Owes

"Its transient calm, a calm I envy not."

heaven

"To souls of warriors in their battles slain."

Malcolm!

Strong was his rage, eternal his resentment;
For when thy brother fell, he smil'd to hear
That Douglas' son in the same field was slain.

Lady R. Oh, rake not up the ashes of my fathers!
Implacable resentment was their crime,
And grievous has the expiation been.
Contending with the Douglas, gallant lives
Of either house were lost; my ancestors
Compell'd, at last, to leave their ancient seat
On Tiviot's pleasant banks; and now of them
No heir is left. Had they not been so stern,
I had not been the last of all my race.

Lord R. Thy grief wrests to its purposes my words;

I never ask'd of thee that ardent love
Which in the breasts of fancy's children burns.
Decent affection, and complacent kindness
Were all I wish'd for; but I wish'd in vain.
Hence with the less regret my eyes behold
The storm of war that gathers o'er this land;
If I should perish by the Danish sword,
Matilda would not shed one tear the more.

But sure I am, since death first preyed on man,
Never did sister thus a brother mourn.
What had your sorrows been if you had lost,
In early youth, the husband of your heart?
Lady R. Oh!

Anna. Have I distress'd you with officious love, And ill-tim'd mention of your brother's fate? Forgive me, lady, humble tho' I am,

The mind I bear partakes not of my fortune;
So fervently I love you, that to dry

I love thy merit and esteem thy virtues.

But whither go'st thou now?

Lord R. Straight to the camp,

Where every warrior on the tiptoe stands
Of expectation, and impatient asks
Each who arrives, if he is come to tell
The Danes are landed.

Lady R. Oh, may adverse winds

Far from the coast of Scotland drive their fleet!
And every soldier of both hosts return
In peace and safety to his pleasant home!

Lord R. Thou speak'st a woman, hear a warrior's wish:

Right from their native land, the stormy north,
May the wind blow, till every keel is fix'd
Immovable in Caledonia's strand!
Then shall our foes repent their bold invasion,
And roving armies shun the fatal shore.

Lady R. "War I detest; but war with foreign foes,

"Whose manners, language, and whose looks are strange,

"Is not so horrid, nor to me so hateful,

"As that with which our neighbors oft we wage. "A river here, there an ideal line, "By fancy drawn, divides the sister kingdoms. "On each side dwells a people similar "As twins are to each other; valiant both"Both for their valor famous through the world. "Yet will they not unite their kindred arms, 66 And, if they must have war, wage distant war, "But with each other fight in cruel conflict. "Gallant in strife, and noble in their ire, "The battle is their pastime. They go forth "Gay in the morning, as to summer sport; "When ev'ning comes, the glory of the morn, "The youthful warrior, is a clod of clay. "Thus fall the prime of either hapless land, "And such the fruit of Scotch and English wars.” Lord R. "I'll hear no more; this melody would make

"A soldier drop his sword, and doff his arms,

Lady R. What power directed thy unconscious

tongue

To speak as thou hast done? to name

Anna. I know not;

But since my words have made my mistress tremble,

I will speak so no more, but silent mix
My tears with hers.

Lady R. No, thou shalt not be silent.
I'll trust thy faithful love, and thou shalt be
Henceforth th' instructed partner of my woes.
But what avails it? Can thy feeble pity
Roll back the flood of never-ebbing time?
Compel the earth and ocean to give up
Their dead alive?

Anna. What means my noble mistress?
Lady R. Didst thou not ask what had my sor-
rows been?

If I in early youth had lost a husband?
In the cold bosom of the earth is lodged,
Mangled with wounds, the husband of my youth;
And in some cavern of the ocean lies
My child and his.

Anna. Oh, lady, most revered!
The tale wrapt up in your amazing words
Deign to unfold.

Lady R. Alas, an ancient feud,
Hereditary evil was the source
Of my misfortunes. Ruling fate decreed
That my brave brother should in battle save
The life of Douglas' son, our house's foe;
The youthful warriors vowed eternal friendship.
To see the vaunted sister of his friend,
Impatient Douglas to Balarmo came,
Under a borrowed name. My heart he gained;
Nor did I long refuse the hand he begged;
My brother's presence authorized our marriage.
Three weeks, three little weeks, with wings of
down,

Had o'er us flown, when my lov'd lord was called
To fight his father's battles; and with him,
In spite of all my tears, did Malcolm go.

Scarce were they gone, when my stern sire was told

That the false stranger was Lord Douglas' son.
Frantic with rage the baron drew his sword,
And questioned me. Alone, forsaken, faint,
Kneeling beneath his sword, falt'ring I took
An oath equivocal, that I ne'er would
Wed one of Douglas' name. Sincerity,
Thou first of virtues, let no mortal leave

Anna. "The hand that spins th' uneven thread of life,

"May smooth the ength that's yet to come of yours."

66

Lady R. "Not in this world; I have consider'd

well

"It's various evils, and on whom they fall. Alas, how oft does goodness wound itself, "And sweet affection prove the spring of woe!"

