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f-^ris, that he may wreak a private wrong?—
wk to you banner—that is Scotland's Standard;
wk to the Kegeiu—he is Scotland's general;
•ok to the English—they are Scotland's foeroen!
ihiak thee, then, thou art a son of Scotland,
ad think on nought beside. . .


t hath come here to brave me!—Off!—Unhand mc!—

iou canst not he my father's ancient friend,

jit sland's! twixt me and him who slew my father.

V1P0NT. • *

au know not Swiolon. Scarce one passing thought Fbis high mind was with you; now, his soul tiied on this day's battle. You might slay him t unawares before he saw your blade drawn.— and still, and watch him close.

Enter Maxwell from Oie Tent.


o» go our councils, Maxwell, may I ask?


s wild, as if the very wind and sea

*itli every breeze and every billow battled

ar their precedence. 4


iost sure they are possess'd! Some cvjl spirif, a mock their valour, robs them of discretion. ie, fie, upon't".—0 that Dunfermline* tomb auld render up the Bruce!-thai Spain's red sh<n*e t ould give us back the good Lord James of Douglas! r that fierce Randolph, with his voice of termor, ere hero, to awe these brawlers to submission!

Vll'Oltt {to Ijordon).

hou hast perused him at more leisure now.


see the giant form which all men speak or* A

he stately port—but not the sullen-eye,

Ot the blood-thirsty look, that should belong .

o him (hat made mc orphan. I shall need

o name my father twice ere I can strike

t such gray hairs, and face of such command;

et my hand clenches on my falchion-hilt, ,

a token he shall die.

9 VIP0H1*.

>red 1 again remind gou, that the place ermiLs not private quarrel T


tn calm, I will not seek^nay, 1 will shun it— nd yet methinks that such debate'6 the fashion. *ou 've heard how taunts, reproaches, and the lie, of lie itself, hath flown from mouth to mouth; L* if a band of peasants were disputing Lboat a foot-ball match, rather than chiefs Vere ordering a battle. I ani young, Lnd lack experience ; tell rac, brave Pe Vipont, s such the fashion of your wars in Palestine?


Much it at times hath been; and then the Cross
i.ith *unk before the Crescent. Heaven's cause
Von us not victory where wisdom was not.—
heboid yon English host come slowly on,
iVith equal front, rank marshall d upon rank,
■is if one spirit ruled one moviugbody;
The leaders, ia their places, each prepared
To charge, support, and rally, as the fortune
Of changeful battle needs:—then look on ours,

Broken, disjointed, as the tumbling snrges

Which the winds wake at random^ Look on both,

'And dread thciseuc; — ye,t there might be succour.


Wo're fearfully o'ermatch'd in discipline; m
So even my inexperienced eye can judge.
What succour save in Heaven?

Heaven acts by human means. The artist's skill
Supplies in war, as in mechanic crafts,
Deficiency of tools. There's courage, wisdom,
And skill enough, live in one leader here.
As, flung into* the balance, might avail
To counterpoise the odds'twixt that ruled host
And our wild multitude.—I must not name him,

GOB.no rr. ,
I guess, hut dare not ask.—What band is yonder,
Arranged as closely\is the English discipline
Hath inarshaU'd-thfltr best files?


Kuow'st thou hot the pennon?

One day, perhaps, thou'It see it all too closely.—

It is.Sir Alan Swmton's. ,

Cordon. m

These, then, are hi*,—the relics of his power;
Yet worth an host of ordinary men.—
Anil I must slay my country's sagcsl leader,
And crush by numbers that determined handful,
When most my country needs their practised aid,
Or men will say, «There goes degenerate Gordon;
His father's blood is on the Swiutous sword, -
Atid his ia in his scabbard !» * [Muses.

Vipont (apart).
High blood and mettle, mixd with early wisdom,
Sparkle in this brave youth. If he survive
This evil-omcn'd day, 1 pawn my word,.
Tlqut, in the ruin which I now forebode,
Scotland has treasure left.—How close he eyes
Each'look and step of Swinlon! Is it hate, • n
Or is it admiration, or arc boili
Commingled strangely hi that steady gaieV

f [swinton and Maxwell return from tfie

'bottom of the Stage.

The storm is laid it length amongst these counsellors ;—
See, they come forth.


