reckless of the world; Lady R. Oh, God of heav'n! did he then And never, as he erst was wont, went forth die so lately?

To overlook the conduct of his servants. Pris. I did not say he died; I hope he lives. By them I was thrust out, and them I blame; Not many days ago these eyes beheld May heav'n so judge me as I judge my master! Him flourishing in youth, and health, and beauty. And God so love me as I love his race! Lady R. Where is he now ?

Lady R. His race shall yet reward thee. Pris. Alas! I know not where.

On thy faith Lady R. Oh, fate! I fear thee still. Thou Depends the fate of thy lov'd master's house. riddler, speak

Rememb'rest thou a little, lonely hut, Pris. Fear not my faith, though I must Among the cliffs of Carron? speak my shame;

Pris. I remember the cottage of the cliffs. Within the cradle where the infant lay, Lady R. 'Tis that I mean: Was stow'd a mighty store of gold and jewels; There dwells a man of venerable age, Tempted by which, we did resolve to hide, Who in my father's service spent his youth From all the world this wonderful event, Tell him I sent thee, and with him remain, And like a peasant breed the noble child. Till I shall call upon thee to declare, That none might mark the change of our estate, Before the king and nobles, what thou now We left the country, travelled to the north, To me hast told. No more but this, and thor Bought flocks and herds, and gradually brought Shalt live in honour all thy future days! forth

Thy son so long shall call thee father still, Our secret wealth. But God's, all-sceing eye And all the land shall bless the man who savi Bebeld our avarice, and smole us sore: The son of Douglas, and sir Malcolm's heir

. For, one by one, all our own children died, Remember well my words; if thou shoulds And he, the stranger, sole remaind the heir Of what indeed was his. Fain then would I, Him, whom thou call'st thy son, still call hir Who with a father's fondness lov'd the boy, Hare trusted him, now in the dawn of youth, And mention nothing of his nobler father. With his own secret: but my anxious wife, Pris. Fear not that I shall mar so fair Foreboding evil, never would consent.

harvest, Meanwhile the stripling grew in years and By putting in my sickle ere 'tis ripe. beauty;

Why did I leave my home and ancient dame And, as we oft observ'd, he bore bimself, To find the youth, io tell him all I knew, Not as the offspring of our collage blood; And make him wear these jewels on his arm For nature will break out: mild with the mild, which might, I thought, be challeng'd, an But with the froward he was fierce as fire;

so bring And night and day he talk'd of war and arms. To light the secret of his noble birth. I set myself against his warlike bent ;

(Lady Randolph goes towards th But all in vain; for when a desperate band

Servants. Of robbers from the savage mountains came- Lady R. This man is not the assassin yo Lady R. Etcrnal Providence! What is thy

suspected, name?

Though chance combin'd Pris. My name is Norval; and my name

against him. he bears.

He is the faithful bearer of the jewels Lady R. 'Tis he! 'tis be hinsell! It is my To their right owner, whom in baste he seek son!

'Tis meet that you should put him on bis wa Oh, sovereign mercy! 'twas my child I saw! Since your mistaken zeal bath dragg'd bi Pris. If I, amidst astonishment and fear,

hither. Have of your words and gestures rightly judg’d,

[Exeunt Prisoner and Sercan Thou art the daughter of my ancient master; My faithful Anna! dost thou share my joy? The child I rescu'd froin the flood is thine. I know thou dost. Unparallel'd event! Lady R. With thee dissimulation now Reaching from heav'n to earth, Jehovah's ar were vain,

Snatch'd from the waves, and brings me I am indeed the daughter of sir Malcolm; The child thou rescu'dst from the flood is Judge of the widow, and the orphan's fath mine.

Accept a widow's and a mother's thanks

meet

so;

some likelihon

my son!

man.

For sach a gift! What does my Anna think And be the echo of thy martial fame.
of the young eaglet of a valiant nest ? No longer vainly feed a guilty passion:
How soon be gaz'd on bright and burning Go and pursue a lawful mistress, glory:
arms,

Upon the Danish crests redeem thy fault, Spurn'd the low dunghill where his fate had And let thy valour be the shield of Randolph. thrown him,

Glen. One instant stay, and hear an alter'd And tower'd up to the regions of his sire! Anna. How fondly did your eyes devour When beauty pleads for virtue, vice abash'd the boy!

Flies its own colours, and goes o'er to virtue. Mysterious bature, with the unseen cord I am your convert; time will show how truly: of pow'sful instinct, drew you to your own. Yet one immediate proof I mean to give. Lady R. The ready story of his birth be- That youth for whom your ardent zeal to-day, liev'd,

Somewhat too haughtily defyd your slave, Suppress'd my fancy quite; nor did he owe Amidst the shock of armies I'll defend, To any likeness my so sudden favour: And turn death from him, with a guardian arm. Bat now I long to see his face again,

Lady R. Act thus, Glenalvon, and I am thy Eramine every feature, and find out

friend; The lineaments of Douglas, or my own.

But that's thy least reward. Believe me, sir, bat, most of all, I long to let him know The truly generous is the truly wise; Who his true parents are, to clasp his neck, And he, who loves not others, lives unblest. And tell him all the story of his father.

[Exit Ludy Randolph. Anna. With wary caution you must bear Glen. Amen! and virtue is its own reward: yourself

I think that I have hit the very tone In public, lest your tenderness break forth, In which she loves to speak. Honey'd assent, And in observers stir conjectures strange. How pleasant art thou to the taste of man, Today the baron started at your tears. And woman also! flattery direct Lady R. He did so, Anna : well thy mistress Rarely disgusts. They little know mankind knows

Who doubt its operation: 'tis my key, If the least circumstance, mote of offence, And opes the wicket of the human heart. Skould touch the baron's eye, his sight would How far I have succeeded now, I know not; be

Yet I incline to think her stormy virtue With jealousy disorder'd. But the more Is lull'd awhile; 'tis her alone fear; li does behore me instant to declare

While she and Randolph live, and live in faith The birth of Douglas, and assert his rights. And amity, uncertain is my tenure. Anna. Bebold, Glenalvon comes.

That slave of Norsal's I have found most apt; Lady R. Now I shun him not.

I show'd him gold, and he has pawn'd his soul This day I brar'd him in behalf of Norval; To say and swear whatever I suggest. Perhaps too far; at least my nicer fears Norval, I'm told, has that alluring look, For Douglas thus interpret.

Twixt man and woman, which I have observ'd

To charm the nicer and fantastic dames, Enter GLENALGON.

Who are, like lady Randolph, full of virtue. Glen. Noble dame,

In raising Randolph's jealousy, I may The hovering Dane at last his men hath landed : But point him to the truth. "lle seldom errs, No band of pirates; but a mighty host, Who thinks the worst he can of womankind. That come to settle where there valour con

Exil. quers:

ACT IV.
To win a country, or to lose themselves.
A nimble courier, sent from yonder camp,

Scene I.-Flourish of Trumpets.
To basten up the chieftains of the north,

Enter LORD RANDOLPH, attended. Leformid me as he pass'd, that the fierce Dane Lord R. Summon a hundred horse, by break Had on the eastern coats of Lothian landed.

of day, Lady R. How many mothers shall bewail To wait our pleasure at the castle gate.

their sons! How many widows weep their husbands slain!

Enter LADY RANDOLPA. Ye dames of Denmark, 'e'en for you I feel, Lady R. Alas, my lord, I've heard unwel-, Vho, sadly sitting on the sea-beat shore,

come news; Long look for lords that never shall return. The Danes are landed. Glen. Oft has the unconquer'd Caledonian Lord R. Ay, no inroad this sword

Of the Northumbrian, bent to take a spoil : Widow'd the north. The children of the slain No sportive war, no tournament essay, Come, as I hope, to meet their fathers' fate. Of some young knight résolv'd to break a spear, The monster war, with her infernal brood; And stain with hostile blood his maiden arms. Loud-yelling fury and life-ending pain, The Danes are landed: we must beat them back, dre objects suited to Glenalvon's soul. Or live the slaves of Denmark. Scorn is more grievous than the pains of death; Lady R. Dreadful times ! Reproach more piercing than the pointed sword. Lord R. The fenceless villages are all forLord R. I scorn thee not, but when I ought

saken; to scorn ;

The trembling mothers, and their children So e'er reproach, but when insulted virtue

lodg'a Against audacious vice asserts herself. In wall-girt towers and castles! whilst the men 1

sen thy worth, Glenalson; none more apt Retire indignant: yet, like broken waves, Than I to praise thine eminence in arms, They but retire more awful to return.

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more

Lady R. Immense, as fame reports, the Da-Those qualities that should have grac'd a camp? nish host!

