My brave deliverer! thou shalt enter now
A nobler list, and in a monarch's sight
Contend with princes for the prize of fame.
I will present thee to our Scottish king,
Whose valiant spirit ever valour lov'd.
Ah! my Matilda, wherefore starts that tear?
Lady R. I cannot say for various affections,
And strangely mingled, in my bosom swell;
Yet each of them may well command a tear.
I joy that thou art safe; and I admire
Him and his fortunes, who hath wrought thy safety;
Yea, as my mind predicts, with thine his own.
Obscure and friendless, he the army sought,
Bent upon peril, in the range of death
Resolv'd to hunt for fame, and with his sword
To gain distinction which his birth denied.
In this attempt unknown he might have peris'd,
And gain'd with all his valour, but oblivion.
Now, grac'd by thee, his virtue serves no more
Beneath despair. The soldier now of hope
He stands conspicuous; fame and great renown
Are brought within the compass of his sword;
On this my mind reflected, whilst you spoke,
And bless'd the wonder-working Lord of Heaven.
Lord R. Pious and grateful ever are thy thoughts!
My deeds shall follow where thou point'st the way.
Next to myself, and equal to Glenalvon,
In honour and command shall Norval be.
Nor. I know not how to thank you. Rude 1 am,
In speech and manners: never till this hour
Stood I in such a presence: yet, my lord,
There's something in my breast, which makes me bold
To say, that Norval ne'er will shame thy favour.
Lady R. I will be sworn thou wilt not. Thou shalt be
My knight; and ever, as thou didst to day,
With happy valour guard the life of Randolph.
Lord R.Well hast thou spoke. Let me forbid reply.
We are thy debtors still! Thy high desert
O'ertops our gratitude. I must proceed,
As was at first intended, to the camp.
Some of my train, I see are speeding hither,
Impatient, doubtless, of their lord's delay.
Go with me, Norval, and thine eyes shall see
The chosen warriors of thy native land,
Who languish for the fight, and beat the air
With brandish'd swords.
Nor. Let us be gone, my
Lord R. [To Lady RANDOLPH.] About the time that the declining sun
'Shall his broad orbit o'er yon
Expect us to return. This night once more
Within these walls I rest; my tent I pitch
Tomorrow in the field. Prepare the feast,
Free is his heart who for his country fights:
He in the eve of battle may resign
Himself to social pleasure: sweetest then,
When danger to a soldier's soul endears
The human joy that never may return.
[Exeunt RANDOLPH and NORVAL. Lady R. His parting words have struck a fatal truth. Oh, Douglas! Douglas! tender was the time When we two parted, ne'er to meet again! How many years of anguish and despair Has Heaven annex'd to those swift-passing hours Of love and fondness. "Then my bosom's flame "Oft, as blown back by the rude breath of fear "Return'd, and with redoubled ardour blaz'd." Anna. May gracious Heav'n pour the sweet balm of peace
Into the wounds that fester in your breast!
For earthly consolation cannot cure them.
Lady R. One only cure can Heav'n itself bestow ;→
A grave-that bed in which the weary rest.
Wretch that I am! Alas! why am I so?
At every happy parent I repine!
How blest the mother of yon gallant Norval!
She for a living husband bore her pains,
And heard him bless her when a man was born:
She nurs'd her smiling infant on her breast;
Tended the child, and rear'd the pleasing boy:
She, with affection's triumph, saw the youth
In grace and comeliness surpass his peers:
Whilst I to a dead husband bore a son,
And to the roaring waters gave my child.
Anna. Alas! alas! why will you thus resume
Your grief afresh? I thought that gallant youth
In speech and manners: never till this hour
Stood I in such a presence: yet, my lord,
There's something in my breast, which makes me bold
To say, that Norval ne'er will shame thy favour.
Lady R. I will be sworn thou wilt not. Thou shalt be
My knight; and ever, as thou didst to day,
With happy valour guard the life of Randolph.
Lord R.Well hast thou spoke. Let me forbid reply.
[TO NORVAL.
We are thy debtors still! Thy high desert
O'ertops our gratitude. I must proceed,
As was at first intended, to the camp.
Some of my train, I see are speeding hither,
Impatient, doubtless, of their lord's delay..
Go with me, Norval, and thine eyes shall see
The chosen warriors of thy native land,
Who languish for the fight, and beat the air
With brandish'd swords.
Nor. Let us be gone, my
Lord R. [To Lady RANDOLPH.] About the time that the declining sun
Shall his broad arbit o'er yon hills suspend,
Expect us to return. This night once more
Within these walls I rest; my tent I pitch
Tomorrow in the field. Prepare the feast,
Free is his heart who for his country fights:
He in the eve of battle may resign
Himself to social pleasure: sweetest then,
When danger to a soldier's soul endears
The human joy that never may return.
[Exeunt RANDOLPH and NORVAL.
Lady R. His parting words have struck a fatal truth.
Oh, Douglas! Douglas! tender was the time
When we two parted, ne'er to meet again ! 140
How many years of anguish and despair
Has Heaven annex'd to those swift-passing hours
Of love and fondness. "Then my bosom's flame
"Oft, as blown back by the rude breath of fear
"" 'Return'd, and with redoubled ardour blaz'd."
Anna. May gracious Heav'n pour the sweet balm
of peace
Into the wounds that fester in your breast!
For earthly consolation cannot cure them.
Lady R. One only cure can Heav'n itself bestow ;-
A grave-that bed in which the weary rest.
Wretch that I am! Alas! why am I so?
At every happy parent I repine!
How blest the mother of yon gallant Norval!
She for a living husband bore her pains,
And heard him bless her when a man was born:
She nurs'd her smiling infant on her breast;
Tended the child, and rear'd the pleasing boy:
She, with affection's triumph, saw the youth
In grace and comeliness surpass his peers:
Whilst I to a dead husband bore a son,
And to the roaring waters gave my child.
Anna. Alas! alas! why will you thus resume
Your grief afresh? I thought that gallant youth
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