And waves the flag of her displeasure o'er me, The tender lamb, that never nipt the grass,

Is not more innocent than I of murder.
Lady R. Of this man's guilt what proof
can ye produce?

1 Serv. We found him lurking in the hol-
low glen.

In his behalf. And shall I thus be brav'd?
Curb'd, as she calls it, by dame Chastity?
Infernal fiends, if any fiends there are
More fierce than hate, ambition, and revenge,
Rise up, and fill my bosom with your fires.
Darkly a project peers upon my mind, When view'd 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'll seek the slave who came with Norval hither, And was upon his journey to the camp.
And for his cowardice was spurned from him. 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
Venom most fatal to his heedless lord. [Exit. Most pow'rfully against him. Hard he seems,

ACT III.

SCENE L-The same.
Enter ANNA.

Anna. Thy vassals, grief, great nature's or

der break,

And old in villany. Permit us try

His stubbornness against the torture's force.
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 grey hairs bring to the grave with
pain.

And change the noontide to the midnight hour.
Whilst bady Randolph sleeps, I will walk forth,
And taste the air that breathes on yonder bank.
Sweet may her slumbers be! Ye ministers
Of gracious heaven, who love the human race,
Angels and seraphs, who delight in goodness, For these, I say: be stedfast to the truth;
Forsake your skies and to her couch descend! Detected. falsehood is most certain death.
There from her fancy chase those dismal forms
That haunt her waking; her sad spirit charmi
With images celestial, such as please
The blest above upon their golden beds.

Lady R. Account for these; thine own they
cannot be :

Enter Servant.

Serv. One of the vile assassins is secur'd.
We found the villain lurking in the wood:
With dreadful imprecations he denies
All knowledge of the crime. But this is not
His first essay these jewels were conceal'd
In the most secret places of his garment;
Belike the spoils of some that he has murder'd.
Anna. Let me look on them. Ha! here is
a heart,

The chosen crest of Douglas' valiant name!
These are no vulgar jewels. Guard the wretch.
[Exit.

Enter Servants, with a Prisoner. Pris. I know no more than does the unborn

Of what you charge me with. 1 Serv. You say so, sir!

child

Est torture soon shall make you speak the truth.
Behold, the lady of lord Randolph comes:
Prepare yourself to meet her just revenge.

[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 foretel
And certify a part of thy narration,
With which, if the remainder tallies not,
An instant and a dreadful death abides thee.
Pris. Then, thus adjur'd, I'll speak to you
as 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 labour, 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
en speak with him. Your dignity, your fame, Of one in jeopardy. I rose, and ran
Ar now at stake. Think of the fatal secret, To. where the circling eddy of a pool,
Which in a moment from your lips may fly. Beneath the ford, us'd 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 per-
son lost;

Enter LADY RANDOLPH and ANNA.
Anna. Summon your utmost fortitude, be-

fore

Bear how my infant perish'd. See, he kneels.

[The Prisoner kneels. But looking sad and earnest on the waters, Pras. Heaven bless that countenance so sweet By the moon's light I saw, whirl'd round and

. How couldst thou kill what waves and tem-1

pests spar'd?

Pris. I am not so inhuman.

Pris. Bless'd be the hour that made me a poor man;

dost not feign!

My poverty hath sav'd my master's house!
The needy man who has known better days, Lady R. Thy words surprise me: sure thou
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.
Lady R. Ha! dost thou say so! then per-
haps he lives!

Pris. Not many days ago he was alive.
Lady R. Oh, God of heav'n! 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.
riddler, speak

Thou

soul.

Direct and clear; else I will search thy
Pris. Fear not my faith, though I must
speak my shame;

Within the cradle where the infant lay,
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, travelled 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 own secret: but my anxious wife,
Foreboding evil, never would consent.
Meanwhile the stripling grew in years and
beauty;

And, as we oft observ'd, he bore himself,
Not as the offspring of our cottage blood;
For nature will break out: mild with the mild,
But with the froward 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; for when a desperate band
Of robbers from the savage mountains came-
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!

The tear stands in thine eye; such love from
thee

Sir Malcolm's house deserv'd not; if aright
Thou told'st the story of thy own distress.
Pris. Sir Malcolm of our barons was th

flower;

The safest friend, the best, the kindest maste
But ah! he knew not of my sad estate.
After that battle, where his gallant son,
Your own brave brother fell, the good old lo
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 blam
May heav'n so judge me as I judge my master
And God so love me as I love his race!

Lady R. His race shall yet reward the
On thy faith
Depends the fate of thy lov'd master's hous
Rememb'rest thou a little, lonely hut,
That, like a holy hermitage appears
Among the cliffs of Carron?

