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'Tis meet that you should put him on his way, No longer raivly feed a guilty passion ; Since your mistaken zeal has dragged him hither. Go and pursue a lawful mistress, Glory.
(Ereunt Stranger and Servants. Upon the Danish crests redeem thy fault, My faithful Annn! dost thou share my joy? And let thy valour be the shield of Randolph. I know thou dost. Unparallel'd event!
Gle. One instant stay, and hear an alter'd man. Reaching from Heaven to earth, Jehovah's arm When beauty pleads for virtue, vice abash'd Snatch'd from the waves, and brings me to my son! Flies its own colours, and goes o'er to virtue. Judge of the widow, and the orphan's father, I am your convert; time will show bow truly: Accept a widow's and a mother's thanks
Yet one immediate proof I mean to give. For such a giit !- What does my Anna think That youth for whom your ardent zeal to day, Of the young eaglet of a valiant nest ?
Somewhat too haughtily, defied your slave, How soon be gazed on bright and burning arms, Amidst the shock of armies l'il defend, Spuro'd the low duoghill where his fate bad thrown And turn death from him with a guardian arm. him,
Lady R. Act thus, Glenalvon, and I am thy And tower'd up to the region of his sire !
friend : Anna. How fondly did your eyes devour the boy? But that's thy least reward. Believe me, sir, Mysterious nature, with the unseen cord
The truly generous is the truly wise ; Of powerful instinct. drew you to your own. And he, who loves not others, lives unbless'd. Lady R. The ready story of his birth believed,
(Erit Lady RANDOLPH. Suppress'd my fancy quite, nor did he owe
Gle. (Solus.] Amen! and virtue is its own reTo any likeness my so sudden favour:
ward. But, now I long to see his face again,
I think, that I have hit the very tone Examine every feature, and find out
In which she loves to speak. Honey'd assent, The lineaments of Douglas, or my own.
How pleasing art thou to the taste of man, But, most of all, I long to let him know
And woman also ! fattery direct Who his true parents are, to clasp his neck, Seldom disgusts. They little know mankind, And tell him all the story of his father.
Who doubt its operation : 'tis my key, Anna. With wary caution you must bear your And opes the wicket of the human heart. self
How far I have succeeded 110w, I know not. In public, lest your tenderness break forth, Yet I incline to think her stormy virtue And in observers stir conjectures strange.
Is lull'd awhile; 'tis her alone I fear : To-day the baron started at your tears.
Whilst she and Randolph live, and live in faith Lady R. He did so, Anna! well thy mistress And amity, uncertain is my tenure. knows
That slave of Norval's I bave found most apt: If the least circumstance, mote of offence, I show'd bim gold, and he has pawn'd his soul Should touch the baron's eye, bis sight would be To say and swear whatever I suggest. With jealousy disorder'd.
Norva!, I'm told, bas that alluring look, Anna. That demon haunts you still :
'Twixt man and woman, which I have observed Behold Glenalvon.
To charm the nicer and fantastic dames, Lady R. Now I shun him not.
Who are, like Lady Randolph, full of virtue. This day braved him in behalf of Norval: In raising Randolph'- jealousy. I may Perhaps too far: at least my nicer fears
But point him to the trilh. lle seldom errs, For Douglas thus interpret. (Exit Anna. Who thinks the worst he can of womankind.
[Eri , Enter GLExAlvox. Gle. Noble dame! The hov'ring Dane at last his men liath landed : No band of pirates; but a mighty host, That comes to settle where therr valour conquers ; To win a country, or to lose themselves.
ICT IV. Lady R. How many mothers sball bewail their
sons ! How many widows weep their husbands slain! SCENE 1.-. Court.-Flourish uy Trumpets. Ye dames of Denmark, e'en for you I feel, Who, sadly sitting on the sea-beat shore,
Enter Lord RANDOLPI, atlended. Long look for lords that never sball return.
Gle. Oft bas th' unconquer'd Caledonian sword Lora' R. Summon an bundred horse by break 01 Widow'd the North. The children of the slain
day Come, as I bope, to meet their fathers' fate. To wait our pleasure at the castle gate. The monster war, with ber infernal brood,
Lady R, Alas! my lord ! I've heard unwelcome
The Danes are landed.
Of some young knight, resolv'd to break a spear, Nor e'er reproach, but when insulted virtue And stain with hostile blood his maiden arms, Against audacious vice asserts herself.
