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As fought this morn their masters, side by side. Horses and riders are going down together.
SWINTON. Tis almost pity to see nobles fall,
Let the men rally, and restore their ranks
Ilcre on this vantage-ground-disorder'd chase
Leads to disorder'd flight; we have done our part,
Must turn his bridle southward.
Reynald, spur to the Regent with the basnet
Of stout De Grey, the leader of their van-guard; From his usurpd kingdom.-(Aloud.) 'T is the worst Say, that in battle-front the Gordon slew him, of it,
And by that token bid him send us succour. That knights can claim small honour in the field
And tell him that when Selby's headlong charge
Had well nigh borne me down, Sir Alan smote him.
(To those behind the scenes.
Why do you let my noble steed stand stiffening
The flower of England, Gascony, and Flanders; Bruce is alive again-ho, rescue! rescue!
But with swift succour we will bide them bravelyWho was 't survey'd the ground?
De Vipont, thou look'st sad!
It is because I hold a Templar's sword
Wel to the crossed hilt with christian blood.
The blood of English archers--what can gild
VIPONT. Saint George ! Saint Edward! Gentlemen, to horse, Even therefore grieve I for those gallant yeomen, And to the rescue! Percy, lead the bill-men;
England's peculiar and appropriate sons, Chandos, do thou bring up the men-at-arms.
Known in no other land. Each boasts his hearth If youder numerous host should now bear down
And field as free as the best lord his barony, Bold as their van-guard (to the Abbot), thou mayst pray | Owing subjection to no human vassalagey. for use
Save to their king and law. Hence are they resolute, We may need good men's prayers.--To the rescue, Leading the van on every day of bacule, Lords, to the rescue! ha, Saint George! Saint Edward! As men who know the blessings they defend.
[Exeunt. Hence are they frank and generous in peace,
As men who have their portion in its plenty.
Veild in such low estate-therefore I mourn them.
SWINTON. . . 4 part of the Field of Battle betwixt the two Main Ar
I'll keep my sorrow for our native Scots, . mies; tumults behind the scenes; alarms, and cries
| Who, spite of hardship, poverty, oppression, of «Gordon! A Gordon!» « Swinton!» etc.
Still follow to the field their chieftain's banner,
And die in the defence on 't.
And if I live and see my halls again,
They shall have portion in the good they fight for. TIPONT.
Each hardy follower shall have his field,
As ever southron had. They shall be happy!
And my Elizabeth shall smile to see it! *T is passing pleasant, yet 't is strange withal.
I have betray'd myself. Faith, when at first I heard the Gordon's slogan
SWINTON. Sounded so near me, I had nigh struck down
Do not believe it.
Vipont, do thou look out from yonder height,
And see what motion in the Scottish host,
[Exit Vipont. SWINTON.
Now will I counsel thee; Pitch down my pennon in yon holly-bush.
The Templar's ear 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 unlighted; bis brave deeds,
Pennons enow-ay, and their royal standard. And its rich painting, do seem then most glorious, But ours stand rooted, as for crows to roost 00. When the pure ray gleams through them.
SWINTON (to himself ). Hath thy Elizabeth no other name?
I'll rescue him at least.— Young Lord of Gordoa, GORDON.
Spur to the Regent-show the instant need
No, thou wilt not command me seek my safety,
I would, nay, must. For such is thy kind meaning,-at the expense Thy father in the paths of chivalry
Of the last hope which Heaven reserves for Scotland. Should know the load-star thou dost rule thy course by. While I abide, no follower of mine GORDON.
Will turn his rein for life; but were I gone, Nay, then, her name is—hark-
Whispers. What power can stay them? and, our band dispersed, SWINTON.
What swords shall for an instant stem yon hosh, I know it well, that ancient northern house.
And save the latest chance for victory?
VIPONT. 0, thou shalt see its fairest grace and honour,
The noble youth speaks truth; and were he gone, In my Elizabeth. And if music touch thee-- There will not twenty spears be left with us. SWINTON.
