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Lady Rand. To what mysterious woes are mor-
In this dire tragedy, were there no more
closed their eyes
Lord Band. Hard is his fate; for he was not ( •'• to blame!
There is a destiny in this strange world,
Enter an Officer.
Off. My lord, the trumpets of the troops of Lorn: The valiant leader hails the noble Randolph. Lord Rand. Mine ancient guest? does he the
Has Denmark roused the brave old knight to arms?
His eldest hope, the valiant John of Lorn,
Lord Rand. Glenalvon, go,
Off. My lord, requests are vain.
Lord Rand. May victory sit on the warrior's
Bravest of men! his flocks and herds are safe;
Manent Lady Randolph and Norval.
Lady Rand. The soldier's loftiness, the pride and pomp
Investing awful war, Norval, I see,
Norv. Ah! should they not ? -
Lady Rand. There is a gen'rous spirit in thy
That could have well sustain'd a prouder fortune.
Norv. Let there be danger, lady, with the se^
That I may hug it to my grateful heart,
Lady Rand. Know'st thou these gems?
Norv, Durst I believe mine eyes, I'd say I knew them, and they were my father's.
Lady Rand. Thy father's, say'st thou? Ah! they were thy father's!
Norv. I saw them once, and curiously inquired Of both my parents, whence such splendour came; But I was check'd, and more could never learn.
Lady Rand. Then learn of me, thou art not Norval's son.
Norv. Not Norval's son!
Lady Rand. Nor of a shepherd sprung.
Norv. Lady, who am I then?
Lady Rand. Noble thou art;
Norv. I will believe—
Lady Rand. Douglas!
Norv. Lord Douglas, whom to-day I saw?
Lady Rand. His younger brother.
Norv. And in yonder camp
Lady Rand. Alas!
Norv. Youmakemetremble—Sighs and tears!— Lives my brave father?
Lady Rand. Ah! too brave indeed! He fell in battle ere thyself was born.
Norv. Ah me, unhappy! ere I saw the light? But does my mother live? I may conclude, From my own fate, her portion has been sorrow.
Vol. i. z
Lady Rand. She lives; but wastes her life in
constant woe, Weeping her husband slain, her infant lost.
Norv. You that are skill'd so well in the sad story Of my unhappy parents, and with tears Bewail their destiny, now have compassion Upon the offspring of the friends you loved. O! tell me who, and where my mother is? Oppress'd by a base world, perhaps she bends Beneath the weight of other ills than grief; And, desolate, implores of heaven the aid Her son should give. It is, it must be so— Your countenance confesses that she's wretched. O, tell me her condition! Can the sword— Who shall resist me in a parent's cause?
Lady Rand. Thy virtue ends her woes.—My
son! my son! I am thy mother, and the wife of Douglas!
[Falls upon his neck. Norv. O heaven and earth, how wondrous is my
fate! Art thou my mother? Ever let me kneel!
Lady Rand. Image of Douglas ! Fruit of fatal
love! All that I owe thy sire, I pay to thee.