The Danes are landed: we must beat them back, I own thy worth, Glenaivon ; none more apt Or live the slaves of Denmark. Than I to praise thy eminence in arms,
Lady R. Dreadful limes! And be the echo of thy martial fame.
Lord R. The fenceless villages are all forsaken
The trembling mothers and their children lodged
Enter an Officer,
! Retire indignant. Yet, like broken waves, They but retire more awful to return.
Offi, My lord, the trumpets of the troops of Lorn Lady R. Immense, as fame reports, the Danish Their valiant leader hails the noble Randolph host!
Lord R. Mine ancient guest! does be the war. Lord R. Were it as aumerous as loud fame re
riors lead? ports,
Has Denmark roused the brave old knight to arms? An army knit like ours would pierce it through : Offi. No; worn with' warfare, he resigns the Brothers that shrink not from each other's side,
sword ; And fond companions, fill our warlike files: His eldest hope, tho valiant John of Lorn, For his dear offspring, and the wife be loves,
Now leads his kindred bands. The husband and the fearless fatber arm.
Lord R. Glenalron, go. In vulgar breasts beroic ardour burns,
With hospitality's most strong request And the poor peasant mates his daring lord. Entreat the chief.
[Exit GLENALVOX. Lady R. Men's minds are temper'd, like their Offi. My lord, requests are vain. swords, for war.
He urges on, impatient of delay, Hence, early graves; hence the lone widow's life; Stung with the tidings of the foe's approach. And the sad mother's grief-embitter'd aze.
Lord R. May victory sit on the warrior's plume! Where is our gallant gyest !
Bravest of men! his flocks and herds are safe ; Lord R. Down in the vale
Remote from war's alarms his pastures lie, I left him managing a fiery steed,
By mountaios inaccessible secured ; Whose stubbornness had 'foil'd the strength and Yet foremost be into the plain descends kill
Eager to bleed in battles not his own. Of every rider. But behold he comes,
Such were the heroes of the ancient world In earnest conversation with Glenalvon.
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. Glenalvon, with the lark arise : go forth
I'll go and press the hero to my breast. And lead my troops that lie in yonder vale:
(Exit with Officer, Private I travel to the royal camp:
Lady R. The soldier's loftiness, the pride and Norval, thou go'st with me. But say, young man,
pomp Where didst thou learn so to discourse of war, Investiing awful war, Norval, I see, And in such terms as I o'erbeard to-day ?
Transport thy youthful mind.
Nor. Ab ! should they not?
Nor. Small is the skill my lord delights to praise I might have been a shepherd all my days,
And, if I fall, with noble dust I lie. In a deep cave, dug by no mortal hand,
Lady R. There is a generous spirit in thy breast, A hermit lived ; a melancholy man,
That could have well sustain'd a prouder fortunes Who was the wonder of our wand'ring swains : Since lucky chance has left us here alone, Austere and lonely, cruel to himself,
Unseen, unbeard, by human eye or ear, Did they report him; the cold earth his bed, I will amaze thee with a wondrous tale. Water bis drink, his food the shepherd's alms. Nor. Let there be danger, lady, with the secret, I went to see him, and my heart was touch'd That I may hug it to my grateful heart, With reverence and pity. Mild he spake, And prove my faith. Command my sword, my life: And, entering on discourse, such stories told These are the sole possessions of poor Norval. As made me oft revisit his sad cell.
Lady R. Know'st thou these gems? For be bad be. n a soldier in his youth;
Nor. Durst I believe my eyes, And fought in famous battles, when the peers I'd say I knew them, and they were my father's. Of Europe, by the bold Godfred, led,
Lady R. Thy father's, say'st thou ? Ab, they Against th' usurping infidel display'd
were thy father's ! The blessed cross, and won the Holy Land.
Nor. I saw them once, and curiously inquired Pleased with my admiration, and the fire
Of both my parents, whence such splendour came. His speech struck from me, the old man would Rut I was check’d, and more could never learn. shake
Lady R. Then learn of me; thou art not Nor. His years away, and act his young encounters ;
val's son. Tben having show'd his wounds, he'd sit him Nor. Not Norval's son ! down,
Lady R. Nor of a shepherd sprung. And all the live-long day discourse of war
Nor. Lady, who am I, then ? To belp my fancy, in the smooth green turf
Lady R. Noble thou art, He cut the figures of the marsball'd hosts; For noble was thy sire. Described the motions, and explain'd the use Nor. I will believeOf the deep column, and the lengthen'd line, Oh, tell me further! Say, who was my father ? Tbe square, the crescent, and the phalanx firm. Lady R. Douglas For all that Saracen or Christian knew
Nor. Lord Douglas, whom to day I saw ? Of war's vast art was to this hermit known.