* A up it is more 4han time; For I can mark the van-guard archery Handling their quivers—bending up their bows.

Enter the Regent and Scottish Lords.

■ EOEfllW

Thus shall it be then, since *c may no better,
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; aud as our troops are rank'd,
So shall they meet the foe. Chief, nor thane,
Nor noble, can complain of the precedence
Which chance has thus assign'd him»r .
Swinton (apart),

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


Move him to speech, De Vipont.

yiPotn, Move Itfni!—Move -whom?


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


I II move it to him.—Swiuton, speakrto them,
They Uick thy counsel sorely.


Had I the thousand spears which once Med,
1 had not thus been silent. But men's wfednm
Is rait1 J by their means. From the poor leader
Of sixty lances, wtio seeks words of weight?

Gordon (steps forward).
Swinion, there's that of wisdom on thy brow,
And valour in thiue rye, and that of peril
In this most urgent tour, that bids me say,-*
Bids me, thy mortal foe, say,—Swihton, speak,
For kin;; and couulry's sake! » •


Nay, if that voice commands me, speak 1 will;
It sounds as if the dead lay charge on me.


(7b Lexnox, with whom he has been consulting) Tis better than yon think. This broad hill-side Affords fair compass for our power's display, Honk above rank rising in seemly tiers;

So that the rear-ward st.iud* as fair and open;

swinjoii. As e'er stood mark before an English archer.


Who dares to say so T—Who is't dare impeach
Our rule of discipline? •


A poor knight of these Matches, good my lord;
Alan of Sv mhiii. who hath kept a house here,.
He arid! his ancestry siuce the old days
Of Malcolm, called the Maiden.


You have brought hero, even to this pitched field,
In which ilit_- royal banner is display'd,
I think, some sixty spears. Sir Knight of Swinlon:
Our musters name no more.


I bronght each man I had; ami 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 jiul[;n1rut of them; a stark band too.
Which plays as with a-straw with this same mace,—
Which if a young arm here can wield mare lightly,
I never mora will offer word of counsel.


Hear him, my lord; it is the noble Swinton
He hath had high experienqe.


He is noted
The wisest warrior "t»ut the Tweed and Solway—
I do beseech you hear him:


Ay, hear the Swinlon—hear stout old Sir Alan; Maxwell and Jphnstone both agree for once. *i


Where's your impatience now?

Late you were all for battle, would not hear

Oursclf pronounce a word—and now yon gaae
On yon old watrior, in bis antique armour,
As if be were arisen from the dead.
To bring us Brace's counsel for the battle.


T is a proud word to speak; but he who fought
Long under Robert Bruce, may something guess,
Without communication with the dead,
A i what he would have counseled. —Bruce hadbiddei"
Review your battle-order, marshall'd broadly
Hare ou the hare bill-side, and bidden you mark
Yon clouds of sduthron archers, tearing down
To the green meadow-lands which stretch benei(i-
The Bruce bail 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 baw%, shall gall our frost,
While on our mainward, and upon the rear.
The i loth-yard shafts shall fall like death's ovottr^
And, though blind men discharge them, find a auk
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 hranrhy b°ms,
As we shall shake our unavailing spears.

. • - REGEJTT.

Tush, tell not me! If their shot fall like bail,
Our men have Milan xbnts to hear it Oul


Never did armourer temper steel on stithy
Thai made sure fence agajnst an English arrow;
A cobweb gossamer were guard as good
Against a wasp-sting.

Who fears a wasp*s\ing?

. . RW1NTON.

I, my lord, fear none;
Yet should a wise man brush the insect off,
.Or be may smart for it.


We'll keep the hill; it is the vantage-ground
When the main battle joins.


It ne'er will join, while their light archery

Can foil our spearmen and our barbed horse.

To hope Pla'utagenet would seek close mm bat

When be can conquer risklent, is to deem

Sagacious Edward simpler than a babe

In battle-knowledge. Keep the bill, my lord.

With the main body, if it is your pleasure;

But let a body of your chosen horse

Make execution ou yon waspish archers.

I *ve done such; work before, and love it weU,

If t is your pleasure to give me the leading.

The dames of Sherwood, JngVwood, and Weif*iV

Shall sit in widowhood and long for vrotsop.

