Sir L. I shall be very proud of instructing you.-Well, for the present-but remember now, when you meet your antagonist, do every thing in a mild and agreeable manner. Let your courage be as keen, but at the same time as polished as your sword. [Exeunt severally.
Quarrel Scene, from Douglas.-REV. JOHN HOME.
GLENALVON AND NORVAL.
Glen. Has Norval seen the troops?
Nor. The setting sun,
With yellow radiance, lightened all the vale;
And, as the warriors moved, each polished helm,
Corslet, or spear, glanced back his gilded beams.
The hill they climbed: and, halting at its top,
Of more than mortal size, towering, they seemed
An host angelic, clad in burning arms.
Glen. Thou talk'st it well! no leader of our host,
In sounds more lofty speaks of glorious war.
Nor. If I shall e'er acquire a leader's name,
My speech will be less ardent. Novelty,
Now prompts my tongue, and youthful admiration
Vents itself freely; since, no part, is mine,
Of praise, pertaining to the great in arms.
Glen. You wrong yourself, brave sir! Your martial deeds,
Have ranked you with the great: but mark me, Norval ; Lord Randolph's favour, now exalts your youth,
Above his veterans of famous service.
Let me, who know these soldiers, counsel you:
Give them all honour; seem not to command;
Else, they will scarcely brook your late-sprung pow'r,
Which, nor alliance props, nor birth adorns.
Nor. Sir!-I have been accustomed, all my days,
To hear and speak the plain and simple truth;
And though I have been told, that there are men,
Who borrow friendship's tongue to speak their scorn;
Yet, in such language I am little skilled.
Therefore I thank Glenalvon for his counsel,—
Although it sounded harshly. Why remind
Me of my birth obscure? Why slur my power
With such contemptuous terms?
To gall your pride, which now, I see, is great.
Nor. My pride?
Glen. Suppress it, as you wish to prosper;
Your pride's excessive! yet, for Randolph's sake,
I will not leave you to its rash direction.
If thus you swell, and frown at high-born men, -
Will high-born men endure a shepherd's scorn!
Nor. A shepherd's scorn!
Glen. Yes;-if you presume
To bend on soldiers these disdainful eyes,
As if you took the measure of their minds,
And said, in secret,-" You are no match for me,"
What will become of you?
Nor. Hast thou no fears for thy presumptuous self?
Glen. Ha!-dost thou threaten me?
Nor. Didst thou not hear?
Glen. Unwillingly I did; a nobler foe,
Had not been questioned thus. But such as thou!
Nor. Whom dost thou think me?
Glen. Norval.
Nor. So I am;
And who is Norval in Glenalvon's eyes?
Glen. A peasant's son,-a wandering beggar boy; At best, no more, even if he speak the truth.
Nor. False as thou art, dost thou suspect my truth?
Glen. Thy truth! Thou'rt all a lie, and false as fiends,
Is the vain-glorious tale thou told'st to Randolph.
Nor. If I were chained,-unarmed, or bed-rid old,
Perhaps I might revile; but as I am,
I have no tongue to rail. The humble Norval,
Is of a race, who strive not but with deeds!
Did I not fear to freeze thy shallow valour,
And make thee sink too soon beneath my sword,
I'd tell thee what thou art- -I know thee well.
Glen. Dost thou not know Glenalvon, born to rule
Ten thousand slaves like thee?
Nor. Villain!-no more ;
Draw, and defend thy life. (they draw their swords.) I did
To have defied thee in another cause;
But Heaven accelerates its vengeance on thee.
Now, for my own, and Lady Randolph's wrongs !.
Lord Randolph. Hold!-I command you both;The man that stirs, makes me his foe.
Nor. Another voice than thine,
That threat had vainly sounded, noble Randolph.
Glen. Hear him, my lord, he's wondrous condescending!
Mark the humility of shepherd Norval!
Nor. Now you may scoff in safety.
(Both sheathe their swords.)
Lord Randolph. Speak not thus,
Taunting each other; but unfold to me
The cause of quarrel; then I'll judge betwixt you.
