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For such a gift! What does my Anna think And be the echo of thy martial fame. of the young eaglet of a valiant nest? No longer vainly feed a guilty passion: How soon he 'gaz’d on bright and burning Go and pursue a lawful mistress, glory. arms,
Upon the Danish crests redeem thy fault, Spurn'd the low dunghill where his fate had And let thy valour be the shield of Randolph. tbrown him,
Glen. One instant stay, and hear an alter'd And towerd up to the regions of his sire! Anna. How fondly, did your eyes devour When beauty pleads for virtue, vice abash'd the boy!
Flies its own colours, and goes o'er to virtue. Mysterious nature, with the unseen cord I am your convert;, time will show how truly : of pow'rful instinct, drew you to your own. Yet-one immediate proof I mean to give. Lady R. The ready story of his birth be- That youth for whom your ardent zeal to-day, liev'd,
Somewhat too haughtily defy'd your slave, Sappress'd my fancy quite; nor did he owe Amidst the shock of armies I'll defend, To any likeness my so sudden favour: And turn death from him, with a guardian arm. But now I long to see his face again,
Lady R. Act thus, Glenalvon, and I am thy Eramine every feature, and find out
friend; The lineaments of Douglas, or my own. But that's thy least reward. Believe me, sir, But, most of all, I long to let him know The truly generous is the truly wise; Who bis true parents are, to clasp his neck, And he, who loves not others, lives únblest. And tell him all the story of his father.
[Exit Ludy Randolph. Anne. With wary caution you must bear Glen. Amen! and virtue is its own reward: yourself
I think that I have hit the very tone In pablic, lest your tenderness break forth, In which she loves to speak, Honey'd assent, And in observers stir conjectures strange. flow pleasant art thou' to the taste of man, To-day the baron started at your tears. And woman also! flattery direct Lody R. He did so, Anna : well thy mistress Rarely disgusts. They little know mankind knows
Who doubt its operation: 'tis my key, If the least circumstance, mote of offence, And
the wicket of the human heart. Sboald touch the baron's eye, his sight would How far I have succeeded now, I know not; be
Yet I incline to think her stormy virtue With jealousy disorder'd. But the more Is lulld awhile; 'tis her alone I fear; h does behove me instant to declare While she and Randolph live, and live in faith The birth of Douglas, and assert his rights. And amity, uncertain is my tenure. Anna. Behold, Glenalvon comes.
That slave of Norval's I have found most apt; Lady R. Now I shun him not.
I show'd him gold, and he has pawn'd his soul This day I bras'd him in behalf of Norval ; To say and swear whatever I suggest. Perhaps too far; at least my nicer fears Norval, I'm told, has that alluring look, For Douglas thus interpret.
'Twixt man and woman, which I have observ'd
To charm the nicer and fantastic dames, Enter GLENALVON.
Who are, like lady Randolph, full of virtue. Glen. Noble dame,
In raising Randolph's jealousy, I may The borering Dane at last his men hath landed : But point him to the truth. He seldom errs, No band of pirates; but a mighty host, Who thinks the worst he can of womankind. That come to settle where there valour con
Scene I.–Flourish of Trumpets.
Enter LORD RANDOLPH, attended. loform'd me as he pass'd, that the fierce Dane Lord R. Summon a hundred horse, by break | Had on the eastern coats of Lothian landed.
of day, Lady R. How many mothers shall bewail To wait our pleasure at the castle gate.
their sons! How many widows weep their husbands slain!