And long in vaiu. Whoe'er remember-. RjunortNura

And when shall Scotsman, till the last loud uua?*.

Forget that stirring »ord!—knows that treat bail*

Even thus was fought and won.


This is the shortest road to bandy Mows;
For when the bills step forth and bows go back.
Then is the moment that our I tardy spearmen.
With their strong bodies, and their stubborn bn**-
And limbs welt knit by mountain exercise,

I the close tug shall foil the short-breathed southron.


lo uot say the field will thus be won;
ir English host is numerous, brave, and loyal;
leir monarch most accomplish'd in wars art,
ili'd, resolute, and wary


id if yonr scheme secure not victory, hat does it promise us 1


This much at least,— irkling we shall not die; the peasant's shaft, :os«rd pcrcliance without an aim or purpose, 1.1II not drink up the life-blood we derive om those famed ancestors, who made their breasts us frontier's barrier for a thousand years. ell meet these southrons bravely hand to hand, id eye to eye, and weapon against weapon; icli man who falls shall see the foe who strikes him. liili; our good blades are faithful to the hilts, id our good hands to these good blades are faithful, ow -hall meet blow, and none fall unavenged— e shall not bleed alone.


And this is all >nr wisdom hath devised 1


>t alt; for I would pray you, noble lords
fmic, among the guilty guiltiest, might),
* this one day to charm to ten hours' rest
it never-dying worm of deadly feud,
ut gnaws our vexed hearts—think no one foe
ivc Edward and his host—days will remain,
r, days by far too many will remain,
) a»cuge old feuds or struggles for precedence;—
1 this one day be Scotland's.—iFor myself,
thrre is any here may claim from me
ts well may chance) a debt of blood and hatred,
y life is hi* to-morrow unresisting,
) he to-day will let me do the best
fiat my old arm may achieve for the dear country
bat's mother to us both.

[gordo* shows much emotion during tliis and
tiie preceding speech o/" Swinton.


U a dream—a vision?—if one troop usli down upon the archers, all will follow, ml order is destroy'd—we 11 keep the battle-rank or fathers wont to do. >'o more on t.—Ho! there be those youths seek ^knighthood from our sword?


[err are the Cordon, Somervillc, and Hay, tad Hepburn, with a score of gallants more.


Gordon, stand forth.


I pra"y your grace, forgive me.


low! seek you not for kui|;hthood?


I do thirst for *t. kit, pardon me—t is from another sword.


t is your sovereign's,—seek you for a worthier?


Who would drink purely, seeks the secret fountain,

How small soever—not the general stream,

Though it be deep and wide. My lord, I seek

The boon of knighthood from the honour'd weapon

Of the best knigh^ and of the sagest leader,

That ever graced a ring of chivalry.

—Therefore, I beg the boon on bended knee,

Even from Sir Alan Swinton. . [Kneels.


Degenerate boy! Abject at once and insolent!—
See, lords, he kneels to him that slew his father I

Gordon (starting up).
Shame be on him who speaks such shameful word!
Shame be on him whose tongue would sow dissension,
When most the time demands that native Scotsmen
Forget each private wrong!

Swinton (interrupting him).

Youth, since you crave mc To be your sire in chivalry, I remind you War has its duties, Office has its reverence; Who governs in the sovereign's name is sovereign,— Crave the Lord Regent's pardon.


You task me justly, and I crave his pardon,

[Bows to the Regent.
His and these noble lords'; and pray them all
Bear witness to my words.—Ye noble presence,
Here I remit unto the Knight of Swinton
All bitter memory of my father's slaughter,
All thoughts of malice, hatred, and revenge;
By no base fear or composition moved.
But by the thought, that in our couutry's battle
All hearts should be as one. I do forgive him
As freely as I pray to be forgiven,
And once more kneel to him to sue for knighthood.

Swinton (affected, and drawing his sword).
Alas! brave youth, t is I should kneel to you,
And, tendering thee the hilt of the fell sword
That made thee fatherless, bid thee use the point
After thine own discretion. For thy boon—
TrumpeiSjbs ready—(n the holiest name,
And in Our Lady's and Saint Andrew's name,

[Touching his shoulder with t)ie sword.
I dub thec Knight! Arise, Sir Adam Gordon!
Be faithful, brave, and O be fortunate,
Should this ill hour permit!

