Never himself; but, in my earliest field,

I did encounter with his famous captains,

Douglas and Randolph. Faith ! they prcss'd me hard.


My liege, if I might urge you with a question,
Will the Scots fight to-day!

KING EDWARD {sharply).
Go look your breviary.

GBANDOS {apart).

The abbot has it—Edward will not answer
On that nice point. We most observe his humour.—
[Addresses the King.
Your first campaign, my liege ?—That wasinWeardale,
When Douglas gave our camp yon midnight rufllle,
And turn'd men's beds to biers.


Ay, by Saint Edward!—I escaped right nearly.

I was a soldier then for holidays,

And slept not in mine armour: my safe rest

Was startled by the cry of Douglas ! Douglas!

And by my couch, a grisly chamberlain,

Stood Alan Swinton, with his bloody mace.

It was a churchman saved me—my stout chaplain,

Heaven quit his spirit! caught a weapon up,

And grappled with the giant.—How now, Louis?

Enter an Officer, who whispers tlie Kino.


Say to him,—thus—and thus [ffhispers.


That Swinton 's dead. A monk of ours reported,
Bound homeward from Saint Ninians pilgrimage,
The Lord of Gordon slew him.


Father, and if your house stood on our borders,
You might have cause to know that Swinton lives,
And is on horseback yet.


He slew the Gordon, That's all the difference—a very trifle.


Trifling to those who wage a war more noble
Than with the arm of flesh.

Chandos {apart).
The abbot's vex'd, I 'II rub the sore for him.—
(^foita\) I have used that arm of flesh,
And used it sturdily—most reverend father,
What say you to the chaplain's deed of arms
In the king's tent at Weardale?


it was most sinful, being against the canon
Prohibiting ail churchmen to bear weapons;
And as he fell in that nnseemly guise,
Perchance his soul may rue it.

Ring Edward {overhearing the last words). Who may rue 1 And what is to be rued!

Chandos {apart). I 'II match his reverence for the tithes of Everingham. —The abbot says, my liege, the deed was sinful By which your chaplain, wielding secular weapons, Secured your grace's life and liberty, Aud that be suffers for't in purgatory.

XING RDWARD (to tlie Abbot).

Say'st thou my chaplain is in purgatory?


It is the canon speaks it, good my liege.


In purgatory! thou shalt pray him ont on't,
Or I will make thee wish thyself beside him.

My lord, perchance his soul is past tbe aid
Of all the church may do—there is a place
From which there s no redemption.


And if I thought my faithful chaplain there,

Thou shouldst there join him, priest!—Go, watch, fet

pray, And let me have such prayers as will storm Heaves— None of your maim'd and mutter'd hunting masses.

Abbot {apart to Chandos). For God's sake, take 'hi m off.


Wilt thou compound, then,
The tithes of Everingham!


I tell thee, if thou bear'st the keys of heaves.
Abbot, thou shall not turn a bolt with them
'Gainst any well-deserving English subject.


We will compound, and grant thee, too, a share 1' the next indulgence. Thou dost need it muck, And greatly 'l will avail thee.


Enough—we 're friends, aud when occasion serves,

I will strike in

[Looks as if towards the Scottish Arm}


Answer, proud abbot; is my chaplain's tool.
If thou koowest aught on t. in the evil place!


My liege, the Yorkshire meu have gain'd the meaJcv I sec the pennon green of merry Sherwood. ■


Then give the signal instant! We have lost
But too much time already.


My liege, your holy chaplain's blessed soul


To hell with it, and thee! Is this a time
To speak of monks and chaplains?

[flourish of Trumpets, answered hy adistntmr*
of Bugles.
See. Chandos, Percy—Ha, Saint George! Saint Ed«i"-
Sce it descending now, tbe fatal haiKhower,
THc storm of England's wrath—sure, swift, resude*.
Which no mail-co.it can brook.—Brave EogKsh berr
How close they shoot together!—as one eye
Had aim'd live thousand shafts—as if one hand
Had loosed five thousand bow-strings!


iTKthkkvt*i Darkens the air, and hides the sun from am.


