Page images

The moon shines bright, and your own eyes may judge Of their behaviour.

Lord Rand. Thou dost counsel well.

Glen. Permit me now to make one slight essay.
Of all the trophies which vain mortals boast,
By wit, by valour, or by wisdom won,
The first and fairest, in a young man's eye,
Is woman's captive heart. Successful love
With glorious fumes intoxicates the mind;
And the proud conqueror in triumph moves
Air-born, exalted above vulgar men.

Lord Rand. And what avails this maxim?

Glen. Much, my lord !
Withdraw a little: I'll accost young Norval,
And with ironical derisive counsel
Explore his spirit. If he is no more
Than humble Norval, by thy favour rais'd,

Brave as he is, he'll shrink astonish'd from me:
*But, if he be the favourite of the fair,
Lov'd by the first of Caledonia's dames,
He'll turn upon me, as the lion turns
Upon the hunter's spear.
Lord Rand. 'Tis shrewdly thought.

[Lord Glen. When we grow loud, draw near. His rising wrath restrain.

[Exit Randolph. 'Tis strange! That she should run full-tilt her fond career, To one so little known. She, too, that seem'd Pure as the winter stream, when ice emboss'd Whitens it's course.

Even I did think her chaste, Whose charity exceeds not. Here he comes.

[Douglas appears.
His port I love; he's in a proper mood
To chide the thunder, if at him it roard.
Has Norval seen the troops?

Doug. The setting sun,
With yellow radiance lighten'd all the vale,
And as the warriors mov'd; each polish'd helm,
Corslet, or spear, glanc'd back his gilded beams.
The hill they climb'd, and halting at it's top,

But let my

Of more than mortal size, tow’ring, they seem'd,
An host angelic, clad in burning arms.*

Glen. Thou talkost it well; no leader of our host,
In sounds more lofty, speaks of glorious war.

Doug. If I shall e'er acquire a leader's name, My speech will be less ardent. Novelty Now prompts my tongue, and youthful admiration Vents itself freely; since no part is mine of praise pertaining to the great in arms. Glen. You wrong yourself, brave sir; your martiaľ

deeds Have rank'd you with the great: but, mark me,

Norval; Lord Randolph's favour now exalts your youth Above his veterans of famous service. Let me, who know these soldiers, counsel you. Give them all honour; seem not to command; Else they will scarcely brook your late-sprung power, Which nor alliance props, nor birth adorns.

Doug. Sir, I have been accustom’d all my days
To hear and speak the plain and simple truth:
And, tho' I have been told, that there are men
Who borrow friendship's tongue to speak their scorn,
Yet in such language I am little skill'd.
Therefore I thank Glenalvon for his counsel,
Altho’ it sounded harshly. Why remind
Me of my birth obscure? Why slur my power
With such contemptuous terms?

Glen. I did not mean
To gall your pride, which now I see is great.

Doug. My pride!

Glen. Suppress it, as you wish to prosper.
Your pride's excessive. Yet, for Randolph's sake,
I will not leave you to its rash direction.

** Lucius, the horsemen are returo'd from viewing

“ The poinber, strength, and posture of our foes, 66 Who now encamp within a short hour's march; " On the high point of yon bright western tower " We ken them from afar, the seiting sun “ Plays on their shining arms and burnish'd helmets, " And covers all the field with gleams of fire." Cato, A. v.


If thus you swell, and frown at high-born men,
Will high-born men endure a shepherd's scorn?*

Doug. A shepherd's scorn!

Glen. Yes, if you presume
To bend on soldiers these disdainful eyes,
As if you took the measure of their minds,
And said in secret, you're no match for me;
What will become of you?
Doug. If this were told !-

[Aside. Whom dost thou think me?

Glen. Norval.

Doug. So I
And who is Norval in Glenalvon's eyes?

Glen. A peasant's son, a wandering beggar-boy;
At best no more, even if he speaks the truth.

