Enter NORVAL.

His port I love: he's in a proper mood
To chide the thunder, if at him it roar'd.-

Has Norval seen the troops ?

Nor. The setting sun

[Aside.

With yellow radiance lighten'd all the vale;
And as the warriors mov'd, each polish'd
helm,
[beams.
Corslet, or spear, glanc'd back his gilded
The hill they climb'd, and, halting at its top,
Of more than mortal size, towering, they seem'd
A host angelic, clad in burning arms.

Glen. Thou talk'st it well; no leader of our host

In sounds more lofty speaks of glorious war.
Nor. If I shall e'er acquire a leader's name,
My speech will be less ardent. Novelty
Now prompts my tongue, and youthful ad-
miration

Vents itself freely; since no part is mine
Of praise pertaining to the great in arms.
Glen. You wrong yourself, brave Sir; your
martial deeds

Have rank'd you with the great. But mark me, Norval:

Lord Randolph's favour now exalts your youth

Above his veterans of famous service.

Let me, who know these soldiers, counsel you. Give them all honour: seem not to command; Else they will scarcely brook your late sprung

power,

Which nor alliance props, nor birth adorns. Nor. Sir, I have been accustom'd all my

days

men

To hear and speak the plain and simple truth: And though I have been told, that there are [scorn, Who borrow friendship's tongue to speak their Yet in such language I am little skill'd. Therefore I thank Glenalvon for his counsel, Although it sounded harshly. Why remind' Me of my birth obscure? Why slur my power With such contemptuous terms?

Glen. I did not mean

Nor. If I were chain'd, unarm'd, and bed-rid Perhaps I should revile: but, as I am, [old, I have no tongue to rail. The humble Norval Is of a race who strive not but with deeds. Did I not fear to freeze thy shallow valour, And make thee sink too soon beneath my sword, [well. I'd tell thee what thou art. I know thee Glen. Dost thou not know Glenalvon, born

Ten thousand slaves like thee— to command

Nor. Villain, no more!

[Draws. Draw, and defend thy life. I did design To have defied thee in another cause; But heaven accelerates its vengeance on thee. Now for my own and Lady Randolph's [They fight.

wrongs.

Enter LORD RANDOLPH.

Lord R. Hold, I command you both. The man that stirs

Makes me his foe.

Nor. Another voice than thine

That threat had vainly sounded, noble Ran[dolph. Glen. Hear him, my lord; he's wondrous condescending!

Mark the humility of shepherd Norval!
Nor. Now you may scoff in safety.
[Sheathes his sword.

Taunting each other; but unfold to me [you.
Lord R. Speak not thus,
The cause of quarrel, then I judge betwixt
Nor. Nay, my good lord, though I revere
My cause I plead not, nor demand your
[judgment.
The opprobrious words that 1 from him have
I blush to speak; I will not, cannot, speak

you much,

borne:

To the liege lord of my dear native land
I owe a subject's homage; but even him
And his high arbitration I'd reject.
Within my bosom reigns another lord;
Honour, sole judge and umpire of itself.
If my free speech offend you, noble Randolph,
Revoke your favours, and let Norval go
Hence as he came, alone, but not dishonour'd.
Lord R. Thus far I'll mediate with impartial
The ancient foe of Caledonia's land
Suspend your purpose, till your country's arms
Now waves her banners o'er her frighted fields.
Repel the bold invader; then decide
The private quarrel.

Glen.

agree to this. Nor. And I.

Enter SERVANT.

Serv. The banquet waits.

Lord R. We come.
Glen. Norval,

[voice:

[Exit, with SERV.

Let not our variance mar the social hour,
Nor wrong the hospitality of Randolph.
Nor frowning anger, nor yet wrinkled hate,
Shall stain my countenance. Smooth thou thy
brow;

Nor let our strife disturb the gentle dame.
Nor. Think not so lightly, Sir, of my re-

ness:

But I will not suspect the noble Randolph.
In our encounter with the vile assassins,
I mark'd his brave demeanour; him I'll trust.
Old N. I fear you will, too far.
Doug. Here in this place

Old N. 'Tis he. But what if he should chide

me hence?

His just reproach I fear. [DOUGLAS sees him.
Forgive! forgive!
Canst thou forgive the man, the selfish man,
Who bred Sir Malcolm's heir a shepherd's son?
Doug. Kneel not to me; thou art my father
still.

Thy wish'd-for presence now completes my joy.
Welcome to me; my fortunes thou shalt share,
And ever honour'd with thy Douglas live.
Old N. And dost thou call me father? Oh,

my son !

Which in the wilderness so long conceal'd
The blossom of thy youth.

Doug. Not worse the fruit,

That in the wilderness the blossom blow'd. Amongst the shepherds, in the humble cot, 1 learn'd some lessons, which I'll not forget When I inhabit yonder lofty towers. I, who was once a swain, will ever prove The poor man's friend; and, when my vassals bow, [Douglas. Norval shall smooth the crested pride of Old N. Let me but live to see thine exalta[place,

tion! Yet grievous are my fears. Oh, leave this And those unfriendly towers!

Doug. Why should I leave them?

