ページの画像
PDF
ePub

Lies deep before him and the sun is high.
Thou 'It follow yon old pennon, wilt thou not?
'T is tatter'd since thou saw'st it, and the Boar-heads
Look as if brought from off some Christmas board,
Where knives had notch'd them deeply.

VIPONT.

Have with them ne'ertheless. The Stuart's Chequer,
The Bloody Heart of Douglas, Ross's Lymphads,
Sutherland's Wild-cats, nor the royal Lion,
Rampant in golden tressure, wins me from them.
We'll back the Boar-heads bravely. I see round them
A chosen band of lances-some well-known to me.
Where's the main body of thy followers?

SWINTON.

Symon de Vipont, thou dost see them all
That Swinton's bugle-horn can call to battle,
However loud it rings. There's not a boy
Left in my halls, whose arm has strength enough
To bear a sword-there's not a man behind,
However old, who moves without a staff.
Striplings and gray-beards, every one is here,
And here all should be-Scotland needs them all;
And more and better men, were each a Hercules,
And yonder handful centuplied.

VIPONT.

SWINTON.

Templar, what think'st thou me?-See yonder rock,
From which the fountain gushes-is it less
Compact of adamant, though waters flow from it?
Firm hearts have moister eyes.-They are avenged;
I wept not till they were-till the proud Gordon
Had with his life-blood dyed my father's sword,
In guerdon that he thinn'd my father's lineage,
And then I wept my sons; and, as the Gordon
Lay at my feet, there was a bear for him,
Which mingled with the rest.—We had been friends,
Had shared the banquet and the chase together,
Fought side by side-and our first cause of strife,
Woe to the pride of both, was but a light one.

VIPONT.

You are at feud, then, with the mighty Gordon?

SWINTON.

At deadly feud. Here in this Border-land,
Where the sire's quarrels descend upon the
As due a part of his inheritance

son,

As the strong castle and the ancient blazon,
Where private vengeance holds the scales of justice,
Weighing each drop of blood as scrupulously
As Jews or Lombards balance silver pence,
Not in this land, 'twixt Solway and Saint Abb's,

A thousand followers-such, with friends and kins- Rages a bitterer feud than mine and theirs,

men,

Allies and vassals, thou wert wont to lead

A thousand followers shrunk to sixty lances

The Swinton and the Gordon.

VIPONT.

You, with some threescore lances-and the Gordon

In twelve years' space!-And thy brave sons, Sir Alan, Leading a thousand followers.
Alas! I fear to ask.

SWINTON.

All slain, De Vipont. In my empty home

A puny babe lisps to a widow'd mother,

<< Where is my grandsire? wherefore do you weep ?»>
But for that prattler, Lyulph's house is heirless.
I'm an old oak, from which the foresters
Have hew'd four goodly boughs, and left beside me
Only a sapling, which the fawn may crush
As he springs over it.

VIPONT.
All slain-alas!

SWINTON.

Ay, all, De Vipont. And their attributes,

John with the Long Spear-Archibald with the Axe-
Richard the Ready-and my youngest darling,
My Fair-haired William-do but now survive
In measures which the gray-hair'd minstrels sing,
When they make maidens weep.

VIPONT.

These wars with England, they have rooted out

[ocr errors]

SWINTON.

You rate him far too low. Since you sought Palestine,
He hath had grants of baronies and lordships
In the far-distant North. A thousand horse
His southern friends and vassals always number'd.
Add Badenoch kerne, and horse from Dee and Spey,
He'll count a thousand more.-And now, De Vipont,
If the Boar-heads seem in your eyes less worthy,
For lack of followers-seek yonder standard-
The bounding Stag, with a brave host around it:
There the young Gordon makes his earliest field,
And pants to win his spurs. His father's friend,
As well as mine, thou wert-go, join his pennon,
And grace him with thy presence.

VIPONT.

When you were friends, I was the friend of both,
And now I can be enemy to neither;

But my poor person, though but slight the aid,
Joins on this field the banner of the two
Which hath the smallest following.

SWINTON.

The flowers of Christendom. Knights, who might win Spoke like the generous knight, who gave up all,
The sepulchre of Christ from the rude heathen,
Fall in unholy warfare!

SWINTON.

Unholy warfare? ay, well hast thou named it;
But not with England-would her cloth-yard shafts
Had bored their cuirasses! Their lives had been
Lost like their grandsire's, in the bold defence
Of their dear country-but in private feud
With the proud Gordon, fell my Long-spear'd John,
He with the Axe, and he men call'd the Ready,
Ay, and my Fair-hair'd Will-the Gordon's wrath
Devour'd my gallant issue.

VIPONT.

Since thou dost weep, their death is unavenged?

