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Sedate by use, my bosom maddens not
Lady Rund. Act thus, Glenalron, and I am thy friend :
[Exeunt Lady R. and Anna. Glen. I think that I have hit the very tone In which she loves to speak. Honey'd assent! How pleasing art thou to the taste of man, And woman also ! 'tis to me a key, And gives possession of a poor frail 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. Disgrace and death are o'er my head suspended
By that weak hair,* a peevish female's will. "I am not idle: but the ebbs and flows 5 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 fantastick dames, Boasting, like lady Randolph, a proud virtue. In raising Randolph's jealousy I may (Who knows?) point to the truth. At least, let men Like me think not too well of womankind. [Exit. ACT IV.
* Alluding to the sword suspended over the bead of Damocles, at a banguel, by Dionysius,
The SCENE continues. A Flourish of Trumpets.
Enter Lord RANDOLPH attended. Lord Rand. Summon an hundred horse, by break of To wait our pleasure at the castle gate.
[day, Enter Lady RANDOLPH. Lady Rand. Alas! my lord ! I've heard unwelcome The Danes are landed.
[news : Lord Rand. 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.
Lady Rand. Dreadful times !
Lord Rand. The senceless villages are all forsaken; The trembling mothers and their children lodg'd In well-girtt towers and castles; whilst the men Retire indignant. Yet, like broken waves, They but retire more awful to return.
Lady Rand. Immense, as fame reports, the Danish host
Lord Rand. Were it as numerous as loud fame reports, An army knit like ours would pierce it thro': Brothers, that shrink not from each other's side, And fond companions, fill our warlike files: For his dear offspring, and the wife he loves, The husband and the fearless father arm. In vulgar breasts heroic ardor burns, And the poor peasant mates his daring lord. Lady Rand. Men's minds are temper'd, like their
swords, for war; 'Lovers of danger, on destruction's brink
They joy to rear erect their daring forms.
+ The 12mo. reads wall-girl,
Hence, early graves ; hence the lone widow's life;
Lord Rand. Down in the vale
Enter Young Norval and GLENALVOV.
mani Where didst thou learn so to discourse of
Y. Norv. Small is the skill my lord delights to praise
* Jerusalem was taken by Godfrey of Boulogne, July 5, 1100. This dale therefore fixes the period of ihis drama to the 12th century.
+ The 12mo. reads, The blessed cross.
Pleas'd with my admiration, and the fire
and act his young encounters:
Lord Rund. Why did this soldier in a desart hide
Y. Norv. 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 God!* The soldier cried, my brother! Oh! my brother!
Lady Rand. His brother!
Y. Norv. Yes; of the same parents born;
Lady Rand. To what mysterious woes are mortals In this dire tragedy were there no more (born! Unhappy persons ? did the parents live?
* The 12mo, reads Power.
Y. Norv. No; they were dead: kind Hear'n had clos'd
Before their son had shed his brother's blood.
deed His ignorant sword had done.From whence these sounds?
[Trumpets at a distance.
Enter an OFFICER. Offic. My Lord, the trumpets of the troops of Lorn: Their valiant leader hails the noble Randolph. Lord Rand. Mine ancient guest! does he the warriors
lead ? Has Denmark rous'd the brave old knight to arms?
Offic. No; worn with warfare, he resigns the sword.
Lord Rand. Glenalvon, go.
Lord Rand. May victory sit on the warrior's plume!* Bravest of men! his flocks and herds are safe; Remote from war's alarms his pastures lye, By mountains 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. I'll go and press the hero to my breast.
[Exit with the Officer, Lady Rand. The soldier's loftiness, the pride and
" Fortune and victory sit on thy helm.”.
Rich, JII. A. V. S. 3.