It falls on those shall sec the suu no more.
The winged, the resistless plague is with them.
How their vex'd host is reeling to and fro.
Like the chafed whale with fifty lances in him'
They do not see, and cannot shun the wound.
The storm is viewless, as death's able wing.
Unerring as his scythe.


Horses and riders are going down together.
Tu almost pity to see nobles fall.
And by a peasant's arrow.


t could weep them, Although they are my rebcU.

Chandos (afide to Percy). Hi* conquerors, he means, who cast him out From his usurp'd kingdom.—(Aloud.) T is the worst

of it, That knights can claim small honour in the field Which archers win, unaided by our lances.


The battle is not ended. {Looks towards Vie field.

Sot coded !—scarce begun! What horseare these,
Rash From the thicket underneath the hill?


Tory re Hainaulters, the followers of Queen Isabel.

King sDWAtiD (hastily).
Raiaaulters!—thou ar^blind—wear Hainaulters
Saint Andrew's silver cross ?—or would they charge
Full (m our archers, and make havoc of them?—
Bruce is alive again—bo, rescue! rescue!—
Who was't survey'd the ground!
Most royal liege—


A rose hath fallen from thy chaplet, (1) Ribaumont.


Ill win it back, or lay my bead beside it. [Exit.


Saint George ! Saint Edward! Gentlemen, to horse,
Aod to the rescue! Percy, lead the bill-men;
Chandos, do thou bring up the men-at-arms.—
If yonder numerous host should now bear down
Bold as their van-guard (to the Abbot), thou mayst pray

for os— We may need good men's prayers.—To the rescue, Lords, to the rescue! ha, Saint George! Saint Edward'.



J part of the Field of Battle betwixt the two Main jfrmies; tumults behind tfte scenes; alarms, and cries of* Gordoo! A Gordon!» « Swinton!» etc.

Enter, as victorious over tfie English van-guard,VIpoht, Rcynald, and others.

«a »'


7 it street (o hear these war-cries sound together,— Cordon and Swinton.


T is passing pleasant, yet't is strange withal.
Faith, when at first I heard the Gordon's slogan
Sounded so near me, I had nigh struck down
'The knave who cried it.

£nter Swinton and Gordon.

Swinton. Pitch down nry pennon in yon holly-bush.


Vine in the thoru beside it; let them wave,

As fought this morn their masters, side by side.


Let the men rally, and restore their ranks
Here on this vantage-ground—disorder'd chase
Leads to disorder'd flight; we have done our part,
And if we're succourd now, Plantagenet
Must turn his bridle southward.
Reynald, spur to the Regent with the basnet
Of stout De Grey, the leader of their van-guard;
Say, that in battle-front the Gordon slew him,
And by that token bid him send us succour.


And tell him that when Selby's headlong charge
Had well nigh borne me down, Sir Alan smote him.
I cannot send his helmet, never nutshell
Went to so many shivcrs.-'-Harkye, grooms!

[ToUtose behind tlie scenes.
Why do you let my noble steed stand stiffening
After so hot a course! ,

Swinton. ,

Ay, breathe your horses, they 'II have work anon,
For Edward's men-at-arms will soon be on us.
The flower of England, Gascony, and Flauders;
Hut with swifl succour we will bide them bravely—
De Vipont, thou look's! sad!

It is because I hold a Templars sword
Wet to the crossed hilt with christian blood. ,.


The blood of English arcliers—what can gild
A Scottish blade more bravely!

