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!
Bravest of men! his flocks and herds are safe;
Remote from war's alarms his pastures lie,

By mountains inaccessible secur'd:
Yet foremost he into the plain descends,
Eager to bleed in battles not his own.
Such were the heroes of the ancient world;
Contemners they of indolence and gain;
But still, for love of glory and of arms,
Prone to encounter peril, and to lift,
Against each strong antagonist, the spear.

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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!
I might have been a shepherd all my days,
And stole obscurely to a peasant's grave.
Now, if I live, with mighty chiefs I stand;
And, if I fall, with noble dust I lie.

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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;

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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 ?
Lady R. His younger brother.

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,

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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