And from the gulph 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 Rand. The first truth Is easiest to avow. This moral learn, This precious moral, from my tragic tale.- That Douglas and my brother both were slain. 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 Rand. In the first days Of my distracting grief, I found myself Till time should make my father's fortune mine. My nurse, the only confidante I had, Set out with him to reach her sister's house: Or heard of, Anna, since that fatal hour. And wander'd with thee through the scorning world. Anna. Not seen nor heard of! then perhaps he lives. Lady Rand. No. It was dark December: wind Had beat all night. Across the Carron lay The comfort of a solitary sorrow. Though dead to love, I was compell'd to wed Randolph, who snatch'd me from a villain's arms; And Randolph now possesses the domains, That by Sir Malcolm's death on me devolved; Domains, that should to Douglas' son have given A baron's title, and a baron's power. Such were my soothing thoughts, while I bewail'd And when that son came, like a ray from heaven, Anna. The hand, that spins the uneven thread of life, May smooth the length that's yet to come of your's. Lady Rand. Not in this world: I have consider'd well Its various evils, and on whom they fall. Anna. That God, whose ministers good angels are, Hath shut the book in mercy to mankind. Lady Rand. 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 Rand. 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 its features. Self-denied, And master of his appetites he seems: Why I describe him thus I'll tell hereafter: [Exit Lady RANDOLPH. Anna. O happiness! where art thou to be found? I see thou dwellest not with birth and beauty, Though graced 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 heavenly 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 monument of woe, Then boast of beauty: who so fair as she? |