Nor. That too at last I learn'd. Unhappy Lord R. Were it as numerous as loud fame

man! reports,

Returning homewards by Messina's port, An army knit like ours would pierce it through: Loaded with wealth and honours bravely' won, Brothers that shrink not from each other's side, A rude and boist'rous captain of the sea And fond companions, fill our warlike files : Fastend a quarrel on him. Fierce they fought: For his dear offspring, and the wife he loves, The stranger fell, and with his dying breath The husband, and the fearless father arm: Declar'd his name and lineage. Mighty powr! In vulgar breasts heroic ardour burns, The soldier cried, My brother! Oh, my brother! And the poor peasant mates his daring lord. Lady R. His broiher! Lady R. Men's minds are temper'd, like Nor. Yes; of the same parents born; their swords, for war;

His only brother. They exchang'd forgiveness; Lovers of danger, on destruction's brink And happy in my mind was he that died; They joy to rear erect their daring forms. For many deaths has the survivor sufferd. Hence, early graves; hence, the lone widow's In the wild desert on a rock he sits, life:

Or on some nameless stream's untrodden banks, And the sad mother's grief-embitter'd age. And ruminates all day his dreadful fate. Where is our gallant guest ?

At times, alas! not in his perfect mind, Lord R. Down in the vale

Holds dialogues with his lov'd brother's ghost; I left him, managing a fiery steed,

And oft each night forsakes his sullen couch, Whose stubbornness bad foild the strength To make sad orisons for him he slew. and skill

Lady R. In this dire tragedy were there no Of every rider. But bebold he comes, In earnest conversation with Glenalvon, Unhappy persons ? Did the parents live?

Nor. No, they were dead; kind hear'a had Enter NORVAL and GLENALVON.

clos'd their eyes, Glenalvon, with the lark arise; go forth, Before their son bad shed his brother's blood. They And lead my troops that lie in yonder vale: Lord R. Hard is his fate ; for he was not ! Private I travel to the royal camp:

to blame!
Norval, thou goest with me. But say, young There is a destiny in this strange world,
man!

Which oft decrees an undeserved doom:
Where didst thou learn so to discourse of war, Let schoolmen tell us why-,
And in such terms, as I o'erheard to-day?

[Trumpets at a Distance. ce
War is no village science, nor its phrase From whence these sounds ?
A language taught amongst the shepherd swains.
Nor. Small is the skill my lord delights to

Enter an Officer. praise

Offi. My lord, the trumpets of the troops In him he favours.' Hear from whence it came.

of Lorn! Beneath a mountain's brow, the most remote The valiant leader hails the noble Randolph. And inaccessible by shepherds trod,

Lord R. Mine ancient guest! Does he the In a deep cave, dug by no mortal hand,

warriors lead? A hermit livd; a melancholy man! Has Denmark rous'd the brave old knight to Who was the wonder of our wand'ring swains.

arms? Austere and lonely, cruel to himself

Offi. No; worn with warfare, he resigns Did they report him; the cold earth his bed,

the sword. Water his drink, his food the shepherds' alms. His eldest hope, the valiant John of Lorn, I went to see him, and my heart was touchd Now leads his kindred bands. With rev'rence and with pity. Mild he spake, Lord R. Glenalvon, go ; And, entering on discourse, such stories told, With hospitality's most strong request As made me ost revisit his sad cell.

Entreat the chief.

[Exit‘Glenaloon. For he had been a soldier in his youth; Offi. My lord, requests are vain. And fought in famous battles, when the peers He urges on, impatient of delay, Of Europe, by the bold Godfredo led, Stung with the tidings of the foe's approach. Against the usurping infidel display'd

Lord R. May victory sit upon the warrior's The blessed cross, and won the Holy Land.

plume! Pleas'd with my admiration, and the fire Bravest of men! his flocks and herds are safe; His speech struck from me, the old man would Remote from war's alarms his pastures lie, shake

By mountains inaccessible secur'd:
His years away, and act his young encounters: Yet foremost he into the plain descends,
Then, having show'd his wounds, he'd sit him Eager to bleed in battles not his own.
down,

I'll
go
and
press

the hero to my breast. And all the live-long day discourse of war.

[Exit with the Officer. To help my fancy, in the smooth green turf Lady R. The soldier's loftiness, the pride He cut the figures of the marshall'd bosts ; Describ'd the motions, and explaind the use Investing awful war, Norval, I see, of the deep column, and the lengthen'd line, Transport thy youthful mind. The square, the crescent, and the phalanx firm: Nor. Ah! should they not? For all that Saracen or Christian knew Bless'd be the hour I left my father's house! Of war's vast art, was to this hermit known. I might have been a shepherd all my days, Lord R Why did this soldier in a desert And stole obscurely to a peasant's grave. bide

Now, if I live, with mighty chiefs I stand;

and pomp

my life:

came.

