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Alas! there have been changes since that time;
The royal Bruce, with Randolph, Douglas, Grahame,
Then shook in field the banners which now moulder
Over their graves i' the chancel.

VIPONT.

And thence comes it, That while look'd on many a well-known crest And blazon'd shield, as hitherward we came, The faces of the barons who display'd them Were all unknown to me. Brave youths they seem'd; Yet, surely fitter to adorn the tilt-yard,

Than to be leaders of a war. Their followers, Young like themselves, seem like themselves unpractised

Look at their battle-rank.

PRIOR.

I cannot gaze on 't with undazzled eye,

So thick the rays dart back from shield and helmet,
And sword and battle-axe, and spear and pennon.
Sure 't is a gallant show! The Bruce himself
Hath often conquer'd at the head of fewer
And worse appointed followers.

VIPONT.

Ay, but 't was Bruce that led them. Reverend Father,
T is not the falchion's weight decides a combat;
It is the strong and skilful hand that wields it.
Ill fate, that we should lack the noble king,
And all his champions now! Time call'd them not,
For when I parted hence for Palestine,

The brows of most were free from grizzled hair.

PRIOR.

Too true, alas! But well you know, in Scotland, Few hairs are silver'd underneath the helmet;

PRIOR.

Heaven forefend! My prayer shall be, that Heaven will close my eyes, Before they look upon the wrath to come.

VIPONT.

Retire, retire, good father!-Pray for ScotlandThink not on me. Here comes an ancient friend, Brother in arms, with whom to-day I'll join me. Back to your choir, assemble all your brotherhood, And weary Heaven with prayers for victory.

PRIOR.

Heaven's blessing rest with thee,

Champion of Heaven, and of thy suffering country! [Exit PRIOR. VIPONT draws a little aside, and lets down the beaver of his helmet.

Enter SWINTON, followed by REYNALD and others, to whom he speaks as he enters.

SWINTON.

Halt here, and plant my pennon, till the Regent Assign our band its station in the host.

REYNALD.

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That must be by the standard. We have had That right since good Saint David's reign at least. Fain would I see the Marcher would dispute it.

SWINTON."

Peace, Reynald! Where the general plants the soldier,
There is his place of honour, and there only
His valour can win worship. Thou 'rt of those,
Who would have war's deep art bear the wild sem-
blance

Of some disorder'd hunting, where, pell-mell,
Each trusting to the swiftness of his horse,
Gallants press on to see the quarry fall.
Yon steel-clad southrons, Reynald, are no deer;
Aud England's Edward is no stag at bay.
VIPONT (advancing).

There needed not, to blazon forth the Swinton,
His ancient burgonet, the sable Boar
Chain'd to the gnarled oak,- -nor his proud step,
Nor giant stature, nor the ponderous mace,
Which only he of Scotland's realm can wield:
His discipline and wisdom mark the leader,

As doth his frame the champion. Hail, brave Swinton!

SWINTON.

Brave Templar, thanks! Such your cross'd shoulder speaks you;

But the closed visor, which conceals your features,
Forbids more knowledge. Umfraville, perhaps-
VIPONT (unclosing his helmet).

No; one less worthy of our sacred order.

Yet, unless Syrian suns have scorch'd my features
Swart as my sable visor, Alan Swinton
Will welcome Symon Vipont.

SWINTON (embracing him).

As the blithe reaper Welcomes a practised mate, when the ripe harvest

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men."

Alles and vamais, thou wert went to lead

A thousand folowers shrank to sixty heces

SWINTON.

Tennar, what chink st thou me?-See yonder rock, F¬m vuch the fountain gushes-is it less Impact of adamant, though waters flow from it? Trn bears have moister eyes.-They are avenged; vigt noc all they were-till the proud Gordon Tai va as life-blood dyed my father's sword, la rumina that he thian'd my father's lineage, knt then I weșt my sons; and, as the Gordon La x my feet, there was a tear for him, Then a mped with the rest.-We had been friends, Tai shared the banquet and the chase together, ught side by side-and our first cause of strife, The as the pride of both, was but a light one.

VIPONT.

You are at fed, then, with the mighty Gordon?"

SWINTON.

X: Bendly feud. Here in this Border-land, Where the sire's quarrels descend upon the son, As fue a part of his inheritance

As the strong castle and the ancient Blazon, Where private vengeance holds the scales of justice, Igning each drop of blood as scrupulously ¡As Jews or Lombards balance silver pence, Not in this land, "twixt Solway and Saint Abb's, Rages a bitterer fend than mine and theirs, 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 asă.

SWINTON.

All dain, De Vipont. In my emper home

A pony babe lisps to a widow'd mother.