And from the gulf of hell destruction cry
To take dissimulation's winding way!

Anna. Alas, how few of woman's fearful kind Durst own a truth so hardy!

Lady R. The first truth

Is easiest to avow. This moral learn,
This precious moral, from my tragic tale-
In a few days the dreadful tidings came,
That Douglas and my brother both were slain.
My lord, my life, my husband! Mighty heaven!
What had I done to merit such affliction?

Anna. My dearest lady, many a tale of tears
I've listen'd to; but never did I hear
A tale so sad as this.

Lady R. In the first days

Of my distracting grief, I found myself—
As women wish to be who love their lords.
But who durst tell my father? The good priest
Who joined our hands, my brother's ancient tutor,
With his lov'd Malcolm in the battle fell;
They two alone were privy to the marriage.
On silence and concealment I resolved,
Till time should make my father's fortune mine.
That very night on which my son was born,
My nurse, the only confidant I had,

Set out with him to reach her sister's house;
But nurse nor infant have I ever seen
Or heard of, Anna, since that fatal hour.
"My murdered child! had thy fond mother fear'd
"The loss of thee, she had loud fame defied,
"Despised her father's rage, her father's grief,
"And wander'd with thee thro' the scorning
world."

Anna. Not seen nor heard of? then perhaps he lives.

Lady R. No. and rain Had beat all night. Across the Carron lay The destined road, and in its swelling flood My faithful servant perish'd with my child. "Oh, hapless son of a most hapless sire! "But they are both at rest; and I alone

It was dark December; wind

66

Dwell in this world of woe, condemned to walk "Like a guilt-troubled ghost, my painful rounds;" Nor has despiteful fate permitted me The comfort of a solitary sorrow. Tho' dead to love, I was compelled to wed Randolph, who snatched me from a villain's arms; And Randolph now possesses the domains That by Sir Malcolm's death on me devolv'd; Domains that should to Douglas' son have giv'n A baron's title, and a baron's power. "Such were my soothing thoughts while I bewailed

"The slaughter'd father of a son unborn. "And when that son came, like a ray from heav'n "Which shines and disappears; alas, my child! "How long did thy fond mother grasp the hope "Of having thee, she knew not how, restored. "Year after year hath worn her hope away; "But left still undiminish'd her desire."

Had some good angel op'd to me the book
Of providence, and let me read my life,
My heart had broke when I beheld the sum
Of ills, which one by one I have endur'd.

Anna. That power whose ministers good angels

are,

Hath shut the book in mercy to mankind.
But we must leave this theme; Glenalvon comes;
I saw him bend on you his thoughtful eyes,
And hitherwards he slowly stalks his way.

Lady R. I will avoid him. An ungracious

person

Is doubly irksome in an hour like this.

Anna. Why speaks my lady thus of Randolph's heir?

Lady R. Because he's not the heir of Randolph's

virtues.

Subtle and shrewd, he offers to mankind
An artificial image of himself;

And he with ease can vary to the taste
Of different men, it's features. "Self-denied,
"And master of his appetites he seems;
"But his fierce nature, like a fox chain'd up,
"Watches to seize unseen the wished-for prey.
"Never were vice and virtue pois'd so ill,
"As in Glenalvon's unrelenting mind."
Yet is he brave and politic in war,
And stands aloft in these unruly times.
Why I describe him thus I'll tell hereafter;
Stay and detain him till I reach the castle.

[Exit.

Anna. Oh, happiness! where art thou to be found?

I see thou dwellest not with birth and beauty, Tho' grac'd with grandeur and in wealth array'd; Nor dost thou, it would seem, with virtue dwell, Else had this gentle lady miss'd thee not.

Enter GLENALVON.

Glen. What dost thou muse on, meditating maid? Like some entranced and visionary seer On earth thou stand'st, thy thoughts ascend to heaven.

Anna. Would that I were, e'en as thou say'st,

a seer,

To have my doubts by heav'nly vision clear'd! Glen. What dost thou doubt of? what hast thou to do

With subjects intricate? Thy youth, thy beauty, Cannot be question'd; think of these good gifts, And then thy contemplations will be pleasing.

Anna. Let women view yon monuments of woe, Then boast of beauty; who so fair as she? But I must fellow; this revolving day Awakes the memory of her ancient woes. [Exit. Glen. So! Lady Randolph shuns me! by-and-bye I'll woo her as the lion woos his brides. The deed's a-doing now that makes me lord Of these rich valleys, and a chief of power. The season is most apt; my sounding steps Will not be heard amidst the din of arms.

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 Gleualvon.

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

swords drawn and bloody.

Lady R. Not vain the stranger's fears! how fares my lord?

Lord R. That it fares well, thanks to this lant youth,

gal

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 I
feel.

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?

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-
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.

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
Him and his fortunes who hath wrought thy safety;
Yea, as my mind predicts, with thine his own.
Obscure and friendless, he the army fought,
Bent upon peril, in the range of death
Resolv'd to hunt for fame, and with his sword
To gain distinction which his birth denied.
In this attempt unknown he might have perish'd,
And gain'd, with all his valor, but oblivion.
Now grac'd by thee, his virtue serves no more
Beneath despair. The soldier now of hope
He stands conspicuous; fame and great renown
Are brought within the compass of his sword.