Even therefore grieve 1 for those gallant yeomen,
England's peculiar and approprialc sons,
Known in no other land. Each boasts his hearth
And field as free as the best lord his haicny.
Owing subjection to no human vassalage* .
Save to their king and law. Hence are they resolute,
Leading the van on every day of battle,
As men who know the blessings they, defend.
Hence arc they frank and generous in peace/
•As men who have their portion in its plenty.
No other kingdom shows such worth and happiness
Veil'd in such low estate—therefore 1 mourn them.

Swinton. . • .

I '11 keep my sorrow for our native Scots,
Who, spite of hardship, poverty, oppression.
Still follow to the field their cliieflain's banner,
And die in the defence on 't.«


And if I live and see my balls again,

They shall have portion in the good they fight for.

Each hardy follower shall have his held,

His household hearth aud sod-built home, as free

As ever southron had. They shall be happy !—

Aud my Elisabeth:shall smile to see it!—

I have bctray'd myself.

• swnrroN.

Do not believe it.—
Vipont, do thou look out from yonder height,
And see what motion in the Scottish host,
And in Ring EdwardV- [Exit Vipont.

Now will I counsel thee;
The Templar's car is for no tale of love,
Being wedded to his order. But I tell thee,
The brave young knight that hath no lady-love

Is like a lamp unlimited ; his brave deeds,
And its rich painting, do seem then most glorious,
When the pure ray gleams through them.—
Hath thy Elizabeth no other name?


Must I then speak of her to you, Sir Alan?
The thought of thec, and of thy matchless strength,
Hath conjured phantoms up amongst her dreams.
The name of Swinton hath been spell sufficient
To chase the rich blood from her lovely cheek,
And wouldst thou now know hers?

I would, nay, must.
Thy father in the paths of chivalry
Should know the load-star thou dost rule thy course by.


Nay, then, her name is—hark [Whispers.


I know it well, that ancient northern house.


O, thou shalt see its fairest grace and honour.
In my Elizabeth. And if music touch thee


It did, before disasters had untuned me.


O, her notes Shall hush each sad remembrance to oblivion, Or melt them to such gentleness of feeling, That grief shall have its sweetness. Who, but she, Knows the wild harpings of our native land? Whether they lull the shepherd on his hill, Or wake the knight to battle; rouse to merriment, Or soothe to sadness; she can touch each mood. Princes and statesmen, chiefs renown'd in arms, And gray-hair'd bards, contend which shall the first And choicest homage render to the enchantress.


You speak her talent bravely.


Though you smile,
I do not speak it half. Her gift creative
New measures adds to every air she wakes;
Varying and gracing it with liquid sweetness,
Like the wild modulation of the lark,
Now leaving, now returning to the strain!
To listen to her, is to seem to wander
In some enchanted labyrinth of romance,
Whence nothing but the lovely fairy's will,
Who wove the spell, can extricate the wanderer:
Methinks I hear her now!—


Bless'd privilege
Of youth! There's scarce threp mi notes to decide
Twixt death and life, twixt triumph and defeat,
Yet all his thoughts are in his lady's bower,
List'ning her harntng !—

Enter Vipont.

Where are thine, De Vipont 1 Vipont. On death—on judgment—on eternity? For time is over with us.


There moves not then one pennon to our aid.
Of all that flutter yonder?


From the main English host come rushing forward

Pennons enow—ay, and their royal standard.
But ours stand rooted, as for crows to roost on.

Swinton (to himself). 111 rescue him at least.—Youog Lord of Gordon, Spur to the Regent—show the instant need—


I penetrate thy purpose; but I go not.


Not at my bidding? I, thy sire in chivalry—
Thy leader in the battle?—I command thee.


No, thou wilt not command me seek my safety,—
For such is thy kind meaning,—at the expense
Of the last hope which Heaven reserves for Seotla&i
While I abide, no follower of mine
Will turn his rein for life; but were I gone.
What power can stay them ? and, our band dispersal
What swords shall for an instant stem yon host,
And save the latest chance for victory?


The noble youth speaks truth; and were he goot. There will not twenty spears be left with us.


