With jealousy disorder'd.
It does behove me instant to declare
The birth of Douglas, and assert his rights.
This night I purpose with my son to meet,
Reveal the secret, and consult with him:
For wise he is, or my fond judgement errs.
As he does now, so look'd his noble father,
Array'd in Nature's ease: his mien, his speech,
Were sweetly simple, and full oft deceiv'd
Those trivial mortals who seem always wise.
But, when the matter match'd his mighty mind,
Up rose the hero; on his piercing eye
Sat observation; on each glance of thought
Decision follow'd, as the thunderbolt
Anna. That demon haunts you still : Benold Glenalvon
Lady R. Now I shun him not.
This day I brav'd him in behalf of Norval:
Perhaps too far: at least my nicer fears
For Douglas thus interpret.
The hovering Dane at last his men hath landed:
No band of pirates; but a mighty host,
That come to settle where their valour conquers :
To win a country, or to lose themselves.
Lady R. But whence comes this intelligence, Gle
Glen. A nimble courier sent from yonder camp, To hasten up the chieftains of the north, Inform'd me as he pass'd, that the fierce Dane Had on the eastern coast of Lothian landed, "Near to that place where the sea rock immense, Amazing bass, looks o'er a fertile land.
"Lady R. Then must this western army march to
"The warlike troops that guard Edena's tow'rs. "Glen. Beyond all question. If impairing time "Has not effac'd the image of a place,
"Once perfect in my breast, there is a wild "Vhich lies to westward of that mighty rock, "And seems by nature formed for the camp "Of water-wafted armies, whose chief strength "Lies in firm foot, unflank'd with warlike horse: "If martial skill directs the Danish lords, "There inaccessible their army lies
"To our swift-scow'ring horse, the bloody field
"Must man to man, and foot to foot be fought."
Lady R. How many mothers shall bewail their sons!
How many widows weep
their husbands slain !
Ye dames of Denmark, ev'n for you I feel.
Who, sadly sitting on the sea-beat shore,
Long look for lords that never shall return.
Glen. Oft has th' unconquer'd Caledonian sword Widow'd the north. The children of the slain Come, as I hope, to meet their father's fate. The monster war, with her infernal brood, Loud-yelling fury and life-ending pain,
Are objects suited to Glenalvon's soul.
Scorn is more grievous than the pains of death;
Reproach more piercing than the pointed sword.
Lady R. I scorn thee not but when I ought to scorn z
Nor e'er reproach, but when insulted virtue
Against audacious vice asserts herself.
I own thy worth, Glenalvon; none more apt
Than I to praise thine eminence in arms,
And be the echo of thy martial fame.
No longer vainly feed a guilty passion :
Go and pursue a lawful mistress, Glory.
Upon the Danish crests redeem thy fault,
And let thy valour be the shield of Randolph.
Glen. One instant stay, and hear an alter’d man.
When beauty pleads for virtue, vice abash'd
Flies its own colours, and goes o'er to virtue.
I am your convert; time will shew how truly:
Yet one immediate proof I mean to give.
That youth for whom your ardent zeal to-day,
Somewhat too haughtily defy'd your slave,
Amidst the shock of armies I'll defend,
And turn death from him, with a guardian arm,
"Sedate by use, my bosom maddens not
"At the tumultuous uproar of the field."
Lady R. A&t thus, Glenalvon, and I am thy friend: But that's thy least reward. Believe me, sir,
The truly generous is the truly wise;
And he who loves not others lives unblest.
Glen. [solus.] Amen! and virtue is its own reward!
I think that I have hit the very tone
In which she loves to speak. Honey'd assent,
How pleasant art thou to the taste of man,
And woman also! flattery direct
Rarely disgusts. They little know mankind
Who doubt its operation: 'tis my key,
And opes the wicket of the human heart.
How far I have succeeded now, I know not.
Yet I incline to think her stormy virtue
Is lull'd awhile; 'tis her alone I fear;
Whilst she and Randolph live, and live in faith
And amity, uncertain is my tenure.
“Fate o'er my head suspends disgrace and death,
By that weak air, a peevish female's will.
"I am not idle; but the ebbs and flows
"Of fortune's tide cannot be calculated."
That slave of Norval's I have found most apt:
I shew'd him gold, and he has pawn'd his soul
To say and swear whatever I suggest.
Norval, I'm told, has that alluring look,
'Twixt man and woman, which I have observ'd-
To charm the nicer and fantastic dames,
Who are, like lady Randolph, full of virtue.
In raising Randolph's jealousy, I may
But point him to the truth. He seldom errs,
Who thinks the worst he can of womankind.
Flourish of Trumpets. Enter Lord RANDOLPH attended.
Lord Randolph.
SUMMON an hundred horse, by break of day,
To wait our pleasure at the castle gate.
Enter Lady RANDOLPH.
Lady R. Alas, my Lord! I've heard unwelcome
The Danes are landed.
Lord R. Ay, no inroad this
Of the Northumbrian bent to take a spoil
No sportive war, no tournament essay,
Of some young knight resolv'd to break a spear,
And stain with hostile blood his maiden arms.
The Danes are landed: we must beat them back,
Or live the slaves of Denmark.
Lord R. The fenceless villages are all forsaken;
The trembling mothers, and their children lodg'd
In wall-girt towers and castles; whilst the men
Retire indignant. Yet, like broken waves,
They but retire more awful to return.
Lady R. Immense, as fame reports, the Danish host!
Lord R. Were it as numerous as loud fame reports, An army knit like ours would pierce it through: 20
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