« Where is mygrandsite" wherefore do you weep b

But for that prattler. Lyalph's house is heirless.

I'm an old oak, from which the foresters

Have hewid four goodly boughs, and left beside me
Only a sapung, which the fawn may crush
As he springs over it.

VIPONT.

All shain-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

SWINTON.

You rate him far too low. Since you sought Palestine,
He bath had grants of baronies and lordships
In the far-distant North. A thousand horse
His southern friends and vassals always number'd
Ald Badenoch kerne, and horse from Dee and Spe
He'll count a thousand more.-And now, De Vipos
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 fi1 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-haird Will-the Gordon's wrath
Devour'd my gailant issue.

VIPONT.

Since thou dost weep, their death is unavenged? `

Lea ling and lordship, in a heathen land
To fight a christian soldier—yet, in earnest,
I pray. De Vipout, you would join the Gordon
In this high battle. T is a noble youth,

So fame doth vouch him,-amorous, quick, and vahan,
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 right,
Were worth a hundred spears, to rein his valour
And temper it with prudence:-t is the aged eagle
Teaches his brood to gaze upon the sun,
With eye undazzled.

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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.

LENNOX.

Nay, lordings, put no shame upon my counsels; I did but say, if we retired a little,

We should have fairer field and better vantage.,
I've seen King Robert-ay, the Bruce himself—-
Retreat six leagues in length, and think no shame on't.

REGENT.

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,
No, nor one inch; where'er we find the foe,
Or where the foe finds us, there will we fight him.
Retreat will dull the spirit of our followers,
Who now stand prompt for battle.
*ROSS.

My lords, methinks great Morarchat has doubts,
That, if his northern clans once turn the seam
Of their check'd hose behind, it will be hard
To halt and rally them."

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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.

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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.

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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, Who will nor seek nor shun 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

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Deserts, that he may wreak a private wrong?-
Look to you banner-that is Scotland's ŝtandard;
Look to the Regent-he is Scotland's general;
Look to the English-they are Scotland's foemen!
Bethink thee, then, thou art a son of Scotland,
And think on nought beside.

GORDON.

He hath come here to brave me!-Off!-Unhand me!—
Thou canst not be my father's ancient friend,
That stand'st 'twixt me and him who slew my father.

VIPONT..

You know not Swinton. Scarce one passing thought
Of his high mind was with you; now, his soul
Is fixed on this day's battle. You might slay him
At unawares before he saw your blade drawn.-
Stand still, and watch him close.

Enter MAXWELL from the Tent.

SWINTON.

How go our councils, Maxwell, may I ask?

MAXWELL.

As wild, as if the very wind and sea
With every breeze and every billow battled
For their precedence.

SWINTON.

Most sure they are possess'd! Some evil spirit,
To mock their valour, robs them of discretion.
Fie, fie, upon't!-0 that Dunfermline's tomb
Could render up the Bruce! that Spain's red shore
Could give us back the good Lord James of Douglas!
Or that fierce Randolph, with his voice of terror,
Were here, to awe these brawlers to submission!
VIPONT (to GORDON).
Thou hast perused him at more leisure now.

GORDON.

I see the giant form which all men speak of,
The stately port-but not the sullen eye,
Not the blood-thirsty look, that should belong
To him that made me orphan. I shall need
To name my father twice ere I can strike

At such gray hairs, and face of such command;
Yet my hand clenches on my falchion-hilt,
In token he shall die.

VIPONT.

Need I again remind you, that the place Permits not private quarrel?

GORDON.

I'm calm, I will not seek-nay, I will shun it-
And yet methinks that such debate's the fashion.
You've heard how taunts, reproaches, and the lie,
The lie itself, hath flown from mouth to mouth;
As if a band of peasants were disputing
About a foot-ball match, rather than chiefs
Were ordering a battle. I am young,
And lack experience; tell me, brave De Vipont,
Is such the fashion of your wars in Palestine?

VIPONT.

Such it at times hath been; and then the Cross
Hath sunk before the Crescent. Heaven's cause
Won us not victory where wisdom was not.—
Behold you English host come slowly on,
With equal front, rank marshall'd upon rank,
As if one spirit ruled one moving body;
The leaders, in their places, each prepared
To charge, support, and rally, as the fortune
Of changeful battle needs:-then look on ours,

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Thus shall it be then, since we may no befter,
And, since no lord will yield one jot of way
To this high urgency, or give the van-guard
Up to another's guidance, we will abide them
Even on this bent; and as our troops are rank'd,
So shall they meet the foe. Chief, not thane,
Nor noble, can complain of the precedence
Which chance has thus assign'd him.
SWINTON (apart).

O, sage discipline, That leaves to chance the marshalling of a battle!

GORDON.

Move him to speech, De Vipont.

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