Leading and lordship, in a heathen land
To fight a christian soldier-yet, in earnest,
I pray, De Vipont, you would join the Gordon

In this high battle. T is a noble youth,
So fame doth vouch him,-amorous, quick, and valiant;
Takes knighthood, too, this day, and well
may use
His spurs too rashly in the wish to win them.
A friend like thee beside him in the fight,
Were worth a hundred spears, to rein his valour
And temper it with prudence :-'t is the aged cagle
Teaches his brood to gaze upon the sun,
With eye undazzled.

VIPONT.

Alas, brave Swinton! Wouldst thou train the hunter

[blocks in formation]

The summit of Halidon Hill, before the Regent's Tent. The Royal Standard of Scotland is seen in the back ground, with the Pennons and Banners of the principal Nobles around it.

Council of Scottish Nobles and Chiefs. SUTHERLAND, Ross, LENNOX, MAXWELL, and other Nobles of the highest rank, are close to the REGENT's person, and in the act of keen debate. VIPONT, with GORDON and others, remain grouped at some distance on the right hand of the stage. On the left, standing also apart, is SWINTON, alone and bare-headed. The Nobles are dressed in Highland or Lowland habits, as historical costume requires. Trumpets, Heralds, etc. are in attendance.

[blocks in formation]

Ay, but King Edward sent a haughty message,
Defying us to battle on this field,

This very hill of Halidon; if we leave it
Unfought withal, it squares not with our honour.
SWINTON (apart).

A perilous honour, that allows the enemy,
And such an enemy as this same Edward,
To chuse our field of battle! He knows how
To make our Scottish pride betray its master
Into the pitfall,

[During this speech the debate among the

Nobles seems to continue.
SUTHERLAND (aloud).

We will not back one furlong-not one yard,
Or where the foe finds us, there will we fight him.
No, nor one inch; where'er we find the foe,
Retreat will dull the spirit of our followers,
Who now stand prompt for battle.

[blocks in formation]

Peace, lordings, once again. We represent The Majesty of Scotland-in our presence Brawling is treason.

[merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small]
[merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small]

SWINTON (apart).

Nay, then a stone would speak.

(Addresses the REGENT.) May't please your grace,
And yours, great lords, to hear an old man's counsel,
That hath seen fights enow. These open bickerings
Dishearten all our host. If that your grace,
With these great earls and lords, must needs debate,
Let the closed tent conceal your disagreement;
Else 't will be said, ill fares it with the flock,
If shepherds wrangle when the wolf is nigh.

REGENT.

The old knight counsels well. Let every lord
Or chief, who leads five hundred men or more,
Follow to council-others are excluded-
We'll have no vulgar censurers of our conduct.-
[Looking at SWINTON.
Young Gordon, your high rank and numerous following
Give you a seat with us, though yet unknighted.

GORDON.

I pray you pardon me. My youth's unfit
To sit in council, when that knight's gray hairs
And wisdom wait without.

REGENT.

Do as you will; we deign not bid

you

twice.

Pray you, do not so;

VIPONT.

Anon I'll give you reason why you should not.
There's other work in hand--

GORDON.

I will but ask his name. There's in his presence
Something that works upon me like a spell,
Or like the feeling made my childish ear
Doat upon tales of superstitious dread,
Attracting while they chill'd my heart with fear.
Now, born the Gordon, I do feel right well

I'm bound to fear nought earthly—and I fear nought.
I'll know who this man is--

[Accosts SWINTON.
Sir Knight, I pray you, of your gentle courtesy,
To tell your honour'd name. I am ashamed,
Being unknown in arms, to say that mine
Is Adam Gordon.

SWINTON (shows emotion, but instantly subdues it).
It is a name that soundeth in my ear

Like to a death-knell-ay, and like the call

Of the shrill trumpet to the mortal lists;

Yet 't is a name which ne'er hath been dishonour'd,
And never will, I trust-most surely never
By such a youth as thou.

[blocks in formation]

The mystery is needful. Follow me.

[They retire behind the side Scene.
SWINTON (looking after them).
'Tis a brave youth. How blush'd his noble cheek,
While youthful modesty, and the embarrassment
Of curiosity, combined with wonder,
And half suspicion of some slight intended,
All mingled in the flush; but soon 't will deepen
Into revenge's glow. How slow is Vipont!-

I wait the issue, as I've seen spectators
Suspend the motion even of the eye-lids,
When the slow gunner, with his lighted match,
Approach'd the charged cannon, in the act
To waken its dread slumbers.-Now 't is out;
He draws his sword, and rushes towards me,

[The REGENT, ROSS, SUTHERLAND, LENNOX, Who wild nor seek nor shun him.
MAXWELL, etc., enter the Tent.
remain grouped about the Stage.

GORDON (observing SWINTON).

