In speech and manners: never till this hour
Stood I in such a presence: yet, my lord,

There's something in my breast, which makes me bold

To say, that Norval ne'er will shame thy favour.

Lady R. I will be sworn thou wilt not. Thou shalt be My knight; and ever, as thou didst to day, With happy valour guard the life of Randolph. Lord R. Well hast thou spoke. Let me forbid reply. [To NOKVAL. We are thy debtors still! Thy high desert O'ertops our gratitude. I must proceed, As was at first intended, to the camp. Some of my train, I see, are speeding hither, Impatient, doubtless, of their lord's delay. Go with me, Norval, and thine eyes shall see The chosen warriors of thy native land, Who languish for the fight, and beat the air With brandish'd swords.

Nor. Let us be gone, my lord.

120

Lord R. [To Lady RANDOLPH.] About the time

that the declining sun

Shall his broad orbit o'er yon hills suspend,
Expect us to return. This night once more
Within these walls I rest; my tent I pitch
Tomorrow in the field. Prepare the feast,
Free is his heart who for his country fights:
He in the eve of battle may resign
Himself to social pleasure: sweetest then,

When danger to a soldier's soul endears
The human joy that never may return.

[Exeunt RANDOLPH and NORVAL.
Lady R. His parting words have struck a fatal truth.
Oh, Douglas! Douglas! tender was the time
When we two parted, ne'er to meet again!
How many years of anguish and despair

Has Heaven annex'd to those swift-passing hours Of love and fondness. "Then my bosom's flame "Oft, as blown back by the rude breath of fear "Return'd, and with redoubled ardour blaz'd." 140 Anna. May gracious Heav'n pour the sweet balm

of peace

Into the wounds that fester in your breast!

For earthly consolation cannot cure them.

Lady R. One only cure can Heav'n itself bestow ;—

A grave-that bed in which the weary rest.
Wretch that I am! Alas! why am I so?
At every happy parent I repine!

How blest the mother of yon gallant Norval!
She for a living husband bore her pains,
And heard him bless her when a man was born:
She nurs'd her smiling infant on her breast;
Tended the child, and rear'd the pleasing boy :
She, with affection's triumph, saw the youth
In grace and comeliness surpass his peers:
Whilst I to a dead husband bore a son,
And to the roaring waters gave my child.

Anna. Alas! alas! why will you thus resume
Your grief afresh? I thought that gallant youth

60

Would for a while have won you from your woe.

On him intent you gazed, with a look

Much more delighted, than your pensive eye

Has deign'd on other objects to bestow.

Lady R. Delighted, say'st thou? Oh! even there mine eye

Found fuel for my life-consuming sorrow;

I thought, that had the son of Douglas liv'd,

He might have been like this young gallant stranger,
And pair'd with him in features and in shape.
In all endowments, as in years, I deem,

My boy with blooming Norval might have number'd.
Whilst thus I mus'd, a spark from fancy fell
On my sad heart, and kindled up a fondness
For this young stranger wand'ring from his home,
And like an orphan cast upon my care.

I will protect thee, said I to myself,

With all my power, and grace with all my favour.
Anna. Sure Heav'n will bless so gen'rous a resolve.
You must, my noble dame, exert your power:
You must awake: devices will be fram'd,
And arrows pointed at the breast of Norval.

Lady R. Glenalvon's false and crafty head will work Against a rival in his kinsman's love,

If I deter him not; I only can.

Bold as he is, Glenalvon will beware
How he pulls down the fabric that I raise.
I'll be the artist of young Norval's fortune.
"'Tis pleasing to admire! most apt was I
"To this affection in my better days;

"Though now I seem to you shrunk up, retir'd “Within the narrow compass of my woe. "Have you not sometimes seen an early flower "Open its bud, and spread its silken leaves, "To catch sweet airs, and odours to bestow; "Then, by the keen blast nipt, pull in its leaves, "And, though still living, die to scent and beauty? “Emblem of me; affliction, like a storm,

“ Hath kill'd the forward blossom of my heart.”

Enter GLENALVON.

180

Glen. Where is my dearest kinsman, noble Randolph? Lady R. Have you not heard, Glenalvon, of the baseGlen. I have; and that the villains may not 'scape, With a strong band I have begirt the wood. If they lurk there, alive they shall be taken, And torture force from them th' important secret, Whether some foe of Randolph hir'd their swords, Or if

Lady R. That care becomes a kinsman's love.

I have a counsel for Glenalvon's ear. [Exit Anna. Glen. To him your counsels always are commands. Lady R. I have not found so; thou art known to me. Glen. Known!

Lady R. And most certain is my cause of knowledge. Glen. What do you know? By the most blessed cross, You much amaze me. No created being,

Yourself except, durst thus accost Glenalvon.
Lady R. Is guilt so bold? and dost thou make a

merit

Of thy pretended meekness? This to me,
Who, with a gentleness which duty blames,
Have hitherto conceal'd what, if divulg'd,

Would make thee nothing; or, what's worse than that, An outcast beggar, and unpitied too:

For mortals shudder at a crime like thine.

Glen. Thy virtue awes me.

First of womankind!

Permit me yet to say, that the fond man

Whom love transports beyond strict virtue's bounds,
If he is brought by love to misery,

In fortune ruin'd, as in mind forlorn,
Unpitied cannot be. Pity's the alms
Which on such beggars freely is bestow'd;
For mortals know that love is still their lord,
And o'er their vain resolves advances still:
As fire, when kindled by our shepherds, moves
Through the dry heath before the fanning wind.

Lady R. Reserve these accents for some other ear. To love's apology I listen not.

Mark thou my words; for it is meet thou shouldst.
His brave deliverer Randolph here retains.

Perhaps his presence may not please thee well;
But, at thy peril, practise ought against him:
Let not thy jealousy attempt to shake

And loosen the good root he has in Randolph;
Whose favourites I know thou hast supplanted.
Thou look'st at me, as if thou fain would'st pry
Into my heart. 'Tis open as my speech.
I give this early caution, and put on
The curb, before thy temper breaks away.