Old N. Lord Randolph and his kinsman seek your life.

Doug. How know'st thou that?

Old N. I will inform you how. When evening came, I left the secret place Appointed for me by your mother's care, And fondly trod in each accustom'd path That to the castle leads. Whilst thus I rang'd, I was alarm'd with unexpected sounds Of earnest voices. On the persons came. Unseen I lurk'd, and overheard them name Each other as they talk'd, lord Randolph this, And that Glenalvon. Still of you they spoke, And of the lady: threat'ning was their speech, Though but imperfectly my ear could hear it. 'Twas strange, they said, a wonderful discov

I wait my mother's coming; she shall know What thou hast told: her counsel I will follow: And cautious ever are a mother's counsels. You must depart: your presence may prevent Our interview.

Oh, may heaven's hand, which sav'd thee from Old N. My blessing rest upon thee!

the wave,

And from the sword of foes, be near thee still; Turning mischance, if aught hangs o'er thy head,

All upon mine!

[Exit.

Doug. He loves me like a parent;
Although his son has found a nobler father.
And must not, shall not, lose the son he loves,
Eventful day! how hast thou chang'd my state!
Of a bleak hill, mischance had rooted me,
Once, on the cold and winter-shaded side
Never to thrive, child of another soil;
Like the green thorn of May my fortune flowers.
Transplanted now to the gay sunny vale,
Ye glorious stars! high heaven's resplendent
host!

To whom I oft have of my lot complain'd,
Hear, and record my soul's unalter'd wish!
Dead or alive, let me but be renown'd!
May heaven inspire some fierce gigantic Dane,
To give a bold defiance to our host!
Before he speaks it out, I will accept :
Like Douglas conquer, or like Douglas die.

Enter LADY RANDOLPH.

Lady R. My son ! I heard a voice-
Doug. The voice was mine.

Lady R. Didst thou complain aloud to nature's ear,

That thus in dusky shades, at midnight hours, By stealth the mother and the son should meet. [They embrace.

Doug. No; on this happy day, this better

birth-day,

My thoughts and words are all of hope and joy. Lady R. Sad fear and melancholy still divide The empire of my breast with hope and joy. Now hear what I advise

Doug. First, let me tell

What may the tenour of your counsel change. Lady R. My heart forebodes some evil. Doug. "Tis not good

At eve, unseen by Randolph and Glenalvon, The good old Norval in the grove o'erheard Their conversation; oft they mentioned me With dreadful threat'nings; you they sometimes nam'd.

"Twas strange, they said, a wonderful discovery; And ever and anon they vow'd revenge.

Lady R. Defend us, gracious God! we are

betray'd.

They have found out the secret of thy birth!
It must be so. That is the great discovery.
Sir Malcolm's heir is come to claim his own,
And they will be reveng'd. Perhaps even now,
Arm'd and prepar'd for murder, they but wait
A darker and more silent hour, to break
Into the chamber where they think thou sleep'st.
This moment, this, heaven hath ordain'd to
save thee!

Fly to the camp, my son!
Doug. And leave you here?

No to the castle let us go together,
Call up the ancient servants of your house,
Who in their youth did eat your father's bread;
Then tell them loudly, that I am your son.
If in the breasts of men one spark remains
Of sacred love, fidelity, or pity,
Some in your cause will arm. I ask but few
To drive these spoilers from my father's house.
Lady R. Oh, nature, nature! what can check
thy force?

Thou genuine offspring of the daring Douglas!
But rush not on destruction: save thyself,
And I am safe. To me they mean no harm.
Thy stay but risks thy precious life in vain.
That winding path conducts thee to the river.
Cross where thou seest a broad and beaten way,
Which, running eastward, leads thee to the

camp.

Instant demand admittance to lord Douglas : Show him these jewels which his brother wore. Thy look, thy voice, will make him feel the truth,

Which I by certain proof will soon confirm. Doug. I yield me, and obey: but yet my heart

[stay, Bleeds at this parting. Something bids me And guard a mother's life. Oft have I read Of wondrous deeds by one bold arm achiev'd. Our foes are two; no more: let me go forth, And see if any shield can guard Glenalvon. Lady R. If thou regard'st thy mother, or

I have great cause to dread. Too well I see
Which way the current of thy temper sets:
To-day I have found thee. Oh! my long-lost
If thou to giddy valour giv'st the rein, [hope!
To-morrow I may lose my son for ever.
The love of thee, before thou saw'st the light,
Sustain'd my life when thy brave father fell.
If thou shalt fall, I have nor love nor hope
In this waste world! My son, remember me!
Doug. What shall I say? How can I give
you comfort?

The God of battles of my life dispose
As may be best for you! for whose dear sake
I will not bear myself as I resolv'd.
But yet consider, as no vulgar name, [men,
That which I boast, sounds among martial
How will inglorious caution suit my claim?
The post of fate unshrinking I maintain.
My country's foes must witness who I am.
On the invaders' heads I'll prove my birth,
"Till friends and foes confess the genuine
strain.

If in this strife I fall, blame not your son,
Who, if he live not honour'd, must not live.
Lady R. I will not utter what my bosom
feels.