Nor. Nay, my good lord, though I revere you much,
My cause I plead not, nor demand your judgment.
I blush to speak-I will not-cannot speak
The opprobrious words, that I from him have borne.
To the liege lord of my dear native land,
I owe a subject's homage; but, even him,
And his high arbitration I'd reject!
Within my bosom reigns another lord,
Honour-sole judge, and umpire of itself.
If my free speech offend you, noble Randolph,
Revoke your favours, and let Norval go
Hence, as he came,—alone-but not dishonour'd.
Lord R. Thus far, I'll mediate with impartial voice:
The ancient foe of Caledonia's land,
Now waves his banners o'er her frighted fields.
Suspend your purpose, till your country's arms,
Repel the bold invader; then decide
The private quarrel.
Glen. I agree to this.
Nor. And I do.
Glen. Norval,
Let not our variance mar the social hour,
Nor wrong the hospitality of Randolph ;
Nor frowning anger, nor yet wrinkled hate,
Shall stain my countenance. Smooth thou thy brow,
Nor, let our strife disturb the gentle dame.
Nor. Think not so lightly, Sir, of my resentment;
When we contend again, our strife is mortal.
The Child of Earth.-CAROLINE NORTON.
FAINTER her slow step falls from day to day,
Death's hand is heavy on her darkening brow,
Yet doth she fondly cling to life, and say-
"I am content to die,—but Oh! not now !—
Not while the blossoms of the joyous spring
Make the warm air such luxury to breathe;
Not while the birds such lays of gladness sing;
Not while bright flow'rs around my footsteps wreathe-
Spare me, great God! lift up my drooping brow;
I am content to die,-but, Oh! not now!"
The spring hath ripen'd into summer time;
The season's viewless boundary is past;
The glorious sun hath reach'd his burning prime;
Oh! must this glimpse of beauty be the last?
"Let me not perish while o'er land and sea,
With silent steps the Lord of light moves on;
Not while the murmur of the mountain bee
Greets my dull ear with music in its tone!
Pale sickness dims my eye and clouds my brow;
I am content to die,-but, Oh! not now!"
Summer is gone; and autumn's soberer hues
Tint the ripe fruits, and gild the waving corn;
The huntsman swift the flying game pursues,
Shouts the halloo! and winds the eager horn.
"Spare me awhile, to wander forth and
On the broad meadows, and the quiet stream;
To watch in silence while the evening rays
Slant through the fading trees with ruddy gleam!
Cooler the breezes play around my brow;
I am content to die,-but, Oh! not now!"
The bleak wind whistles: snow-showers, far and near,
Drift without echo to the whitening ground:
Autumn hath pass'd away; and, cold and drear,
Winter stalks on with frozen mantle bound:
Yet still that prayer ascends: "Oh! laughingly
My little brothers round the warm hearth crowd;
Our home-fire blazes broad, and bright, and high,
And the roof rings with voices light and loud:
Spare me awhile! raise up my drooping brow!
I am content to die,-but, Oh! not now!"
The spring is come again-the joyful spring!
Again the banks with clustering flowers are spread;
The wild bird dips upon its wanton wing:-
The child of earth is number'd with the dead!
"Thee never more the sunshine shall awake,
Beaming all redly through the lattice-pane;
The steps of friends thy slumber may not break,
Nor fond familiar voice arouse again!
Death's silent shadow veils thy darken'd brow:
Why didst thou linger?-thou art happier now!"
The Soul's Glimpses of Immortality.-JANE TAYLOR.
THE soul, at times, in silence of the night,
Has flashes-transient intervals of light;
When things to come, witbout a shade of doubt,
In dread reality stand fully out.
Those lucid moments suddenly present
Glances of truth, as though the heavens were rent; And, through the chasm of celestial light,
The future breaks the startled sight.
Life's vain pursuits, and time's advancing pace,
Appear with death-bed clearness, face to face;
And immortality's expanse sublime
In just proportion to the speck of time!
Whilst death, uprising from the silent shade,
Shows his dark outline, ere the vision fade!
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