Enter Lady RANDOLPH. Ye dames of Denmark, e'en for you I feel, Lady R. Alas, my lord, I've heard unwelWbo, sadly sitting on the sea-beat shore,
come news; Long look for lords that never shall return. The Danes are landed. Glen. Oft has the unconquer'd Caledonian Lord R. Ay, no inroad this sword
Of the Northumbrian, bent to take a spoil : Widow'd the north. The children of the slain No sportive war, no tournament essay, Came, as I hope, to meet their fathers' fate. Of some young knight resolv'd to break a spear, The monster war, with her infernal brood, And stain with hostile blood his maiden arms. Lond-yelling fury and life-ending pain, The Danes are landed: we must beat them back, Are objects suited to Glenalvon's soul. Or live the slaves of Denmark. Scorn is more grievous than the pains of death; Lady R. Dreadful times ! Reproach more piercing than the pointed sword. Lord R. The fenceless villages are all forLord R. I scorn thec not, but when I ought
saken; to scorn;
The trembling mothers, and their children For e'er reproach, but when insulted virtue
lodg'd Against audacious vice asserts berself. In wall-girt towers and castles! whilst the men I own thy worth, Glenalvon; 'none more apt Retire indignant: yet, like broken waves, Than I to praise thine eminence in arms, They but retire more awful to return.
Lady R. Immense, as fame reports, the Da-Those qualities that should have grac'd a car nish host!
Nor. That too at last I learn'd. Unha Lord R. Were it as numerous as loud fante
Returning homewards by Messina's port, knit like ours would pierce it through: Loaded with wealth and honours bravely w Brothers that shrink not from each other's side, A rude and boist'rous captain of the sea And fond companions, fill our warlike files: Fasten'd a quarrel on him. Fierce they fou For his dear offspring, and the wife he loves, The stranger fell, and with his dying bre The husband, and the fearless father arm: Declar'd his name and liņeage. Mighty po In rulgar breasts heroic ardour burns, The soldier cried, My brother! Oh, my brotl And the poor peasant mates his daring lord. Lady R. His brother! Lady R. Men's minds are temper'd, like Nor. Yes; of the same parents born;
their swords, for war; His only brother. They exchang'd forgiven Lovers of danger, on destruction's brink And happy in my mind was he that died They joy to rear erect their daring forms. For many deaths has the survivor suffer'd Hence, early graves; bence, the lone widow's In the wild desert on a rock he sits,
Or on some nameless stream's untrodden ba And the sad mother's grief-embitter'd age. » And ruminates all day his dreadful fate. Where is our gallant guest?
At times, alas! not in his perfect mind, Lord R. Down in the vale
Holds dialogues with his lov'd brother's gh I left him, managing a fiery steed,
And oft each night forsakes his sullen cou Whose stubbornness had 'foild the strength To make sad orisons for him he slew. and skill
Lady R. In this dire tragedy were there Of every rider. But behold he comes, In earnest conversation with Glenalvon. Unhappy persons ? Did the parents live?
Nor. No, they were dead; kind heav'n Enter NORVAL and GLENALVON.
clos'd their eyes, Glenalvon, with the lark arise; go forth, Before their son had shed bis brother's ble And lead my troops that lie in yonder vale: Lord R. Hard is his fate; for he was Private I travel to the royal camp:
to blame! Norval, thou goest with me. But -say, young There is a destiny in this strange world, man!
Which oft decrees an undeserved doom: Where didst thou learn so to discourse of war, Let schoolmen tell us whyAnd in such terms, as I o'erheard to-day?
[Trumpets at a Dista War is no village science, nor its phrase From whence these sounds ? A language taught amongst the shepherd swains. Nor. Small is the skill my lord delights to
Enter an Officer. praise
Off. My lord, the trumpets of the tra In him he favours. Hear from whence it came.
of Lorn! Beneath a mountain's brow, the most remote The valiant leader hails the noble Randoli And inaccessible by shepherds trod,
Lord R. Mine ancient guest! Does be In a deep cave, dug by no mortal hand,
warriors lead? A hermit liv'd; a melancholy man! Has Denmark rous'd the brave old knight Who was the wonder of our wand'ring swains.
arms? Austere and lonely, cruel to himself
Offi. No; worn with warfare, he resi Did they report him; the cold earth his bed,
the sword. Water his drink, his food the shepherds' alms. His eldest hope, the valiant John of Lorn, I went to see him, and my heart was touch'd Now leads his kindred bands. With rev'rence and with pity. Mild he spake, Lord R. Glenalvon, go; And, entering on discourse, such stories told, With hospitality's most strong request As made me oft revisit his sad cell.