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 hush each sad remembrance to oblivion, Shall see us stand, the barrier of his host Or melt them to such gentleness of feeling,
Against yon bursting storm. If not for hodour, That grief shall have its sweetness. Who, but she,
If not for warlike rule, for shame at least, Knows the wild harpings of our native land ?
He must bear down to aid us. Whether they lull the shepherd on his hill,
SWINTON. Or wake the knight to battle; rouse to merriment,
Must it be so? Or soothe to sadness ; she can touch each mood.
And am I forced to yield the sad consent, Princes and statesmen, chiefs renown'd in arms,
Devoting thy young life? O, Gordon, Gordon! And gray-hair'd bards, contend which shall the first I do it as the patriarchi doom'd his issue: And choicest homage render to the enchantress. I at my country's, he at Heaven's command; SWINTON.
But I seek vainly some atoning sacrifice, You speak her talent bravely.
Rather than such a victim !-(Trumpets.)—Hark, they GORDON. .
come! Though you smile, That music sounds not like thy lady's late. I do not speak it half. Her gift creative
GORDOX. New measures adds to every air she wakes;
Yet shall my lady's name mix with it gaily.Varying and gracing it with liquid sweetness,
Mount, vassals, couch your lances, and cry « Gordon' Like the wild modulation of the lark,
Gordon for Scotland and Elizabeth !. Now leaving, now returning to the strain !
[Exeunt. Loud aların
Another part of the field of Battle, adjacent to the
former Scene. Of youth! There's scarce three minutes to decide
Alarums. Enter Swinton, followed by Hos HLATTEL! "Twixt death and life, 'twixt triumph and defeat, Yet all his thoughts are in his lady's bower,
Stand to it yet! The man who flies to-day,
May bastards warm them at his household hearth!
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, From the main English host come rushing forward You want no homeward guide ; so threw my relas
Spon my palfrey's neck, and let him loose.
GORDON. Vithin an hour he stands before my gate;
All's lost! all 's lost!-Of the main Scottish host, Ind Magdalen will need no other token
Some wildly fly, and some rush wildly forward ; "o bid the Melrose monks say masses for me.
And some there are who seem to turn their spears SWINTON.
Against their countrymen.
Rashness, and cowardice, and secret treason,
It is my purpose, Combine to ruin us; and our hot valour, Having lived a thief, to die a brave man's death; Devoid of discipline, is madmen's strength, und never had I a more glorious chance for 't. More fatal unto friends than enemies! SWINTON.
I'm glad that these dim eyes shall see no more on't.Here lies the way to it, knave.- Make in, make in,
Let thy hand close them, Gordon-I will think und aid young Gordon!
My fair-baird William renders me that office! (Dies,
which the back scene rises, and discovers To my dead father.
Enter De Vipont.
VIPONT. I are cut down-the reapers have pass'd o'er us, Fly, fly, brave youth!-A handful of thy followers, ind hie to distant harvest.- My toil's over;
The scatter'd gleaning of this desperate day, here lies my sickle. (Dropping his sword.] Hand of Still hover yonder to essay thy rescue.mine again
O linger not!—I 'll be your guide to them, hall never, never wield it!
. GORDON. GORDON.
Look there, and bid mc fly!--The oak has fallen; valiant leader, is thy light extinguisha!
And the young ivy-bush, which learo'd to climb That only beacon-flame which promised safety
By its support, must needs partake its fall. o this day's deadly wrack!
Swinton? Alas! the best, the bravest, strongest,
Forgive one moment, if to save the living, "ust kindled, to be quenched so suddenly,
My tongue should wrong the dead. -Gordon, bethink Ere Scotland saw ils splendour!-
Thou dost but tay to perish with the corpse live thousand horse bung idly on yon hill,
Of him who slew thy father. law us o'erpower'd, and no one stirr'd to aid us!
Ay, but he was my sire in chivalry,
He taught my youth to soar above the promptings Vhy blame I him?-li was our civil discord,
Of mean and selfish vengeance; gave my youth hur selfish vanity, our jealous hatred,
A name that shall not die even on this death-spot. Vhich framed this day of dole for our poor country. Records shall tell this field had not been lost, lad thy brave father held yon leading staff,
Had all men fought like Swinton and like Gordon. s well his rank and valour migbt have claim'd it, Save thee, De Vipont-Hark! the southron trumpets. Ve had not fall’n unaided.-How, O how
VIPONT. she to answer it, whose deed prevented!
