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
And by a peasant's arrow.

Ilcre on this vantage-ground-disorder'd chase

Leads to disorder'd flight; we have done our part,
I could weep them, And if we're succour'd now, Plantagenet
Although they are my rebels.

Must turn his bridle southward.
CHANDOS (aside to PERCY).

Reynald, spur to the Regent with the basnet
His conquerors, he means, who cast him out

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

Which archers win, unaided by our lances.

And tell him that when Selby's headlong charge

Had well nigh borne me down, Sir Alan smote him.
The battle is not ended. (Looks towards the field. I cannot send his helmet, never nutshell
Not ended !-scarce begun! What horse are these, Went to so many shivers, Harkye, grooms!
Rash from the thicket underneath the hill ?

(To those behind the scenes.

Why do you let my noble steed stand stiffening
They're Hainaulters, the followers of Queen Isabel. After so hot a course?
KING EDWARD (hastily).

Bainaulters!-thou art blind-wear Hainaulters Ay, breathe your horses, they 'll have work anon,
Saint Andrew's silver cross ?-or would they charge For Edward's men-at-arms will soon be on us,
Full on our archers, and make havoc of them ?-

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!

Most rogal liege-

It is because I hold a Templar's sword

Wel to the crossed hilt with christian blood.
A rose hath fallen from thy chaplet, (1) Ribaumont.


The blood of English archers--what can gild
1 11 win it back, or lay my head beside it. (Exit. A Scottish blade more bravely?

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.
No other kingdom shows such worth and happiness

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.
Enter, as victorious over the English van-guard, VIPONT,

REYNALD, and others.

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,
Tis sweet to hear these war-cries sound together, His household hearth and sod-built home, as free
Gordon and Swinton.

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.
The knave who cried it.

Vipont, do thou look out from yonder height,
Enter Swinton and Gordon.

And see what motion in the Scottish host,
And in King Edward's -

[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,
Mine in the thorn beside it; let them wave,

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
Must I then speak of her to you, Sir Alan?

The thought of thee, and of thy matchless strength, I penetrate thy purpose; but I go not.
Hath conjured phantoms up amongst her dreams.

The name of Swinton hath been spell sufficient Not at my bidding? I, thy sire in chivalry-
To chase the rich blood from her lovely chcek, Thy leader in the battle?-I command thee.
And wouldst thou now know hers?


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.

It did, before disasters had untuned me.

No, bravely as we have begun the field,

So let us fight it out. The Regent's eyes
0, her notes

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
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!-

Another part of the field of Battle, adjacent to the
Bless'd privilege

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,

List'ning her harping ! -

Stand to it yet! The man who flies to-day,

May bastards warm them at his household hearth!
Where are thine, De Vipont?


That ne'er shall be my curse. My Magdalen
On death-on judgment-on eternity?

Is trusty as my broadsword,
For time is over with us.


Ha, thou knave,
There moves not then one pennon to our aid,

Art thou dismounted too!
Of all that flutter yonder ?


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.
Thou art resolved to cheat the halter, then?


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,

[Exeunt. Loud and long alarums. After And, Swinton, I will think I do that duty

which the back scene rises, and discovers To my dead father.
SWINTON on the ground, GORDON support-
ing him ; both much wounded.

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!


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,
y lamp hath long been dim. But thine, young and sagest of our Scottish chivalry!

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!-

thee, GORDON.

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,
I was the Regent's envy-Out!-alas!

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.

Dok on the field, brave Gordon, if thou canst, I question d thec in sport. I do not need
nd tell me how the day goes.-- But I guess,

Thy information, youth. Who that lias fought no surely do I guess-

Through all these Scottish wars, but knows that crest,

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


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 our foes
Fought like these two brave champions. --Strike the
• drums,
Sound trumpets, and pursue the fugitives,
Till the Tweed's eddies whelm them. Berwick's red

These wars, I trust, will soon find lasting close.

The sable boar chain'd to the leafy oak,
And that buge mace still 'seen where war was wildest.

"T is Alan Swinton!
Grim chamberlain, who, in my tent at Weardale,
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 Gordon.

It 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 Swintou's. I've some breath still,
Enough to say-Scotland, Elizabeth! (Dies.

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

KING EDWARD (to Vipont).
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.


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

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