[77tc trumpets sound; Vie Heralds cry, «Largesselrt unit tlic Attendants shout, «A Gordon 1 A Gordon !» Regent. Beggars and flatterers ! Peace, peace, I say! We 11 to the standard; knights shall there be made Who will with better reason crave your clamour.


What of Swinton's counsel?

Here's Maxwell and myself think it worth noting.

Regent (uft't/i concentrnted indignation).
Let the best knight, and let the sagest leader—
So Gordon quotes the man who slew his father,—
With his old pedigree and heavy mace.
Essay the adventure if it pleases him.
With his fair threescore horse. As for ourselves,
We will not peril aught upon the measure.


Lord Regent, you mistake; for if Sir Alan

Shall venture such attack, each man who calk
The Gordon chief, and hopes or fears from him
Or good or evil, follows Sainton's banner
In this achievement.


Why, Cod ha mercy ! This is of a piece.

Let young and old e'en follow their own counsel,

Since none will list to mine.


The Border cockerel fain would be on horseback;
Tis safe to be prepared for fight or flight;
And this comes of it to give northern lands
To the false Norman blood.


Hearken, proud Chief of Isles! Within my stalls
I have two hundred horse; two hundred riders
Mount guard upon my castle, who would tread
Into the dust a thousand of your Redshanks,
Nor count it a day's service.


Hear I this
From thee, young man, and on the day of battle?
And to the brave Mac-Donnell?


T was he that urged me ; but I am rebuked.


He crouches like a leash-hound to his master!


Each hound must do so that would head the deer— *T is mongrel curs which snatch at mate or master.


Too much of this.—Sirs, to the royal standard!
I bid you, in the name of good King David,
Sound trumpets—sound for Scotland and King David!
[The Regent and the rent go off, and the

Scene closes. Manent Gordon, Swinton,

and Vipont, with Reynalo and followers.

Lennox follows the Regent; but returns

and addresses Swinton.


O, were my western horsemen but come up,
I would take part with you!


Belter that you remain. They lack discretion ; such gray head as yours May best supply that want. Lennox, mine ancient friend, and honour'd lord, Farewell, I think, for ever!


Farewell, brave friend!—and farewell, noble Gordon,
Whose sun will be eclipsed even as it rises!—
The Regent will not aid you.


We will so hear us, that as soon the blood-hound
Shall halt, and lake no part, what time his comrade
Is grappling with the deer, as he stand still,
And see us overraatch'd.


Alas ! thou dost not know how mean his pride is.
How strong his envy.

Then will we die, and leave the shame with him.

[Exit Lennox, Vipo.nt (to Goiidon). What ails thee, noble youth? What means this pause?— Thou dost not rue thy generosity?


I have been hurried on by a strong impulse,
Like to a bark that scuds before the storm.
Till driven upon some strange and distant coast.
Which never pilot dream'd of.—Have I Dot forgives?
And am I not still fatherless?


Gordon, no; For while we live, I am a father to thee.


Thou, Swinton ?—no !—that cannot, cannot be.


Then change the phrase, and say, that while we five,
Gordon shall he my son.—If thou art fatherless,
Am I not childless too 7 Bethink thee. Gordon,
Our death-feud was not like the household fire.
Which the poor peasant hides among its em ben.
To smoulder on, and wait a time for waking.
Ours was the conflagration of the forest,
Which, in its fury, spares nor sprout nor stem,
Hoar oak, nor sapling—not to be extinguish d.
Till Heaven, in mercy, sends down all her waters.
But, once subdued, its flame is quench d for ever:
And Spring shall hide the track of devastation.
With foliage and with flowers.—Give me thy bud.


My hand and heart!—And freely now—to fight!


How will you act? [To Swinton.] The Gordon's btsi

and thine Are in the rearward left, I think, in scorn. Ill post for them who wish to charge the foremost

Swinton. We 'II turn that scorn to vantage, and descend Sidelong the hill—some winding path there must WO, for a well-skill <1 guide!

Hob Hattely starts up from a Thicket


So here he stands.—An ancient friend, Sir Alan.

Hob Hattely, or, if you like it better.

Hob of the Heron Plume, here stands your guide.