Pris. I remember the cottage of the cliffs
Lady R. 'Tis that I mean:
There dwells a man of venerable age,
Who in my father's service spent his yout
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 hast told. No more but this, and the
Shalt live in honour all thy future days!
Thy son so long shall call thee father still,
And all the land shall bless the man who say
The son of Douglas, and sir Malcolm's heir
Remember well my words; if thou should

meet

Him, whom thou call'st thy son, still call hi

so;

And mention nothing of his nobler father.
Pris. Fear not that I shall mar so fair
harvest,

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 on his arm
Which might, I thought, be challeng'd, an
so bring
To light the secret of his noble birth.
[Lady Randolph goes towards
Servants.
Lady R. This man is not the assassin yo
suspected,

Though chance combin'd

some likelihoo against him. He is the faithful bearer of the jewels To their right owner, whom in haste he seek 'Tis meet that you should put him on his way Oh, sovereign mercy! 'twas my child I saw! Since your mistaken zeal bath dragg'd his Pris. If I, amidst astonishment and fear, Hlave 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. I Lady R. With thee dissimulation now

were vain.

hither.

[Exeunt Prisoner and Servant My faithful Anna! dost thou share my joy? know thou dost. Unparallel'd event! Reaching from heav'n to earth, Jehovah's ar Snatch'd from the waves, and brings me my son!

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 fathe

mine.

Accept a widow's and a mother's thanks

Late

For such a gift! What does my Anna think |And be the echo of thy martial fame.
Of the young eaglet of a valiant nest?

How soon he 'gaz'd on bright and burning Go and pursue a lawful mistress, glory.

Spurn'd the low dunghill where his fate had And let thy valour be the shield of Randolph. Glen. One instant stay, and hear an alter'd

To win a country, or to lose themselves.
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 coats of Lothian landed.
Lady R. How many mothers shall bewail To wait our pleasure at the castle gate.

SCENE I.-Flourish of Trumpets.
Enter LORD RANDOLPH, attended.
Lord R. Summon a hundred horse, by break
of day,

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 man!

Lord R. Were it as numerous as loud fame

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: Fasten'd 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 pow'r! 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 brother! Lady R. Men's minds are temper'd, like their swords, for war;

Lovers of danger, on destruction's brink
They joy to rear erect their daring forms.
Hence, early graves; hence, the lone widow's
life;

And the sad mother's grief-embitter'd age.
Where is our gallant guest?

Lord R. Down in the vale

I left him, managing a fiery steed,
Whose stubbornness had foil'd the strength
and skill

Of every rider. But behold he comes,
In earnest conversation with Glenalvon.

Enter NORVAL and GLENALVON.
Glenalvon, with the lark arise; go forth,
And lead my troops that lie in yonder vale:
Private I travel to the royal camp:

Norval, thou goest with me. But say, young
man!

Where didst thou learn so to discourse of war,
And in such terms, as I o'erheard to-day?
War is no village science, nor its phrase
A language taught amongst the shepherd swains.
Nor. Small is the skill my lord delights to
praise

In him he favours. Hear from whence it came.
Beneath a mountain's brow, the most remote
And inaccessible by shepherds trod,
In a deep cave, dug by no mortal hand,
A hermit liv'd; a melancholy man!
Who was the wonder of our wand'ring swains.
Austere and lonely, cruel to himself
Did they report him; the cold earth his bed,
Water his drink, his food the shepherds' alms.
I went to see him, and my heart was touch'd
With rev'rence and with pity. Mild he spake,
And, entering on discourse, such stories told,
As made me oft revisit his sad cell.
For he had been a soldier in his youth;
And fought in famous battles, when the peers
Of Europe, by the bold Godfredo led,
Against the usurping infidel display'd
The blessed cross, and won the Holy Land.
Pleas'd with my admiration, and the fire
His speech struck from me, the old man would

shake

His years away, and act his young encounters: Then, having show'd his wounds, he'd sit him down,

Nor. Yes; of the same parents born;
His only brother. They exchang'd forgiveness;
And happy in my mind was he that died;
For many deaths has the survivor suffer'd.
In the wild desert on a rock he sits,
Or on some nameless stream's untrodden banks,
And ruminates all day his dreadful fate.
At times, alas! not in his perfect mind,
Holds dialogues with his lov'd brother's ghost;
And oft each night forsakes his sullen couch,
To make sad orisons for him he slew.

Lady R. In this dire tragedy were there no

His eldest hope, the valiant John of Lorn,
Now leads his kindred bands.

Lord R. Glenalvon, go;
With hospitality's most strong request
Entreat the chief.
[Exit Glenalcon.
Offi. My lord, requests are vain.
He urges on, impatient of delay,
Stung with the tidings of the foe's approach
Lord R. May victory sit upon the warrior':

plume!
Bravest of men! his flocks and herds are safe
Remote from war's alarms his pastures lie,
By mountains inaccessible secur'd:
Yet foremost he into the plain descends,
Eager to bleed in battles not his own.

go and press the hero to my breast.
[Exit with the Officer
Lady R. The soldier's loftiness, the prid
and pomp
Investing awful war, Norval, I see,
Transport thy youthful mind.

