Which oft decrees an undeserved doom. Let schoolmen tell us why-From whence these [Trumpets at a distance. sounds? Enter an Officer. Off. My lord, the trumpets of the troops of Lorn: The valiant leader hails the noble Randolph. Lord R. Mine ancient guest! Does he the warriors lead? Has Denmark rous'd the brave old knight to arms? Offi. No; worn with warfare, he resigns the sword. His eldest hope, the valiant John of Lorn, Now leads his kindred bands. Lord R. Glenalvon, go. With hospitality's most strong request Entreat the chief. Offi. My lord, requests are vain. He urges on, impatient of delay, [Exit Glenalvon. Stung with the tidings of the foe's approach. Lord R. May victory sit on the warrior's plume! By mountains inaccessible secur'd: 120 I'll go and press the hero to my breast. [Exit with the Officer. Lady R. The soldier's loftiness, the pride and pomp Investing awful war, Norval, I see, Transport thy youthful mind. Nor. Ah! should they not? Bless'd be the hour I left my father's house! 140 Lady R. There is a generous spirit in thy breast, That could have well sustain'd a prouder fortune. This way with me; under you spreading beech, Unseen, unheard, by human eye or ear, I will amaze thee with a wond'rous tale. Nor. Let there be danger, Lady, with the secret, That I may hug it to my grateful heart, And prove my faith. Command my sword, my life: These are the sole possessions of poor Norval. I'd Lady R. Know'st thou these gems? Nor. Durst I believe mine eyes, say I knew them, and they were my father's. Lady. R. Thy father's, say'st thou? Ah, they were thy father's! Nor. I saw them once, and curiously enquir'd Of both my parents, whence such splendor came? But I was check'd, and more could never learn. Lady R. Then learn of me, thou art not Norval's son. Nor. Not Norval's son! Lady R. Nor of a shepherd sprung. Nor. Lady, who am I then? Lady R. Noble thou art; 160 For noble was thy sire. Nor. I will believe Oh, tell me farther! Say, who was my father? Lady R. Douglas! Nor. Lord Douglas, whom to-day I saw ? Nor. And in yonder camp? Lady R. Alas! Nor. You make me tremble-Sighs and tears! Lives my brave father? Lady R. Ah! too brave, indeed ! He fell in battle ere thyself was born. Nor. Ah me, unhappy! Ere I saw the light! But does my mother live? I may conclude, From my own fate, her portion has been sorrow. Lady R. She lives; but wastes her life in constant woe, Weeping her husband slain, her infant lost, 181 Nor. You that are skill'd so well in the sad story Of my unhappy parents, and with tears Bewail their destiny, now have compassion Upon the offspring of the friends you lov❜d. Ch, tell me who and where my mother is! Oppress'd by a base world, perhaps she bends Beneath the weight of other ills than grief; And, desolate, implores of Heaven the aid |