An ancient friend !—A most notorious knave.
Whose throat I've destined to the dodder d oak
Before my castle, these ten months and more.
Was it not you, who drove from Simprim-mains,
And Swinton-quarter, sixty head of cattle?


What then ? if now I lead your sixty lances
Upon the English flank, where they'll find spot)
Is worth six hundred beeves?

Why, thou canst do it, knave. I would not trust v*t
With one poor bullock ; yet would risk my lire.
And all my followers, on thine honest guidance.


There is a dingle, and a most discreet one
(I've trod each step by star-light), that sweeps rwicJ
The rearward of this hill, and opens secretly
Tpon the archers' flank.—Will not that serve
Your present turn. Sir Alan?


Bravely, bravely!


Mount, sirs, and cry my slogan.

Let all who love the Gordon follow me!

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riling Ground immediately in front of the Position of the English Main Body. Pehcy, Cii \ndos, RibauHott, and other English and Norman Nobles are grouped on the Stage.

PiAct. ic Scots still keep the hill—The sun grows high, oold that the charge would sound!


Iou scentst the slaughter, Percy.—Who comes here T

Enter the Abbot Op Walthamstow.

Jw, by my life, the holy priest of Waltbamstow,
ke to a lamb among a herd of wolves!
*, he s about to bleat.


« Lug, methinks, delays the onset long.


lor general, father, like your rat-catcher, uses to bait his traps, and set his snares.


le metaphor is decent.


Reverend sir, vill uphold it just. Our good King Edward ill presently come to this battle-field, ad speak to you of the last tilting-malch, r of some feat he did a twenty years since; it not a word of the day's work before him. ren as the artist, sir, whose name offends you, t* prosing o'er his can, until the trap faH, noouocing that the vermin are secured, id then't is up, and on them.


laodos, you give your tongue too bold a license.


;rcy, I am a necessary evil.
ing Edward would not want me, if he could,
ad could not, if he would. I know my value;
y heavy hand excuses my light tongue.
) men wear weighty swords in their defence,
Itbough they may offend the tender shin,
hen the steel-boot is doffd.


My Lord of Chandos, his is but idle speech on brink of battle, 'hen christian men should think upon their sins; or as the tree falls, so the trunk must lie, ■■ it for good or evil. Lord, bethink thee, hou hast withheld from our most reverend house, he tithes of Evcringham and Settleton;

Wilt thou make satisfaction to the Church
Before her thunders strike thee? I do warn thee
In most paternal sort.


I thank you, rather, filially.
Though but a truant son of Holy Church,
I would not chuse to undergo her censures,
When Scottish blades are waving at my throat.
I '11 make fair composition.


No composition; I'll have all or none.


None, then—'Tis soonest spoke.— I'll take my chance,
And trust my sinful soul to Heaven's mercy,
Rather than risk my worldly goods with thee—
My hour may not be come.




Hush! the king—the king 1 Enter King Edwaed, attended by Balio*, and others. King {apart to Chandos). Hark hither, Chandos!—Have the Yorkshire archers Yet join'd the van-guard?


They are marching thither.


Bid them make haste, for shame—send a quick rider.—
The loitering knaves, were it to steal my venison,
Their steps were light enough.—How now, Sir Abbot T
Say, is your reverence come to study with us
The princely art of war?


I 've had a lecture from my Lord of Chandos,
In which he term'd your grace a rat-catcher.


Chandos, how's this?


O, I will prove it, sir!—These skipping Scots
Have changed a dozen times 't wixt Bruce and Baliol,
Quilting each House when it began to totter;
They're fierce and cunning, treacherous, too, as rats,
And we, as such, will smoke them in their fastnesses


These rats have seen your back, my Lord of Chandos, And noble Percy's too.


Ay; but the mass which now lies weltering

On yon hill-side, like a Leviathan

That's stranded on the shallows, then had soul in 't,

Order and discipline, and power of action.

Now t is a headless corpse, which only shows,

By wild convulsions, that some life remains in t.


True, they had ooce a head; and t was a wise
Although a rebel head.

Abbot (bowing to me King). Would he were here! we should find one to match him.


There "s something in that wish which wakes an echo
Within my bosom. Yet it is as well,
Or better, that the Bruce is in his grave.
We have enough of powerful foes on earth.
No need to summon them from other worlds.


Your grace ne'er met the Bruce T

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