Entreat the chief.
[Erit Glenali For he had been a soldier in his youth; Offi. My lord, requests are vain. And fought in famous battles, when the peers He urges on, impatient of delay, Of Europe, by the bold Godfredo led, Stung with the tidings of the foe's appro Against the usurping infidel display'd
Lord R. May victory sit upon the warri The blessed cross, and won the Holy Land.
plume! Pleas'd with my admiration, and the fire Bravest of men! his flocks and herds are s His speech struck from me, the old man would Remote from war's alarms his pastures lie shake
By mountains inaccessible secur'd: His years away, and act bis young encounters: Yet foremost he into the plain descends, Then, having show'd his wounds, he'd sit him Eager to bleed in battles not his own. down,
and press the hero to my breasts And all the live-long day discourse of war.
[Exit with the Off To help my fancy, in the smooth green turf Lady R. The soldier's loftiness, the pl He cut the figures of the marshalld hosts ; Describ'd the motions, and explain'd the use Investing awful war, Norval, I see, Of the deep column, and the lengthen'd line, Transport thy youthful mind. The square, the crescent, and the phalanx firm: Nor. Ah! 'should they not? For all that Saracen or Christian knew Bless'd be the bour I left my father's hous Of war's vast art, was to this hermit known. I might have been a shepherd all my day! Lord R. Why did this soldier in a desert And stole obscurely to a peasant's grave. hide
Now, if I livewith mighty chiefs 1 stand
And, if I fall, with noble dust I lie. |But did my sire surpass the rest of men, Lady R. There is a generous spirit in thy As thou excellest all of womankind ? breast,
Lady R. Arise, my son. In me thou dost That could have well sustain'd a prouder fortune.
behold This way with me; under yon spreading beach, The poor remains of beauty once admir’d. linseen, unheard, by human eye or ear, Yet in my prime I equall'd not thy father; I will amaze thee with a wond'rous tale. His eyes were like the eagle's, yet sometimes Nor. Let there be danger, lady, with the Liker the dove's; and, as he pleas’d, he won secret,
All hearts with softness, or with spirit aw'd. That I may hug it to my grateful heart, Nor. How did he fall ? Sure 'twas a bloody And prove my faith. Command my sword,
When Douglas died! Oh, I have much to ask! These are the sole possessions of poor Norval. Lady R. Hereafter thou shalt hear the lengthLady R. Know'st thou these gems ?
end tale Nor. Durst I believe mine eyes,
Of all thy father's and thy mother's woes. N say I knew them, and they were my father's. At present this - Thou ari the rightful heir Lady R. Thy father's, say'st thou? Ah, they or yonder castle, and the wide domains, were thy father's !
Which now lord Randolph, as my husband, Nor. I saw them once, and curiously inquir'd
holds. Of both my parents, whence such splendour But thou shalt not be wrong'd; I have the
power But I was check’d, and more could never learn. To right thee still. Before the king I'll kneel, Lady R. Then learn of me - thou art not And call lord Douglas to protect his blood. Norval's son.
Nor. The blood of Douglas will protect itself. Nor. Not Norval's son ?
Lady R. But we shall need both friends Ledy R. Nor of a shepherd sprung.
and favour, boy, Na Who am I then?
To wrest thy lands and lordship from the gripe Lady R. Noble thou art,
of Randolph and his kinsman. Yet I think For doble was thy sire.
My tale will move each gentle heart to pity, Nor. I will beheve
My life incline the virtuous to believe. Ob, tell me further! say, who was my father! Nor. To be the son of Douglas is to me Lady R. Douglas!