That helmetless old knight, his giant stature,
His awful accents of rebuke and wisdom,
Have caught my fancy strangely.

The rest

He doth seem

Like to some vision'd form which I have dream'd of,
But never saw with waking eyes till now.

I will accost him.

Enter GORDON, withheld by VIPONT.

VIPONT.

Hold, for the sake of Heaven!-O, for the sake
Of your dear country, hold!-Has Swinton slain your
father,

And must you, therefore, be yourself a parricide,
And stand recorded as the selfish traitor,
Who, in her hour of need, his country's cause

[merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small]

VIPONT.

Move him!-Move whom?

GORDON.

Even him, whom, but brief space since, My hand did burn to put to utter silence.

VIPONT.

I'll move it to him.-Swinton, speak to them, They lack thy counsel sorely.

SWINTON.

Had I the thousand spears which once I led,
I had not thus been silent. But men's wisdom

Is rated by their means. From the poor leader
Of sixty lances, who seeks words of weight?
GORDON (steps forward).

Swinton, there's that of wisdom on thy brow,
And valour in thine eye, and that of peril
In this most urgent hour, that bids me say,-
Bids me, thy mortal foe, say,-Swinton, speak,
For king and country's sake!

SWINTON.

Nay, if that voice commands me, speak I will; It sounds as if the dead lay charge on me.

REGENT.

(To LENNOX, with whom he has been consulting) 'Tis better than you think. This broad hill-side Affords fair compass for our power's display, Rank above rank rising in seemly tiers;

So that the rear-ward stands as fair and open-

SWINTON.

As e'er stood mark before an English archer.

REGENT.

Who dares to say so?-Who is 't dare impeach Our rule of discipline?

SWINTON.

A poor knight of these Marches, good my lord;
Alan of Swinton, who hath kept a house here,
He and his ancestry since the old days
Of Malcolm, called the Maiden.

REGENT.

You have brought here, even to this pitched field, In which the royal banner is display'd,

I think, some sixty spears, Sir Knight of Swinton: Our musters name no more.

SWINTON.

I brought each man I had; aud chief, or earl,
Thane, duke, or dignitary, brings no more:
And with them brought I what may here be useful—
An aged eye, which, what in England, Scotland,
Spain, France, and Flanders, hath seen fifty battles,
And ta'en some judgment of them; a stark hand too,
Which plays as with a straw with this same mace,-
Which if a young arm here can wield more lightly,
I never more will offer word of counsel.

LENNOX.

Hear him, my lord; it is the noble SwintonHe hath had high experience.

MAXWELL.

He is noted

The wisest warrior 'twixt the Tweed and SolwayI do beseech you hear him.

JOHNSTONE.

Ay, hear the Swinton-hear stout old Sir Alan; Maxwell and Johnstone both agree for once.

REGENT.

Where's your impatience now?

Late you were all for battle, would not hear

[blocks in formation]

T is a proud word to speak; but he who fought
Long under Robert Bruce, may something guess,
Without communication with the dead,

At what he would have counsell'd. —Bruce had bidden ye
Review your battle-order, marshall'd broadly
Here on the bare hill-side, and bidden you mark
Yon clouds of southron archers, bearing down
To the green meadow-lands which stretch beneath-
The Bruce had warn'd you, not a shaft to-day
But shall find mark within a Scottish bosom,
If thus our field be order'd. The callow boys,
Who draw but four-foot bows, shall gall our front,
While on our mainward, and upon the rear,
The cloth-yard shafts shall fall like death's own darts,
And, though blind men discharge them, find a mark.
Thus shall we die the death of slaughter'd deer,
Which, driven into the toils, are shot at ease
By boys and women, while they toss aloft
All idly and in vain their branchy horns,
As we shall shake our unavailing spears.

[blocks in formation]

It ne'er will join, while their light archery
Can foil our spearmen and our barbed horse.
To hope Plantagenet would seek close combat
When he can conquer riskless, is to deem
Sagacious Edward simpler than a babe
In battle-knowledge. Keep the hill, my lord,
With the main body, if it is your pleasure;
But let a body of your chosen horse
Make execution on yon waspish archers.
I've done such work before, and love it well;
If 't is your pleasure to give me the leading,
The dames of Sherwood, Inglewood, and Weardale,
Shall sit in widowhood and long for venison,
And long in vain. Whoe'er remembers Bannockburn,―
And when shall Scotsman, till the last loud trumpet,
Forget that stirring word!-knows that great battle
Even thus was fought and won.

LENNOX.

This is the shortest road to bandy blows;
For when the bills step forth and bows go back,
Then is the moment that our hardy spearmen,
With their strong bodies, and their stubborn hearts,
And limbs well knit by mountain exercise,

« 前へ次へ »