And, if I fall, with noble dust I lie. | But did my sire surpass the rest of men, Lady R. There is a generous spirit in thy As thou excellest all of womankind ? breast,

Lady R. Arise, my son. In me thou dost That could have well sustain'd a prouder fortune.

behold This way with me; under yon spreading beach, The poor remains of beauty once admir'd. l'ascen, unheard, by human eye or ear, Yet in my prime I equall'd not thy father; I will amaze thee with a wond'rous tale. His eyes were like the eagle's, yet sometimes Nor. Let there be danger, lady, with the Liker the dove's; and, as he pleas'd, he won secret,

All hearts with softness, or with spirit awid. That I may bag it to my grateful heart, Nor. How did he fall? Sure 'twas a bloody And prove my faith. Command my sword,

field

When Douglas died! Oh, I have much to ask! These are ibe sole possessions of poor Norval. Lady R. Hereafter thou shalt hear the lengthLady R. Know'st thou these gems?

en'd tale Nar. Durst I believe mine eyes,

Of all thy father's and thy mother's woes. I'd say I knew them, and they were my father's. At present this - Thou ari the rightful heir Lady R. Thy father's, say'st thou? Ah, they of yonder castle, and the wide domains, were thy father's !

Which now lord Randolph, as my husband, Nor. Isaw them once, and curiously inquir'd

holds. Of both my parents, whence such splendour But thou shalt not be wrong'd; I have the

power But I was checkd, and more could never learn. To right thee still. Before the king I'll kneel, Lady R. Then learn of me - thou art not And call lord Douglas to protect his blood. Norsal's son.

Nor. The blood of Douglas will protect itself. Nor. Not Norval's son?

Lady R. But we shall need both friends Lady R. Nor of a shepherd sprung.

and favour, boy, Nor. Who am I then?

To wrest thy lands and lordship from the gripe Lady R. Noble thou art,

Of Randolph and his kinsman. Yet I think For Doble was thy sire.

My tale will move each gentle heart to pity, Nor. I will believe

My life incline the virtuous to believe. Oh, tel me further! say, who was my father! Nor. To be the son of Douglas is to me Lady R. Douglas!

Inheritance enough! Declare my birth, Nor. Lord Douglas, whom to-day I saw? And in the field I'll seek for fame and fortune. Lody R. flis younger brother.

Lady R. Thou dost not know what perils Nor. And in yonder camp?

and injustice Lody R. Alas!

Await the poor man's valour. Oh, my Nor. You make me tremble-Sighs and tears! The noblest blood of all the land's'abash'd, Lives my brave father?

Having no lackey þut pale poverty. Lady R. Ah! too brave, indeed!

Too long hast thou been thus attended, Douglas; & idi in battle ere thyself was born. Too long hast thou been deem'd a peasant's Nor. Ah me, unhappy! ere I saw the light!

child: But does my mother live? I may conclude, The wanton heir of some inglorious chief From my own fate, ber portion has been sorrow. Perhaps has scorn'd thee in thy youthful sports, Lady R. She lives; but wastes her life in Whilst thy indignant spirit swelld in vain. constant woe,

Such contumely thou no more shalt bear: Weeping her husband slain, her infant lost. But how I purpose to redress thy wrongs Nor. You that are skilld so well in the sad Must be hereafter told. Prudence directs story

That we should part before yon chiel's return. of my unhappy parents, and with tears Retire, and from thy rustic follower's hand h-wail their destiny, now have compassion Receive a billet, which thy mother's care,

on the offspring of the friends you lov’d. Anxious to see thee, dictated before os, tell me who and where my mother is ! This casual opportunity arose of press'd by a base world, perhaps she bends of private conference. Its purport mark; Broxath the weight of other ills than grief; For, as I there appoint, we meet again. And, desolate, implores of heaven the aid Leave me, my son; and frame thy manners still R-r son should give It is, it must be so- To Norval's, not to noble Douglas' state.

.w countenance confesses that she's wretched. Nor. I will remember. Where is Norval foe, tell me her condition! Can the sword

now, Who shall resist me in a parent's cause? That good old man ? Lady R. Thy virtue ends her woe-My son! Ludy R. At hand conceal'd he lies,

A useful witness. But beware, my son, 1 za ty mother, and the wife of Douglas! Of

yon

Glenalvon; in his guilty breast (Falls upon his Neck. Resides a villain's shrewdness, ever prone Nr. Oh, heaven and earth! how wondrous To false conjecture. He bath griev'd my heart. fate!

Nor. Has he, indeed? Then let yon false thou my mother ? Ever let me kneel!

Glenalvon Lady R'Image of Douglas! fruit of fatal Beware of me.

[Exit love!

Lady R. There burst the smother'd ilame. ** dat I owe thy sire I pay to thee. O, thou all-righteous and eternal King!

Fr. Respect and admiration still possess me, Who father of the fatherless art callà, saking the love and fondness of a son: Protect my son! Thy inspiration, Lord! 1-1 was filial to my humble parents. Hath filled his bosom with that sacred fire,

son!

my son!

is my

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