Why else have you, and your renowned forefathers, And sanctified their shade?-And will ye, will ye The harvest of a thousand years of glory? No. Second Dale. Never, never. Leave not a limb o'er which a Dane may triumph. Shall we, shall we stand here, Till motives that might warm an ague's frost, And. On, lead us on, Gustavus; one word more Is but delay of conquest. Take your wish. Gust. Your limbs tread vigorous, and your breasts beat high! XI.-FROM DOUGLAS.-Home. LORD RANDOLPH GLENALVON-NORVAL. Glenalvon. His port I love he's in a proper mood To chide the thunder, if at him it roared. (Aside.) Has Norval seen the troops? Norval. The setting sun, Glen. Thou talkest it well; no leader of our host In sounds more lofty talks of glorious war. Norv. If I should 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 favor now exalts your youth Above his veteran's of famous service. Let me, who know these soldiers, counsel you. Else they will hardly brook your late-sprung power, Norv. Sir, I have been accustomed all my days Therefore I thank Glenalvon for his counsel, Glen. I did not mean To gall your pride, which now I see is great. Glen. Suppress it, as you wish to prosper. If thus you swell, and frown at high-born men, Glen. Yes; if you presume To bend on soldiers these disdainful eyes, Norv. If this were told! (Aside.) Hast thou no fears for thy presumptuous self? Glen. Ha! dost thou threaten me? Norv. Didst thou not hear? Glen. Unwillingly I did; a nobler foe Had not been questioned thus; but such as thee Norv. Glen. Norv. Whom dost thou think me? And who is Norval in Glenalvon's eyes? Glen. A peasant's son, a wandering beggar boy; At best no more, even if he speaks the truth. Norv. False as thou art, dost thou suspect my truth? Glen. Thy truth! thou'rt all a lie; and false as hell Is the vainglorious tale thou toldest to Randolph. Norv. If I were chained, unarmed, or bedrid old, I have no tongue to rail. The humble Norval Did I not fear to freeze thy shallow valor, 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 command Ten thousand slaves like thee? Draw and defend thy life. I did design 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. (Enters.) Hold! I command you both! the man that stirs Makes me his foe. Norv. 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! Norv. Now you may scoff in safety. Taunting each other, but unfold to me (Sheathes his sword.) The cause of quarrel; then I judge betwixt you. Norv. 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. Hence as he came, but not dishonored! Lord Ran. Thus far I'll mediate with impartial voice; The ancient foe of Caledonia's land Now waves his banner o'er her frighted fields; The private quarrel. Glen. I agree to this. Norv. Glen. And I. (Exit Randolph.) Norval, Let not our variance mar the social hour, Shall stain my countenance. Smooth thou thy brow; Norv. Think not so lightly, sir, of my resentment; XII.-FROM HALIDON HILL.-Scott. DE VIPONT, A KNIGHT TEMPLAR-SWINTON AND GORDON, SCOTTISH CHIEFS. Swinton. De Vipont, thou lookest sad? Vipont. It is because I hold a Templar's sword, Wet to the crossed hilt with Christian blood. Swinton. The blood of English archers-what can gild A Scottish blade more bravely? Vipont. Even therefore grieve I for those gallant yeomen, England's peculiar and appropriate sons, Known in no other land. Each boasts his hearth And field as free as the best lord his barony, Owing subjection to no human vassalage, Save to their King and law. Hence are they resolute, Leading the van on every day of battle, As men who know the blessings they defend.- Swinton. I'll keep my sorrow for our native Scots, |