Old Norv. Let me but live to see thine exaltation!

Yet grievous are my fears. O leave this place, And those unfriendly towers.

Doug. Why should I leave them?

Old Norv. -Lord Randolph and his kinsman seek your life.

Doug. How know'st thou that?

Old Norv. 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 loads. Whilst thus I ranged, 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 discovery; And ever and anon they vow'd revenge.

Doug. Revenge! for what?

Old Norv. For being what you are, Sir Malcolm's heir: how else have you offended?

When they were gone, I hied me to my cottage,
And there sat musing how I best might find
Means to inform you of their wicked purpose.
But I could think of none: at last perplex'd,
I issued forth, encompassing the tower
With many a weary step and wishful look.
Now Providence hath brought you to my sight,
Let not your too courageous spirit scorn
The caution which I give.

Doug. 1 scorn it not.

My mother warn'd me of Glenalvon's baseness;
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 Norv. I fear you will, too far.

Doug. Here in this place, 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.

Old Norv. My blessing rest upon thee! O may heaven's hand, which saved thee from 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 Old Norval.

Doug. He loves me like a parent; And must not, shall not, lose the son he loves, Although his son has found a nobler father.— Eventful day! how hast thou changed my state! Once on the cold and winter-shaded side Of a bleak hill mischance had rooted me, Never to thrive, child of another soil: Transplanted now to the gay sunny vale, Like the green thorn of May my fortune flowers. 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 Rand. My son! I heard a voice

Doug. The voice was mine.

Lady Rand. 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?

[Embracing him.

Doug. No; on this happy day, this better birthday, My thoughts and words are all of hope and joy.

Lady Rand. 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 tenor of your counsel change.

Lady Rand. 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 mention'd me With dreadful threat'nings; you they sometimes

named.

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

Lady Rand. 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 revenged. Perhaps even now,
Arm'd and prepared 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!

D&ug. 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 tefl 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 those spoilers from my father's house.

Lady Rand. O 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.