Enter SWINTON, followed by REYNALD and others, to whom he speaks as he enters. Forbids more knowledge. Umfraville, perhaps― VIP. (unclosing his helmet). No; one less worthy of our sacred Order. SWIN. Halt here, and plant my pen- Yet, unless Syrian suns have scorch'd non, till the Regent Assign our band its station in the host. REY. That must be by the Standard. We have had That right since good Saint David's reign at least. Fain would I see the Marcher would dispute it. SWIN. Peace, Reynald! Where the general plants the soldier, There is his place of honour, and there only His valour can win worship. Thou 'rt of those Who would have war's deep art bear the wild semblance Of some disorder'd hunting, where, pell-mell, my features Each trusting to the swiftness of his The Bloody Heart of Douglas, Ross's Which only he, of Scotland's realm, That Swinton's bugle-horn can call to mace, a boy His discipline and wisdom mark the However loud it rings. There's not leader, As doth his frame the champion. Hail, Left in my halls whose arm has Striplings and greybeards, every one is here, The sepulchre of Christ from the rude heathen, And here all should be--Scotland Fall in unholy warfare! needs them all; And more and better men, were cach a Hercules, And yonder handful centupled. SWIN. Unholy warfare? ay, well hast thou named it; But not with England-would her cloth-yard shafts Had bored their cuirasses! their lives had been Allies and vassals, thou wert wont to Lost like their grandsire's, in the bold lead defence A thousand followers shrunk to sixty Of their dear country; but in private lances feud In twelve years' space?—And thy With the proud Gordon, fell my Long brave sons, Sir Alan? Alas! I fear to ask. SWIN. All slain, De Vipont. In my ! empty home A puny babe lisps to a widow'd mother, 'Where is my grandsire! wherefore do you weep?' But for that prattler, Lyulph's house is heirless. I'm an old oak, from which the foresters Ilave hew'd four goodly boughs, and left beside me Only a sapling, which the fawn may crush As he springs over it. Vir. John with the Long Spear-Archibald with the Axe Richard the Ready and my youngest darling, My Fair-hair'd William-do but now survive In measures which the grey-hair'd minstrels sing, When they make maidens weep. VIP. These wars with England! they have rooted out ! spear'd John, Ile with the Axe, and he men call'd the Ready, Ay, and my Fair-hair'd Will: the Gordon's wrath Devour'd my gallant issue. VIP. Since thou dost weep, their death is unavenged? SWIN. Templar, what think'st thou me? See yonder rock From which the fountain gushes; is it less Compact of adamant, though waters flow from it? Firm hearts have moister eyes. They are avenged; I wept not till they were- till the proud Gordon Had with his life-blood dyed my father's sword, In guerdon that he thinn'd my father's lineage; And then I wept my sons. And, as the Gordon Lay at my feet, there was a tear for him Which mingled with the rest: we had been friends, Had shared the banquet and the chase together, Fought side by side; and our first cause of strife, The flowers of Christendom. Knights, Woe to the pride of both! was but a VIP. When you were friends, I was the friend of both, VIP. You are at feud, then, with the mighty Gordon? SWIN. At deadly feud. Here in this And now I can be enemy to neither. He hath had grants of baronies and A friend like thee beside him in the lordships fight In the far-distant North. A thousand Were worth a hundred spears, to rein horse his valour His southern friends and vassals And temper it with prudence. 'Tis always number'd. Add Badenoch kerne, and horse from Dee and Spey, the aged eagle Teaches his brood to gaze upon the sun He'll count a thousand more. And With eye undazzled. now, De Vipont, If the Boar-heads seem in your eyes VIP. Alas! brave Swinton, would'st thou train the hunter That soon must bring thee to the bay? Your custom, Your most unchristian, savage, fiendlike custom, Binds Gordon to avenge his father's death. SWIN. Why, be it so! I look for nothing else: My part was acted when I slew his If it should find my heart, can ne'er As well as Christian champion. God The summit of Halidon Hill, before the Regent's Tent. The Royal Standard of Scotland is seen in the background, with the Pennons and Banners of the principal Nobles around it. Council of Scottish Nobles and Chiefs. SUTHERLAND, Ross, LENNOX, MaxWELL, and other Nobles of the highest rank, are close to the REGENT's person, and in the act of keen debate. VIFONT with GORDON and others remain grouped at some distance on the right hand of the Stage. On the left, standing also apart, is SWINTON, alone and bare-headed. The Nobles are dressed in Highland or Lowland habits, as historical costume requires. Trumpets, Heralds, &c. are in attendance. LEN. Nay, Lordings, put no shame upon my counsels. I did but say, if we retired a little. We should have fairer field and better vantage. I've seen King Robert, ay, The Bruce himself, Retreat six leagues in length, and think no shame on 't. REG. Ay, but King Edward sent a haughty message, Defying us to battle on this field, This very hill of Halidon; if we leave it Unfought withal, it squares not with our honour. SWIN. (apart. A perilous honour that allows the enemy, And such an enemy as this same Edward, To choose our field of battle! He knows how MAX. Brought I all Nithsdale from the Western Border, Left I my towers exposed to foraying England And thieving Annandale, to see such misrule? JOHN. Who speaks of Annandale? To make our Scottish pride betray its The gentle House of Lochwood?? master Into the pitfall. [During this speech the debate among the Nobles is continued. SUTH. aloud). We will not back one furlong-not one yard, No, nor one inch; where'er we find the foc, Or where the foe finds us, there will we fight him. Retreat will dull the spirit of our followers, Who now stand prompt for battle. Ross. My Lords, methinks great That, if his Northern clans once turn the seam Of their check'd hose behind, it will be hard To halt and rally them. SUTH. Say'st thou, MacDonnell? Add another falsehood, And name when Morarchat was coward or traitor? Thine island race, as chronicles can tell, Were oft affianced to the Southron cause, Loving the weight and temper of their gold More than the weight and temper of their steel. REG. Peace, my Lords, ho! Proud Morarchat, to witness thee a liar. 1 Morarchate is the ancient Gaelic description of the Earls of Sutherland. REG. Peace, Lordings, once again. The Majesty of Scotland: in our presence Brawling is treason. SUTH. Were it in presence of the What should prevent my saying Enter LINDESAY. LIN. You must determine quickly. Parts our vanguard from Edward's. Bright gleams of armour flash through clouds of dust, Like stars through frost-mist; steeds neigh and weapons clash; And arrows soon will whistle-the worst sound That waits on English war. You must determine. REG. We are determined. We will spare proud Edward Half of the ground that parts us. Onward, Lords; Saint Andrew strike for Scotland! We will lead The middle ward ourselves, the Royal Standard Display'd beside us; and beneath its shadow Shall the young gallants, whom we knight this day, Fight for their golden spurs. Lennox, thou❜rt wise, 2 Lochwood Castle was the ancient seat of the Johnstones, Lords of Annandale. |