For, if a cherub in the shape of woman Should walk this world, yet defamation would, Lady Rand. He did so, Anna! Well thy mis- If the least circumstance, mote of offence, The birth of Douglas, and assert his rights. Pursues the flash. Anna. That demon haunts you still : Behold Glenalvon. Lady Rand. Now I shun him not. This day I braved him in behalf of Norval : 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 valour conquers; To win a country, or to lose themselves. Lady Rand. 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 past, that the fierce Dane Had on the eastern coast of Lothian landed, Near to that place where the sea-rock immense, Amazing Bass, looks o'er a fertile land. Lady Rand. Then must this western army march to join The warlike troops that guard Edina's towers. Glen. Beyond all question. If impairing time Has not effaced the image of a place Once perfect in my breast, there is a wild Which lies to westward of that mighty rock, To our swift-scow'ring horse; the bloody field How many widows weep their husbands slain! Glen. Oft has the unconquer'd Caledonian sword to scorn; Nor e'er reproach, but when insulted virtue Against audacious vice asserts herself. I own thy worth, Glenalvon; none more apt No longer vainly feed a guilty passion ; Glen. One instant stay, and hear an alter'd man, And turn death from him with a guardian arm. Sedate by use, my bosom maddens not At the tumultuous uproar of the field. Lady Rand. Act thus, Glenalvon, and I am thy friend : But that's thy least reward. Believe me, sir, The truly generous is the truly wise; And he, who loves not others, lives unblest. [Exit Lady RANDOLPH. Glen. [Solus.] Amen! and virtue is its own reward! I think that I have hit the very tone In which she loves to speak. Honey'd assent, How pleasant art thou to the taste of man, Rarely disgusts. They little know mankind Fate o'er my head suspends disgrace and death, That slave of Norval's I have found most apt: I shew'd him gold, and he has pawn'd his soul and swear whatever I suggest. To say Norval, I'm told, has that alluring look, "Twixt man and woman, which I have observed To charm the nicer and fantastic dames, |