No, bravely as we have begun the field.
So let us fight it out. The Regent's eyes
More certain than a thousand messages.
Shall see us stand, the barrier of his host
Against yon bursting storm. If not for honour.
If not for warlike rule, for shame at least,
He must bear down to aid us.


Must it be so? And am I forced to yield the sad consent, Devoting thy young life? 0, Gordon, Gordon! 1 do it as ihe patriarch doom'd bis issue: I at my country's, he at Heaven's command; But I seek vainly some atoning sacrifice. Rather than such a victim !—(Trumpets.)—HanVfc?

come! That music sounds not like thy lady's late.


Yet shall my lady's name mix with it gaily.— Mount, vassals, couch your lances, and cry • Gonl» Gordon for Scotland and Elizabeth !■

[Exeunt. Loudakn*

SCENE III. Another part of tlie field of Battle, adjacent U fa former Scene.

Alarums. Enter Swinton, followed by Hoa Hirm1


Stand to it yet! The man who flies to-day,
May bastards warm them at his household berth'


That ne'er shall be my curse. My Magdalen
Is trusty as my broadsword.


Ha, thou knave, Art thou dismounted too!


I know, Sir Alan,
You" want no homeward guide; so shrew my ros«
'pon my palfrey's neck, and let him loose.
R'iiliia an hour he stands before my gale
Ind Magdalen will need Do other token
fo bid the Melrose monks say masses for me.


ftou art resolved to cheat the halter, then?


It is my purpose, hviog lived a thief, to die a brave man's death; Ind never had I a more glorious chance for t.


Icre lies (he way to it, knave.— Make in, make in, lod aid young Gordon!

[Exeunt. Loud and long alarums. After which Vie back scene rises, and discovers Swinton on Vie ground, Gordon supporting him; both much wounded.


ID aiv cut down—the reapers have pass'd o'er us,

tnd hie to distant harvest.— My toil's over;

"here lies my sickle. [Dropping his sword.] Hand of

mine again iball never, never wield it!


) raliant leader, is thy light extinguished!

Tut only beacon-flame which promised safety

a this day's deadly wrack!


Iy lamp hath long been dim. But thine, young

Gordon, art kindled, to he quenched so suddenly, ire Scotland saw its splendour!


i« thousand horse hung idly on yon hill,

aw us o'erpower'd , and no oue slirr'd to aid us!


I was the Regent's envy—Out!—alas!

fhy blame I him!—It was our civil discord,

tar selfish vanity, our jealous haired,

Vhich framed this day of dole for our poor country.—

lad thy brave father held yon leading staff,

s well his rank and valour vnigbt have claim \1 it,

h had not fall'n unaided.—Mow, O how

■- he to answer it, whose deed prevented!


las! alas! the author of the death-feud,

«■ ha* his reckoning too! for had your sons

od numerous vassals lived, we had lack'd no aid.


lay God a^soil the dead, and him who follows!— ''eve drank the poison'd beverage which we brew'd; ate sown the wind, and rcap'fl the tenfold whirlwind !— ul thou, brave youth, whose nobleness of heart our'd oil upon the wounds our bate inflicted; .!■■ ii, who hast done no wrong, uced'st no forgiveness,— *ny shouldst thou share our punishment?


II need forgiveness—[Distant alarum]—Hark! in

yonder shout id the main battles counter!!—


x»k on the field, brave Gordon, if thou caust,
nd tell mc how the day goes.—But I guess,
w surely do 1 guess


All s lost! all'» lost!—Of the main Scottish host,
Some wildly fly, and some rush wildly forward;
And some there arc who seem to turn their spears
Against their countrymen.


Rashness, and cowardice, and secret treason,

Combine to ruin us; and our hot valour,

Devoid of discipline, is madmen's strength,

More fatal unto friends than enemies!

I in glad that these dim eyes shall see no more on't,—

Let thy hand close them, Gordon—I will think

My fair-hair'd William renders me that office! [Dies.