Nay, without thee I stir not.
Enter Edward, CHANDOS, Percy, BALIOL, etc. las! alas ! the author of the death-feud, le bas his réckoning too! for had your sons
GORDON. nd numerous vassals lived, we had lack'd no aid. Ay, they come on, the tyrant and the traitor, SWINTON.
| Workman and tool, Plantagenet and Baliol, lay God assoil the dead, and him who follows! | 0 for a moment's strength in this poor arm, Ve're drank the poison'd beverage which we brew'd ; | To do one glorious deed! lave sown the wind, and reap'd the tenfold whirl
[He rushes on the English, but is made priwind !
soner with VIPONT. at thon, brave youth, whose nobleness of heart
KING EDWARD. our'd oil upon the wounds our hate inflicted;
Disarm them--harm them not; though it was they hou, who hast done no wrong, need'st no forgiveness, - | Made havoc on the archers of our van-guard, Thy shouldst thou share our punishment ?
They and that bulky champion. Where is he?
CHANDOS. Il need forgiveness-- [ Distant alarum ]-Hark! in Ilere lies the giant! Say his name, young knight! yonder shout
GORDON. ! id the main battles counter!!
Let it suflice, he was a man this morning.
Thy information, youth. Who that lias fought no surely do I guess-
Through all these Scottish wars, but knows that crest,
Enter ABBOT OF WALTHAMSTOW.
The sable boar chain'd to the leafy oak,
GORDON (sinking down).
Nothing but this:
KING EDWARD (to Vipont).
Note 1. p. 437.
A rose has fallen from thy chaplet. The well-known expression by which Robert Bruce censured the negligence of Randolph, for permiting an English body of cavalry to pass lis flank ea the day preceding the battle of Banpockburo.
Note 2. p. 440.
I was a Scotsman ere I was a Templar. A Venetian general observing his soldiers testified some unwillingness to fight against those of the pope whom they regarded as Father of the Church, addressed them in terms of similar encouragement, — « Fight " we were Venetians before we were christians.»
Ballads and Lyrical Pieces.
singing. One of the hunters was seduced by the syren
who attached herself particularly to him, to leave ador OR
hut: the other remained, and, suspicious of the tau LORD RONALD'S CORONACH..
seducers, continued to play apon a trump, or dem
harp, some strain consecrated to the Virgin Mary. Day For them the viewless forms of air obey,
at length came, and the temptress vanished. Scarlet Their bidding beed, and at their beck repair;
in the forest, he found the bones of his unfortunate They know what spirit brews the stormful day,
friend, who had been torn to pieces and devoured by And beartless oft, like moody madness, stare, To see the phantom train their secret work prepare.
the ficnd, into whose toils be had fallen. The place ** from thence called, The Glen of the Green Faser.
Glenfinlas is a tract of forest ground, lying in The tradition upon which the following stanzas are
Highlands of Perthshire, not far from Calleader, * founded runs thus: While two Bighland hunters were
Menteith. It was formerly a royal forest, and now be passing the night in a solitary bathy (a hut built for
longs to the Earl of Moray, This country, as well the purpose of hunting), and making merry over their
the adjacent district of Balquidder, was, in times of venison aod whisky, one of them expressed a wish, that
yore, chiefly inhabited by the Macgregors. To the wok they had pretty lasses to complete their party. The
of the forest of Glenfinlas lies Loch Katrine, and its ran words were scarcely ultered, when two beautiful young
mantic avenue called the Trosachs. Benledi, Beamwe. women, habited in green, entered the hut, dancing and
and Benvoirlich, are mountains in the same disuruhy Corosach is the lanientation for a deceased warrior, sung by the and at no great distance from Glenfinlas. The rive? aged of the clau.
Teith passes Callender and the castle of Douae, ad