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Lady Rand. To what mysterious woes are mor-
tals born!

In this dire tragedy, were there no more
Unhappy persons? Did the parents live?
Norv. No; they were dead: kind Heaven had

closed their eyes
Before their son had shed his brother's blood.

Lord Band. Hard is his fate; for he was not ( •'• to blame!

There is a destiny in this strange world,
Which oft decrees an undeserved doom:
Let schoolmen tell us why.—From whence these
sounds? [Trumpets at a distance.

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

warriors lead?

Has Denmark roused the brave old knight to arms?
Off. No; worn with warfare, he resigns the

sword.

His eldest hope, the valiant John of Lorn,
Now leads his kindred bands.

Lord Rand. Glenalvon, go,
With hospitality's most strong request
Entreat the chief. [Exit Glenalvon.

Off. My lord, requests are vain.
He urges on impatient of delay,
Stung with the tidings of the foe's approach.

Lord Rand. May victory sit on the warrior's

plume!

Bravest of men! his flocks and herds are safe;
Remote from war's alarms his pastures lie,
By mountains inaccessible secured:
Yet foremost he into the plain descends,
Eager to bleed in battles not his own.
Such were the heroes of the ancient world;
Contemners they of indolence and gain;
But still, for love of glory and of arms,
Prone to encounter peril, and to lift
Against each strong antagonist the spear.
I'll go and press the hero to my breast,

[Exit Randolph.

Manent Lady Randolph and Norval.

Lady Rand. The soldier's loftiness, the pride and pomp

Investing awful war, Norval, I see,
Transport thy youthful mind.

Norv. Ah! should they not ? -
Blest be the hour I left my father's house!
I might have been a shepherd all my days,
And stole obscurely to a peasant's grave.
Now, if I live, with mighty chiefs I stand;
And, if I fall, with noble dust I lie.

Lady Rand. There is a gen'rous spirit in thy

breast,

That could have well sustain'd a prouder fortune.
This way with me; under yon spreading beech,
Unseen, unheard, by human eye or ear,
I will amaze thee with a wondrous tale.

Norv. Let there be danger, lady, with the se^

cret,

That I may hug it to my grateful heart,
And prove my faith. Command-my sword, my

life;
These are the sole possessions of poor Norval.

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;
For noble was thy sire!

Norv. I will believe—
O, tell me farther! Say, who was my father?

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.

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