On this my mind reflected, whilst you spoke,
And bless'd the wonder-working hand of heaven.
Lod R. Pious and grateful ever are thy
thoughts!

My deeds shall follow where thou point'st the way.
Next to myself, and equal to Glenalvon,
In honor and command shall Norval be.

On him intent you gazed, with a look
Much more delighted than your pensive eye
Has deigned 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,

To say that Norval ne'er will shame thy favor. Lady R. I will be sworn thou wilt not. Thou shalt be

My knight, and ever, as thou dids't to-day,
With happy valor guard the life of Randolph.
Lord R. Well hast thou spoke. Let me forbid
reply.
[TO NORVAL.

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 brandished swords.

Norv. Let us begone, my lord.

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 num-
bered.

Whilst thus I mused, a spark from fancy fell
On my sad heart, and kindl'd 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 favor.
Anna. Sure heav'n will bless so generous a re-
solve.

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.

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
To-morrow 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 LORD 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 heav'n 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 redoubl'd ardor blaz'd."
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 heaven 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 young 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 Would for a while have won you from your woe.

""Tis pleasing to admire! most apt was I "To this affection in my better days; "Tho' 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 it's bud, and spread it's silken leaves "To catch sweet airs, and odors to bestow; "Then, by the keen blast nipt, pull in it's leavcs, "And tho' 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.

Glen. Where is my dearest kinsman, noble Randolph ?

Lady R. Have you not heard, Glenalvon, of the base

Glen. I have; and that the villains may not

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
Thro' the dry heath against 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 practice aught against him.
Let not thy jealousy attempt to shake
And loosen the good root he has in Randolph,
Whose favorites I know thou hast supplanted.
Thou look'st at me as if thou fain wouldst pry
Into my heart. "Tis open as my speech.
I give this early caution, and put on
The curb, before thy temper breaks away.
The friendless stranger my protection claims;
His friend I am, and be not thou his foc. [Exit.
Glen. Child that I was, to start at my own
shadow,

And be the shallow fool of coward conscience!
I am not what I have been, what I should be.
The darts of destiny have almost pierc'd
My marble heart. Had I one grain of faith
In holy legends and religious tales,

I should conclude there was an arm above
That fought against me, and malignant turn'd,
To catch myself, the subtle snare I set.
Why, rape and murder are not simple means!
Th' imperfect rape to Randolph gave a spouse;
And the intended murder introduc'd
A favorite to hide the sun from me;
And, worst of all, a rival. Burning hell!

This were thy centre, if I thought she lov'd him!

"Tis certain she contemns me; nay, commands me;

And waves the flag of her displeasure o'er me,
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 thy bosom with your fires,
"And policy remorseless! Chance may spoil
"A single aim; but perseverance must
"Prosper at last. For chance and fate
word;

are

"Persistive wisdom is the fate of man."
Darkly a project peers upon my mind,
Like the red moon when peering in the east,
Cross'd and divided by strange color'd clouds.
I'll seek the slave who came with Norval hither,
And for his cowardice was spurned from him.
I've known a follower's rankled bosom breed
Venom most fatal to his heedless lord.

[Erit.

ACT III.

A Court, etc., as before.
Enter ANNA.

Anna. Thy vassals, Grief! great Nature's order break,

And change the noon-tide to the midnight hour.
Whilst Lady 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!
Forsake your skies, and to her couch descend!
There from her fancy chase those dismal forms
That haunt her waking; her sad spirit charm
With images celestial, such as please
The bless'd above upon their golden beds.

Of what you charge me with.

First Serv. You say so, sir?

But torture soon shall make you speak the truth. Behold the lady of Lord Randolph comes; Prepare yourself to meet her just revenge.

Enter LADY RANDOLPH and ANNA. Anna. Summon your utmost fortitude, before You speak with him. Your dignity, your fame, Are now at stake. Think of the fatal secret, Which in a moment from your lips may fly.

Lady R. Thou shalt behold me, with a desp'rate heart,

Hear how my infant perish'd. See, he kneels.
[The PRISONER kneels.
Pris. Heav'n bless that countenance, so sweet
and mild!

A judge like thee makes innocence more bold.
Oh, save me, lady, from these cruel men,
Who have attack'd and seized me; who accuse
Me of intended murder. As I hope
For mercy at the judgment-seat of heav'n,
The tender lamb, that never nipp'd the grass,
Is not more innocent than I of murder.

Lady R. Of this man's guilt what proof can ye produce?

First Serv. We found him lurking in the hollow
Glynn.

When view'd and call'd upon, amaz'd, he fled.
We overtook him, and inquir'd from whence
And what he was; he said he came from far,
And was upon his journey to the camp.
Not satisfied with this, we searched his clothes,
And found these jewels, whose rich value plead
Most powerfully against him. Hard he seems,
And old in villainy. Permit us try

His stubbornness against the torture's force.