Lady R. His younger brother. [Trumpets at a distance. Nor. And in yonder camp! Lord R. From whence these sounds ?
Lady R. Alas!
my son !
Nor. You make me tremble—Sigbs and tears! The wanton heir of some inglorious chief
Perhaps has scorn'd thee in thy youthful sports. Lady R. Ab, too brave indeed!
Whilst thy indignant spirit swelled in rain. He fell in battle ere thyself was born.
Such contumely thou no more sbalt bear:
Receire a billet, which thy mother's care,
Of private conference. Its purport mark ; of my unbappy parents, and with tears
For, as I there appoint, we meet again. Bewail their destiny, now have compassion Leave me, my son; and frame thy manners still Upon the offspring of the friends you loved. To Norval's, not to noble Douglas' state. Oh, tell me who and wbere my mother is !
Nor. I will remember. Where is Norval now? Oppress'd hy a base world, perhaps she bends That good old man ! Beneath the weight of other ills than grief,
Lady R. At hand conceal'd be lies, And, desolate, imploree of Heav'n the aid
An useful witness. But beware, my son, Her son should give. It is, it must be so- Of yon Glenalvon; in his guilty breast Your countenance confesses that she is wretched ! Resides a villain's shrewdness, ever prone Oh, tell me her condition! Can the sword- To false conjecture. He bath griev'd my heart. Who shall resist me in a parent's cause ?
Nor. Has be indeed? Then let yon false GleLady R. Thy virtue ends her woe-My son!
nalvon Beware of me.
(Exit. Nor. Art thou my mother?
Lady R. There burst the smother'd flaine. Lady R. I am thy mother, and the wife of Dou- Oh, thou all-righteous and eternal king! glas!
(Falls upon his neck. Who father of the fatherless art callid, Nor. Oh, Heaven and earth ? how wond'rous is Protect my son!—Thy inspiration, Lord !
Hath fill'd his bosom with that sacred fire, Erer let me kneel!
Which in the breasts of his forefathers burn'd : Lody R. Image of Douglas : Fruit of fatal love! Set him on high like them, that he may sbine All that I owe thy sire I pay to thee.
The star and glory of his native land! Wor. Respect and admiration still possess me, Then let the minister of death descend, Checking the love and fondness of a son ; And bear my willing spirit to its place. Yet I was filial to my humble parents.
Yonder they come.
How do bad women find But did my sre surpass the rest of men,
Unchanging aspects to conceal their guilt
When I, by reason and by justice urged,
Enter Lord RANDOLPH and GlExalvox.
Nor. Ilow did be fall ? Sure 'twas a bloody field Lady R. Be not, my lord, by his example sway'd. When Douglas died. Oh, I have much to ask! Arrange the business of to-morrow now, Ludy P. Hereafter thou shalt hear the length. And when you enter speak of war no more. [Esit. ened tale
Lord R. 'Tis so, by Heav'n! her mien, her voice, Of all tb, father's and thy mother's woes. At present this:-thou art the rightful heir And her impatience to begone, confirm it. of yooder castle, and the wide domains,
Gle. He parted from her now. Bebind the Which now Lord Randolph, as my husband, holds.
mount, But thou shalt not be wrong'd; I have the power Amongst the trees, I saw bim glide along. To right thee still. Before the king I'll kneel, Lord R. For sad sequesterd virtue she's reAnd call Lord Douglas to protect his blood.
nown'd. Nor. The blood of Douglas will protect itself. Gle. Most true, my lord. Lady R. But we shall need both friends and fa- Lord R. Yet this distinguish'd dame vour, boy,
Invites a youth, the acquaintance of a day, To wrest thy lands and lordsbip from the gripe Alone to meet her at the midnight hour. Of Randolph and his kinsman. Yet I think This assignation (Shows a letter] the assassin (read, My tale will move each gentle heart to pity, Her manifest affection for the youth, My life incline the virtuous to believe.