Doug. The truth! False as thyself is thy suspicion. Glen. False! say'st thou? This shall speak to thee, and answer

[Draws. All thy vain-glorious falshoods told to Randolph. Doug. I could tell thee~what thou art. I know thee

well. Glen. Dost thou not know Glenalvon, born to Ten thousand slaves like thee?

[command Doug. Slaves! do'st thou say?

Enter Lord RANDOLPH. Lord Rand. Hold, I command you both. The man Makes me his foe.

[that stirs Doug. Thy foe I cannot be. Glen. Hear him, my lord; he's wond'rous condeMark the humility of shepherd Norval! [scending !

Lord Rand. No more of taunting; but unfold to me The cause of quarrel, then I judge betwixt you.

Doug. I blush to speak; I will not, cannot speak
Th' opprobrious words that I from him have borne.
When I rejected them as false, he drew;
As tho''twere I had spoke injurious words.
'Twas time to guard my person from attack.
If what I've done offend

noble Randolph,


* The 12mo, ceads Think you they will endura, &c.

Revoke your favours and let Norval go-
Hence, as he came, alone, but not dishonour'd.

Lord Rand. The ancient foe of Caledonia's land
Now waves his banners o'er her frighted fields.
Dismiss this sudden bick'ring. Let the arms
Of both join with your country to repel
Th' invading foe.

Enter a SERVANT.
Serv. The banquet waits.
Lord Rand. We come.
Glen. I meet the hospitality of Randolph.
Doug. [As he goes out] 'Tis grating to associate with
a villain.



SCENE, A Wood.

Doug. This is the place, the centre of the grove.
Here stands the oak, the monarch of the wood.
How sweet and solemn is this mid-night scene!
The silver moon, unclouded, holds her way
Thro' skies where I could count each little star.
The fanning west wind scarcely stirs the leaves;
The river, rushing o'er its pebbled bed,
Imposes silence with a stilly sound.*
In such a place as this, at such an hour,
I feel my mind ascend to thoughts of Hear'n,
Springing from earth in search of worlds unknown.

Enter Old NORVAL. 0. Noro. 'Tis ke. But what if he should chide me His just reproach I fear.

(hence? [Douglas turns and sees him.

# The hom of either army stilly sounds."

Heary the Vih. Chorus to A. IV,

Forgive, forgive,
Can'st thou forgive the man, the selfish man,
Who bred Sir Malcolm's heir a shepherd's son.

Doug. Kneel not to me: thou art my father still:
Thy wish'd-for presence now compleats my joy.
Welcome to me, my fortunes thou shalt share,
And ever honour'd with thy Douglas live.

0. Norv. And do'st thou call me father? O my son!
I think that I could die to make amends
For the great wrong I did thee. 'Twas my crime
Which in the wilderness so long conceal'd
The blossom of thy youth.

Doug. Not worse the fruit,
That in the wilderness the blossom blow'd.
Amongst the shepherds, in the humble cote,
I learn’d some lessons, which I'll not forget
When I inhabit yonder lofty towers.
I, who was once a swain, will ever prove
The poor man's friend; and, when my vassals bow,
Norval shall smooth the crested pride of Douglas.

0. Noro. Let me but live to see thine exaltation!
Yet grievous are my fears. O leave this place,
And those unfriendly towers.
Doug. Why should I leave them?

[life. 0. Norv. Lord Randolph and his kinsman seek your Doug. How know'st thou that?

0. Norv. I will inform you how.
When evening came, I left the secret place
Appointed for me by your mother's care,
And fondly trod in each accustom'd path
That to the castle leads. Whilst thus I rang'd,
I was alarm’d with unexpected sounds
Of earnest voices. On the persons came:
Unseen I lurk’d, and overheard them náme
Each other as they talk'd, Lord Randolph this,
And that Glenalvon: still of you they spoke,
And of the lady: threat’ning was their speech,
Tho' but imperfectly my ear could hear it.
'Twas strange, they said, a wonderful discovery;
And ever and anon they vow'd revenge.

« PreviousContinue »