Inheritance enough! Declare my birth, Nor Lord Douglas, whom to-day I saw? And in the field I'll seek for fame and fortune. Lady R. His younger brother.
Lady R. Thou dost not know what perils Nor. And in yonder camp?
and injustice Lady R. Alas!
Await the poor man's valour. Oh, my son! Nor. You make me tremble-Sighs and tears! The noblesi blood of all the land's' abash'd, Lives my brave father?
Having no lackey but pale poverty. Lady R. Ah! too brave, indeed!
Too long hast thou been thus attended, Douglas; He fell in battle ere thyself was born. Too long hast, thou been deem'd a peasant's Nor. Ah me, unhappy! ere I saw the light!
child: Bat does my mother live? I may conclude, The wanton heir of some inglorious chief From my own fate, her portion has been sorrow. Perhaps has scorn'd thee in thy youthful sports, Lady R. She lives; but wastes her life in Whilst thy indignant spirit swell'd in vain. constant woe,
Such contumely thou no more shalt bear: Weeping her husband slain, her infant lost. But how I purpose to redress thy wrongs Nor. You that are skill'd so well in the sad Must be hereafter told. Prudence directs story
That we should part before yon chief's return. Of my unhappy parents, and with tears Retire, and from thy rustic follower's hand Bewail their destiny, now have compassion Receive a billet, which thy mother's care, Upon the offspring of the friends you lov'd. Anxious to see thee, dictated before Oh, tell me who and where my mother is ! This casual opportunity arose Oppress'd by a base world, perhaps she bends of private conference. Its purport mark; Beneath the weight of other ills than grief; For, as I there appoint, we meet again. And, desolate, implores of heaven the aid Leave me, my son; and frame thy manners still Her son should give. It is, it must be so- To Norval's, not to noble Douglas' state. Your countenance confesses that she's wretched. Nor. I will remember. Where is Norval Ok, tell me her condition! Can the sword
now, Who shall resist me in a parent's cause? That good old man ? Lady R. Thy virtue ends her woe-My son! Lady R. At hand conceal'd he lies,
A useful witness. But beware, my son, I am thy mother, and the wife of Douglas!
yon Glenalvon; in his guilty breast [Falls upon
his Neck. Resides a villain's shrewdness, ever prone Nor. Oh, heaven and earth! how wondrous To false conjecture. He hath griev'd my
Nor. Has he, indeed? Then let yon false Art thou my mother? Ever let me kneel!
Glenalvon Lady R. Image of Douglas! fruit of fatal Beware of me.
Lady R. There burst the emother'd flame, All that I owe thy sire I pay to thee. O, thou all-righteous and eternal King!
Nor. Respect and admiration still possess me, Who father of the fatherless art callà, Checking the love and fondness of a son: Protect my son! Thy' inspiration, Lord! Yet I was filial to my humble parents. Hath fill'd' his bosom with that sacred fire,
is my fate!
Which in the breasts of his forefathers burn'd : But if he be the favourite of the fair,
But let my lord
His rising wrath restrain.- [Exit Randolp
'Tis strange, by heaven! Enter LORD RANDOLPH and GLEÑALVON. That she should run full tilt her fond caree Lord R. Yon gallant chief,
To one so little known. She, too, that seem Of arms enamour'd, all repose disclaims. Pure as the winter stream, when ice, emboss' Lady R. Be not, my lord, by his example Whitens its course. Even I did think her chast
Whose charity exceeds not. Precious sex! Arrange the business of to-morrow now, Whose deeds lascivious pass Glenalvor And when you enter, speak of war no more.
[Erit. Lord R. 'Tis so, by heav'n! her mien, her
Enter NORVAL. voice, her eye,
His port I love: he's in a proper mood And her impatience to be gone, confirm it. To chide the thunder, if at him it roar'd.Glen. Fle parted from her now. Behind the
Has Norval seen the troops? Amongst the trees, I saw him glide along: Nor. The setting sun Lord R. For sad sequester'd virtue she's With yellow radiance lightend all the vale 'renown'd.
And as the warriors mov'd, each polish'd heln Glen. Most true, my lord.
Corslet, or'spear, glanc'd back his gilded beam Lord R. Yet this distinguish'd dame The bill they climb'd, and, halting at its top Invites a youth, the acquaintance of a day, Of more than mortal size, tow'ring, they seem Alone to meet her at the midnight bour. A host angelic, clad in burning arms. This assignation [Shows a Letter] the assas- Glen. Thou talk'st it well; no leader of ou sin freed,
host Her manifest affection for the youth, In sounds more lofty speaks of glorious war Might breed suspicion in a husband's brain, Nor. If I shall e'er acquire a leader's nam Whose gentle consort all for love had wedded: My speech will be less ardent. Novelty Much more in mine. Matilda never lov'd mc. Now prompts my tongue, and youthful ad Let no man, after me, a woman wed,
miration Whose heart be knows he has not, though Vents itself freely; since no part is mine she brings
Of praise pertaining to the great in arms. A mine of gold, a kingdom for her dowry. Glen. You wrong yourself, brave sir, you For let her seem, like the night's shadowy queen,
martial deeds Cold and contemplative—he cannot trust-her; Have rank'd you with the great. But mar She may, she will, bring shame and sorrow on him;
Lord Randolph's favour now exalts your youl The worst of sorrows, and the worst of shames! Above his veterans of famous service. Glen. Yield not, my lord, to 'such afflicting Let me, who know these soldiers, counsel you thoughts,
Give them all honour: seem not to command But let the spirit of a husband sleep, Else they will scarcely brook your late
sprun Till your own senses make a sure conclusion.
power, This billet must to blooming Norval go: Which nor alliance props, nor birth adorns At the next turn awaits my trusty spy;
Nor. Sir, I have been accustom'd all my day I'll give it him refitted for his master. To hear and speak the plain and simple truti In the close thicket take your secret stand; And though I have been told, that there are me The moon shines bright, and your own eyes Who borrow friendship's tongue to speak the
scorn, Of their behaviour.
Yet in such language I am little skill'd. Lord R. Thou dost counsel well,
Therefore I thank Glenalvon for his counsel Glen. Permit me now to make one slight Although it sounded harshly. Why remind essay;
Me of my birth obscure? Why slur my powe Of all the trophies, which vain mortals boast, With such contemptuous terms ? By wit, by valour, or by wisdom won,
Glen. I did not mean The first and fairest in a young man's eye To gall your pride, which now I see is grea Is woman's captive heart. Successful love Nor. My pride! With glorious fumes intoxicates the mind, Glen. Suppress it, as you wish to prosper And the proud conqueror in triumph moves, Your pride's excessive. Yet, for Randolph's sakı Air-borne, exalted above vulgar men. I will not leave you to its rash direction.
Lord R. And what avails this maxim ? If thus you swell, and frown at high-born mer Glen. Muchi, my lord.
Will high-born men endure a shepherd's scorn Withdraw a little; I'll accost young Norval, Nor. A shepherd's scorn! And with ironical derisive counsel
Glen. Yes; if you presume Explore his spirit. If he is no more To bend on soldiers these disdainful eyes, Than humble Norval, by thy favour rais'd, What will become of you? Brave as he is, he'll shrink astonish'd from me: Nor. If this were told!
Hast thou no fears for thy presumptuous self? The private quarrel.
Glen. I agree to this.
Nor. And I.
Serv.. The banquet wails. Nor. Whom dost thou think me?
Lord R. We come,
[Exit with Servant. Glen. Norval.
