Cross where thou seest a broad and beaten way, 600
Which running eastward leads thee to the camp.
Instant demand admittance to lord Douglas;
Shew him these jewels which his brother wore.
Thy look, thy voice, will make him feel the truth,
Which I by a certain proof will soon confirm.

Doug. I yield me, and obey: but yet my heart
Bleeds at this parting. Something bids me stay
And guard a mother's life. Oft have I read
Of wondrous deeds by one bold arm achiev'd.
Our foes are two; no more: let me go forth,
And see if any shield can guard Glenalvon.

Lady R. If thou regard'st thy mother, or rever'st
Thy father's memory, think of this no more.
One thing I have to say before we part:

Long wert thou lost; and thou art found, my child,
In a most fearful season. War and battle

I have great cause to dread. Too well I see
Which way the current of thy temper sets:

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To-day I've found thee. Oh! my long-lost hope!
If thou to giddy valour giv'st the reign,
To-morrow I may lose my son for ever.
The love of thee before thou saw'st the light,
Sustain'd my life when thy brave father fell.
If thou shalt fall, I have nor love nor hope
In this waste world! My son, remember me!
Doug. What shall I say? How can I give you

comfort?

The God of battles of my life dispose

As may be best for you! for whose dear sake

I will not bear myself as I resolv'd.

But yet consider, as no vulgar name,

That which I boast, sounds amongst martial men,"
How will inglorious caution suit my claim ?
The post of fate unshrinking I maintain.
My country's foes must witness who I am.
On the invaders' heads I'll prove my birth,
'Till friends and foes confess the genuine strain.
If in this strife I fall, blame not your son,
Who, if he lives not honour'd, must not live.
Lady R. I will not utter what my bosom feels.
Too well I love that valour which I warn.
Farewel, my son! my counsels are but vain,

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[Embracing.

And as high Heav'n hath will'd it, all must be.

[Separate.

Gaze not on me, thou wilt mistake the path;

I'll point it out again.

[Just as they are separating,

Enter from the wood Lord RANDOLPH and GLENALVON.

Lord R. Not in her presence.

Now

Glen. I'm prepar'd.

Lord R. No: I command thee stay.

I go alone: it never shall be said

That I took odds to combat mortal man.

The noblest vengeance is the most compleat.

Exit.

[GLENALVON makes some steps to the same side of the stage, listens and speaks.

Glen. Demons of death come settle on my sword,

H

And to a double slaughter guide it home!

The lover and the husband both must die.

Lord R. [Behind the scenes.] Draw, villain! draw! Doug [Without.] Assail me not, lord Randolph; Not as thou lov'st thyself. [Clashing of swords. Glen. [Running out.] Now is the time.

Enter Lady RANDOLPH, at the opposite side of the stage, faint and breathless.

Lady R. Lord Randolph, hear me; all shall be

thine own!

But spare! Oh, spare my son!

Enter DOUGLAS, with a sword in each hand.

Doug. My mother's voice!

I can protect thee still.

Lady R. He lives, he lives;

For this, for this to Heav'n eternal praise !
But sure I saw thee fall.

Doug. It was Glenalvon,

Just as my arm had master'd Randolph's sword,
The villain came behind me; but I slew him.

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Lady R. Behind thee! ah! thou'rt wounded! Oh, my child,

How pale thou look'st! And shall I lose thee now?

Doug. Do not despair: I feel a little faintness; [Leans upon his sword.

I hope it will not last.

Lady R. There is no hope!

And we must part! The hand of death is on thee I

Oh! my beloved child! O Douglas, Douglas!

[DOUGLAS growing more and more faint. Doug. Too soon we part: I have not long beea Douglas;

O destiny! hardly thou deal'st with me;
Clouded and hid, a stranger to myself,

In low and poor obscurity I've liv❜d.

Lady R. Has Heav'n preserv'd thee for an end like

this?

Doug. Oh! had I fall'n as my brave fathers fell, Turning with fatal arm the tide of battle!

860

Like them I should have smil'd and welcom'd death :
But thus to perish by a villain's hand!

Cut off from nature's and from glory's course,
Which never mortal was so fond to run.

Lady R. Hear justice; hear! stretch thy avenging

arm.

[DOUGLAS falls.

Doug. Unknown I die; no tongue shall speak of me. Some noble spirits, judging by themselves

May yet conjecture what I might have prov'd,
And think life only wanting to my fame :
But who shall comfort thee?

Lady R. Despair, despair!

Doug. Oh, had it pleas'd high Heav'n to let me live A little while my eyes that gaze on thee Grow dim apace! my mother-O! my mother! [Dies.

Enter Lord RANDOLPH and ANNA.

Lord R. Thy words, thy words of truth, have pierc'd my heart;

I am the stain of knighthood and of arms.

Oh if my brave deliverer survives

The traitor's sword

Anna. Alas! look there, my lord.

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Lord R. The mother and her son! How curst I am!

Was I the cause? No: I was not the cause.

Yon matchless villain did seduce my

soul

To frantic jealousy.

Anna. My lady lives:

The agony of grief hath but suppress'd

Awhile her powers.

Lord R. But my deliverer's dead;

"The world did once esteem lord Randolph well,
"Sincere of heart, for spotless honour fam'd:
"And, in my early days, glory I gain'd

"Beneath the holy banner of the cross.

"Now past the noon of life, shame comes upon me; "Reproach, and infamy, and public hate,

"Are near at hand: for all mankind will think "That Randolph basely stabb'd Sir Malcolm's heir." Lady R. [Recovering.] Where am I now? Still in this wretched world!

Grief cannot break a heart so hard as mine.

"My youth was worn in anguish: but youth's strength, "With hope's assistance, bore the brunt of sorrow; "And train'd me on to be the object now, "On which Omnipotence displays itself,

"Making a spectacle, a tale of me,

"To awe it's vassal, man.""

Lord R. Oh, misery!