But sure

Sit down and weep the conquests he has made.
Lady, farewel: I leave thee not alone;
Yonder comes one whose love makes duty light. [Exit.

Enter Anna.
Anna. Forgive the rashness of your Anna's love:
Urg'd by affection, I have thus presum'd
To interrupt your solitary thoughts;
And warn you of the hours that you neglect,
And lose in sadness.

Lady Rand. So to lose my hours
Is all the use I wish to make of time.
Anna. To blame thee, lady, suits not with my state:

I
am,

since death first prey'd on man,
Never did sister thus a brother mourn.
What had your sorrows been if you had lost,
In early youth, the husband of your heart?

Lady Rand. Oh!

Anna. Have I distrest you with officious love, And ill-tim'd mention of your brother's fate? Forgive me, lady: humble tho I am, The mind I bear partakes not of my fortune: So fervently I love you, that to dry These piteous tears, Lady Rand. What power directed thy unconscious

tongue To speak as thou hast done? To name

Anna. I know not:
But, since

my
words have made

my

mistress tremble,
I will speak so no more; but silent mix
My tears with hers.

Lady Rand. No, thou shalt not be silent.
I'll trust thy faithful love, and thou shalt be
Henceforth th' instructed partner of my woes.
But what avails it? Can thy feeble pity
Roll back the flood of never-ebbing time?
Compel the earth and ocean to give up
Their dead alive?*

Anna. What means my noble mistress?
Lady Rand. Didst thou not ask what had my sorrows

been,
If I in early youth had lost a husband?
In the cold bosom of the earth is lodg'd,
Mangl'd with wounds, the husband of my youth;
And in some cavern of the ocean lies
My child and his.

Anna. O! lady, most rever'd!
The tale wrapt up in your amazing words
Deign to unfold.

Lady Rund. Alas! an ancient feud,
Hereditary evil, was the source
Of my misfortunes. For it so befell,
That my brave brother did in battle save
The life of Douglas' son, our house's foe:
The youthful warriors vow'd eternal friendship.
To see the vaunted sister of his friend,
Impatient, Douglas to Balarmo came,
Under a borrow'd name. My heart he gain’d;
Nor did I long refuse the hand he begg'd :
My brother's presence authoriz'd our marriage.
Three weeks, three little weeks, with wings of down,
Had o'er us flown, when my lov'd lord was callid
To fight his father's battles; and with him,
In spite of all my tears, did Malcolm go.
Scarce were they gone, when my stern sire was told
That the false stranger was lord Douglas' son.
Frantic with rage, the baron drew his sword
And question'd me. Alone, forsaken, faint,
Kneeling beneath his sword, fault'ring I took
An oath equivocal, that I ne'er would
Wed one of Douglas' name. Sincerity !
Thou first of virtues, let no mortal leave
Thy onward path! however pow'r may threat,
And death itself may haunt with all its fears,
To take dissimulation's winding way.*

This passage is altered from the original, though the strong figurative espression night perhaps have been defroded by Isaiabo,

Anna. Alas! how few of woman's fearful kind, Durst own a truth so hardy!

Lady Rand. The first truth
Is easiest to avow. This moral learn,
This precious moral, from my tragic tale.
In a few days the dreadful tidings came
That Douglas and my brother both were slain.
My lord!

my
life!

my
husband !

-mighty Godt! But I had sinn'd, and just are my aflictions!

Anna. My dearest lady! Many a tale of tea.rs
I've listen'd to; but never did I hear
A tale so sad as this.

Lady Rand. In the first days
of my distracting grief, I found myself-
As women wish to be who love their lords.

But who durst tell my father? The good priest
Who join'd our hands, my brother's ancient tutor,
With his lov'd Malcolm, in the battle fell:
They two alone were privy to the marriage.
On silence and concealment I resolv’d,
Till time should make my father's fortune mine.
That very night on which my son was born,
My nurse, the only confident I had,
Set out with him to reach her sister's house:
But nurse, nor infant, have I ever seen,
Or heard of, Anna, since that fatal hour.
My murder'd child !--had thy fond mother fear'd
The loss of thee, she had loud fame defy'd,
Despis'd her father's rage, her father's grief,
And wander'd with thee thro' the scorning world.

Anna. Not seen, nor heard of! then perhaps he lives.

Lady Rand. No. It was dark December: wind and Had beat all night. Across the Carron lay (raik The destin'd road; and in it's swelling flood My faithful servant perish'd with my child. O hapless son! of a most hapless sire!But they are both at rest; and I alone Dwell in this world of woe; Nor e'en the dreary comfort is permitted me, The comfort of a solitary sorrow. Tho' dead to love, I was compellid to wed Randolph, who snatch'd me from a villain's arms.; And Randolph now possesses the domains, That by Sir Malcolm's death on me devolvid; Domains, that should to Douglas' son have gir'n A baron's title, and a baron's power.

Such were my soothing thoughts, while I bewail'd • The slaughter'd father of a son unborn. . And when that son came, like a ray from heav'ng ( Which shines and disappears; alas! my child! How long did thy fond mother grasp

the hope 6 Of having thee, she knew not how, restor'd. 6 Year after year hath worn her hope away ; s But left still undiminish'd her desire.

Anna. The hand, that spins th' uneven thread of life, May smooth the length that's yet to come of your’s.

Lady Rand. “ Not in this world: I have consider'd well ' It's various evils, and on whom they fall.

Alas! how oft does goodness wound itself,

And sweet affection prove the spring of woe! 0! had I died when my lov'd husband fell ! Had some good angel op'd to me the book Of Providence, and let me read my life, My heart had broke, when I beheld the sum of ills, which one by one I have endur'd.*

Anna. That God,+ whose ministers good angels are, Hath shut the book in mercy to mankind. But we must leave this theme: Glenalvon comes : I saw him bend on you his thoughtful eyes, And hitherwards he slowly stalks his way.

Lady Rand. I will avoid him. An ungracious person Is doubly irksome in an hour like this.

Anna. Why speaks my lady thus of Randolph's heir?

Lady Rund. Because he's not the heir of Randolph's Subtle and shrewd, he offers to mankind (virtues. An artificial image of himself: