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catcher.

Chan.

be.

And am I not still fatherless!

Per. The Scots still keep the hill-the sun Swin. Gordon, no;

grows high. For while we live, I am a father to thee.

Would that the charge would sound! Gor. Thou, Swinton? no! that cannot, canuot. Chan. Thou scent'st the slaughter, Percy. be.

Who comes here? Swin. Then change the phrase, and say, that Enter the ABBOT OF WALTHAMSTOW. while we live,

Now, by my life, the holy priest of Walthamstow,
Gordon shall be my son. If thou art fatherless, Like to a lamb among a herd of wolves!
Am I not childless too? Betbink thee, Gordon, See, he's about to bleat.
Our death-feud was not like the household fire, Ab. The king, methinks, delays the onset long.
Which the poor peasant hides among its embers, Chan. Your general, father, like your rat-
To smoulder on, and wait a time for waking.
Ours was the conflagration of the forest,

Pauses to bait his traps, and set his snares.
Which, in its fury, spares nor sprout nor stem, Ab. The metaphor is descent.
Hoar oak, nor sapling- not to be extinguish'd,

Reverend sir,
Till heaven, in mercy, sends down all her waters. I will uphold it just. Our good king Edward
But, once subdued, it's flame is quench'd for ever:) Will presently come to this battle-field.
And spring shall hide the track of devastation, | And speak to you of the last tilting match,
With foliage and with flowers. Give me thy Or of some feat he did a twenty years since;
hand.

But not a word of the day's work before him. Gor. My hand and heart! And freely now Even as the artist, sir, whose name offends you, to fight!

Sits prosing o'er his can, until the trap fall, Vip. How will you act? [To SWINTOX.] The Announcing that the vermin are secured, Gordon's band and thine

And then 'tis up, and on them. Are in the rearward left, I think, in scorn.

Per. Chandos, you give your tongue too bold a I post for them who wish to charge the foremost! license. Swin. We'll turn that scorn to vantage, and Chan. Percy, I am a necessary evil. descend

King Edward would not want me, if he could

e could Si delong the hill-some winding path there must And could not, if he would. I know my value;

My heavy hand excuses my light tongue. 0, for a well-skill'd guide!

So men wear weighty swords in their defence, HoB HATTELY starts up from a thicket. Although they may offend the tender shin, Hob. So here he stands. -An ancient friend, sir When the steel boot is doft'd. Alan.

Ab.

My lord of Chandos, Hob Hattely, or, if you like it better,

This is but idle speech on brink of battle, Hob of the Heron Plume, here stands your guide! When christian men should think upon their sins: Swin. An ancient friend?-A most notorious For as the tree falls, so the trunk must lie, knave,

Be it for good or evil. Lord, bethink thee, Whose throat I've destined to the dodder'd oak Thou hast withheld from our most reverend house, Before my castle, these ten months and more. The tithes of Everingham and Settleton; Was it not you, who drove from Simprim-mains, Wilt thou make satisfaction to the church And Swinton-quarter, sixty head of cattle? Before her thunders strike thee! I do warn thes Hob. What then? If now I lead your sixty lances | In most paternal sort.

the English flank, where they'll find spoill Chan. I thank you, father, filially, Is worth six hundred beeves?

Though but a truant son of holy church, Swin. Why, thou canst do it, knave. I would I would not choose to undergo her censures, not trust thee

When Scottish blades are waving at my throat. With one poor bullock; yet would risk my life, I'll make fair composition. And all my followers, on thine honest guidance. Ab. No composition; l'll have all or none.

Hob. There is a dingle, and a most discreet one, Chan. None, then-'tis soonest spoke. I'll (l've trod each step by starlight,) that sweeps take my chance, round

And trust my sinful soul to heaven's mercy, The rearward of this hill, and opens secretly Rather than risk my worldly goods with theeUpon the archers' flank. Will not that serve My hour may not be come. Your present turn, sir Alan?

Ab. Impious-impenitentSwin.

Bravely, bravely!

Per.

Hush! the king—the king! Gor. Mount, sirs, and cry my slogan.

Enter KING EDWARD, attended by Balion, an Let all who love the Gordon follow me!

others. Swin. Ay, let all follow-but in silence follow. King: (apart to CHANDOS.) Hark hither, Chan

dos! -Have the Yorkshire archers Scare not the hare that's couchant on her formThe cushat from her nest-brush not, if possible, te

| Yet join'd the vanguard?

Chan. The dew-drop from the spray

They are marching thither.

| K. Ed. Bid them make haste, for shame-send Let no one whisper, until I cry, “ Havoc !” Then shout as loud's ye will. -On, on, brave Hob:I...a quick rider.On, thou false thief, but yet most faithful Scotsman! The loitering knaves, were it to steal my venison,

| Their steps were light enough.-How now, sir

abbot? ACT II.-SCENE I.

Say, is your reverence come to study with us A rising ground immediately in front of the position The princely art of war?

of the English main body. "PERCY, CUANDOS, Ab. I've had a lecture from my lord of Chandos, RIBAUMONT, and other English and Norman In which he term'd your grace a rat-cather. nobles are grouped on the stage.

1 K. Ed. Chandos, how's this?

Chan. 0, I will prove it, sir!—These skipping (Aloud.) I have used that arm of flesh,
Scots

And used it sturdily-most reverend father, Have changed a dozen times 'twixt Bruce and What say you to the chaplain's deed of arms Baliol,

In the king's tent at Weardale? Quitting each house when it began to totter: Ab. It was most sinful, being against the canon They're fierce and cunning, treacherous, too, as Prohibiting all churchmen to bear weapons; rats,

And as he fell in that unseemiy guise, And we, as such, will smoke them in their fast- Perchance his soul may rue it. nesses.

King. (overhearing the last words.) Who may K. Ed. These rats have seen your back, my lord rue? of Chandos,

And what is to be rued? And noble Percy's too.

Chan. (apart.) I'll match his reverence for the Per. Ay; but the mass which now lies weltering tithes of Everingham. On yon hill side, like a Leviathan

The abbot says, my liege, the deed was sinful That's stranded on the shallows, then had soul in't, By which your chaplain, wielding secular weapons, Order and discipline, and power of action. Secured your grace's life and liberty, Now 'tis a headless corpse, which only shows, And that he suffers for't in purgatory. By wild convulsions, that some life remains in't.| King. (to the ABBOT.) Say'st thou my chaplain K. Ed. True, they had once a head; and 'twas is in purgatory? a wise

Ab. It is the canon speaks it, good my liege. Although a rebel head.

King. In purgatory! Thou shalt pray him out on't, Ab. (bowing to the KING.) Would he were here! Or I will make thee wish thyself beside him. we should find one to match him.

Ab. My lord, perchance his soul is past the aid K. Ed. There's something in that wish which Of all the church may do there is a place wakes an echo

From which there's no redemption. Within my bosom. Yet it is as well,

King. And if I thought my faithful chaplain there, Or better, that the Bruce is in his grave.

Thou shouldst there join hím, priest!-Go, watch, We have enough of powerful foes on earth,

fast, pray, No need to summon them from other worlds. And let me have such prayers as will storm hea Per. Your grace ne'er met the Bruce!

venK. Ed. Never himself; but, in my earliest field, None of your maim'd and mutter'd hunting masses. I did encounter with his famous captains,

Ab. (apart to CHANDOS.) For God's sake, take Douglas and Randolph. Faith! they press'd me him off. hard.

Chan. Wilt thou compound, then,
Ab. My liege, if I might urge you with a question, The tithes of Everingham?
Will the Scots fight to-day?

King. I tell thee, if thou bear'st the keys of K. Ed. (sharply.) Go look your breviary.

heaven, Chan. (àpart.) The abbot has it—Edward will Abbot, thou shalt not turn a bolt with them not answer

'Gainst any well-deserving English subject. On that nice point. We must observe his humour. Ab. (lo CHANDOS.) We will compound, and

Addresses the KING,

grant thee, too, a share Your first campaign, my liege?- That was in l'the next indulgence. Thou dost need it much. Weardale,

And greatly 'twill avail thee. When Douglas gave our camp yon midnight ruffle, Chan. Enough-we're friends, and when oceaAnd turn'd men's beds to biers.

sion serves, K. Ed. Ay, by saint Edward!-I escaped right I will strike in. nearly.

(Looks as if towards the Scottish army. I was a soldier then for holidays,

King. Answer, proud abbot, is my chaplain's And slept not in mine armour: my safe rest

soul, Was startled by the cry of Douglas! Douglas! If thou knowest aught on't, in the evil place? And by my couch, a grisly chamberiain,

Chan. My liege, the Yorkshire men have gain'd Stood Alan Swinton, with his bloody mace.

the meadow. It was a churchman saved me-my stout chaplain, I see the pennon green of merry Sherwood. Heaven quit his spirit! caught a weapon up, 1 King. Then give the signal instant. We have lost And grappled with the giant.-How now, Louis? But too much time already.

Enter an officer, who whispers the king. Ab. My liege, your holy chaplain's blessed K. Ed. Say to him,-thus—and thus

soul

[Whispers. King. To hell with it, and thee! Is this a time Ab. That Swinton's dead, a monk of ours re- To speak of monks and chaplains? ported,

(Flourish of trumpets, answered by a distans Bound homeward from saint Ninian's pilgrimage,

sound of bugles. The lord of Gordon slew him.

See, Chandos, Percy-Ha, saint George! saint Per. Father, and if your house stood on our Edward! borders,

See it descending now, the fatal bail shower, You might have cause to know that Swinton lives, The storm of England's wrath--sure, swift, ro And is on horseback yet.

sistless, Chan.

He slew the Go Which no mail-coat can brook. Brave English That's all the difference-a very trifle.

hearts ! Ab. Trifling to those who wage a war more noble How close they shoot together!-as one eye Than with the arm of flesh.

Had aimed five thousand shafts—as if one hand Chan. (apart.) The abbot's vex'd, I'll rub the Had loosed five thousand bow-strings! sore for him.

The thick rolley

Per

gild

Darkens the air, and hides the sun from us. | And by that token bid him send us succour.

King. It falls on those shall see the sun no more. Gor. And tell him that when Selby's headlong The winged, the resistless plague is with them.

charge How their vex'd host is reeling to and fro, Had well nigh borne me down, sir Alan smote Like the chafed whale with fifty lances in him!

him. They do not see, and cannot shun the wound. I cannot send his helmet, never nutshell The storm is viewless, as death's sable wing, Went to so many shivers.--Hark'ye, grooms! Unerring as his sithe.

[To those behind the scenes Per. Horses and riders are going down together. / Why do you let my noble steed stand stiffening Tis almost pity to see nobles fall,

After so hot a course! And by a peasant's arrow.

Swin. Ay, breathe your horses, they'll have Bal. " I could weep them,

work anon, Although they are my rebels.

For Edward's men-at-arms will soon be on us, Chan. (aside to Percy.) His conquerors, heThe flower of England, Gaseony, and Flanders; means, who cast him out

But with swift succour we will bide them bravely. From his usurp'd kingdom. (Aloud.) 'Tis the De Vipont, thou look'st sad! worst of it,

Vip. It is because I hold a templar's sword That knights can claim small honour in the field Wet to the crossed hilt with christian blood. Which archers win, unaided by our lances. Swin. The blood of English archers--what can King. The battle is not ended. [Looks towards the field.

A Scottish blade more bravely? Notended!-scarce begun!--What horse are these, Vip. Even therefore grieve I for those gallant Rush from the thicket underneath the hill?

yeomen, Per. They're Hainaulters, the followers of queen England's peculiar and appropriate sons, Isabel.

Known in no other land. Each boasts bis hearth King. (hastily.) Hainaulters!-thou art blind And field as free as the best lord his barony, wear Hainaulters

Owing subjection to no human vassalage, Saint Andrew's silver cross-or would they charge Save to their king and law. Hence are they reFull on our archers, and make havoc of them?

solute, Bruce is alive again-ho, rescue! rescue! Leading the van on every day of battle, Who was't surveyed the ground?

As men who know the blessings they defend. Ribau. Most royal liege

Hence are they frank and generous in peace, King. A rose hath fallen from thy chaplet, ' Ri-As men who have their portion in its plenty. baumont.

No other kingdom shows such worth and happiRibau. I'll win it back, or lay my head beside it. ness

[Exit. Veil'd in such low estate-therefore I mourn them. King. Saint George! saint Edward! Gentlemen,! Swin. I'll keep my sorrow for our native Scots,

Who, spite of hardship, poverty, oppression, And to the rescue! Percy, lead the bill-men; Still follow to the field their chieftain's banner, Chandos, do thou bring up the men-at-arms. And die in the defence on't. If yonder numerous host should now bear down Gor. And if I live and see my halls again, Bold as their van-guard, (to the abbot,) thou may'st They shall have portiou in the good they figlit for. pray for us,

Each hardy follower shall have his field, We may need good men's prayers. To the rescue, His household hearth and sod-built home, as free Lords, to the rescue! ha, saint George! saint Ed. As ever southron had. They shall be happy! ward!

[Exeunt. And my Elizabeth shall smile to see it! SCENE II.

I have betray'd myself. A part of the Field of Battle betwixt the two Main Swin.

Do not believe it. Armies; tumilts behind the scenes; alarms, and Vipont, do thou look out from yonder height.

cries of “Gordon! a Gordon!”“ Swinton!” &c. And see what motion in the Scottish host, Enter, as victorious over the English van-guard,

And in king Edward's.

(Exit VIPONT

Now will I couusel thee; VIPONT, REYNALD, and others.

The templar's ear is for no tale of love, Vip. 'Tis sweet to hear these war-eries sound

Being wedded to his order. But I tell thee, together,

The brave young knight that hath no lady-love Gordon and Swinton. Rey. 'Tis passing pleasant, yet 'tis strange withal.

Is like a lamp unlighted; his brave deeds, Faith, when at first I heard the Gordon's slogan

And its rich painting, do seem then most glorious,

When the pure ray gleams through them. Sounded so near me, I had nigh struck down

Hath thy Elizabeth no other name? The knave who cried it.

Gor. Must I then speak of her to you, sir Alan? Enter SWINTON and GORDON.

The thought of thee, and of thy matchless strength, Swin. Pitch down my pennon in yon holly bush. Hath conjured phantoms up amongst her dreams.

Gor. Mine in the thorn beside it; let them wave, The name of Swinton hath been spell sufficient As fought this morn their masters, side by side. To chase the rich blood from her lovely cheek,

Swin. let the men rally, and restore their ranks and would'st thou now know her's? Here on this vantage-ground--lisorder'd chase Swin.

I would, nay, must Leads to disorder'd fight; we have done our part, Thy father in the paths of chivalry And if we're succour'd now, Plantagenet

Should know the load-star thou dost rule thy Must turn his bridle southward.

course by. Reynald, spur to the regent with the bagnet Gor. Nay, then, her name is hark - Whispere. of stout De Grey, the leader of their van-guard; Swin. I know it well, that ancient northern Say, that in battle-front the Gordon slew him,

house.

to horse,

Gor. O, thou shalt see its fairest grace and hool Swim

Must it be so? pour,

| And am I forced to yield the sad consent, In mov Elizabeth. And if musie touch thee Devoting thy young life? 0, Gordon, Gordon!

Swin. It did, before disasters had uptuned me. I do it as the patriarch doom'd bis issue;
Gor. O, her notes

1 at my country's, be at heaven's command;
Shall hush each sad remembrance to oblivion, But I seek rainly some atoning sacrifice,
Or melt them to such genueness of feeling, Rather than such a victim!- Trumpete.) Hart,
That grief shall have its sweetness. Who, but she, they come!
Knows the wild harpings of our native land? That music sounds not like thy lady's lute.
Whether they lull the shepherd on his hill, | Gor. Yet shall my lady's name mix with it gayly.
Or wake the knight to battle; rouse to merriment, Mount, vassals, couch your lances, and cry, " Gor
Or sooth to sadness; she can touch each mood. I don!
Princes and statesmen, chiefs renown'd in arms, Gordon for Scotland and Elizabeth!”
hand gray-hair'd bards, contend which shall the

(Ereuni. Loud alarum. first

SCENE III. And choicest homage render to th' enchantress.

Another part of the Field of Battle, adjacent to the Swin. You speak her talent bravely. Gor. Though you smile,

former scene. I do not speak it half. Her gift creative

'Alarums. Enter Swintox, followed by Hos HatNew measures adds to every air she wakes;

TELY. Varying and gracing it with liquid sweetness,

Swin. Stand to it yet! The man who flies to-day, Like the wild modulation of the lark,

May bastards warm them at his household hearth! Now leaving, now returning to the strain !

Hob Hat. That ne'er shall be my curse. My To listen to her, is to seem to wander

Magdalen In some enchanted labyrinth of romance,

Is trusty as my broadsword. Whence nothing but the lovely fairy's will,

Swin.

Ha, thou knave,
Who wove the spell, can extricate the wanderer: Art thou dismounted too!
Methinks I hear her now!-

Hob. Hat.

I know, sir Alan, Swin.

Bless'd privilege You want no homeward guide; so threw my reins Of youth! There's scarce three minutes to decide Upon my palfrey's neck, and let him loose,

Twixt death and life, 'twixt triumph and defeat, Within an hour he stands before my gate:
Yet all his thoughts are in his lady's bower,

And Magdalen will need no other token
Cistn'ing her harping!

To bid the Melrose monks say masses for me. Enter VIPONT,

Swin. Thou art resolved to cheat the butter, Where are thine, De Vipont?] then? Vip. On death-on judgment-on eternity!

Hob Hat.

It is my purpose, Por time is over with us.

| Having lived a thief, to die a brave man's death; Swin. There moves not then one pennon to our And never had I a more glorious chance for't. aid,

Swin. Here lies the way to it, knave.- Make 01 all that flutter yonder?

in, make in, Vip. From the main English host come rushing And aid young Gordon! forward

Exeunt. Loud and long alarums. After Pennons enow--ay, and their royal standard.

which the back scene rises, and discove's But ours stand rooted, as for crows to roost on.

SWINTON on the ground, GORDON 801 Swin. (to himself.) I'll rescue him at least. Young

porting him; both much woranded. lord of Gordon,

Swin. All are cut dows the reapers have pass'd Spur to the regent show the instant need

o'er us, Gor. I penetrate thy purpose; but I go not. And hie to distant harvest. My toil's over; Swin. Not at my bidding? I, thy sire in chival. There lies my sickle, (dropping his sword, hand

of mine again Thy leader in the battle ?--I command thee. Shall never, never wield it! Gor. No, thou wilt not command me seek my Gor. O valiant leader, is thy light extinguish'd! safety,

That only beacon flame which promised safety For such is thy kind meaning, at the expense In this day's deadly wreck! Of the last hope which heaven reserves for Scot- Swin. My lamp hath long been dim. But thine, land.

young Gordon, While I abide, no follower of mine

Just kindled, to be quench'd so suddenly, Will turn his rein for life; but were I gone, Ere Scotland saw its splendour! What power can stay them and, our band dis- Gor. Five thousand horse hung idly on yon hill, persed,

Saw us o'erpowered, and no one stirr'd to aid us What sword shall for an instant stem yon host, Swin. It was the regent's envy-Out!-alas! And save the latest chance for victory?

Why blame I him?-It was our civil discord, Vip. The noble youth speaks truth; and were Our selfish vanity, our jealous hatred, he gone,

Which framed this day of dole for our poor counThere will not twenty spears be left with us.

try. Gor. No, bravely as we have begun the field, Had thy brave father held yon leading staff, so let us fight it out. The regent's eyes,

as well his rank and valour might have claim'd it, More certain than a thousand messages,

We had not fall’n unaided. How, O how Shall see us stand, the barrier of his host

Is he to answer it, whose deed prevented! Against yon bursting storm. If not for honour, | Gor. Alas! Alas! the autbor of the death-feud, If not for warlike rule, for shame at least,

He has his reckoning too! for had your sons He must bear down to aid us.

| And num'rous vassals lir'd, we had lack'd no aid

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Swin. May God assoil the dead, and him who King. Disarm them-harm them not; though it follows!

was they We've drank the poison'd beverage which we Made havoc on the archers of our van-guard, brew'd;

They and that bulky champion. - Where is he? Have sown the wind, and reap'd the tenfold whirl- Chan. Here lies the giant! Say his name, young

wind! But thou, brave youth, whose nobleness of heart Gor. Let it suffice, he was a man this morning. Pour'd oil upon the wounds our hate inflicted; 1 Chan. I question'd thee in sport. I do not need Thou, who hast done no wrong, need'st no for- Thy information, youth. Who that has fought giveness,

Through all these Scottish wars, but knows that Why should'st thou share our punishment?

crest, Gor. All need forgiveness-[(listant alarums)

The sable boar chain'd to the leafy oak,
Hark! in yonder shout

And that huge mace still seen where war was Did the main battles counter!

wildest.

King. 'Tis Alan Swinton! Swin. Look on the field, brave Gordon, if thou crime

Grim chamberlain, who in my tent at Weardale, canst,

Stood by my startled couch with torch and mace, And tell me how the day goes. But I guess,

| When the black Douglas war-cry waked my camp. Too surely do I guess

Gor. (sinking down.) If thus thou know'st him, Gor. All's lost! all's lost! Of the main Scottish Thou wilt respect his corpse. host,

King. As belted knight and crowned king, I will Some wildly fly, and some rush wildly forward; 1 Gor. And let mine And some there are who seem to turn their spears Sleep at his side, in token that our death Against their countrymen.

Ended the feud of Swinton and of Gordon. Swin. Rashness, and cowardice, and secret trea- Ring: It is the Gordon!—Is there aught beside son,

Edward can do to honour bravery, Combine to ruin us; and our hot valour,

Even in an enemy? Devoid of discipline, is madmen's strength,

Gor.

Nothing but this: More fatal unto friends than enemies!

Let not base Baliol, with his touch or look, I'm glad that these dim eyes shall see no more Profane my corpse or Swinton's. I've some breath on't.

still, Let thy hand close them, Gordon-I will think Enough to say-Scotland, Elizabeth! [Dies. My fair-hair'd William renders me that office! Chan. Baliol, I would not brook such dying

[Dies.. .

looks Gor. And, Swinton, I will think I do that duty To buy the crown you aim at. To my dead father.

King. (to VIPONT.) Vipont, thy crossed shield Enter DE VIPOXT.

shows ill in warfare Vip. Fly, fly, brave youth! A handful of thy Against a christian king. followers,

"vip. That christian King is warring upon ScotThe scattered gleaning of this desperate day,

land. Still hover yonder to essay thy rescue.

I was a Scotsman ere I was a templar, 2 O linger not!-I'll be your guide to them.

Sworn to my country ere I knew my order. Gor. Look there, and bid me fly!_The oak has! King: I will but know thee as a christian chamfallen!

pion, And the young ivy bush, which learn'd to climb | And set thee free unramsom’d. By its support, must needs partake its fall!

Enter ABBOT OF WALTHAMSTOW. Vib. Swinton? alas! the best, the bravest, Many such glorious days as this has been!

Ab. Heaven grant your majesty strongest,

King. It is a day of much advantage; And sagest of our Scottish chivalry!

Glorious it might have been, had all our foes Forgive one moment, if to save the living, My tongue should wrong the dead. Gordon, be

Fought like these two brave champions.--Strike

the drums, think thee,

Sound trumpets, and pursue the fugitives, Thou dost but stay to perish with the corpse

Till the Tweed's eddies whelm them. Berwick's Of him who slew thy father.

rendered Gor. Ay, but he was my sire in chivalry! These wars, I trust, will soon find lasting close. He taught my youth to soar above the promptings Of mean and selfish vengeance; gave my youth A name that shall not die even on this deatb-spot.

NOTES. Records shall tell this field had not been lost,

1. A rose hath fallen from thy chaplet.-P. 397. Had all men fought like Swinton and like Gordon.

The well-known expression by which Robert Save thee, De Vipont-Hark! the southron trum- Bruce censured the negligence of Randolph. for pets.

permitting an English body of cavalry to pass his Vip. Nay, without thee, I stir not.

Hank on the day preceding the battle of BannockEnter EDWARD, CHANDOS, PERCY, BALIOL, &c. burn. Gor. Ay, they come on, the tyrant and the trai- 2. I was a Scotsman ere I was a templar.-P. 399. tor,

A Venetian general observing his soldiers testiWorkman and tool, Plantagenet and Baliol. fied some unwillingness to fight against those of O for a moment's strength in this poor arm, the pope, whom they regarded as father of the To do one glorious deed.

church, addressed them in terms of similar en[He rushes on the English, but is couragement:-“Fight on! we were Venetians

mude prisoner with VIPONT. before we were christians.”

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