Too well I love that valour which I warn. Farewell, my son, my counsels are but vain, [They embrace. And as high heaven hath will'd it, all must be. [They separate. Gaze not on me, thou wilt mistake the path; I'll point it out again. [Exeunt.

Just as they are separating, enter, from the Wood, LORD RANDOLPH and GLENALVON. Lord R. Not in her presence.

Now

Glen. I'm prepared.

Lord R. No; I command thee, stay. I go alone: it never shall be said That I took odds to combat mortal man. The noblest vengeance is the most complete. [Exit. [GLENALVON makes some steps to the same side of the stage, listens, and speaks. Glen. Demons of death, come settle on my sword,

And to a double slaughter guide it home!
The lover and the husband both must die.
Lord R. [Without.] Draw, villain! draw!
Doug. [Without.] Ássail me not, Lord Ran-
dolph;

Not as thou lov'st thyself. [Clashing of swords.
Glen. [Running out.] Now is the time.
Enter LADY RANDOLPH, at the opposite side of
the stage, faint and breathless.

Lady R. Lord Randolph, hear me: all shall be thine own!

But spare! Oh, spare my son!

I

Enter DOUGLAS, with a sword in each hand. Doug. My mother's voice! can protect thee still.

Lady R. He lives! he lives!

For this, for this, to heaven, eternal praise! But sure I saw thee fall.

Doug. It was Glenalvon. [sword, Just as my arm had master'd Randolph's The villain came behind me ; but I slew him. Lady R. Behind thee! ah! thou art wounded! Oh, my child, [now? How pale thou look'st! and shall I lose thee Doug. Do not despair: I feel a little faint

ness,

I hope it will not last. [Leans upon his sword. Lady R. There is no hope!

[thee! And we must part! the hand of death is on Oh! my beloved child! O Douglas, Douglas!

[DOUGLAS growing more and more faint. Doug. Oh! had I fallen as my brave fathers Turning with fatal arm the tide of battle, [fell, Like them I should have smil'd and welcom'd death;

But thus to perish by a villain's hand!
Cut off from nature's and from glory's course,
Which never mortal was so fond to run.
Lady R. Hear, justice, hear! stretch thy
avenging arm! [DOUGLAS falls.

Doug. Unknown I die; no tongue shall speak of me.

Some noble spirits, judging by themselves,
May yet conjecture what I might have prov'd,
And think life only wanting to my fame:
But who shall comfort thee?

Lady R. Despair, despair!

Doug. Oh, had it pleas'd high Heaven to let me live

A little while!- -my eyes that gaze on thee Grow dim apace! my mother-O! my mother! [Dies; LADY RANDOLPH faints upon the body.

Enter LORD RANDOLPH and ANNA. Lord R. Thy words, thy words of truth, have pierc'd my heart: I am the stain of knighthood and of arms. Oh! if my brave deliverer survives The traitor's sword

Anna. Alas! look there, my lord.

Lord R. The mother and her son! How

curs'd am I!

Was I the cause? No: I was not the cause.
Yon matchless villain did seduce my soul
To frantic jealousy.

With thee, or any thing? My son! my son!
My beautiful! my brave! how proud was I
Of thee and of thy valour! my fond heart
O'erflow'd this day with transport, when I
thought

Of growing old amidst a race of thine.
Now all my hopes are dead! A little while
Was I a wife! a mother not so long!
What am I now ?-I know-but I shall be
That only whilst I please; for such a son
And such a husband drive me to my fate.
Lord R. Follow her, Anna: I myself would
[Exit, running;
follow,

But in this rage she must abhor my presence.
[Exit ANNA.
Curs'd, curs'd Glenalvon, he escap'd too
well,

Though slain and baffled by the hand he hated. Foaming with rage and fury to the last. Cursing his conqueror, the felon died.

Re-enter ANNA.

Anna. My lord! my lord!

Lord R. Speak: I can hear of horror.
Anna. Horror, indeed!
Lord R. Matilda!

Anna. Is no more:

She ran, she flew like lightning up the hill:
Nor halted till the precipice she gain'd,
Beneath whose lowering top the river falls
Ingulf'd in rifted rocks: thither she came,
As fearless as the eagle lights upon it,
And headlong down-

Lord R. 'Twas I, alas! 'twas I
The precipice of death! Wretch that I am!
That fill'd her breast with fury; drove her down
Anna. Oh, had you seen her last despairing
look!

Upon the brink she stood, and cast her eyes And her white hands to heaven, seeming to Down on the deep: then, lifting up her head

say,

Why am I forc'd to this? she plung'd herself Into the empty air.

Lord R. I will not vent,

In vain complaints, the passion of my soul.
Peace in this world I never can enjoy.
These wounds the gratitude of Randolph gave;
Denounce my doom. I am resolv'd. I'll go
They speak aloud, and with the voice of fate
Straight to the battle, where the mar that
makes
Me turn aside, must threaten worse than death.
Thou, faithful to thy mistress, take this ring,
With coast and pomp upon their funerals wait:
Full warrant of my power. Let every rite
For Randolph hopes he never shall return.
[The curtain descends slowly to music.