Might breed suspicions in a husband's brain, Nor. To be the son of Douglas is to me Whose gentle consort all for love had wedded ; Inheritance enough. Declare my birth,
Much more in mine. Matilda never lov'd me. And in the field Ull seek for fame and fortune. Let no man after me a woman wed, Lady R. Thou dost not know what perils and Whose heart be knows he has not ; though she injustico
brings Await the poor man's valour. Oh, my son ! A mine of gold, a kingdom for her dowry. The noblest blood i: all the land's abasbed, For, let ber seem, like the night's sbadowy queen, Having no lackey but pale poverty.
Cold and contemplative-be cannot trust. her; Too long hast thou been tbus attended, Douglas, She may, she will, bring shame and sorrow on him; Too long bast thou been deemed a peasant's child; The worst of sorrow and the worst of sbamos !
Gle. Yield not, my lord, to such afictiag Nor. Sir, I bave been accustom'd all my days thoughts,
To hear and speak the plain and simple truth : But let the spirit of an husband sleep,
And, though I have been told that there are men Till your own senses make a sure conclusion. Who borrow friendship's tongue to speak their This billet must to blooming Norval go:
scorn, At the next turn awaits my trusty spy;
Yet in such language I am little skill'd. I'll give it him refitted for his master.
Therefore I thank Glenalvon for his counsel, In the close thicket take your secret stand ; Although it sounded barshly. Why remind The_moon shines bright, and your own eyes may Me of my birth obscure ? Why slur my power judge
With such contemptuous terms? Of their behaviour.
Gle. I did not mean Lord R. Thou dost counsel well.
To gall your pride, which now I see is great.
Nor. My pride!
Your pride's excessive. Yet, for Randolph's sake,
Nor. A shepherd's scorn! Air-born, exalted above vulgar men.
Gle. Yes, if you presume Lord R. And what avails this maxim?
To bend on soldiers these disdainful eyes, Gle. Much my lord :
As if you took the measure of their minds, Withdraw a little; I'll accost young Norval, And said in secret, you're no match for me, And with ironical derisive counsel
W bat will become of vou ? Explore his spirit. If he is no more
Nor. If this were told
[Aside, Than humble Norval, by thy favour raised, Hast thou no fears for thy presumptuous self? Brave as he is, be'll shrink astonish'd from me. Gle. Ha! dost thou threaten me ? But if he be the favourite of the fair,
Nor. Didst thou not hear? Loved by the first of Caledonia's dames,
Gle. Unwillingly I did; a nobler foo He'll turn upon me, as the lion turns
Had not been questioned thus. But such as theeUpon the hunter's spear.
Nor. Whom dost thou think me? Lord R. 'Tis sbrewdly thought.
Gle. Norval. Gle. When we grow loud, draw near. But let Nor. So I am
And who is Norral in Glenalvon's eye ? His rising wrath restraitı.
Gle. A peasant's son, a wandering beggar-boy ; (Lord RANDOLPn retires. At best no more : even if he speaks the truth. 'Tis strange, by Heaven!
Nor. False as thou art, dost thou suspect my That she should run full tilt her fond career
truth? To one so little known. She, too, that seem'd Gle. Thy truth; thou'rt all a lie; and false ay Pure as the winter stream, when ice, emboss'd,
bell Whitens its course. Even I did think her chaste, Is the vain-glorious tale thou told'st to Randolph. Whose charity exceeds not. Precious sex!
Nor. If I were chain'd, unarm'd, and bedrid old, Whose deeds lascivious pass Glenalvon's thoughts! Perhaps I should revile; but, as I am,
I have no tongue to rail. The humble Norval Enter NORVAL.
Is of a race, who strive not but with deeds. His port I love : he's in a proper mood
Did I not fear to freeze thy shallow valour, To chide the thunder, if at him it roar’d.- [Aside. And make thee sink too soon beneath my sword, Has Norval s-en the troops.
I'd tell thee--what thou art. I know thee well. Nor. The setting sun
Gle. Didst thou not know Glenalron, born to With yellow radiance lighten'd all the vale
But Heaven accelerates its vengeance on thee.
Enter Lord RANDOLPH. My speech will be less ardent. Novelty
Lord R. Hold, I command you both. The man Now prompts my tongue, and youthful admiration
that stirs Vents itself freely; since no part is mine
Makes me his foe. Of praise pertaining to the great in arms.
