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In him he favours. Hear from whence it came.
Beneath a mountain's brow, the most remote 's
And inaccessible by shepherds trod, i da
In a deep cave dug by no mortal hand,
A hermit liv’d; a melancholy man, .
Who was the wonder of our wand'ring swains.
Austere and lonely, cruel to himself,
Did they report him; the cold earth his bed,
Water his drink, his food the shepherd's alms.
I went to see him, and my heart was touch'd
With rev'rence and with pity. Mild he spakë, 60
And, entering on discourse, sucli stories told ...
As made me oft revisit his sad cell.
For he had been a soldier in his youth;
And fought in famous battles, when the peers
Of Europe, by the bold Godfredo led,
Against th' usurping infidel display'd
The blessed cross, and won the Holy Land.
Pleas'd with my admiration, and the fire
His speech struck from me, the old man would shake
His years away, and act his young encounters :
Then, having shew'd his wounds, he'd sit him down,
And all the live-long day discourse of war.
To help my fancy, in the smooth green turf
He cut the figures of the marshall'd hosts ;
Describ'd the motions, and explain'd the use ,
Of the deep column, and the lengthen'd linë,
The square, the crescent, and the phalanx firm. .
For all that Saracen or Christian knew
Of war's vast art, was to this hermit known. .

Lord R. Why did this soldier in a desart hide 80 Those qualities, that should have grac'd a camp?

Nor. That too at last I learn'd. Unhappy man! : Returning homewards by Messina's port, Loaded with wealth and honours bravely won, A rude and boist'rous captain of the sea Fasten'd a quarrel on him. Fierce they fought; The stranger fell, and with his dying breath . Declar'd his name and lineage. Mighty pow'r ! The soldier cried, my brother! Oh my brother! Lady R. His brother!

Nor. Yes; of the same parents born; ' His only brother. They exchang'd forgiveness : And happy in my mind was he that died; For many deaths has the survivor suffer'd. In the wild desart on a rock he sits, Or on some nameless stream's untrodden banks, And ruminates all day his dreadful fate. At times, alas! not in his perfect mind, Holds dialogues with his lov'd brother's ghost; And oft each night forsakes his sullen couch, 100 To make sad orisons for him he slew.

Lady R. To what mysterious woesare mortals born! In this dire tragedy were there no more Unhappy persons ? Did the parents live! Nor. No, they were dead ; kind Heav'n had closid

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

Lord R. 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 ?

[Trur pets at a distance.

120

Enter an Oficer. Offi. My lord, the trumpets of the troops of Lorn: The valiant leader hails the noble Randolph. Lord R. Mine ancient guest! Does he the warriors

lead? Has Denmark rous’d 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 R. Glenalvon, go.
With hospitality's most strong request
Entreat the chief.

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

Lord R. 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 niountains inaccessible secur’d: 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.

140

I'll go and press the hero to my breast.

[Exit with the Officer.
Lady R. The soldier's loftiness, the pride and pomp
Investing awful war, Norval, I see,
Transport thy youthful mind.

Nor. Ah! should they not?
Bless'd 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 R. There is a generous 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 wond'rous tale.

Nor. Let there be danger, Lady, with the secret, 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 R. Know'st thou these gems?

Nor. Durst I believe mine eyes, I'd say I knew them, and they were my father's. Lady R. Thy father's, say'st thou ? Ah, they were thy father's!

161 Nor. I saw them once, and curiously enquir'd Of both my parents, whence such splendor came ? But I was check'd, and more could never learn. Lady R. Then learn of me, thou art not Norval's

son.

Nor. Not Norval's son !
Lady R. Nor of a shepherd sprung.
Nor. Lady, who am I then? .

Lady R. Noble thou art ;
For noble was thy sire.

Nor. I will believe
Oh, tell me farther! Say, who was my father?

Lady R. Douglas !
Nor. Lord Douglas, whom to-day I saw ?
Lady R. His younger brother.
Nor. And in yonder camp?
Lady R. Alas!

Nor. You make me tremble-Sighs and tears!
Lives my brave father ?

180 Lady R. Ah! too brave, indeed! He fell in battle ere thyself was born.

Nor. 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. Lady R. She lives; but wastes her life in constant

woe, Weeping her husband slain, her infant lost.

Nor. 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 lov'd. Oh, 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

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