And, Swinton, I will think I do that duty
To my dead father.

Enter Dk Vipont.

Fly, fly, brave youth!—A handful of thy followers,
The scatter'd gleaning of this desperate day,
Still hover yonder to essay thy rescue.—
O linger not!—I 11 be your guide to them,


Look there, and bid mc fly !—The oak has fallen;
And the young ivy-bush, which learn'd to climb
Dy its support, must needs partake its fall.


Swinton? Alas! the best, the bravest, strongest,

And sage&t of our Scottish chivalry!

Forgive one moment, if to save the living,

My tongue should wrong the dead.—Gordon, bethink

thee. Thou dost but tay to perish with the corpse Of him who slew thy father. •


Ay, but he was my sire in chivalry,

He taught my youth to soar above the promptings

Of mean and sellish vengeance; gave my youth

A name that shall not die even on this death-spot.

Records shall tell this Held had not been lost,

Had all men fought like Swinton and like Gordon.

Save thee, De Vipont—Hark ! the southron trumpets.

. VI Port.

Nay, without thee I stir not.

Enter Edward, Chandos, 1'brct, Baliol, etc.


Ay, they come on, the tyrant and the traitor,
Workman and tool, Plantagcnct and U.iliol.

0 for a moment's strength in this poor arm.
To do one glorious deed'

[He rushes on the English, hut is made prisoner witli Vipont.


Disarm them—harm them not; though it was they
Made havoc on the archers of our van-guard,
They and that bulky champion. Where is he?


Here lies the giant! Say his name, young knight!


Let it suflicc, he was a man this morning.


1 questional thee in sport. I do not need

Thy information, youth. Who that has fought Through all these Scottish wars, but knows that crest, The sable boar chain'd to the leafy oak,

And that huge macVstilPseen where war was wildest.


'Tis Alan Swinton!

Grim chamberlain, who, in my tent at Wcardale,
Stood by my startled couch with torch and mace,
When the Black Douglas' war-cry waked my camp.

Gordon [sinking down).
If thus thou know'st him,
Thou wilt respect his corpse.


As belted knight and crowned king, I will.


And let mine

Sleep at his side, in token .that our death

Ended the feud of Swinton and of Cordon.


Ft is the Gordon!—Is there aught beside
Edward can do to honour bravery,
Even in an enemy?


Nothing but this: Let not base Baliol, with his touch or look, Profane my corpse or Swinlou's. I've some breath still, Enough to say—Scotland—Elizabeth! [Dies.


Baliol, I would not brook such dying looks .
To buy the crowu you aim at.

KING EDWARD (to Tipont).

Vipont, thy crossed shield shows ill in warfare
Against a christian king.


That christian king is warring upon Scotland.
I was a Scotsman ere I was a Templar, (2)
Sworn to my country ere I knew my order.


I will but know thee as a christian champion,
And set thee free unransom'd.

Enter Abbot or Walthamstow.


Heaven grant your majesty

Many such glorious days as this has been!


It is a day of much advantage;

Glorious it might have been, had all onr foes

Fought like these two brave champions.—Strike ir

drums, Sound trumpVlsjand pursue the fugitives. Till the Tweed's eddies whelm them. Berwick's r»

der'd— These wars, I trust, will soon find lasting close.


Note I. p. 437.
A rosr hat fallen from iby chaptet.

The well-known expression by which Robert fcv censured the negligence of Randolph, for penaukat an English body* of cavalry to pass his flank«\* day preceding the battle of Baiioockburn,

Note 2. p. 4-1°*

I Wm a Scouwan ere I was a TeaapJar.

A Venetian general observing his soldiers test:-. some unwillingness to fight against those of uW p«« whom they regarded as Father of the Church, adaVe^ them in terms of similar encouragement,—» F^fai •*■ we were Venetians before we were christian*.•

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