Nor. Another voice than thine, Gle. You wrong yourself, brave sir; your mar. That threat had vainly sounded, noble Randolph. tial deeds
Gle. Hear bim, my lord; he's wondrous condeHare rank'd vou with the great. But mark me,
scending! Norval :
Mark the humility of shepherd Norval! Lord Randol h's favour now exalts your youth Nor. Now you may scoff in safety. Above his veterans of famous service.
(Sheathes his sword. Let me, who know these soldiers, counsel you. Lord N. Speak not thus, Give them all bonour: seem not to command ; Taunting each other; but unfold to me Else they will scarcely brook your late-sprung power, The cause of quarrel; then I will judge betwist Which nor alliance props, nor birth adorns.
Nor. Nay, my good lord though I revere vou Old Nor. And dost thou call me father? Ob, my much,
son! My canse I plead not, nor demand your judgment. I think that I could die, to make amends I blush to speak; I will not, cannot speak For the great wrong I did thee. 'Twas my crime The opprobious words, that I from bim have borne. Which in the wilderness so long conceal'd To the liege lord of my dear native land
The blossom of thy youth. I owe a subject's homage-but oven bim
Dou. Not worse the fruit, And bis high arbitration I'd reject.
That in the wilderness the blossom blow'd. Witbin my bosom reigns another lord ;
Amongst the shepherds, in the humble cot,
I learn'd some lessons, which I'll not forget,
I, who was once a swain, will ever prove
Old Nor. Let me but live to see thine exaltation! The ancient foe of Caledonia's land
Yet grievous are my fears. Oh, leare this place, Now waves his banners o'er her frighted fields; And those unfriendly towers ! Suspend your purpose till your country's arms Dou. Why should I leave them ? Repel the bold invader: then decide
Old Nor. Lord Randolph and his kinsman seek The private quarrel.
your life. Gle. I agree to this.
Dou. How kulow'st thou that?
Old Nor. I will inform you how.
When evening came, I left the secret place
Appointed for me by your mother's care, Serv. The banquet waits.
And fondly trod in each accustom'd path Lord R. We come.
[Erit with Servant. That to tlie castle leads. Whilst thus I ranged, Gle. Norval,
I was alarm’d with unexpected sounds Let not our variance mar the social bour,
Of earnest voices. On the persons came.
Unseen I lurk'd, and heard them name
Nor. Think not so lightly, sir, of my resentment. Though but imperfectly my ear could hear it. When we contend again, our strife is mortal. 'Twas strange, they sa:d, a wonderful discovery,
[Exeunt. And ever and anon they vow'd revenge !
Dou. Revenge! For what?
Old Nor. For being what you are,
Means to inform you of their wicked purpose,
But I could think of none. At last, perplexed,
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 wbich I give. Dou. This is the place, the centre of the grove; Dou. I scorn it not; Ilere stands tbe oak, the monarch of the wood.
My mother warned me of Glenalvon's baseness How sweet and solemn is this midnight scene : But I will not suspect the noble Randolph. The silver moon, unclouded, holds her way In our encounter with the vile assassins, Through skies where I could count each little star. I mark'd his brave demeanour; lim l'll trust. The fanning west wind scarcely stirs the leaves; Old Nor. I fear you will too far. The river, rushing o'er its pebbled bed,
Dou. Here in tbis place Imposes silence, with a stilly sound.
I wait my mother's coming; she shall know In such a place as this, at such an hour,
What thou hast told; her counsel I will follow, If ancestry can be fo aught believed,
And cautious ever are a mother's counseis. Descending spirits tave conversed with man, You plust depart: your presence may prevent And told the secrets of the world unknown.
Old Nor. My blessing rest upon thee!
Oh, may Heaven's band, which saved thee from Old Nor. 'Tis he. But what if he should chide
the wave me hence.
And from the sword of foes, be near thee still: His just reproach I fear.
Turning mischance, if aught hangs o'er thy h-ad, (Douglas turns aside, and sees him. All upon mine!
[Erit, Forgive, forgive;
Dou. He loves me like a parent; Canst thou forgive the man, the selfish man, And must not, shall not. lose the son he loves, Who bred Sir Malcolm's beir a shepherd's son ? Although his son has found a nobler father.
Dou. Welcome to me. Thou art my father still: Eventful day! how hast thou changed my state! Thy wished-for presence now completes my joy.
Once on the cold and winter shaded side Welcome to me; my fortunes thou shalt share. Of a bleak bill, mischance bad rooted me, And ever honoured with thy Douglas live
Never to thrive, child of another soit