And all the live-long day discourse of war.
To help my fancy, in the smooth green turf
He cut the figures of the marshall'd hosts;
Describ'd the motions, and explain'd the use
Of the deep column, and the lengthen'd line,
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.
Now, if I live, with mighty chiefs I stand;

hide

That could have well sustain❜d a prouder fortune.
This way with me; under yon spreading beach,
Unseen, unheard, by human eye or ear,
I will amaze thee with a wond'rous tale.
Nor. Let there be danger, lady, with the
secret,

That I may hug it to my grateful heart,
And prove my faith. Command my sword,
my life:

These are the sole possessions of poor Norval.
Lady R. Know'st thou these gems?
Nor. Durst I believe mine eyes,

I'd say I knew them, and they were my father's.
Lady R. Thy father's, say'st thou? Ah, they
were thy father's!

When Douglas died! Oh, I have much to ask!
Lady R. Hereafter thou shalt hear the length-
en'd tale

Of all thy father's and thy mother's woes.
At present this-Thou art the rightful heir
Of yonder castle, and the wide domains,
Which now lord Randolph, as my husband,
holds.

Nor. I saw them once, and curiously inquir'd
Of both my parents, whence such splendour But thou shalt not be wrong'd; I have the

came.

power

But I was check'd, 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. Nor. The blood of Douglas will protect itself. Lady R. But we shall need both friends and favour, boy,

Norval's son.

Nor. Not Norval's son?

Lady R. Nor of a shepherd sprung.
Nor. Who am I then?

Lady R. Noble thou art,
For noble was thy sire.
Nor. I will believe—

Oh, tell me further! say, who was my father!
Lady R. Douglas!

Nor. Lord Douglas, whom to-day I saw?
Lady R. His younger brother.

Nor. And in yonder camp?

Lody R Alas!

To wrest thy lands and lordship from the gripe
Of Randolph and his kinsman. Yet I think
My tale will move each gentle heart to pity,
My life incline the virtuous to believe.

Nor. To be the son of Douglas is to me
Inheritance enough! Declare my birth,
And in the field I'll seek for fame and fortune.
Lady R. Thou dost not know what perils
and injustice

Await the poor man's valour. Oh, my son!

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

Lady R. Ah! too brave, indeed!
He fell in battle ere thyself was born.
Nor. Ah me, unhappy! ere I saw the light!
But does my mother live? I may conclude,
From my own fate, her portion has been sorrow.
Lady R. She lives; but wastes her life in

constant woe,
Weeping her husband slain, her infant lost.
Nor. You that are skill'd so well in the sad
story

Of my unhappy parents, and with tears
Bewail their destiny, now have compassion

the offspring of the friends you lov'd.
Or, tell me who and where my mother is!
press'd by a base world, perhaps she bends
Bath the weight of other ills than grief;
And, desolate, implores of heaven the aid
Her son should give. It is, it must be so-
Jour countenance confesses that she's wretched.
Oh, tell me her condition! Can the sword-
Who shall resist me in a parent's cause?
Lady R. Thy virtue ends her woe-My son!
my son!

im thy mother, and the wife of Douglas!
[Falls upon his Neck.
Nor. Oh, heaven and earth! how wond'rous
is my fate!

At thou my mother? Ever let me kneel!
Lady R. Image of Douglas! fruit of fatal
love!

that I owe thy sire I pay to thee. Nor. Respect and admiration still possess me, king the love and fondness of a son: was filial to my humble parents.

Having no lackey but pale poverty.

Too long hast thou been thus attended, Douglas;
Too long hast thou been deem'd a peasant's
child:

The wanton heir of some inglorious chief
Perhaps has scorn'd thee in thy youthful sports,
Whilst thy indignant spirit swell'd in vain.
Such contumely thou no more shalt bear:
But how I purpose to redress thy wrongs
Must be hereafter told. Prudence directs
That we should part before yon chief's return.
Retire, and from thy rustic follower's hand
Receive a billet, which thy mother's care,
Anxious to see thee, dictated before
This casual opportunity arose
Of private conference. Its purport mark;
For, as I there appoint, we meet again.
Leave me, my son; and frame thy manners still
To Norval's, not to noble Douglas' state.

Nor. I will remember. Where is Norval
now,

That good old man?

Lady R. At hand conceal'd he lies,
A useful witness. But beware, my son,
Of yon Glenalvon; in his guilty breast
Resides a villain's shrewdness, ever prone
To false conjecture. He hath griev'd my
Nor. Has he, indeed? Then let yon false
Glenalvon
Beware of me.

heart.

[Exit
Lady R. There burst the smother'd flame.
O, thou all-righteous and eternal King!
Who father of the fatherless art call'd,
Protect my son! Thy inspiration, Lord!
Hath fill'd his bosom with that sacred fire,