Glen. Norval, Nor. So I am
Let not our variance mar the social hour, And who is Norval in Glenalvon's eyes? Nor wrong the hospitality of Randolph. Gizn. A peasant's son, a wandering beggar Nor frowning anger, nor yet wrinkled hate, boy;
Shall stain my countenance. Smooth thou thy At best no more, even if he speaks the truth.
brow; Nor. False as thou art, dost thou suspect Nor let our strife disturb the gentle dame.
Nor. Think not so lightly, sir, of my reGlen, Thy truth! thou'rt all a lie: and false
When we contend again, our strife is mortal. Is the rain-glorious tale thou told'st to Randolph.
[Exeunt. Nor. If I were chain'd, unarm'd, and bedrid old,
ACT V. Pertaps I should revile: but as I am,
SCENE I.-A Wood.
Doug. This is the place, the centre of the And make thee sink too soon beneath my sword,
grove; I'd Idl thee—what thou art. I know thee well. Here stands the oak, the monarch of the wood. Gler. Dost thou not know Glenalvon, born Ilow sweet and solemn is this midnight scene! to command
The silver moon, unclouded, holds her way Tea thousand slaves like thee
Through skies, where I could count each little Nor. Villain, no more!
star. Draw and defend thy life, I did design
The fanning west-wind scarcely stirs the leaves; To bare defy'd thee in another cause;
The river, rushing o'er its pebbled bed, But hear'n accelerates its vengeance on thee. Imposes silence with a stilly sound. Now for my own and lady Randolph's wrongs. In such a place as this, at such an hour,
They fight. If ancestry can be in aught believ'd,
Descending spirits have convers’d with men, Enter LORD RANDOLPH.
And told the secrets of the world unknown. Lard R. Hold, I command you both. The man that stirs
Enter old NORVAL. Makes me his foe.
Old N. 'Tis he. But what if he should Nar. Another voice than thine
chide me hence? That threat had rainly sounded, noble Ran- His just reproach I fear. . dolph.
[Douglas turns aside and sees him Glen. Hear him, my lord; he's wondrous Forgive, forgive; condescending!
Canst thou forgive the man, the selfish man, Mark the humility of shepherd Norval ! Who bred sir Malcolm's heir a shepherd's son? Nor. Now you may scoff in safety. Doug. 'Kneel not to me; thou art my father
[Sheathes his sword. Lord R Speak not thus,
Thy wish’d-for presence now completes my joy Taunting each other; but unfold to me Welcome to me; my fortunes thou shalt share, The cause of quarrel, then I judge betwixt you. And ever honour'd with thy Douglas live. Nor. Nay, mny good lord, though I revere
Old N. And dost thou call me father?. Oh, you much,
my son! My cause I plead not, nor demand your judg- I think that I could die, to make amends ment.
For the great wrong I did thee. 'Twas my I blush to speak; I will not, cannot speak
crime, The opprobrious words that I from bim have Which in the wilderness so long conceald borne.
The blossom of thy youth. To the liege lord of my dear native land Doug. Not worse the fruit, I owe a subject's homage; but ev'n him That in the wilderness the blossom blow'd. And his high arbitration I'd reject.
Amongst the shepherds, in the humble cot, Wibin my bosom reigns another lord ; I learn'd some lessons, which I'll not forget Honour, sole judge, and umpire of itself
. When I inhabit yonder lofty towers. If my free speech offend you, noble Randolph, I, who was once a swain, will ever prove Revoke your favours, and let Norval go The poor man's friend; and, when
vassals Hence as he came, alone, but not dishonour'd.
bow, Lord R. Thus far I'll mediate with impar- Norval shall smooth the crested pride of Douglas. tial voice: Old N. Let me but live to
see thine The ancient foe of Caledonia's land
exaltation! Now waves his banners o'er her frighted fields. Yet grievous are my fears. Oh, leave this place, Suspend your purpose till your country's arms And those unfriendly towers! Repel the bold invader: then decide
Doug. Why should I leave them?